...except that I'm not.

I’ve been so stressed out lately about career things, like “Is it a career if NONE of my income is coming from it?…” and suchlike. Little things, really, if you can find even an iota of perspective. Trouble is, my perspective is making me a bit dizzy. I feel like I’m on the crest of some huge wave and desperately trying to ride it without wiping out.  Not flailing, but not in control, and not entirely convinced that releasing my tiny human non-power into the mighty crushing all-power of the wave (or, the universe) is a good idea.  Breathe.  So many things are in flux that I have to constantly stop and remind myself what I’m doing here and what the end goals are.

I moved here to be a butch performer, pretty or otherwise.  I lost weight to be a more present person, more mindful in my body.  Combine the two and you get a few things I didn’t bargain for.

I didn’t bargain that by losing weight I might be un-typing myself. Seriously – it didn’t even cross my mind that being heavy played into this ridiculous butch stereotype of masculine women being huge and intimidating.  I figured being almost six feet tall and considerably broad would suffice without the double chin.  Apparently the double chin was the deal.

I didn’t bargain that I would have forgotten how to dress a thinner body.  Insecurities I’ve masked for almost ten years are resurfacing each time I look in the mirror.

I’m dealing for the first time in my life with something that’s probably rather obvious in most people’s lives. When I let myself get fat, I masked my femininity in weight. It’s easy to wear men’s clothes when you’re so heavy you have no curves. It’s easy to write off being queer and fat and into being masculine because that’s just how it goes.  But nowadays I’m trying to outfit my feminine body while hanging onto my butch identity.  I’m suddenly confronted with my own body in a new way – having lost 40+ lbs, I have *curves* again. A waist and hips that are two separate entities.  The men’s pants don’t fit anymore. The men’s shoes look huge on my skinny narrow feet.  But the men’s style is still *my* style.  Cute hybrid “boyfriend” clothes are cut for women eight inches shorter than I am and 50 pounds lighter still.  But menswear looks too blocky and ill-defined.

I’ve been searching for a happy medium, I’ve taken a few things to the tailor, and I’m trying to expand my frame of reference with clothing. Try on new things.  Figure out my new size without abandoning the only identity that’s ever been a comfort (even when it’s been a problem, an embarrassment, or a curse).

Strange fascination, fascinatin’ me

Ah Changes are taking the pace that I’m going through