Two issues involving shopping in womens departments were troublesome for me.
When I was in deep denial, and my wife was more comfortable with being showered with gifts from Fredrick's and Victoria's Secret, I LOVED browsing. I would browse and browse and fondle fabrics until I started feeling like a letch, then I'd grab something and fumble to the register.
I think the wedding band was kind of my ticket to enter those stores guilt free. Before that I used to pas them again and again,. security must've had fun watching me stalk the display dummies.
I felt A LOT more comfortable in lingerie departments during the Christmas Season or near Valentines Day. It was like hanging a sign around my neck saying, "these won't be for me, I have a (girlfriend, wife, SO) who will be wearing these in my presence as I make sweet love to her in a most studly fashion. OK, that wouldn't all fit on the sign, but I felt shielded. Logically, I knew that obviously the SO's birthday or an anniversary could account for any other time of the year, but I always felt pervy if I didn't have a legitimate excuse.
OH an aside here. Just before Mother's day, I was headed for a thrift store. (this is before I bought any Fem clothes for me , ever. I called Dee and asked if we needed anything. She said, "well your birthday is coming up, if you see something you like get it!" I found a pair of mens tasseled loafers that were exactly like the ones I had worn out one pair each of the last 4 years or so. (En homme I don't vary my drabness much) I felt that set a male baseline and this pair of clear 6" stripper mules could somehow sneak by unnoticed. I went up to the clerk, an explanation on the tip of my tongue. She no doubt wouldn't have noticed or remembered the transaction, except I piped up as she reached for the heels. "So, how do you think those will go over on Mother's Day?" She laughed. I said, "Yeah, I'm thinking this probably better not be the only present she gets." I didn't elaborate whether it was my Wife or Mother that would be the lucky recipient.
Speaking of the Witch, my Mother may not have "caused" my gender identity issues, but she sure as hell confused the mix, and added a healthy serving of shame on top. When I was young my mom had a lot of difficulty clothing me and my many siblings. In my case there was the added challenge of finding clothes (on a budget) to fit a 72 lb 4'11" tall boy with a fairly fragile ego. Often she would slip over into the Juniors Department. If the item was truly unisex, I would reluctantly accept and wear them, realizing that the choices were limited, and time and money to clothe 6 other sibs for back-to-school were taxed. I was often teased about the source of my clothes, the cut,fit and style. Boys being boys, and by that I mean homophobic, insecure, mean, bullying, assholes, often made girly comments of called me a fag because although I was a simmering cauldron of testosterone and worked out more than most of them, they felt more manly to point out every feminine trait I had.
Then came THE INCIDENT OF THE JEANS. I usually owned no more than three pairs of jeans which I cared for carefully and laundered myself. Happily I had shot up from 4'8" tall to a towering 4'11", within sight of 5' and nearly within the grasp of reaching the heady heights of the shortest girls I knew. Of to Mervyns for some new Levi (701?) boot-cut jeans. (I then, was already a creature of habit, I like what I like) These were either out, or not made in a size of probably 26W x 28L. Mom had me trying on some that had 'room to grow in' (I NEVER grew fast enough before I completely wore out anything). They were falling off me. I came out of the dressing room and she handed me another pair. I assumed she had grabbed jeans from Juniors again. Usually, if she was in a semi-reasonable mood, I could reason with her about the amount a bruising a given article of clothes might cost me. These had girly pockets, which I thought I could pass off OK because after all this is maybe 1978 or 1979 and Fem-like jeans then (as now) were fashionable. I got into the dressing room and then noticed that they closed with a button, not a snap as all jeans I had had before did. A small detail, but the bullying was always in the details. I came out with a lie on my lips about them not fitting, she insisted I go back in and put them on and show her. I then protested about the button. She blew a gasket and demanded to know if I had even tried them on. When I admitted the truth, she said if I wanted to have opinions about my clothes, I could buy my own clothes from then on. It wasn't hyperbole. I got no allowance, I was never paid for babysitting, mowing my paren'ts lawn, or ironing all the clothes for the entire family of 9 since the age 10. (To this day, I iron nothing, I catch it in the dryer and hang it up.) I wasn't allowed to have a paper route because they felt they would end up having to get me out of bed. I earned about $20 to $25 per month mowing 4 lawns. I also had little enterprises like riding my bike 4 miles to buy Choice brand pencils for $1.50 for 12 that were prized for pencil fighting and selling them for 25 cents a piece.
Flash forward 25+ years. My teenage boy at 16 has a feminizing girlfriend that Emo-fy's him into wearing low-rise girl jeans. I am horrified. My wife knows my Mervyns story so she neglects to mention that the jeans came from Mervyns. Well, now Barbara and Dee go to a thrift store. I hadnt thought about it but after the Mervyns debacle, I never set foot in another dressing room for 25+ years. I am losing weight and realize by looking at the amazing variety of cuts that girl jeans have way too many choices to just get a pair of each and try them on at home. I make a few selections of size 14, try them on, too big. I try some 12's find a pair, even find one in 9/10 that looks cute on.
I wore one of those pairs a couple of days later. They were Gloria Vanderbuilt "Amber" jeans. I decided to go to the very Mervyns to face my past while otherwise en homme. I was delighted to see that Mervyns sold the very pair I was wearing, so I got the therapy of wearing them in Mervyns without spending anything. I browsed the womens and juniors for 1/2 hour or so. NO one said boo.
I saw some cute dresses in my size (I thought) but wasn't quite brave enough to ask to try them on, without my wife and infant with me to serve as 'beards' to establish my straight-guy bonifides. It was really liberating.
