#and the never quite fitting in with the other girls. going the tomboy route

[robinsnest2111]

rotating the concept of trans/nb/non-cis chrissy in my brain 👉👈 (with a bunch of platonic eddie/chrissy thrown in for good measure, also chrissy getting adopted into the steve-robin-eddie-and-by-extension-all-the-other-teens friendship circle)

[kentonramsey]

How I Finally Embraced My Androgynous Style

Image Source: Elaine Oyzon-Mast

First let me preface this story with one cold, hard fact: I'm in my 40s. I am not and never was a supercool, 20-something lesbian with an awesome sense of style and an even more awesome wardrobe (think Ruby Rose - I sure do, A LOT). The truth is, when I was in my 20s, I was far too afraid to be who I wanted to be, to dress how I wanted to dress, and to quit giving a sh*t what other people thought. The older I got and the more confident I became with the person I was, the less I cared about what others thought. I let too many years go by trying to be someone else, being uncomfortable in my skin and in my clothes. But I'm proud to say that I've finally developed a sense of style that doesn't just allow me to hold my head up, it also gives me the confidence that conforming to social norms never did.

I've never been a girlie girl. My whole life I have been the epitome of a tomboy. For as long as I can remember - long before I knew I was gay at age 18 - I have struggled to find clothes I was comfortable in. At primary school dances, when every other little girl was wearing a dress, I couldn't think of anything worse. One year, I went in (homemade) MC Hammer pants and a t-shirt with the words "Talk Is Cheap." Even though it was the '80s, trust me: this was still an unfortunate fashion choice. I can recall very vividly going to visit my grandma when I was around 9 or 10. I was wearing plaid pants, a long-sleeve top of some description, and a bowler-style hat. My grandma turned to my mum and said, "Who is this little boy you brought with you?" Thanks very much, Grandma. #asshole. May she rest in peace.

I didn't want to dress like a boy, I wanted to dress like me, but I didn't know what that meant or how to do it. The struggle was often and it was real. I graduated from high school in the mid-'90s, when only your mum wore pantsuits and not cute ones, so those were definitely out. For my high school formal, well, I'm just going to leave this here:

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

For the better part of my early 20s, I worked in bars and restaurants, where the dress code was jeans, t-shirts, black pants, white shirts - now that I could do. When I landed my first corporate job at 26, I had nothing that would pass for professional, so I bought a whole lot of really boring office clothes that I didn't feel comfortable in. I wore wide-leg pants, high heels, and blouses (that is a dreadful word, BTW), but I stopped short of skirts, because even I had a line I wouldn't cross. But otherwise, I was nailing it! (That was sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell.)

Then, I got invited to my first formal awards dinner. I remember feeling complete dread. I don't wear dresses, I didn't even own any dresses, so I did the obvious thing and borrowed one from my girlfriend. Because, I thought, that's what girls are supposed to wear to these things, right? There was no part of me that thought to question that. So I put on the pink (yes, pink!) dress and went to the dinner. Although I looked feminine and not at all out of place amongst all the other girls in their pretty dresses, I felt ridiculous, strange, and awkward, like I was playing dress-up and playing a part that should never have been given to me. This happened no fewer than five times, and I did the same thing, every time, though thankfully I had enough friends who owned dresses, so the pink dress only made one appearance.

I have included another photo for your horror/amusement:

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

Over time, I started to shift my style: I bought less-feminine button-down shirts and V-neck sweaters from the likes of Banana Republic, Calvin Klein, and Ann Taylor. The heels on my shoes got lower and the pant legs a little narrower. I also moved to Atlanta from my hometown in Australia and was now working in a suburban office full of straight, white, male, Republican types. Diversity wasn't exactly top of mind, so fitting in was the safest route at first. But it also allowed for a new start, a reinvention of sorts. I was unknown, and there were no preconceptions.

A couple of years later, at age 33, I went to a women's leadership course where they talked about the importance of your personal brand and what it says about you. For the first time, I started to realize that my clothes were about way more than just what I was wearing; they embodied who I was and how I wanted to be seen. That was an important message, and I heard it loud and clear.

