#women's sporty pants

[mekyrdesign]

Step back in time with our Vintage 90s Jogging Pants for Women, designed for comfort and style. These retro joggers feature a classic fit and vibrant colors, perfect for casual outings or lounging at home. Made from soft, breathable fabric, they provide all-day comfort while keeping you on-trend. Whether you're hitting the gym or running errands, our Vintage 90s Jogging Pants for Women will elevate your wardrobe with a nostalgic touch. Embrace the 90s vibe today!

[beatrack92]

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Sporty B Nylon Oversized Track Pants from Balenciaga (no longer available)

[sharonallen246]

Meet The Sporty Jogger Pants, The Newest Entry Into The Women Clothing Genre 

You might have heard, and even worn the jogger pants for the gym sessions, but it is time to move on with them to something more fashionable and chic.

[johnbrand]

Call to Action

William was getting antsy in the airport, crossing his legs and kicking his feet anxiously as he awaited his flight. It had been nearly two months since he had last seen his long-distance boyfriend and the excitement was riling him up. William had been preparing for this trip for weeks now. Everything was packed, the shuttle from the airport coordinated. As soon as he landed he would quickly change from his plane pajamas to a fancier outfit to surprise his true love.

All of this made William bouncy with a child-like giddiness. The two had been lovers since their first year of college, but William’s boyfriend had made it clear early on that senior year he planned to study abroad. Even though this separation was planned and temporary, the young, romantic William had swooned since the day he left. He practically looked the part too, his average, lean build and mousy brown hair perfectly accompanying the lovelorn persona.

Doing his best to distract himself, William grabbed for his phone, surprised to find an unknown number trying to reach him. With nothing better to do, he decided to accept the call. William did not notice all the other men in the airport simultaneously reaching for their phones and answering the same number through their devices.

“Men!” a rugged, masculine voice exclaimed from the other end. “It is our time to rise up to save our country!”

William was not prepared for this sudden call to action, but curious, he remained on the line. He did not realize his decision was already made for him.

“Men should be with women! Men need to become fathers again!”

William’s eyes glazed over at the strong words as the masculine voice continued to spout even more offensive remarks. It was jarring, aggravating to a point that…aggravating to a…aggravating to his dick.

William let the man’s uproar of commands project on, unaware of the small boner that rose from his soft pants as insults were delivered at his masculinity. Each of the man’s statements were absorbed willingly into William’s innermost self, adjusting the poor boy to the expectations of a complete stranger. William’s height rose dramatically, a soft breeze tickling against his shins as his pants rode higher up. His thighs and calves began to fill the empty space as the pants became a starchy material, khakis functional either indoors or outdoors. His shoes too, once cheap sandals, grew larger into massive athletic sneakers that (thanks to his manly privilege) passed as "business casual."

“Straighten out those backs and puff those chests!” the voice urged, and William obliged. His muscles tightened beneath the worn-out tee, which was quickly thickening into a sporty-yet-still-professional polo echoing a more standardized hue. William’s chest, now supported by hard-earned bulk, began to cover itself with little hairs while his entire being broadened and squared. The changes crawled out from underneath the new shirt down his arms, leaving William with tanned, lightly dusted appendages and thick mitts begging for a game of catch on the front lawn. A single finger was graced with a simple silver band.

William’s manhood continually throbbed with the man’s words, pulsing larger with every new mandate ordered upon him. “Your role is to reproduce a spitting-image, not a spitting savage!” William felt himself agree, tightening the typical leather belt that had secured itself around his stronger base. His evolving cock protested the loss of freedom, now a machine for fertilization built for a purpose other than sheer pleasure. “You are a man, so act like one!”

“I am a man!” William repeated, his vocal chords deepening with maturity and testosterone. His jaw squared out with manly aftershave, years brutishly piling onto his body to make him better prepared for fatherhood. William's hair flattened out into a neatly combed shape, a long-practiced art form that matched his weathered, experienced eyes.

“Families and jobs are the priority.” the man signed off. “Father our children, father our country!”

Bill placed the phone down, noticing his flight had just arrived. The 30-something-father watched as the passengers got off, noticing all the proud men with their families. The thought aroused his massive paternal schlong, quickly forcing him to spread his legs to make some room. Bill had just finished a week-long corporate retreat, talking business, the home life, and politics with the other like-minded men out on the greens. Now though, he was excited to get home to the wife and kids. So excited in fact that he had to hear his voice one last time.

“Hey hun, boarding the plane now. Have dinner ready by the time I get home." Bill's command held the dominance and authority of natural masculinity. "Tell the kiddos I'll see them soon, love ya.”

[demilypyro]

I guess I really do gotta just get back into pants.... But how will I find pants that fit and look right, if I'm so tall and women's sizes are so messed up?.... What kind of pants would even suit me.... I used to wear mostly cargos cause I just didn't care, and they were convenient..... Now I kinda want something that looks sporty and cool....

[gockruler]

Im just thinking about going to a pride parade. Some bitchy TERFs are protesting saying how "Trans women don't belong here!". I'd go up to a particularly cute one. One that looks quite sporty. I'd offer her a challenge. One fight. If she wins, I a trans woman, will leave the parade. If I win, her band of TERFs has to pack up and leave. Of course, they'll refuse because I have a biological advantage over them. So I offer to fight with weights on. Weighing me down and putting us on an equal playing field. She agrees and we find a spot to face off in front of several onlookers. The fight starts. She starts out quite strong actually getting some good hits in. However at one point I hit her hard in the stomach and she curls up in pain. I use the opportunity to take and shred her top off. She blushes, her cute perky tits now exposed to the world. She calls me a pervert. I simply laugh in response. We keep going and it isn't long until I have her pinned under me. I rip a hole in her leggings and take out my sweaty cock, lining it up. She tries to push me off, but agreeing to the weights was a bad idea, as she isn't strong enough. I enter starting to rape her wet cunt as she bursts into tears. Several transfems watching start to masterbait to the sight. The TERFs try to hide the fact that they are subtly rubbing their cunts through their pants. The TERF I'm raping starts to apologize, begging for forgiveness, begging for my cum. Eventually I burst a load inside her, impregnating her. The other TERFs step up to challenge me...

