#and shops in the men's section at old navy

[doubledyke]

where is my cringe millennial butch girlfriend

[thisisthinprivilege]

My experience with the thin privilege roller coaster

I've struggled with my weight since I was about thirteen years old. I'm now twenty-five, and I have been on both sides of the spectrum. I've experienced both thin privilege and fat discrimination. At my heaviest I wore a size 16-18 and weighed about 200 pounds at 5' 6" tall. I realize that isn't incredibly heavy and I still had more privilege than many people, but I was still what many people consider "fat." I couldn't shop at the same stores as my friends. American Eagle jeans? Out of the question. Better go to Old Navy and check out their "vanity sized" clothing. I could have shopped in "plus sized" sections, or even stores, but I was too embarrassed. I couldn't bring myself to even look at them.

I couldn't get a date to save my life, despite the fact that, over the years, there were several people I was interested in. But they always went for the thinner girls. I remember my dad telling me, "You know, you'd be really pretty if you'd just lose weight. I bet you'd get a boyfriend then."

When I was about twenty, something in my life changed. I transferred schools and was incredibly busy with my homework while also working 25-30 hours a week. I didn't have time for snacks and honestly, I didn't even think about eating most of the time. I was quite unhealthy, often only taking in about 800 calories a day. This continued for months until I weighed 145 pounds. 

And suddenly I was in a completely different world. People held doors open for me. They smiled. If I wore a skirt or shorts, I'd hear crude comments from men, and even the occasional cat call (this is not a good thing and I would never, EVER advocate men treating women like this; I'm simply commenting on the fact that it happened.) My size 8 jeans fit perfectly. I was far more outgoing and confident. I started going on dates and making friends with people who I thought wouldn't have even given my 200 pound self the time of day. I went to the beach for the first time in years. In all honesty... I was happy.

How sad is that? How pathetic is it that losing 55 pounds - in a very unhealthy way - just makes the world open up to you? Instead of people whispering about my weight, they were whispering to ME about OTHER PEOPLE'S weight. And the most sickening part of it all? I laughed along with them. I was happy to finally be included. 

Be it karma, a change in my schedule, or just settling back into old habits, I gained most of my weight back a few years later. Suddenly doors started closing on me. There were less smiles and more shoulder bumps from people who either didn't care or didn't notice me. Men stopped asking me out, and I was even turned down for a teaching job in Japan because of my weight.

Very few "overweight" people are able to say they wouldn't be happier if they were thinner. I'm not saying this to advocate thinspo - quite the opposite, actually. It's the fact that we live in a world that tells us thin people are harder working, more attractive, more intelligent... I'm sure I could expand this list for paragraphs. In many cases, thin people are more likely to be happy because doors (both literally and figuratively) open up for you when you're thin. My self-esteem plummeted when I gained back weight. It wasn't because I was a different person. I didn't magically become lazy or ugly or unintelligent. But the world believed I was, and so I believed I was.

I did lose weight again because I decided to take up running. BOOM - the privilege was back. But this time I aware of it. I remembered that fat me and thin me were the same person. Thin me is not smarter. Thin me is not more charming. The only difference between thin me and fat me is that, in the past, thin me could be incredibly cruel. But thin me will never discriminate against someone for being overweight again, because pounds mean nothing. They do not change who a person is, only the way the world perceives them. 

Although I have learned a lot from gaining and losing weight several times, I wish that this experience had taught me to be immune to wanting thin privilege. I wish that I could eat a bacon cheeseburger and not feel regret for days afterward. I gained some weight back over the winter because I stopped running, and now that the weather's broken all I can think about is wanting that thin privilege back. I keep telling myself "you need to lose ten pounds if you want to wear shorts this summer."

If you're considered "overweight" and you're comfortable wearing shorts, I think you're an absolutely amazing person for saying "screw you" to a world that tells you you shouldn't wear shorts. Because you should wear whatever you want to wear, and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

For me, personally, I need to feel thin to allow myself to wear shorts. I care so much about what other people think, and I hate that about myself. So what do I do? I cut calories and push myself too hard at the gym. All because I want more thin privilege than I currently have. Because I want that single digit jeans size back. Because I like when people hold doors open for me, strike up conversations with me, and invite me to parties. How sad is it that to feel like a proper human being I have to feel thin?

[god-damnit-vinne]

whenever i go clothes shopping i always go with my mom and she always takes me to the women’s section which is why i’ve always hated clothes shopping. today we went to old navy and my mom i think has noticed i hate the women’s section so she asked me if i wanted to go to the men’s section.

oh man i loved it. i normally get very little clothes if i get any at all and this time i got a mountain (which is very good because i do not have enough clothes right now) and the entire time i was smiling because gender euphoria. and get this - so im wearing a pair of sweatpants i got there and the clothes in the mens section are infinitely more comfortable than the ones in the womens???

so yeah mens section of old navy is the best if youre an untransitioned transmasc guy it’s literally gender euphoria 1000 or if you just want more comfortable clothing

[glittter-vamp]

from one tall girl to the next, any advice on we’re to buy clothes that aren’t designed for 5’5 people 😂

Old navy (and I think gap) usually has a tall section (mostly online), I have a few jeans and dresses but I usually get my jeans from Levi’s & American eagle and they’re pretty good with length too.

I still struggle finding short dresses that aren’t too too short on me though 😅 as for tops I shop a lot in men’s for long sleeve (for the arm length) and oversized everything from the men’s because most tops are cropped to begin with now 😂

[autumntouched]

Talk to Me | Ch. 2

Rooster pulls up to Snooze A.M. Eatery. Home of some of her favorite french toast. They made the discovery in Denver while he was helping her drive her car across the country and they stayed with one of his college friends. She went back for breakfast the next day and even delayed leaving the following morning so she could pick up an order for the road.

He parks and waits against her side of the car while she pulls his hoodie over her sports bra. It envelops her like a cozy hug and smells of salty air, old leather, and him. She pushes the too long sleeves up her forearms and his borrowed aviators onto her head.

“You could have saved some gas, you know,” she tells him. “There’s one near base.”

Rooster smirks because of course she knows that. “Seemed like you could use the drive,” is all he says, swinging the door open for her. As she climbs out past him, he pops her ponytail out the back of the sweater. He waves it against her cheek until she bats his hand away. Secretly she likes this rare, playful side of him and enjoys it even more when he smooths her hair down her back. 

Inside, the early morning weekday crowd is thin but Rooster still requests a table near the back. He lets her have the orange booth seat and takes the chair. Their waitress pops up nearly instantly, barely concealing her appreciation for the way his black tee shirt clings to his sculpted chest and biceps. While Jen sets out their waters, her gaze darts between them and then down to Natasha’s left hand so fast that she would have missed it had her brain not been trained to slow down things moving at lightning speed. The woman looks a little disappointed when they place their orders without a glance at the menu.

“Can I get you a coffee, sir? Anything to drink?” she prompts hopefully.

Rooster shakes his head. “Water’s great. Thanks.”

Again, the disappointment.

“I’ll have a coffee,” Natasha offers, just to see how long it takes Rooster to notice that Jen is looking for any reason to come back as often as possible. This is why she likes going out with Rooster, Payback, and Fanboy, and even will put up with Hangman from time to time. Excellent service. Only Payback is smart enough to make her return the favor when he gets the chance.

Jen brightens. “I’ll be right back with that!”

Natasha ducks her head so her grin doesn’t give away her setup. When she looks up again, Rooster is watching her. “Hungry yet?” He swirls the ice in his water and takes a sip. The question is casual, but her BOQ mini fridge is stuffed with meals she has picked over and he knows it.

“This was a great surprise,” she assures him. And it is, even if the french toast ends up feeling like lead weight in her stomach.

He raises an eyebrow but lets her deflection go. “I hear you and Bob went shopping.”

That story got around fast. Men gossip worse than any group of women she’s ever been part of. After their first night out in civilian clothes, she gave her WSO a much needed wardrobe upgrade so it didn’t look like he did his shopping in the retiree section of the Navy Exchange.

Natasha folds her arms on the table, enjoying the feeling of falling back into the ease of their friendship. Everything was so tense before the mission and after she has found herself coming up with excuses to be alone outside of their group activities. “What happened to those shirts I bought  you ,” she teases. “You still look like a sunburned dad on vacation. You’re just missing the fanny pack.”

Unfortunately, Jen bounces back with her coffee just then to undermine the jab. She’s definitely reapplied her lip gloss and touched up her blush. While Hangman would be eating up the attention at this point, Bradshaw seems entirely unaware or unwilling to further the advantage if he’s clocked it.