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

I was already starting to find my style, but now I was focused even more on feeling good about how I looked and felt. My wardrobe grew to include a lot of suit jackets, which I'm still very partial to. You can pair those with anything! I also discovered skinny jeans (the perfect androgynous pant style) and a love of ties, vests, and short-sleeved button-downs. I even stole a few pieces from my dad when I went back home to Adelaide. Turns out, the old man had some pretty cool stuff.

But I quickly realized that the stores I was used to shopping in didn't sell the clothes I wanted to wear. I started looking in the men's section, which ignited an internal struggle: women aren't supposed to shop in the men's section, right? Or so says society (and my mother). Not only that, but men's clothes don't exactly fit right; they have areas for bits we don't have, their arms are longer, their shoulders are broader, and even if the pants fit around the waist, the legs are too long. Then, even if everything else fits right, there's my enormous D-cup chest to work into the equation! But despite the challenges of the men's section, f*ck me if the clothes aren't SO much cooler than the offerings for the nongirlie girl in the women's section. So I persevered.

I started off poring over the pages of Qwear, described as "a style website for people who transcend social norms through fashion performance and gender expression." Not only did it confirm that there are hundreds of women like me who don't conform to the norm, but it also gave me some great outfit ideas that I probably wouldn't have come up with myself and sure as hell wouldn't have been brave enough to try without seeing someone else pull it off. Then I discovered Topman, and my whole world changed for the better. I have no hips and the ass of a 10-year-old boy, and it's almost like their clothes are designed for me. Topman quickly became my go-to store and it still is. I love their skinny dress pants for work, their shorts are a great length, and their capped tees are perfect for any occasion. I even had a personal stylist talk me into a pair of joggers. Although it is a menswear store, it is less masculine and more "me" than any menswear store I have ever been into.

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

I found that my casual style transformed first. It became a combination of all things I loved: V-neck t-shirts (Urban Outfitters has a great selection), ties, vests, dress shorts paired with capped tees. I have quite the collection of suspenders and more short-sleeved button-downs than a high school physics teacher (although these often require a sports bra, due to the aforementioned D-cup). On my most casual days, I embrace the athleisure trend, so I can nod to my inner jock but still look stylish. I go with slip-on Vans or similar or my all-time favorite, Rocket Dogs. Most recently, I discovered Wildfang, a store just for people like me (seriously, check it out), where I bought my newest and most favored wardrobe item: a pair of drop-crotch pants that I absolutely love and now live in!

Pretty quickly, it was evident that my casual style and my professional style weren't all that different, just with the addition of dress pants on more formal work occasions and suits when the time calls for it. For shoes, I favor oxfords with jeans and dress pants. I realized how far I had come when I was packing for a recent business trip. I work for a Fortune 500 company, and for the past five years I have attended our annual sales conference, where I've always played it safe. This year, without hesitation, I packed several pairs of Topman pants, my two favorite pairs of Ahnu oxfords (one in black and one in pale blue), suspenders, V-neck t-shirts, suit jackets, tailored vests, my new drop-crotch pants, and the most comfortable underwear I have ever worn, Hanes Mid-Thigh Women's Boxer Briefs. Every morning I got dressed and headed out feeling confident and comfortable and not at all judged. And even if I was - I no longer cared.

That's not to say I don't still struggle, particularly when it comes to weddings. Needless to say, I can count on my fingers the number of times I have worn a dress. The previously mentioned dinners, plus the four times I have been a bridesmaid - I mean, there are some things you just gotta do, you know? But when planning my own wedding, I told my now-wife that I planned to wear a dress, because that's the way I had always imagined it; that was the fairy tale. She looked at me with a look that is best described as a combination of confusion and terror. I think the conversation went something like this:

"Why would you wear a dress?" "Because it's my wedding and I'm a woman and that's just how it is supposed to go. I want to feel beautiful on my wedding day too." "Do you feel comfortable in dresses?" "No." "Do you own any dresses?" "No." "Do you like how you feel in a suit?" "Yes." "Do you like how you look in a suit?" "Yes." "Honey, you're not wearing a dress in our wedding." Case closed.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't continue to struggle with this. Even after all my fashion breakthroughs, this was one of the toughest moments I've had involving my sexual identity and coming to grips with my androgynous style. I didn't want to be "the guy" in the wedding. I wanted to feel beautiful and special and I wanted to be the bride too. It sure didn't help that my wife wouldn't let me choose my own outfit, which meant she would see what I was wearing prior to the day (either she doesn't like surprises or she doesn't trust my style judgment - maybe wise). My mother-in-law was very matter of fact, explaining that keeping my wedding look secret was "not the way it works. You don't get to see what the bride is wearing, not the other way around." I may have cried over that one.

