My Own Way

I have become obsessed with clothes. And not (yet) in a good way.

For the last couple of weeks, it’s been leggings. OMFG, I wanna wear leggings. But there are issues with that. First, I’m not out yet. Second, my body shape isn’t ideal for them. (Maybe when I’ve lost some weight … we’ll see.) But—and this third one is the kicker—leggings are a bad call for most trans women.

I know. That’s a harsh thing to say. Even I hear it.

I’m not saying trans women can’t or shouldn’t wear leggings. I’m saying if you wanna blend, leggings are hard to pull off. I don’t intend to blend. I intend to be myself, so I don’t really care about the last point.

Lots of other trans women would say they same. And some trans women have the body for leggings, in which case, rock it, girl.

But that’s not the point. The point is I’m fucking fixated on clothes.

I hate what I wear daily now. Well, I don’t totally hate it, but I hate how masculine I look. Right now, I favor slim-fitting jeans (which don’t do a damn thing to draw attention away from how narrow my hips are) and t-shirts. And, yeah, my t-shirts tend to have fun, geeky things printed on them, but they’re not terribly feminine.


So I’ve been reading up on clothes and trying to hunt down online shops that sell … oh, I don’t know. Cute things? No luck there.

But as to reading up on the topic, I found this article, which I enjoyed and thought made some amazing points. Maybe I need to break out my boot-cut jeans … even if skinny jeans are “the thing” right now.

But, fuck, that’s something I’ve got to get over. I cannot set my sights on whatever’s gracing the cover of Vogue because those models are not likely to be wearing clothes that will look terribly flattering on me.

And I’m not fucking 20. God knows I wish I were, but I am not.

So I’m going to have to find my own look. And if “passing” isn’t my goal (it’s not), then that look can include garments that “out me.” Fine. Whatever. But I still wanna be …

Cute, okay? I wanna be cute. I don’t think I am, and I fear I never will be.

And on the inside, I’m fucking adorable. I’m fun and sparkly and clever and goofy in a delightful sort of way. I’m a goddam unicorn … with the body of an ogre.

I know. I’m not being particularly nice to myself with that description. Bad, bad Ashley. (I mean that. I’m trying to love my body. I swear I am, but it’s a tall order. Which is no excuse, but it is an explanation.)

Okay, so I’m not out yet. Not fully. There are more people who know, but I’m not yet at a place where I can just throw caution to the wind and dress however. I expect to be soon, and then I’ll even be able to tell you why I’ve been in fucking limbo for so fucking long.

Right now all of this is speculative, but I want to start dressing differently. Now. And I wanna find a way, my own way, to be cute.