“They’re for special occasions.” He takes another sip of water but that doesn’t hide the blush creeping up his neck. Huh. “Don’t want to mess them up,” he mumbles.

“I’ll pick out new ones if that happens,” she promises. Anything to get him out of those stupid Hawaiian print shirts. Although, in all honesty, they hadn’t managed to deter her or anyone else Rooster lured in with his brooding aloofness, reluctant smile, and green stare.

She tastes her coffee. Decent. Steering the conversation to something less personal, for her at least, she ventures onto the topic of Maverick.

Rooster’s mustache twitches. “He’s a bit busy with Penny, but things are good between us now.” He leans forward and rests his arms on the table with a sigh. “Or they’re getting better.”

Although she could see that Maverick’s love for Rooster was always there, waiting and ready as soon as his surrogate son changed his mind about their relationship, she also knows that Bradshaw struggles to let things go. Especially the things that hurt him. Behind all the walls he put up to keep people out or appear affected, he was deeply sensitive.

“So you forgave him?”

His mouth quirks upward. “You know, he’s the reason my name is Bradley Bradshaw.”

This she didn’t know. They’ve all wondered how he got his name, some, like her, privately and others, like Hangman, gleefully aloud. Who wouldn’t? Why would anyone name their child Bradley Bradshaw unless they wanted to subject him to a lifetime of teasing? And from what little he said about his parents, that didn’t sound like them.

His pointer finger traces the circle of condensation left by his glass. Sadness touches his smile. “It used to be one of my favorite stories. I don’t have too many memories of Mom before my dad died, but the way her face lit up when she told it reminded me of the old her. She used to say my name was a bet that stuck.”

In response to her raised eyebrow, he goes on. “My dad and Maverick were best friends from the day they met. They used to get in all sorts of trouble, mostly because, as my mom liked to say, Maverick flew fast with planes and women.”

Natasha laughs at this glimpse of a younger Maverick. That’s exactly how she would describe Hangman. Although never aloud because he’d be even more insufferable if it ever got back to him.

“No, seriously. Penny? He’s known her for years. Her dad was an admiral when Maverick was an ensign. Apparently while she was home from college one summer, Mav took her on an all night motorcycle ride and then never called back and her dad wrote him up. Pretty sure it’s still on his record.” This likely explains part of why Maverick is still a captain despite all his years of service. Bradshaw shakes his head as if that’s only the tip of the iceberg then continues with the story. “My mom was pregnant with me while they were deployed, and Maverick bet my dad his child’s name that he could get a date with this woman who’d turned down every other guy in their squad.”

If he was anything like Hangman, she guesses, “And Maverick scored the date?”

Rooster groans, more animated than she’s seen him in a long time. “Unfortunately for me, he did. By telling her that his friend would name his son Bradley Bradshaw if she didn’t go out with him. My dad used to tell my mom everything, and when he told her about the bet, she thought it was so funny. They all started referring to me as Bradley. They didn’t even know that I was going to be a boy. It was supposed to be a joke. But then Dad realized Mom was really thinking about naming me that. He and Mav spent like fifty dollars each calling her to try to talk her out of it, but I was born before they got back and she went through with the bet. ‘Better stick to betting a round of drinks next time’ was all she’d say when Dad said anything about it. So, that’s how I became Bradley Bradshaw. Fucking Maverick.”

They’re both laughing now. Before, he avoided talking about his parents unless he was drunk to the brink of incoherence. Maverick even less. She realizes that she is sitting forward, her face close to his, their hands stretched toward one another across the table. The tenderness in the way he watches her smile makes her drop her gaze.

Jen sweeps in with their food, and Rooster looks away, ending the moment. Natasha pulls her arm back to make space for the plate of french toast. She doesn’t make it through half her food, but she makes it through half while he tells her more stories about his childhood. That’s more than she’s been able to eat in a few days. And the sweet, custard filled bread settles warmly into her stomach instead of like a stone plunking into a churning sea.

He tells her about the time Maverick borrowed a plane only for him to projectile vomit all over it during a rather audacious maneuver he begged Maverick to do. And his fourteenth birthday when Maverick mixed up his presents and accidentally gave him a box of condoms in front of his family and friends. Rooster still blushes at the memory. Mostly because while his grandmother and aunt reacted in horror and all his friends started snickering, his mom clapped and cheered, announcing that she used to tell his dad to “take her to bed or lose her forever.”

Natasha chokes on her coffee refill and does her best to spit it back into the mug instead of down his sweatshirt. Jen had come and gone once again with Rooster barely noticing.

“You were fourteen?” she clarifies. She tries to think of what her mom would have done in his mom’s place. Probably thrown out whoever gave her the condoms but then told her in private not to get rid of them because she would need them anyway and that was less money spent.

He shrugs sheepishly. "My mom wasn’t shy about saying it, even when I was younger. Usually that was Maverick’s cue to babysit. I didn’t mind because that meant a Happy Meal and an extra one if a woman gave him her number for carrying around a cute kid that wasn’t his.”

She files his mom’s phrase away to borrow some time and wishes she could have met Carole Bradshaw. His dad too. His parents sound like a lot of fun, if a bit chaotic.

Bradshaw clears his throat and sets down his fork. He folds his hands and props them beneath his chin, his face suddenly grave. A pit opens in her stomach as she senses an emotional ambush. There is a twinge of guilt in his eyes because he knows he maneuvered her here, away from Fanboy and Payback who obliviously go along with her jokes, away from Bob who watches her quietly but trusts her silence, away from Hangman who would take the first opportunity to make the conversation about him, and away from an excuse to bow out.  

“Come on, it’s your turn. Talk to me Phoenix,” he says gently.

Natasha glares at him, furious he has flipped her own tactics for getting him to open up on her. Rooster insists on once again picking at the scab he hasn't let alone since they came back.

At her prolonged silence, Rooster rubs his thumbs over his eyebrows. When he looks back up at her, his mouth is set in a grim line. “I knew the risks of going back for Maverick. What were you going to do? Get yourself and Bob killed? Get court martialed for insubordination? Do you know Hangman was demoted for disobeying Cyclone’s direct orders? Warlock, Maverick, and Hondo had to talk Cyclone down before he put in the paperwork.”

Actually, she had no idea Hangman had been in that much trouble. She pulls the sleeves of his sweater over her hands while his words sink in. Logically, he is right. It’s what she tells herself when she wakes up in a cold sweat after dreaming of his plane exploding to pieces in the smoky sky. But she was the one who pushed Bradshaw to make this mission, even after she understood the depth of his emotional attachment to Maverick. She wanted to prove herself, to be the best in a way no one could question. And her friend nearly died for validation no one but her needed. If it hadn't been for Hangman...

She is a goddamn good pilot. But what kind of person is she?

Bradshaw stops her from twisting his hoodie’s cuffs into strangled knots. Stroking her hand through the fabric, he insists again, “Talk to me. Please?”

Guilt burns up her throat and closes it off so it feels like she’s drowning in air. She’s suffocating on the words she doesn’t know how to say, the apology he won’t accept.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” she manages to whisper, unable to look at him. “I should’ve gone back when I knew.”

“Sash.” His voice shatters on her name. Bradshaw blinks up at the ceiling and swallows thickly. He clears his throat several times, but his voice is still raw and brittle when he continues. “Sash, when your comms went dead after the bird strike. Jesus, I thought I wasn’t going to see you again. Not alive.” His grip tightens on her hand. “You did what you were supposed to do, and I'm only so fucking grateful you made it out alive.”

He sniffs and swipes his nose with the edge of his hand, trying to shake the tears out of his eyes. Beneath the table, his leg is shaking at having to open a part of his heart to her.

She tries to move his aviators to her face before he can see her cry, but Bradshaw is too fast. His chair scrapes across the floor and then he’s squeezing into the booth next to her, pulling her into his arms and pressing her face into his warm, firm, very much alive chest while she cries.

“Natasha,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She curls her fingers into his sides. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” she says into his shirt. "I pushed you into it."

He strokes her hair, his chest rising and falling beneath her cheeks. “Okay,” he says finally. “It’s okay. You didn't push me anywhere. I wanted it as much as you. You just helped me get out of my own way.”

And although they’re in a diner, and Jen will be back soon for another chance to catch Rooster’s eye, it feels good to let go of holding herself together and cry while he holds her.

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[my-wayward-son]

Trans truths #5

It’s often the clothes that count most for validation and passing.

This tip, though primarily a clothing, touches on many other subjects. Feel free to send an ask if you’d like more information on something. I do intend to circle back around with some other posts addressing the other stuff. The idea with these posts is to give you info in small bites.