When I was in deep denial, and my wife was more comfortable with being showered with gifts from Fredrick's and Victoria's Secret, I LOVED browsing. I would browse and browse and fondle fabrics until I started feeling like a letch, then I'd grab something and fumble to the register.
I think the wedding band was kind of my ticket to enter those stores guilt free. Before that I used to pas them again and again,. security must've had fun watching me stalk the display dummies.
I felt A LOT more comfortable in lingerie departments during the Christmas Season or near Valentines Day. It was like hanging a sign around my neck saying, "these won't be for me, I have a (girlfriend, wife, SO) who will be wearing these in my presence as I make sweet love to her in a most studly fashion. OK, that wouldn't all fit on the sign, but I felt shielded. Logically, I knew that obviously the SO's birthday or an anniversary could account for any other time of the year, but I always felt pervy if I didn't have a legitimate excuse.
OH an aside here. Just before Mother's day, I was headed for a thrift store. (this is before I bought any Fem clothes for me , ever. I called Dee and asked if we needed anything. She said, "well your birthday is coming up, if you see something you like get it!" I found a pair of mens tasseled loafers that were exactly like the ones I had worn out one pair each of the last 4 years or so. (En homme I don't vary my drabness much) I felt that set a male baseline and this pair of clear 6" stripper mules could somehow sneak by unnoticed. I went up to the clerk, an explanation on the tip of my tongue. She no doubt wouldn't have noticed or remembered the transaction, except I piped up as she reached for the heels. "So, how do you think those will go over on Mother's Day?" She laughed. I said, "Yeah, I'm thinking this probably better not be the only present she gets." I didn't elaborate whether it was my Wife or Mother that would be the lucky recipient.
Speaking of the Witch, my Mother may not have "caused" my gender identity issues, but she sure as hell confused the mix, and added a healthy serving of shame on top. When I was young my mom had a lot of difficulty clothing me and my many siblings. In my case there was the added challenge of finding clothes (on a budget) to fit a 72 lb 4'11" tall boy with a fairly fragile ego. Often she would slip over into the Juniors Department. If the item was truly unisex, I would reluctantly accept and wear them, realizing that the choices were limited, and time and money to clothe 6 other sibs for back-to-school were taxed. I was often teased about the source of my clothes, the cut,fit and style. Boys being boys, and by that I mean homophobic, insecure, mean, bullying, assholes, often made girly comments of called me a fag because although I was a simmering cauldron of testosterone and worked out more than most of them, they felt more manly to point out every feminine trait I had.
Then came THE INCIDENT OF THE JEANS. I usually owned no more than three pairs of jeans which I cared for carefully and laundered myself. Happily I had shot up from 4'8" tall to a towering 4'11", within sight of 5' and nearly within the grasp of reaching the heady heights of the shortest girls I knew. Of to Mervyns for some new Levi (701?) boot-cut jeans. (I then, was already a creature of habit, I like what I like) These were either out, or not made in a size of probably 26W x 28L. Mom had me trying on some that had 'room to grow in' (I NEVER grew fast enough before I completely wore out anything). They were falling off me. I came out of the dressing room and she handed me another pair. I assumed she had grabbed jeans from Juniors again. Usually, if she was in a semi-reasonable mood, I could reason with her about the amount a bruising a given article of clothes might cost me. These had girly pockets, which I thought I could pass off OK because after all this is maybe 1978 or 1979 and Fem-like jeans then (as now) were fashionable. I got into the dressing room and then noticed that they closed with a button, not a snap as all jeans I had had before did. A small detail, but the bullying was always in the details. I came out with a lie on my lips about them not fitting, she insisted I go back in and put them on and show her. I then protested about the button. She blew a gasket and demanded to know if I had even tried them on. When I admitted the truth, she said if I wanted to have opinions about my clothes, I could buy my own clothes from then on. It wasn't hyperbole. I got no allowance, I was never paid for babysitting, mowing my paren'ts lawn, or ironing all the clothes for the entire family of 9 since the age 10. (To this day, I iron nothing, I catch it in the dryer and hang it up.) I wasn't allowed to have a paper route because they felt they would end up having to get me out of bed. I earned about $20 to $25 per month mowing 4 lawns. I also had little enterprises like riding my bike 4 miles to buy Choice brand pencils for $1.50 for 12 that were prized for pencil fighting and selling them for 25 cents a piece.
Flash forward 25+ years. My teenage boy at 16 has a feminizing girlfriend that Emo-fy's him into wearing low-rise girl jeans. I am horrified. My wife knows my Mervyns story so she neglects to mention that the jeans came from Mervyns. Well, now Barbara and Dee go to a thrift store. I hadnt thought about it but after the Mervyns debacle, I never set foot in another dressing room for 25+ years. I am losing weight and realize by looking at the amazing variety of cuts that girl jeans have way too many choices to just get a pair of each and try them on at home. I make a few selections of size 14, try them on, too big. I try some 12's find a pair, even find one in 9/10 that looks cute on.
I wore one of those pairs a couple of days later. They were Gloria Vanderbuilt "Amber" jeans. I decided to go to the very Mervyns to face my past while otherwise en homme. I was delighted to see that Mervyns sold the very pair I was wearing, so I got the therapy of wearing them in Mervyns without spending anything. I browsed the womens and juniors for 1/2 hour or so. NO one said boo.
I saw some cute dresses in my size (I thought) but wasn't quite brave enough to ask to try them on, without my wife and infant with me to serve as 'beards' to establish my straight-guy bonifides. It was really liberating.
1 comment:
I was more than happy with the corsage and chocolate. But if you told the salesgirl that the stripper shoes were for Mother's Day, then I should certainly get something out of them. I'll warm up the pole for you while you find something black and sheer to wear while dancing for me!
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