You know what? I've been having vest drama. I'll be out on the town and some dude will walk by looking all dapper in a snaz-tastic vest. Something terrible comes over me, and I eye that vest like it has spurned me.
"Why, you beautiful thing, would you choose him over me?"
Surely I can just ask him where he got it?
These dudes are habitually rail-like, tall maybe, but all bones.
And I have lady shit going on.
When dressing like "your boyfriend" is in, why is it that said boyish clothes are not made in sizes that would fit those of us on the curvaceous side? So-called plus-sized clothing merchants seem to go in three directions--ultra-feminine, pin-up, or matronly. The full-figured female body then has three options:
- The pretty girl
- The sex kitten
- The mother
Maybe it is only a little bit of me, and so the other parts of me see it all as a big farce. And in many ways it is. Gender expression can't be one true thing, or even three.