So— A major thing that comes along with starting T is… sweat. Your face, your back, and anywhere skin touches skin (or when skin touches a medical device, such as a feeding tube, insulin patch, prosthetic silicone sleeve, etc.).

When purchasing a new wardrobe, focusing on light fabrics, wick-away materials, and affordable quality goods is the way to go.

Here are my shopping secrets:

Cotton t-shirts—you will need a ton of them, even if your closet is already stocked. Changing shirts multiple times a day is not only ok, but also beneficial to keeping your body bacteria/acne free. I know I’m a little high-brow when it comes to labels, but I put my trust in Abercrombie and it’s brother-brand Hollister. Quality is great, most basic T-shirts are 100% cotton, and there are numerous basic fits (crew, v-neck, henley…) to suit your preferences. The basics frequently appear in the clearance section at about half price from the new collection, so they’re often surprisingly affordable. You can order up to 10 of the same item at a time, so if you find your wonder-fit, you can stock up.

Shorts and sweats— I recommend wearing shorts as often as possible. If they’re not your thing, consider at least wearing them at home for the sake of comfort. Old Navy’s Breathe On collection is my go-to for shorts and athletic pants. The athletic pants fall like Addidas new material trousers (the ones with the side stripes). The shorts are a 9” inseam (I think, based on how they fall on me), set with an elastic waist with a drawstring, and made of the softest blend of new materials I have ever felt in my life. Seriously, their quality rivals LuluLemon and other high end brands. Not only is the fabric soft as a cloud, but it’s incredibly thin, and still extremely opaque. A couple caveats: These are definitely athletic style. The price and color availability varies wildly depending on the season (up to $30 regular price and as low as under $10 when on sale). Be careful to purchase from the adult men’s section; the children’s section also has Breathe On items, but they are extremely poor quality. No idea why.

Hoodies— The best I’ve found is the Alternative Eco Zip Lightweight Hoodie, which is available on Amazon at this link: Alternative Men's Eco Zip Lightweight Hoodie https://a.co/d/dUCmpwt . They vary in price from $40 to under $20, depending on the size and color availability, but these hoodies are absolute life savers. They’re a cotton and new material blend that is both super soft and very thin, making them a go-to for fall and spring weather. They’re so light and comfy that they can be worn in hot weather too, for buildings with extreme air conditioning and situations with a lot of sunlight exposure (they’re not UPF, but opaque enough to keep you covered).

Socks— I’m a stickler about quality and fit, so I turn to Bombas for all my sock needs. They are a bit pricey and rarely on sale, but they’re also very charitable— one pair bought is one pair donated to folks lacking clothing resources. They have about a million styles and fits, but the athletic styles (running, golfing, sports, etc.) are quite thin and sweat-absorbing, regardless of the material blend. Bombas socks do live up to their reputation as the “perfect sock.” They don’t slip down your foot with wear, the arch support is amazing, and they last forever (seriously, I’ve have a few pairs I bought six years ago that are still in circulation.).

Underwear— As all the internet buzz claims, MeUndies does make quality and fun products. Now, you do have to start a subscription in order to make them affordable, but once you’ve been on for ~ 7 months, you’ll have plenty ( just mind how long you compile laundry and you’ll be fine). The undies are super soft (new material blend), and the color and pattern choices are extremely amusing. If this is the first time you’re wearing men’s underwear, I recommend going with briefs (boxers are a little tough to wrangle with jeans and such, and boxer briefs can lead to an unfortunate cameltoe if you’re not wearing something underneath (however, if you have incontinence issues or use a catheter, the boxer briefs are great for holding everything in place). Additionally, briefs with an open fly make packing more comfortable (definitely more on that in a different tip post).

Pajamas— I highly recommend 100% cotton poplin pajama pants and shorts. The Gap makes great quality products, and they’re frequently on sale due to seasonal releases. For shorts, browse the men’s boxer section (just to be clear, I recommend wearing these as pajama bottoms, not actually as underwear.) They refresh the prints regularly, so more often than not, you can find some in the clearance section. The pants fall loosely with a straight leg cut, so no need to worry about curves (especially if you just wear them at home). They also have an elastic waist and a drawstring. The boxers also have an elastic waist. The one downside is that the pants and shorts can get super wrinkly in the wash, so you may want to fluff them after they’ve been in the washer and before they go in the dryer.

If there are any more clothing tips you’d like, feel free to drop an ask.

[transbodydreams]

Things transwomen should think about before they start transitioning - clothes edition!

Okay, I'm a month into committing to transitioning, and one of the first things I've had to deal with is building a brand new wardrobe. I had a handful of feminine items, but nothing that was practical and nowhere NEAR enough to actually have something to wear every day! It's been really hit or miss so far - I do now have enough cute, wearable clothes that I could wear something different every day for a week, but that included buying at least as much stuff that didn't fit, was poorly made, or turned out to look terrible on me. I've had to entirely relearn how to shop for clothes and wade through a ton of confusing, contradictory information about sizes, fabrics, styles, and all of the things that make women's clothing so much more fun (and infuriating) than men's. These are a few of the key lessons I've learned that I wanted to share - hopefully someone will see this and not make at least some of the mistakes I made? 😏

Trying to build an entirely new woman's wardrobe all at once is f*cking expensive! Women's clothes cost more than men's in general, and bigger sizes cost more than smaller sizes - sometimes a LOT more, since often the sale prices you see online only apply to the smallest sizes. As a man I could walk into Old Navy or someplace like it and pick up a couple pairs of pants, 2-3 shirts, and some underwear for less than $75, but the equivalent women's basics at a will cost you anywhere from $100 to $200, even if you're shopping at a discount chain like Marshall's. You'll find better deals online, but still expect everyday clothes to cost you at least 25% more for even the most simple items, and don't even get me started on the cost of a really nice dress!

Set a budget and plan your purchases based on what you need, not just what you want. You need to start with basic FUNCTIONAL items like practical, wearable underwear (hose, panties, bras. etc.), season appropriate tops, leggings, skirts, dresses, and if winter's coming, don't forget sweaters and outerwear!

You really do need to know ALL of your measurements before trying to buy clothes - don't guess, you'll get it wrong! There are lots of online resources that tell you what and how to measure. Get yourself a measuring tape and write it all down! Oh, and good luck trying to figure out what a listed "bust" measurement means for a top or dress - does it mean underbust or chest or overbust or bust, because those are all different names for two different measurements 😒

You're going to want to throw out all of your boy clothes, but remember that some female things are just not going to fit you yet, no matter how badly you want them too. Pants are a good example, especially fitted jeans. Unless you're really lucky or you plan on wearing a padded girdle all the time, you probably don't have the butt or hips yet to make most women's jeans work. If you already have some men's slim-fit stretch jeans, for example, very few people will notice the difference from women's low waisted jeans (other than the fly going the wrong way) and they'll look better on you. Plus, some men's items can be repurposed to be worn in a more feminine way, so resist the urge to burn them all!

If you're only wearing your fem clothes at home you can afford to be a little impractical, but if you intend to start wearing them in public remember that you'll need practical stuff that you can wear to do mundane things like grocery shopping or going to work. Don't be that girl in the bodycon mini-dress and 6" platform heels in the produce section!

If there's someplace you feel comfortable going in person, you really should start by trying some things on in a store to get a sense of how things fit and what will work on your body vs what you WISH would work on your body. Online ordering is private and safe and awesome, but there's no telling if what you buy will fit or work for you. If you take the time to try on a bunch of things on for real first, at least you'll have a basic idea of what might work and what definitely won't.

Think about what you want your personal style to be, and try to be realistic about it. Much more than men's clothes, women's clothes are really designed for very specific body types, and no matter how much you wish you could pull off a look, you need to figure out what actually works for your body now. Are you thin enough or young enough to carry off that super cute ultra-stylish street and clubwear, or is it just going to make you look old and fat? Do you really have the hips and butt to pull off those booty shorts? Think about all the times you saw someone dressing inappropriately for their age or body type and cringed, and don't be that person. If your goal is to look good in those styles then figure out what you need to do for it to work for you, but don't waste all of your money buying things that don't look good now and won't fit when you achieve the body you're working toward. Patience, woman! You'll get there!

All that said, if you really feel great wearing things that aren't necessarily "right" for your body, then f*ck anyone who tries to judge you for it. You be you, girl!

Just because it says it's a size 12 doesn't mean it actually IS a size 12. Women's sizes vary a LOT depending on what brand you're buying or where you're buying it from, especially if they only use small/medium/large etc instead of numerical sizes. Find a store or brand that fits you consistently and use that as your gold standard. that way if you buy something from a different brand or store you can get a sense of whether their items are going to trend bigger or smaller.