Image Source: Elaine Oyzon-Mast

In the end, I had a three-piece ivory suit custom-made, which I paired with a baby-pink tie and the most perfect pair of oxfords (see above). I looked and felt amazing. The truth is, the suit wasn't in my fairy tale, but my wife was right: I wouldn't have felt comfortable in a wedding dress, and I would have looked downright ridiculous! I let her wear the dress, but we both carried bouquets; we were both still the brides, after all.

Not long after our wedding, we were invited to a black-tie, Greek Orthodox wedding. This time, I didn't question whether to dress like myself, and I sure as hell didn't wear a pink dress! I marched my androgynous butt down to Topman and picked up the most badass pale-blue skinny suit. I paired it with white shoes and a black tie. I didn't look like a dude, I didn't look feminine, I just looked (and felt) like me, and this time I actually was nailing it.

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

It's taken me more than 10 years to figure out how I like to dress, and I'm done beating myself up over it. I still work in the same suburban corporate office surrounded by white, male Republicans, but I don't feel the need to explain myself anymore. Because even if the way I look doesn't fit their norm, it's my norm. Not being feminine doesn't make me a man; it doesn't even make me butch. I love my androgynous style, but more importantly, it's what suits me. I look good, I feel good, and at the end of the day, how I feel is all that matters.

How I Finally Embraced My Androgynous Style published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/

[acuppellarp]

We’re excited to announce that Ace has decided to level up X Scott from a mumu minor character to a main character! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Ace + She/Her/It Age: 31 Timezone: CST Ships: X/Chemistry, X/Kindness, X/Acceptance Anti-Ships: X/forced

IC INFO

Full Name: Layla “X” Simone Scott Face Claim: Ari Fitz Age/Birthday: 25 / December 1, 1992 Occupation: artist/barista/waitress/children’s birthday party performer/regular Jack of all trades Personality: kind, calm, silly, humble, artistic. Hometown: St. Louis, MO Bio: Layla Simone Scott was an answered prayer. After 10 years of marriage and 3 little boys, Caroline Scott finally had the baby girl she had wished so desperately for. Caroline had dreamed of having a little girl of her own ever since she was a little girl herself. When Layla was born her mother envisioned pink, ribbons and  bows, her own little perfect princess. Dreams don’t always turn out how we envision them.

As a child, Layla didn’t exactly fit the traditional description of a Tomboy, but it tended to be the label that persisted. She was never very interested in sports, and she didn’t necessarily spend more time with little boys over little girls, with the exception of her big brothers. In fact, Layla spent most of her time alone in her room drawing fantastical worlds and people who would grow from her imagination. In these imaginary worlds Layla belonged, the imaginary people loved her and didn’t want her to be anything other than who she was. Her Tomboy title partly came from the fact that she loved wearing her brother’s clothes and she on more than one occasion attempted to cut off her hair, to her mother’s dismay. She ran around in makeshift capes fighting invisible villains and putting the masked crusaders she created with crayons and colored pencils on the refrigerator.

Very early own Layla realized she wasn’t exactly comfortable with the role the world had assigned her, though she didn’t have the tools to describe what she was feeling. What she knew was she hated the dresses her mother put her in, she didn’t have any connection to the name her parents gave her, and she didn’t fit the mold. Being from a black baptist family there were certain expectations for little girls and quite a bit of time spent in church was apart of that deal. Layla enjoyed the music but everything else was a constant reminder that she didn’t belong. The word of God was to be paid careful attention to, but being preached at just made Layla uncomfortable.