Finally, a word about wish.com. Someone suggested this site, which is basically the Chinese version of Amazon, as a place to get some stuff really inexpensively, but it is definitely a buyer beware situation. The prices are jaw droppingly low, it's true (seriously, you can find just about anything for under $5!), but it's REALLY hit or miss, like you should expect at least a third of what you buy to be unusable. The sizes are all over the map - some items don't list a size chart at all, and in general everything is a size or two smaller than you would expect it to be, except when it's not. Plus, a lot of the less expensive stuff they have is really poor quality, and their shipping times and costs are RIDICULOUS! I ordered a bunch of cute summery things and not only did the shipping cost more than the items, it's taken so long for them to get here that it's now too cold for me to wear them anywhere except around the apartment with the heat on full blast! I love the site and will probably keep using it (who could resist getting 3 dresses, two tops, two pairs of heels, 2 pairs of leggings, and a couple of cute bras and panties for under $100, even including the exorbitant shipping and the likelihood that at least 4 of those items will be unwearable?) but do your homework and at least read the product info and reviews before purchasing! And remember, it's really easy to get a refund on wish, and given that they only ask you to return items that cost more than $25, all that cheap stuff is basically free to try if you're willing to wait 4-8 weeks for it!

[lfc21]

Daddy and son outfits

You and trent had decided to have a shopping trip as it was finally a day off for trent. Trent had got it Into his head that he needed to buy more clothes than necessary even though his walk in wardrobe was becoming larger and larger by the day. Your little boy started to become more and more like trent, he had the exact same hair as him and often called it brocoli stem hair, he tried to dress like him as much as possible and tried to do amazing corners like him in the garden which often led to a dog being hit by a flying ball or a plant pot being smashed to bits. Due to trents idea of new clothes your little boy was extremely happy as he knew this could be the day he gets some matching outfits with his dad. As soon as trent found out he was going to become a father he was excited by two things football and matching clothes and he was so happy your son was at the age where he can put them both into practise.

"Come on Mr" you softly said as your little boy carefully jumped out of the jeep and grasped your hand in his to steady himself due to the height of the car.

"You two ready?" Trent shouted from the other side of the car trying to lock it. You nodded your head and your 4 year old boy followed next to you as happy as he could be. He was quite tall for his age, definitely picking that up from his dad which you where thankful for as you knew if he got his height from you he would be a surprisingly small footballer in the future.

"Where are we going first babe?" You asked pushing your phone into your bag which was filled with your sons Teddy he insisted on bringing with him.

"Hmm selfridges? They have good stuff" trent replied grabbing your sons other hand as he liked you both close to him as he had an extremely protective nature.

-

As soon as you arrived into the very busy shop trent had a mission on the clothes he wanted but he couldn't miss the opportunity to pick up his favourite scent.

"Dior sauvage?" A men questioned to trent showing him the navy blue bottle advertised by Johnny depp. Trent politely accepted getting sprayed a light spritz to his wrist.

"Me? Me?" Your little boy shouted next to trent shoving his arm up in the air to reach the man and his fragrance. Trent laughed picking up your little boy in his arms to reach the gentleman infront of them.

"Of course sir" the man joked to your little boy and sprayed it lightly on his wrist causing a precious smile to form on his lips.

"Thank you" your son replied with a giggle wrapping his arms around trents neck and scanning his eyes around the huge shops with herds of people shopping and chatting. Your little boy smiled at you as you walked behind them both following where ever trent had in mind, your son rested his arms on trent back due to him being dangled ever so slightly of trents shoulders.

"Oooo babe look at this" trent said pointing to a prada shirt sitting on a model ever so gently.

"I love that" you replied with a smile looking over at the gorgeous black shirt as you where busy looking at ysl bags. Your little boy patiently looked around following trents every move around the section of the shop. Your child was very much in his awe with all the bright lights and people to stare at in just one shop, he was very much enjoying himself.

"Hello sir is there anything I can help you with?" A kind man said to your husband noticing a potential customer.

"Yes actually I need something me and my son can match with" trent replied with a laugh as your son was grabbing onto his hand as tight as possible whilst looking at his rings and his watch.

"Of course sir I will see what I can find" the man announced walking away leaving the two of them to wonder around. Trent came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist looking over your shoulder.

"What do you want?" Trent mumbled into your neck as he knew you weren't going to leave without something new for your closet. You smiled knowing how generous your boyfriend actually was and that however many times you would say no to him he would just buy it you anyway.

"That bag! Its stunning" you said pointing to the black ysl clutch bag sat decorating the shelves in many different colours. Trent nodded and made his way to the lady who seemed to be working for ysl. You walked over to your little boy waiting on the large sofa for the man to bring back his little prada outfit.

"Mummy me and daddy will be matching" he said with pure joy as this is what he wanted for a long time.

"I know baby its very exciting" you replied pulling him onto your knees as you where waiting ever so patiently. Trent walked over with a great big bag with ysl plastered all over it.

"Hello you two" he said smugly with his new shopping bag.

"What?" You said with a confused tone as to why he was seeming to be more happy than normal. Trent smiled pulling out the bag with the matching purse, which you was not expecting.

"Oh my god its stunning" you spoke with excitement as it was the most beautiful pair you hugged trent, extremely thankful at the generous and random gift.

-

After the shopping trip you three went straight home as it had been a longer day than expected. Your little boy ran straight in with trent both up to something you didn't have aclue about. You sat down on the large couch with your dogs giving you massive cuddles as a hello.

"Mummy mummy look" your son shouted holding trents hand to drag him as they both styled a gorgeous back prada hoodie.

"Oh woooow" you giggled looking at how cute the both looked not realising you would like them matching this much. Trent smiled as this was the one thing he had wanted for a while aswell as his little boy.

"I think we look very good looking" trent said picking up his son and placing him on his shoulders ready to get outside and play some football as usual. They where like two pees in a pod and you where sure it would always be this way.

[the-chicken-or-the-banana]

andreil and goodbye kisses (pt. 7) ft. allison

parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 good lord why have i stretched this one concept out for so long skdflskj || part 8

allison thinks — nay, knows — that neil josten is just the cutest human being alive. certainly a badass. very threatening. will bite when provoked.

but still very cute. adorable. squish, if you will.

(also, have you seen those eyes??)

she likes to believe she is the mother hen of the newborn chick — the startled bambi — that is neil josten

and so, as an experienced, highly intellectual person, she... questions neil's taste in men

allison worries that andrew is just stringing neil along, ready to drop him whenever he pleases

(renee insists this is not the case, but what does renee know?)

anyways, allison concludes that andrew must be put to the test to confirm that he is good enough for her precious (and slightly rude) child

now, allison isn't one to perpetuate stereotypes, but andrew is a well-dressed gay man with plenty of experience in dressing up neil nicely

and, as the self-crowned queen of fashion, she knows that clothes can tell a lot about an individual

(for example, her clothes are wonderful, which means that she is flawless)

so allison decides that going clothes shopping with andreil (she cannot thank nicky enough for coming up with that ship name) is the only way to truly see if andrew is good enough for neil

so she plans. and one thursday evening, she corners andrew and neil and tells them what's going down

"neil. you and your boy— " "he's not my boy" "you and your boy will join me this saturday to go shopping at the mall. any questions?" "yes, actually— " "great, i'll see you then!"

to her surprise, andrew actually shows up with neil on saturday, twirling his car keys with a bored expression

"minyard. you are not driving"

"alright then. neil, let's go back to to bed"

"okay okay fine you can drive"

allison, with great dignity, regales herself to backseat passenger. at least this way she has a perfect view of the heart eyes transpiring between andrew and neil

(and if she sneaks in a couple of pictures of them — well, no one needs to know)

they finally reach the mall and allison is ready to start her sneaky observations

first: she spots a cute pink sweater in an egregiously bright shop window and drags neil inside, checking conspicuously if andrew follows him

he does

pleased, allison browses through the store, plucking the sweater she originally saw to try on later

after a little more looking, she emerges from the dressing room to show off the sweater to neil

"well neil? how do i look?"

"oh uh. pretty? andrew, how does she look?"

andrew sweeps an impassive gaze over her and promptly turns around without a word

allison is outraged. how dare he simply ignore neil! does he not think neil is important enough to respond to? does he not care at all? how can he just— oh

andrew returns with a pale blue sweater she had seemingly missed and throws it at her face

she goes back in to try it with a huff. surprisingly (and annoyingly), this one looks even better than the pink one did

she buys the blue one. but andrew's still on thin fucking ice

second: after the sweater fiasco, she leads andreil over to a shoe store. allison * very deliberately * walks through the men's footwear, hoping andrew will take notice of something he likes there for neil, before making her way to the women's section

she tries on a few sandals, showing them off to neil, and andrew wanders off in the middle of her runway strut

(she can't understand why. he might be gay, but surely he can still appreciate her legs, right?)

her questions are answered after andrew emerges from an aisle carrying a navy blue box, placing it in front of neil

neil stares at it. andrew kicks him in the shin

"oh am i supposed to wear it?"

andrew rolls his eyes and bends down, switching neil's old sneakers for a new pair of running shoes he found

allison nearly coos at the sight of the terrifying andrew minyard tying his boyfriend's shoelaces with such a focused look

neil loves the shoes. allison buys them for him. and maybe she approves of andrew just a little bit more

third: after a few more stores, allison is at the final stop of her experiment — clothes shopping for neil

she spends an agonizingly long hour searching for clothes neil might actually wear, but when she goes to give it to him, he's nowhere to be found

frantically, she combs through the store again, already thinking of private investigators to hire to find him

suddenly, allison spots his bright hair against the wall in the far corner of the store

she races over there, ready to give neil a piece of her mind for worrying her, until she sees what he's up to

he's kissing andrew. but it's not heavy making-out, it's not anything too explicit. it's just very adorable kissing

(allison has to bite back a laugh when she notices that andrew has to go on his toes to reach neil)

she goes to pull out her phone, but the clothes in her hand rustle, causing neil to glance her way

he winces at the massive pile of clothes, but presses a kiss to andrew's lips, then nose, before gingerly taking the clothes to try on

allison squints at andrew upon seeing the nose kiss. he scowls at her and promptly walks away in the direction neil left to

allison considers the sight she just saw. surely andrew wouldn't be willing to be so openly soft if he was just playing neil, right? right.

(damn, maybe renee did know some things after all)

allison gives a pleased smile — maybe andrew really is okay for neil — before suddenly remembering the bet that she's probably going to lose soon

but she doesn't mind losing some money anymore; she has plenty of it

all allison wants is for neil to be happy. and if andrew brings him happiness— well, she doesn't really understand neil's taste, but she supports it anyway

fuck. when did she get so soft?

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

*

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs​

[managedmischiefs]

sweatpants//spencer reid

genre: fluff

warnings: nothing really. sad spencer for about two seconds.

word count: 2.7k

i have plenty more one shots on my wattpad so let me know if any of you want to see more of this type of writing :) make sure to reblog and comment :))

i fell in love with spencer reid the moment i met him. i fell in love with absolutely everything about him. his smile lit up the little bookstore as his glasses drifted further and further down his nose, and his hair hung over his forehead in messy, unbrushed curls. from the first time we locked eyes after he got a book down from the top shelf for me, i envisioned our whole future together.

we saw each other casually after our first meeting despite how badly i wanted more. we quickly realized that we frequented the little bookstore at the same time on saturdays and we just began to "accidentally" run into each other over and over at the same exact day and time. of course, i made sure to be there every saturday for the next three months just for the chance of seeing him.

i finally got the balls to ask him out after the fifth month of these meetups. he seems surprised and he blushed, then tugged on his tie to loosen it around his neck. he accepted quickly and we went bowling the next week. we were both horrible and eventually asked to put the bumpers up because the amount of gutter balls we were throwing were astronomical. but that "first" date was the first time i noticed something very important about spencer reid.

he wears a variation of the same outfit every single day, no matter what he's doing.

sweater vests, button ups, slacks, ties, and converse. sometimes a cardigan. these items get mixed and matched everyday and sometimes don't match, but the chaos of his outfit colors just suits him. and it suits his penchant for wearing mismatched socks. but i continued to realize more and more about his wardrobe as we spent more time together.

if we went out: slacks, button up, tie, converse.

if we had dinner at his apartment: slacks, button up, sweater vest, tie, converse.

if we cuddle on the couch: pajamas.

there's no in-between with him and it took me a while to decide if i loved this or thought it was odd. i landed somewhere in the middle. he would sometimes start to squirm in the middle of dinner and go to change into pajamas to be more comfortable.

i never commented on this because i knew he liked the way he dressed and i didn't want him to think i hated it. he's already an insecure person, despite me loving him with my whole heart and soul, and i'd feel so horrible if i added onto that. so i would sit through the squirming and the tie-tugging and the quick unlacing of shoes after a long day of converse wearing. i grinned and gave him lots of kisses because i love him regardless of his fashion choices. or lack there of.

but spencer continues to grow and thankfully, i grow with him. i start a new job and spencer continues to thrive at the bau. i move into his apartment and he decides that this is the perfect time for a change. a new haircut. super short on the sides and long on the top. i nearly keeled when i saw how utterly handsome he was with his new haircut. i jumped his bones immediately.

but the sweater vests and same brown cardigan didn't quite hit the spot anymore. i would find spencer standing in front of the mirror before work, silently wondering if the black or brown cardigan would look better with his gray sweater vest. still, it was endearing but eventually it becomes too much.

i pass a department store everyday on my way home from work and it started to pique my interest. one day when i got off work early and knew spencer wouldn't be home, i stopped off. the store was huge and had a humongous selection of styles and brands to choose from. i knew i had to bring spencer.

when i told him i wanted to take him shopping, he tilted his head in confusion like an adorable puppy. "what do you need? new sweaters? it is almost winter and i know you got rid of most of your winter clothes when the summer came. did you—"

"no, honey," i laughed, silencing his confused, off-topic rant. "i'm taking you shopping. for you."

another head tilt. "for me? i don't need anything."

"i know you don't need anything," i clarified, running my hands through his freshly cut hair, "but i want to treat you. and besides, i think you've outgrown some of your wardrobe and it's time to get some new items."

so that leaves us now, walking hand in hand into the department store. he's holding me tighter than usual as i lead him to the men's section, but i don't complain. i know he gets nervous in public places and i have no problem with a bit of coddling.

"so, i was thinking," i say as i flip through a rack of undershirts, "you could get some new dress pants. maybe a pair of jeans. maybe some blazers or just suit jackets. that way your style can grow but you can also wear your trusty button ups and ties underneath."

spencer pouts. "i like it better when we shop for you."

i stifle a laugh as i find an appealing gray blazer and search for spencer's size. "and why's that, bub?"

"because then you get to pick out cute clothes and i can watch you try them on."

"well, this time, i'll get to watch you try them on," i wink and hand the blazer over to him. "hold that. please and thank you."

spencer huffs and drops my hand so he can hold the hanger of the blazer. i continue walking through the racks and in my peripherals, i can see spencer glancing around the store and at the racks surrounding us. he follows behind me like a lost puppy, the amount of items in his hands growing as i pass every rack.

"how would you feel about," i pick out a set of matching maroon pants and a maroon blazer, "this color?" i told it up to spencer's chest. he looks down at the garment and scrunches up his nose. "no? that's okay. i think navy's suit you better anyway. no pun intended."

"babe?" he wonders softly as i move over to a rack of ties. "why are you doing this?"

"doing what?" i pick up a tie that is blue with pink flamingoes on it and drape it over his shoulder.

"taking me shopping. wanting to redo my wardrobe or something."

"well," a new tie on his shoulder- a yellow base with blue whales, "you have had the same wardrobe since i met you, and that was many years ago. you've grown up, spencer. maybe some new clothes could reflect that."

i watch a pout come to his face and his shoulders deflate. "you don't like the way i dress?"

i pout right back at him, trying to not seem so mocking in my expression. "i love the way you dress. but i think it might be time to replace that same brown sweater vest you've had since college. that's what i'm talking about. we don't have to do this if you don't want. we can go home."

spencer thinks for a second. he adjusts his hold on the handful of blazers and trousers in his arms and takes another glance at them. "i'll give these a try."

the pride swells in my chest and nearly bursts out. it's no secret that spencer hates change. he would rather his life stays exactly the same all the time. meals, furniture arrangement, train schedule, his wardrobe. clearly, he would rather wear the same clothes for the rest of his life than branch out a bit. so him agreeing to do just that nearly makes me cry right in the middle of the department store.

we push on and spencer continues to trail behind me and hold the clothes i pick. once his knees are practically buckling under the weight of the chosen clothes, i agree to let him start part two. the fitting room.

he disappears into a room and i sit across from the door in a fluffy armchair that probably has more germs on it than a public bathroom. okay, maybe that's just dramatic. but it has enough germs that i'm sure spencer would refuse to sit here, or maybe even get grossed out that i'm sitting on it.