Those questions of belonging and who Layla truly was needed to be expressed and explored in some manner and her chosen route, or that thing that chose her was art. She couldn’t remember a time where she wasn’t getting lost in creating her own visual stories or getting lost in those created by others. Going on a journey through imagery was an indescribable comfort and actually creating those voyages was cathartic. It was also so nice to just be good at something that she actually enjoyed doing. It opened up a world comics and anime which would eventually open up a distant community.  

The older she got, the more she rejected the norm, the more strained life at home became. Her mother seemed to resent the fact that she wasn’t the little girl of her dreams, her father seemed to feel a level of visible embarrassment and her brothers who she felt closest to started to follow her parent’s lead. Once high school came along things were tough but life wasn’t without a few extremely cherished bright spots. Including her very first real friend. Layla had never had friends before, at least not ones she hadn’t met online. Her social awkwardness didn’t help this any, but her first true friend saw right through that.

Layla hated the clothes her parents bought her, so she’d find ways to turn them into something more expressive of who she sort of felt she was, or was maybe becoming. The clothing she wore, the way she presented herself to the world, like art, became an outlet for Layla. She’d leave home in one set of clothing and arrive at school in another. These clothes that would be cut, drawn on, and seemingly mismatched became a source of ridicule from her peers. One day, she was being pushed around by a couple of boys and Layla’s real life Superhero appeared out of nowhere and saved the day. Punching one of the boys right in the face. Layla couldn’t believe her eyes, and if she told the story today she would have said thematic music played along. Tasha Anders, stretched her hand out to help Layla Up from the ground were she’d fallen at some point. The introduction went something like, “Are you a mutant? That was some crazy strength behind that punch… // Why? Are you trying to recruit me, Professor X?” And the rest was history.

Tasha eventually became the one person in the world to accept them for who they were, Professor X. Layla told Tasha how much she didn’t like her given name in their many soul pourings, and from that point on Tasha only called them Professor X, or just X. The girl was also the first person to tell X that it was okay to not be a her or a him. It was okay to hover somewhere in between, and though X didn’t quite believe that at the time, the warmth that came from that permission was something that couldn’t be put into words. Tasha had opened up so many new doors in Xs life, the girl was magic. They explored the city together, and they were inspired by one another. X’s art became something… more.  Tasha was her first friend, first muse, first love and the first important loss in her life. The girl at some point became X’s home when the world was too tough to bare. And the abrupt way Tasha disappeared from their life still leaves a big lingering ‘why’.

Slight confidence came with the new realization that their was beauty in who they were and weren’t. X moved through their space differently.  They’d felt the loss deeply, but there was comfort in the knowledge that they could be loved for exactly who they were, even if only for a short while. X focused even more on telling beautiful meaningful stories with their work, and it wasn’t until then that they realized they wanted to share those stories with other people. They began showing their art at school and suddenly became the weird artsy kid instead of just weird and surprisingly, that made them less of a pariah.

As X grew more into who they were towing the line at home became increasingly difficult. Eventually X leaning more into their authentic self became more than their parents could handle, and they were essentially exiled from their home. While they figured out what came next X found themselves sleeping on one of their brother’s couches, dreaming of a quick escape. It was made clear the situation had to be temporary so making the dream escape a reality was imperative. Somehow X knew it would all be figured out, so when Alex sort of appeared with a magical solution, they weren’t surprised. Alex was a kid who hadn’t necessarily spoken much to X in the past but didn’t make fun of them, and recently begun to greatly admire the work they brought to school. He’d heard about the Scott family drama, as did everyone in their little area of town, and he reached out. Turns out he had an aunt in New York, a place very present in X’s work at the time. The two of them pleaded X’s case and eventually the woman agreed to take X in for a little while. It may have seemed crazy to agree to live with a complete stranger in a place they knew no one, but it was the perfect solution for X in that moment.

When X arrived at Grand Central Station, they breathed their biggest sigh of relief. Mona Thorne, the aunt of Alex, and the second of X’s real life heros was a small middle aged grumbly black lesbian. Standing in the middle of the train station with a sign that said “Alex’s Homeless Friend’, she was also the most beautiful site X had ever seen. Mona had three rules, go to school or get a GED, pay for your own food, and no company in the apartment. X got their GED within a couple months and quickly picked up a waitressing job. Life goes on.