"uh," i hear my boyfriends voice from behind the door, "i think i did it."

i hold in my giggle. "you think?"

"i mean, i put together an outfit. don't know if it's any good. it's definitely not as good as the things you put together."

"just let me see."

the door pops open and my jaw nearly hits the floor. my spencer is standing there in navy slacks, a navy blazer, a vest, button up, and a tie. he looks exactly like i expected him too. my same loving, quiet, genius boyfriend but much older and mature. he looks phenomenal.

but spencer scrunches up his nose and turns on his toes to look in the full length mirror. "i feel like all of this is too busy. there's too much happening."

"no, baby, not at all," i come up behind him and slide my hands across his back and then around his waist. "it's such a good look on you. it's spencer reid but as an adult."

he furrows his eyebrows and looks at me through the mirror. "are you implying i dressed like a child before?"

"no, no, not at all," i nudge his waist and he spins back to me. "it's a perfect outfit. you put it together perfectly. the colors, the different pieces."

spencer's face lights up as he watches me adjust the lapel of his jacket. "really?"

"yes!" i smooth down the shoulders and then tug on the cuff links. "it's perfectly your style. you don't think so?"

"mm," he looks back down at his own body and shakes out his arms a little. "i guess it is. it's just...different."

"it is different but it's a good different. you're still the same old genius who could go on for hours about mushrooms or doctor who or whatever. so you," i pat his shoulder and go up on my toes to kiss his cheek, "get into a new outfit and show me again, okay?"

spencer agrees and closes the fitting room door. we stay at the store for nearly two hours, picking out and trying on potential outfits. spencer even starts picking items on his own, but he comes to me in the cutest way to ask if i like the things he's picked out. i always do. and even if it's not my favorite piece, he obviously likes it so i tell him i love it.

we spend hundreds and split the bill. i insisted i pay because i was the one who brought him here, but he insisted he pay because the clothes are for him. we found a happy medium.

i don't know what i thought was going to happen after we basically replaced his wardrobe. apparently, i didn't think about what the next work day would be like. because i wake up before spencer and go to make breakfast and only listen to him shower and get dressed.

"good morning!" spencer chirps, practically skipping into the kitchen.

"morning!" i say back, putting pancakes on a plate for him. "here's your—" and i absolutely freeze in my spot at the sight of him in a dark tan jacket and slacks, a purple button up, and a matching gray tie. his hair is perfectly swooped across his forehead and he's grinning, practically glowing in his new outfit. "holy shit."

"you like it?" he holds up his arms a bit as if to gesture to his appearance.

i just stand and stare at him for another minute, clutching the plate in my hand so tightly that i fear i might break it. but spencer chuckles, taking it from me and placing it in front of the chair he always has breakfast in.

"i might not let you out of the house looking this good," i finally manage to say. "you'll come home with a new girl on your arm and forget all about me."

spencer pouts. "i'd never do that to you."

i grab onto his cheeks and lay a huge kiss on his lips. "i know you wouldn't. you look amazing, spence. even better than yesterday."

spencer comes home that night and beams about the compliments he got from his coworkers today and thanks me for encouraging him to expand his wardrobe. i don't accept his thanks because i'm just happy to see him feeling more confident in himself than ever.

however, my job is not done yet.

as much as he loves his new clothes, i give him a few weeks to adjust to his new normal. i let him get used to needing a few extra minutes in the morning to arrange an outfit and to the washing process before i spring something new on him. but once i can tell he's completely comfortable with his new wardrobe, i stop at the department store after work again.

"spence?" i call into the apartment as i kick my shoes off, clutching the paper bag in my hand.

"hi!" he calls back, emerging from the study with a book in his hand. "you're late."

i hold up the bag for proof. "i stopped at the store again." spencer follows me into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed in anticipation. "well, first, i saw a couple more ties that i liked," i take those out of the bag and throw them over his shoulder. "but i got these!"

i pull out three perfectly folded pairs of sweatpants and four plain colored tee shirts. spencer unravels each item and then looks up with his eyebrows furrowed. "i don't get it."

"okay," i giggle, placing my hands on his shoulders, "when i go to work, i wear my skirts and blouses and heels, right?"

like the puppy he is, he tilts his head to the side in confusion. "right."

"and when i got to sleep, i wear pajamas. but between the blouse and the pajamas, i wear sweats. you, my love," i boop his nose and instantly, an adorable pink hue paints his cheeks, "don't own sweats. you go from suits to pajamas. and again, i'm not saying that i don't love the way you dress. i'm just looking out for your comfort. if you hate them, i'll return them. simple as that."

he runs his hands over the tee shirts and runs it between his fingers. "they are really soft."

"i got the ones that are 100% cotton because i know you like how it feels."

"i'll try it," he concedes, smiling up at me. "thank you. you're too good to me."

"you deserve the world, angel face."

the next day, he gets called away for a case and i don't see him for almost two weeks. we call and text as much as possible, but we both get so busy that it's nearly impossible. so i stick to sending him good morning and goodnight texts and praying that he comes home in one piece.

after nearly two and a half weeks without him, i come home and see his car in the parking garage where it always is. i squeal, running all the way to the apartment and bursting through the door.

spencer is lounging on the couch, thankfully in one piece, and reading a book, dressed in gray sweatpants and a white tee shirt. he looks up and grins when i enter, standing up and pulling me into his arms.

"i can't believe you're sitting here," i mumble into his neck, "and looking so good when i'm not around."

spencer laughs into my shoulder, kissing my small bit of exposed skin. "well, you're here now so you can enjoy it."

"you look so fucking hot," i blurt out, grabbing a handful of his cotton shirt and tugging him towards the bedroom. "let me show you just how hot i think you are."

"god, i love this new wardrobe."

[chubb-e-cheese]

I love that ad you posted with the plus sized couples that has male and female models 😍 that's one thing really frustrating I've noticed in stores that are promoting body positivity and extended sizes (i.e. old navy) they only extend the women's sizes... I'm nonbinary and like to shop in both sections, but cant find things that fit me in the men's section... Even stores like Walmart or Target might have a plus size women's section but none for men... I don't understand why this movement (and the companies profiting off of it 🙄🙄) are ignoring half of the population!! It's infuriating!

Sorry just wanted to rant I love your blog and how much you care about these things. Following you has had a huge impact on how I see fat bodies, including my own. Also you are hot as hell 😍😍

Thank you hun!

I agree, there’s still a long long way to go, but we have already come pretty far! I remember like 5 years ago not a single shop in Austria carried plus size clothes, and now I see them pop up everywhere! It’s just gonna get better x

[mrsluthordanvers]

Ive been meaning to check old navy, my friend mentioned it to me too. Dont know if I'm brave enough to venture into the mens section just yet tho lol thank you!

I understand!! I only started venturing to the men's section in the last year and I will say it took almost two years of hyping myself up before that and the two WONDERFUL women who found me wandering around aimlessly both times I went and took over to see it as SLIGHTLY less intimidating. I'm not kidding I went into Old Navy and picked up a pair of shorts and a woman who worked there appeared out of no where and said "you don't want those" put them back and grabbed a completely different pair and said "you want these" and she was right!

If you want to stick with the women's section I would suggest Banana Republic, or Simons if you are Canadian. Banana Republic is obviously more expensive but honestly their Riley tailored shirts a worth it. If you're lucky enough to have one around check out their outlet!

Online shopping isn't for everyone (esp if you're on a tight timeline for purchasing new clothes) but for myself venturing the men's section online was waayyy less intimidating. A super general rule is there's a two size difference. I'm a woman's XL and a men's M (some shirts I looked at their measurements online to confirm they'd fit my chest)

I hope you find the right clothes for your new job that you feel like you can take on the world in!