It took a bit of time for X to adjust to the city, but NYC eventually became the home. They worked, volunteered, created and explored. Art was around every corner as well as other like minded sensitive souls. That meant by the time Mona eventually moved back to Missouri to help take care of her mother, X had already grown into her “everything works out in the end” attitude. The collection of friends from all walks of life, including the eclectic A-Cup group, they made continued to grow, which made their newly vagabond existence much easier, sometimes even preferable. They spent years couchsurfing and sometimes making parks or roofs their room for the night. They were not only creating adventures through their art but actually living them.

X considers themselves a serious artist but has in the past been reluctant about fully pursuing art as a career. They were afraid of becoming less authentic, but the desire to change the world through art has recently become stronger than the fear of becoming a sellout. They are now on a new mission to share their art with the world

Pets:  No pets because they’ve never had a steady place to live but X would love a kitty.

EXTRA INFO

Twitter name/twitter URL/description: ProfessorX/@XXXistential/ I’m going to change the world one canvas at a time

Five latest tweets:

   @XXXistential: Ororo Munroe, you have my heart forever.

   @XXXistential: You’re only inviting me to your party to be be your sober driver and I’m okay with that

Because I want you home safe and I want your chips and dip

   @XXXistential: Hufflepuffs In the House!!!

   @XXXistential: To perform every action artfully is yoga. -Swami Kripalu

   @XXXistential Working a birthday party next weekend and I have some new things I want to try out. Who’s going to be my face painting guinea pig?

Relationships

Sam: Sam is the first person X felt deeply connected too in a very long time. She is there best friend and unrequited love. X has accepted that nothing will ever happen with them but has yet to figure out the formula for getting over Sam

Stevie: Stevie is actually one of X’s favorite humans. Stevie’s slightly grumpy nature poses a challenge X enjoys, trying to bring a smile to her face no matter how much the girl resists.

Hunter: They first became friends when Hunter began commissioning X’s work for her bar. Hunter is one of the few people who just makes X laugh for no reason at all. The woman’s energy is sort of the opposite of X’s and that’s intriguing.

Teddy: Teddy is this enigma of a person that X has a great desire to figure out. And X is one of the few people Teddy tolerates. They have an interesting friendship that X holds dear.

[kentonramsey]

How I Finally Embraced My Androgynous Style

Image Source: Elaine Oyzon-Mast

First let me preface this story with one cold, hard fact: I'm in my 40s. I am not and never was a supercool, 20-something lesbian with an awesome sense of style and an even more awesome wardrobe (think Ruby Rose - I sure do, A LOT). The truth is, when I was in my 20s, I was far too afraid to be who I wanted to be, to dress how I wanted to dress, and to quit giving a sh*t what other people thought. The older I got and the more confident I became with the person I was, the less I cared about what others thought. I let too many years go by trying to be someone else, being uncomfortable in my skin and in my clothes. But I'm proud to say that I've finally developed a sense of style that doesn't just allow me to hold my head up, it also gives me the confidence that conforming to social norms never did.

I've never been a girlie girl. My whole life I have been the epitome of a tomboy. For as long as I can remember - long before I knew I was gay at age 18 - I have struggled to find clothes I was comfortable in. At primary school dances, when every other little girl was wearing a dress, I couldn't think of anything worse. One year, I went in (homemade) MC Hammer pants and a t-shirt with the words "Talk Is Cheap." Even though it was the '80s, trust me: this was still an unfortunate fashion choice. I can recall very vividly going to visit my grandma when I was around 9 or 10. I was wearing plaid pants, a long-sleeve top of some description, and a bowler-style hat. My grandma turned to my mum and said, "Who is this little boy you brought with you?" Thanks very much, Grandma. #asshole. May she rest in peace.

I didn't want to dress like a boy, I wanted to dress like me, but I didn't know what that meant or how to do it. The struggle was often and it was real. I graduated from high school in the mid-'90s, when only your mum wore pantsuits and not cute ones, so those were definitely out. For my high school formal, well, I'm just going to leave this here:

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

For the better part of my early 20s, I worked in bars and restaurants, where the dress code was jeans, t-shirts, black pants, white shirts - now that I could do. When I landed my first corporate job at 26, I had nothing that would pass for professional, so I bought a whole lot of really boring office clothes that I didn't feel comfortable in. I wore wide-leg pants, high heels, and blouses (that is a dreadful word, BTW), but I stopped short of skirts, because even I had a line I wouldn't cross. But otherwise, I was nailing it! (That was sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell.)

Then, I got invited to my first formal awards dinner. I remember feeling complete dread. I don't wear dresses, I didn't even own any dresses, so I did the obvious thing and borrowed one from my girlfriend. Because, I thought, that's what girls are supposed to wear to these things, right? There was no part of me that thought to question that. So I put on the pink (yes, pink!) dress and went to the dinner. Although I looked feminine and not at all out of place amongst all the other girls in their pretty dresses, I felt ridiculous, strange, and awkward, like I was playing dress-up and playing a part that should never have been given to me. This happened no fewer than five times, and I did the same thing, every time, though thankfully I had enough friends who owned dresses, so the pink dress only made one appearance.

I have included another photo for your horror/amusement:

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

Over time, I started to shift my style: I bought less-feminine button-down shirts and V-neck sweaters from the likes of Banana Republic, Calvin Klein, and Ann Taylor. The heels on my shoes got lower and the pant legs a little narrower. I also moved to Atlanta from my hometown in Australia and was now working in a suburban office full of straight, white, male, Republican types. Diversity wasn't exactly top of mind, so fitting in was the safest route at first. But it also allowed for a new start, a reinvention of sorts. I was unknown, and there were no preconceptions.

A couple of years later, at age 33, I went to a women's leadership course where they talked about the importance of your personal brand and what it says about you. For the first time, I started to realize that my clothes were about way more than just what I was wearing; they embodied who I was and how I wanted to be seen. That was an important message, and I heard it loud and clear.

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

I was already starting to find my style, but now I was focused even more on feeling good about how I looked and felt. My wardrobe grew to include a lot of suit jackets, which I'm still very partial to. You can pair those with anything! I also discovered skinny jeans (the perfect androgynous pant style) and a love of ties, vests, and short-sleeved button-downs. I even stole a few pieces from my dad when I went back home to Adelaide. Turns out, the old man had some pretty cool stuff.

But I quickly realized that the stores I was used to shopping in didn't sell the clothes I wanted to wear. I started looking in the men's section, which ignited an internal struggle: women aren't supposed to shop in the men's section, right? Or so says society (and my mother). Not only that, but men's clothes don't exactly fit right; they have areas for bits we don't have, their arms are longer, their shoulders are broader, and even if the pants fit around the waist, the legs are too long. Then, even if everything else fits right, there's my enormous D-cup chest to work into the equation! But despite the challenges of the men's section, f*ck me if the clothes aren't SO much cooler than the offerings for the nongirlie girl in the women's section. So I persevered.

I started off poring over the pages of Qwear, described as "a style website for people who transcend social norms through fashion performance and gender expression." Not only did it confirm that there are hundreds of women like me who don't conform to the norm, but it also gave me some great outfit ideas that I probably wouldn't have come up with myself and sure as hell wouldn't have been brave enough to try without seeing someone else pull it off. Then I discovered Topman, and my whole world changed for the better. I have no hips and the ass of a 10-year-old boy, and it's almost like their clothes are designed for me. Topman quickly became my go-to store and it still is. I love their skinny dress pants for work, their shorts are a great length, and their capped tees are perfect for any occasion. I even had a personal stylist talk me into a pair of joggers. Although it is a menswear store, it is less masculine and more "me" than any menswear store I have ever been into.