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

just had such an insanely funny time at the mall like. i went there to go to old navy to buy jeans but i was like oh i should go to rue21 first, not because i like their clothes but bc i felt like i should (i have a complex about buying shit at old navy, i just feel like it’s for middle aged people and small children but like. no one else has the selection of dyke jeans they do yaknow)

and when i walked in the salesperson was like “hey how’s it going what are you looking for?”

and i really didn’t wanna buy anything, i was just window shopping, but i didn’t wanna tell them that so i was like “idk i’m just looking around!”

and they were like “well we have a great sale on summer dresses—“ and they very clearly noticed my eyes glazing over and IMMEDIATELY went “wehaveaplussizesection AND A MENS SECTION! i’m sure we have WHATEVER you’re into— looking for—“

like excuse me thank you i have to go now so i don’t start cackling pardon me. anyway then i went to old navy and got hit on by the very shy cashier who kept accidentally repeating the like Customer Service Phrases bc they were nervous around me so VERY butch shopping experience. it had everything honestly

[karasimpno]

{Day 14} Take It Like a Man | Daichi x Reader

Pairing: Sawamura Daichi x Gn!Reader

Genre: fluff, cheering up your adoring boyfriend

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: None I don’t think! One (1) shirtless Daichi :)

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

That’s the best part: the outside is new, but now it reflects what’s already in you. Couldn’t change that if I wanted to. —Take It Like a Man; Legally Blonde: The Musical (music and lyrics by Laurence O'Keefe and Nell Benjamin)

Daichi had never needed a suit.

He got into the police academy right out of high school, and from the training through his required duties, all he ever needed was his uniform.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to dress – he could always muster together a pair of slacks or a nice sweater on date nights. He just never went out of his way to buy really nice things, let alone nice clothes for himself.

So as he began the arduous task of grappling with mounting issues within the force and mulling over whether to pursue a career change, you wanted to do something nice for him.

“Y/n, c’mon, where are we going babe?” Daichi asked, grinning as you tightened your grip around his bicep. Your laugh was light, bouncing off the walls of the mall you were walking through. Your boyfriend had been so closed off recently with the stress of work and job hunting, it brought a smile to your face just to see him loosening up.

“Just trust me, Dai. I wanted to do something special for you. C’mon!” you encouraged, tugging him around the corner to—

“What’s this?” he asked, facing the entrance to the large department store in confusion.

“We’re going shopping!” you sing-songed, lacing your fingers with his and tugging as you stepped from the polished cement of the shopping mall over to the bright white tiles of the department store. The change in atmosphere was evident: you were met with harsh halogen lights overhead and the overwhelmingly pure oxygen being pumped in through the vents of the pristine entryway.

“I—baby, shopping? I don’t—” he protested with a playful grimace. You were quick to shush him, taking his other hand in yours so that you held them both, facing him and meeting his dark chocolate irises.

“Take a deep breath,” you told him.

“I—”

You squeezed his hands to show him you were serious. With a grin he half-rolled his eyes and fluttered them shut, taking in and releasing an inhale that was more of a sigh. His calloused hands engulfed yours, and you delighted in their warmth.

“Love?” a sultry voice interrupted Daichi’s train of thought. Blinking his eyes back open, he was met with the sight of a woman presenting a perfume bottle between the two of your connected arms.

“Sorry?” he asked, his brows pulling together with a wrinkle as you did your best to repress a grin. Has he never been in a department store before? you wondered.

“Love,” she said again, offering a spritz of the liquid in the air between the two of you. It smelled overwhelmingly of roses and you fought back a cough from its pungency. “The new fragrance from Chanel,” she offered alluringly.

“Ah, no thank you,” Daichi responded with a polite smile and a single firm nod. The woman slinked away, hips swishing enticingly with her eyes still on Daichi, but all his focus was on you. “I already have all the love I need,” he said with a playful smirk. You grinned back at him and felt abruptly warm under his gaze when his hands squeezed yours. You were reminded of the strength and safety of your boyfriend’s arms and pressed yourself against his chest momentarily, wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt his arms pull you in closer and you melted a little, seeing an unmistakable warmth in his eyes. He was just so in love with you, and even being dragged around a shopping mall was worth it if it meant being by your side.

“Look,” you sighed, feeling your heartbeat slow and sync up with his as you pulled away slightly and gently traced your fingers up and down his toned bicep. At home you would have rested your forehead against his and just stayed there.

“I know how hard things have been lately,” you continued. “With the police force and everything I...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Let me do this one thing for you,” his face grew impossibly softer and you knew he wouldn’t say no to you. “I want you to have some nice clothes—a suit—” you corrected, “that you can be proud of yourself in,” you pressed gently, running your hands soothingly across his collarbones, over his shoulders and down his arms. He wouldn’t articulate it, but this meant a lot to him. It wasn’t that Daichi didn’t think he deserved people doing nice things for him, he was just so used to being there for others, supporting them and being their foundation, that it often took him by surprise when someone went out of their way to notice and do something for him. He raised one of your hands up to his lips and pressed a firm kiss to your knuckles.

“Okay baby,” he whispered with a smile. Your smile was twice as bright and you quickly laced your fingers with his.

“C’mon then!” you encouraged playfully, pulling him alongside you to the men’s section. Selfishly, you smiled to yourself upon seeing the racks of woolen polyester blends and manicured lapels. The old saying really was true - suits were their own lingerie of sorts for men.

“Okay,” you said with a smile as you pulled him into the middle of the sea of navys and blacks. “We can try on the jackets out here to get a sense of what kind of style you like, then we can choose a whole ensemble based on that!” Daichi looked at you with a loving sense of bewilderment. You amused him endlessly. “So just grab something that catches your eye!” you told him, beginning to dive into one of the racks. Daichi chuckled softly and began paging through a rack of his own. His back turned to you, you held up a wine-dark purple suit jacket that had caught your eye almost immediately. He turned to you with a nondescript, low-cut dark grey blazer in hand, an amused smirk on his face at what he saw in yours.

“That, I don’t love,” he said pointedly. You narrowed your eyes playfully at his aversion and your mind began to turn.

“That’s really nice, Daichi!” you encouraged his selection, still not returning yours to the rack.

“C’mon,” he pushed, walking over to show off how much better he looked in the grey, slipping it over his shoulders—and God did he look good. “This is more my style,” he said—and he had a point. “That feels like something Suga would wear,” he said, referencing the purple fabric in your hand. “He’s gotten so... I dunno, dapper lately,” he mused, trailing off as he turned slowly, modeling the jacket for you.

“Okay you’re right,” you smiled, quickly putting the jacket back in the rack and resisting the urge to run your hands over his strong back, accentuated by the pleats in the suit jacket. You sighed. His hands found yours again and you were instantly charmed by his smile.

“Okay, grab that pair of pants,” you said, eyeing a slim cut in the same color that would flatter his thighs and accentuate his stature, “and a white collared shirt and....I’ll meet you in the dressing room,” you said with a grin and a wink. Daichi held back a chuckle, shaking his head at you and obediently following your orders. Surreptitiously, as he started walking off, you grabbed the matching wine-dark purple vest from the suit jacket you had been eyeing and marched over to the dressing room, picking up a understated striped amethyst tie on your way over.

There was no one attending the dressing room kiosk—it was practically dead on a Tuesday afternoon—so you quickly slipped into the hall, eyes landing on the only closed door. Finding it slightly ajar, you slid in to find Daichi with his shirt coming over his head.

“Hey!” he said in surprise, half-covering himself with the removed shirt. His rippling form was still easily visible and you smirked, leaving the vest and tie on a hook.

“Hey yourself,” you said, lowering his raised hands to reveal more of his chest, your nose getting right up in his face. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before,” you winked. “Don’t forget these,” you told him, quickly stepping towards the door. He eyed the purple fabric skeptically; it was certainly a departure from his usual uniform or bland business casual in the alternative, but you had a good feeling about the pop of color and his skin tone. Daichi sighed, unable to resist your smile as you eased out of the stall. He decided he was going to humor you.

After a few more silent moments broken only by the shuffling of fabric, you heard Daichi’s voice softly from inside.

“Okay this is...” he opened the door, making you inhale sharply. The pants fit him perfectly, snug over his muscular thighs and cutting straight down to the floor. The white collared shirt popped against his the color of his skin as the charcoal grey brought a handsome elegance to his appearance. And the pop of color—you were absolutely right. He was glowing. And the best part was, he didn’t even know it.

“Y/n...you’re staring,” he poked. You laughed at yourself, giving him space to walk out of the dressing room. You busied yourself with doing the tie that laid undone over his chest, focusing your eyes on the material to avoid the heat in your face. Feeling his breath ghost over your skin, you forced back a grin and stepped away to admire your work, trailing your fingertips down his chest.

He glanced down at the tag on the inside of the jacket.

“Holy—Y/n, is this the price?” he asked disparagingly. You quickly swatted the tag out of his hands.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. I’m getting this,” he opened his mouth to protest but you quickly slid your palm over his eyes, using your other hand to guide his shoulder away from you and down the hallway.

“C’mere, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” you whispered in his ear as you led him past the other dressing rooms to the floor-length tri-fold mirror at the end of the hall.