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

I found that my casual style transformed first. It became a combination of all things I loved: V-neck t-shirts (Urban Outfitters has a great selection), ties, vests, dress shorts paired with capped tees. I have quite the collection of suspenders and more short-sleeved button-downs than a high school physics teacher (although these often require a sports bra, due to the aforementioned D-cup). On my most casual days, I embrace the athleisure trend, so I can nod to my inner jock but still look stylish. I go with slip-on Vans or similar or my all-time favorite, Rocket Dogs. Most recently, I discovered Wildfang, a store just for people like me (seriously, check it out), where I bought my newest and most favored wardrobe item: a pair of drop-crotch pants that I absolutely love and now live in!

Pretty quickly, it was evident that my casual style and my professional style weren't all that different, just with the addition of dress pants on more formal work occasions and suits when the time calls for it. For shoes, I favor oxfords with jeans and dress pants. I realized how far I had come when I was packing for a recent business trip. I work for a Fortune 500 company, and for the past five years I have attended our annual sales conference, where I've always played it safe. This year, without hesitation, I packed several pairs of Topman pants, my two favorite pairs of Ahnu oxfords (one in black and one in pale blue), suspenders, V-neck t-shirts, suit jackets, tailored vests, my new drop-crotch pants, and the most comfortable underwear I have ever worn, Hanes Mid-Thigh Women's Boxer Briefs. Every morning I got dressed and headed out feeling confident and comfortable and not at all judged. And even if I was - I no longer cared.

That's not to say I don't still struggle, particularly when it comes to weddings. Needless to say, I can count on my fingers the number of times I have worn a dress. The previously mentioned dinners, plus the four times I have been a bridesmaid - I mean, there are some things you just gotta do, you know? But when planning my own wedding, I told my now-wife that I planned to wear a dress, because that's the way I had always imagined it; that was the fairy tale. She looked at me with a look that is best described as a combination of confusion and terror. I think the conversation went something like this:

"Why would you wear a dress?" "Because it's my wedding and I'm a woman and that's just how it is supposed to go. I want to feel beautiful on my wedding day too." "Do you feel comfortable in dresses?" "No." "Do you own any dresses?" "No." "Do you like how you feel in a suit?" "Yes." "Do you like how you look in a suit?" "Yes." "Honey, you're not wearing a dress in our wedding." Case closed.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't continue to struggle with this. Even after all my fashion breakthroughs, this was one of the toughest moments I've had involving my sexual identity and coming to grips with my androgynous style. I didn't want to be "the guy" in the wedding. I wanted to feel beautiful and special and I wanted to be the bride too. It sure didn't help that my wife wouldn't let me choose my own outfit, which meant she would see what I was wearing prior to the day (either she doesn't like surprises or she doesn't trust my style judgment - maybe wise). My mother-in-law was very matter of fact, explaining that keeping my wedding look secret was "not the way it works. You don't get to see what the bride is wearing, not the other way around." I may have cried over that one.

Image Source: Elaine Oyzon-Mast

In the end, I had a three-piece ivory suit custom-made, which I paired with a baby-pink tie and the most perfect pair of oxfords (see above). I looked and felt amazing. The truth is, the suit wasn't in my fairy tale, but my wife was right: I wouldn't have felt comfortable in a wedding dress, and I would have looked downright ridiculous! I let her wear the dress, but we both carried bouquets; we were both still the brides, after all.

Not long after our wedding, we were invited to a black-tie, Greek Orthodox wedding. This time, I didn't question whether to dress like myself, and I sure as hell didn't wear a pink dress! I marched my androgynous butt down to Topman and picked up the most badass pale-blue skinny suit. I paired it with white shoes and a black tie. I didn't look like a dude, I didn't look feminine, I just looked (and felt) like me, and this time I actually was nailing it.

Image Source: Nyree Spencer

It's taken me more than 10 years to figure out how I like to dress, and I'm done beating myself up over it. I still work in the same suburban corporate office surrounded by white, male Republicans, but I don't feel the need to explain myself anymore. Because even if the way I look doesn't fit their norm, it's my norm. Not being feminine doesn't make me a man; it doesn't even make me butch. I love my androgynous style, but more importantly, it's what suits me. I look good, I feel good, and at the end of the day, how I feel is all that matters.

How I Finally Embraced My Androgynous Style published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/