“You ready?” you asked, resting your chin on his broad shoulder. He sighed and muttered something about “...as I’ll ever be.” Your heart jumped a little and you pressed a kiss to the seam at his shoulder, sliding your hand away from his eyes and letting both hands land on his hips. You were unwilling to pull away from him in his moment of vulnerability.

The reaction was clear on his face. His jaw dropped a little, almost going slack as his eyes widened and took in his reflection that even he had to admit looked rather dashing. The suit clung to his form and brought out his wide chest, his strong hips and legs. The V of the jacket accentuated the natural musculature of his body and the hints of purple just put him all together.

“Woah,” he breathed, his eyebrows furrowing. “I look.... I look like Kuroo,” he teased. The corner of his mouth twitched but his eyes stayed locked on his form in the mirror. It was true, he had the outward appearance of the businessman who came to your shared home for dinners sometimes.

“But...it’s just me,” he said, and you squeezed him tighter for taking the words right out of your mouth. He began to turn his head back to you, his eyes seeking out your face as he tried to wriggle from the discomfort of being on display like this. But you held his hips firm.

“That’s the best part,” your voice softened. He swallowed, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you brought your chin back to rest on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist. He was absolutely stunning, the formal attire giving him a new glow.

“The outside is new and beautiful. But now it only reflects what was already there. Nothing changed, it just brings out the man I love. The man I always see—and I would never want to change that,” you told him softly.

His hands came up to squeeze yours and he turned in your arms. You beamed up at him and he took your cheek in one hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He meant it.

“No, thank you,” you said. “This is for agreeing to get lunch with me that one day so long ago and for letting me into your life. I love you.” “I love you too,” he smiled, beginning to walk back to the dressing room.

“Oh and there’s one other perk,” you said flippantly.

“What’s that?” he returned with a smirk.

“You look really hot,” you winked. He hooked an arm around your waist and pressed his lips fully against yours. He was so in love with you and couldn’t believe you were his. And you hadn’t even gotten to the shoes and belt yet!

A/n: THIS ONE’S FOR ALL MY DAICHI-LOVIN HOES!!!! @starshaped-raindrops​ this is what I was on about the other day. And thank u to @ceo-of-daichi​ for encouraging my Daichi love in the first place I love y’all!!! This is such a fun song and it always puts a smile on my face. Fun fact: originally we had Daichi for Perfectly Marvelous and Akaashi on this one but it just made SO much more sense to switch the two. Hope you enjoyed!!! Thanks for reading:)

Taglist: @izagraceee​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @starshaped-raindrops

[combeauferre]

fine

rated g, 1.1k words, schitts creek

“I don’t shop in the men’s section.” “That’s it? That’s your reason?” David pulls the shirt from the rail. “Try it on, what could happen?”

or, everything was right until suddenly it was wrong.

read on ao3

“Wow, are you sure you want to go in there?” Stevie asks as they walk up to the Old Navy. “There are things in here that I could afford.”

“Okay, don’t make this harder than it already is,” David laughs sourly, taking a deep breath and stepping inside.

The men’s section is right there, and David awkwardly steps towards a casual t-shirt.

“What do you- what do you think?”

Stevie raises her eyebrow.

“I think it would look ridiculous on you.”

“It’s not ridiculous!”

“Not for literally anyone else,” Stevie says, “but you wear the dumbest clothes ever, this is way too normal for you.”

“Are you saying I’m too expensive for Old Navy?” David grins. “Because I wholeheartedly agree.”

“I’m saying your taste in clothes is hideous, actually.”

David’s jaw drops in shock and he folds his arms.

“Okay,” he says, “find me something not-hideous then.”

Stevie looks around for a moment and finds a dark printed button up.

“What about this?” she says, “good and professional.”

“You know what,” David says, “I actually think that would suit you.”

Stevie rolls her eyes.

“Me?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t shop in the men’s section.”

“That’s it? That’s your reason?” David pulls the shirt from the rail. “Try it on, what could happen?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Stevie stares into the mirror, at her face, at the way the collar fits around her neck, at the way the shirt tucks into her jeans, and finally at her chest, which should be flat. Fuck.

How can you try on one shirt and have an identity crisis?

“This is ridiculous,” she mutters, but she pulls her hair up out of view with one hand anyway, and she likes the way it makes her look. Like a man.

She flinches and lets her hair drop.

“How are you doing in there?” David calls. Stevie jumps, and begins unbuttoning the shirt.

“Just a second,” she shouts back. She pulls the shirt off, trying her best not to look at her chest as she changes back into her plaid shirt. She opens the door and hands David the shirt.

“What did we think?” he asks.

“Hated it.”

She walks away, trying her best to ignore the way her whole body is quivering with anxiety.

 It’s all she can think about for the next week, as much as she tries to ignore it. It’s like everything has suddenly been thrown off-kilter and she’s stuck in a world that’s slightly to the left. Everything was fine before she tried on that stupid shirt.

Well, she hadn’t really liked her body. Going lingerie shopping for date nights was always uncomfortable, putting make up on made her feel uncomfortable and itchy. She realises now, being a woman was never really fine. She just hadn’t considered the alternative.

can we go out for drinks tonight? She texts David during one of her shifts, when she’s sat at her desk and can’t think about anything other than the fact that she’s not a girl, fuck.

sure, David texts back, u good?

wanna talk about some stuff, she says, because she’s feeling brave and she wants to tell someone about her revelation.

Somehow, by the time they reach The Wobbly Elm, her confidence is gone. She’s left with a sick feeling in her stomach and no desire to get drunk and spill her guts to David.

“So what did you want to talk about?” David asks as he walks two drinks over to their booth.

“Uh,” Stevie says, freezing up. This is suddenly way scarier than she thought it was going to be. It’s only David, she tells herself over and over, but it doesn’t help. “You know what, I actually don’t remember.”

David gives her a look that says he knows otherwise, but he doesn’t press her. He doesn’t always have the best tact, but in that moment she could kiss him.

“Okay, well,” David says, “Let me tell you my news, about our new vendor at the store.”

 She’s so mad at herself for sitting on this. Everything feels so wrong, it’s like her skin is crawling all the time, like all eyes are on her, like she’s about to claw her way out of her body.

“Stevie!”

Stevie looks up from her hands, which are beginning to redden with all the anxious picking she’s been doing.

“Mr Rose,” she says, standing up from her seat. “Is everything okay?”

“I was just wondering if you would help this guest settle in?” he gestures to the man walking into the office with three heavy bags. Johnny turns to the guest. “Here she is, all ready to help you.”

Stevie’s stomach turns at the pronoun, but she swallows thickly and walks around to pick up a bag. It’s heavy, and she feels a stir of happiness that she’s doing the manly job. It’s kind of childish, she knows, but it helps, and she lets herself feel it.

 Stevie hadn’t even considered pronouns until hearing the “she” from Johnny. But now that she was aware of it, every she and her made her cringe. Part of her wanted to tell someone, anyone, to just not say she. Another part of her wanted to tell someone he, but she wasn’t ready for that. That meant making it real, and that was scary.

The solitaire on her desktop stays untouched another two hours before Alexis comes in.

“Hey girl,” she says, grinning. Stevie almost visibly winces, but offers Alexis her best smile.

“Hey, Alexis,” she says quietly. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering,” she says, “David said you’ve been kind of sad lately, and I thought a girls’ night might cheer you up.” She grins and offers Stevie a pat on the hand, and Stevie knows she means well, but this feels all wrong.

“Well, I don’t know-”

“We can pamper ourselves and do our nails and hair,” Alexis begins.

“I’m not sure-”

“Maybe we can do a proper makeover!”

“I’m not a girl!” Stevie says suddenly, louder than she wanted. Alexis stops, and Stevie claps a hand over her mouth.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I-”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Alexis says quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… assumed.”

“Why wouldn’t you assume?”

Alexis pauses.

“Okay, I don’t know, but,” she pauses to think for a second. “So what does this mean?”

“I literally have no idea.”

“Do you still want to be called Stevie?”

Stevie shrugs.

“That’s fine. I don’t really wanna be called a girl though.”

“Boy?” Alexis asks. Stevie bristles. Not because it’s bad, but because it’s scary.

“Could you…” Stevie stops.

“What?”

“Could you try calling me ‘he’?” Stevie looks down, fingers picking at themselves again.

“Okay,” Alexis says, turning around to an imaginary customer. “This is Stevie, he’ll be helping you today.” She turns back and Stevie is stunned. “How was that?”

“I… I meant in general, but-” Stevie’s not sure if she can comprehend anything right now with the he, he, he running through her head. It felt right.

Stevie looks up at Alexis and smiles.

“It was really good,” he says. “Thank you.”