[inndelibles]

Fem OLBA leads have infiltrated my mind. They are too powerful and beautiful I think I would actually perish if they were real. I may have to draw them.

Derek: cropped short-sleeve hoodie over a tank top, joggers, high pony tail, still buff because buff women are everything, no makeup except maybe occasional mascara or natural eyeliner, definitely has freckles (have not been able to get this out of my head since @differenteagletragedy posted about it). Her abs are perfect for smushing your face into when cuddling.

Cove: long wavy hair, loose tank top with sports bra showing underneath OR an unbuttoned shirt over a tank top, denim shorts, would definitely wear a sporty one-piece swimsuit, absolutely no makeup bc she doesn't like the feeling (but if you insisted on practicing on her she would let you bc she loves you). Braids her hair when it's in the way.

Baxter: hair is shoulder length MAX, probably closer to a bob most of the time, also has that Korean style wispy bangs or curtain bangs, would still wear the purple suit but with high-waisted pants, black heels, definitely wears makeup everyday. Also would definitely sit on a beach lounge chair in a black bikini with a loose white button up like from step 3.

[guemarasims]

Elevate your Sim's casual wardrobe with the stylish and comfortable Wide-Leg Cargo Sweatpants for women! These sporty pants feature a wide-leg design, side cargo pockets, and a drawstring waistband for the perfect fit. Ideal for lounging or casual outings, these sweatpants offer both functionality and fashion. Available in 20 colors to match any outfit, your Sims will enjoy the ultimate in comfort and style.

Thank you very much for your support!

Download (Patreon, Early access)

[marimbles]

Forgot to post my piece for Residents of the Wild, a zine focused on NPCs from BotW! This is basically my silly version of the sand boots side quest from BotW. (Shoutout to @botwdialogue for documenting all the dialogue for the entire quest—that was such a helpful reference! X)

Word count: 2k

These Boots Are Made for Jogging (in the Sand)

What’s the best way for a strapping single guy to show off his lady-catching sand boots?

Jog around on the sand. Duh.

So that’s what Bozai did, day after day, circling Gerudo Town like a fashionable, sporty hawk. Sure, it was exhausting. And sweet Hylia, it was hot—even when he downed chilly elixirs around the clock. But eventually, it would all be worth it, when he caught the eye of the perfect woman.

… Right?

Bozai slowed to a stop by the southern entrance of the town, where a pair of gorgeous yet imposing Gerudo guards flanked the doorway.

“Hey,” he panted. “Nice day, isn’t it, ladies?”

The guards glared down at him.

“Move along, voe,” one of them said gruffly. “If you loiter, we’ll assume ill intent.”

Bozai laughed. “Hey, I’m not trying to sneak in—I promise! I just want to chat. Care to join me on a jog?”

“We have no interest in chatting,” the other guard said, voice cold. “We must remain at our post. Besides, we would easily outpace you. Your legs are short and stumpy.”

“Come on, ladies, that’s not very—”

But then two sharp spears were pointed right at his chest, so he had no choice but to drop it.

Bozai sighed and jogged away, trying to ignore how sore he was. He had to keep jogging. His dream girl was waiting for him! (Probably.)

He rounded the corner, and someone nearly ran into him. Someone a full head shorter than him, with long, blonde hair and big, blue eyes, and—

“Oh.” Bozai blinked. “It’s just a guy.”

A Hylian guy, with a weirdly pretty face and a slew of weapons strapped to his back. He gazed silently up at Bozai, expressionless.

“Saw me running around, huh?” Bozai shifted his backpack. “See, I heard Gerudo women liked a guy in sand boots …”

(Of course, it was the shoe salesman who told him that, but that guy had a hot wife, so Bozai would have to be an idiot not to take his advice about women.)

The stranger looked down at Bozai’s feet. “Sand boots?”

“Yeah! They let you walk normally on sand,” Bozai said proudly. “What do you think? Jealous, right?”

Blondie’s face stayed blank, like he wasn’t even impressed with Bozai’s amazing, manly, one-of-a-kind sand boots. Did he somehow miss what Bozai said? Or was he just stupid?

“Gimme those boots,” the stranger demanded.

Bozai took a step back. Okay, apparently he impressed this weirdo too much.

“Not cool!” Bozai said. “Look, these are super rare. Mayyybe I’d consider giving them to you if you were a girl, but a guy? NO.”

Blondie did not look at all deterred by Bozai’s devastating rejection. In fact, he looked kind of determined. Or maybe … amused? It was hard to tell, with that weird, stoic face of his. He was starting to creep Bozai out.

Bozai cleared his throat. “I’m busy here. Get lost!”

He pushed past the guy and resumed his jog. Man, why did he have to run into a weirdo like that? Why was it never a cute girl waiting for him around the corner?

Bozai’s eyes locked on the approaching corner of the city wall. Maybe there would be a cute girl waiting for him. What would he say to her? He should plan it out, just in case.

’Sup, girl? Name’s Bozai. But you can just call me Dream Guy. Heh.

At that point, he would run his fingers through his dark, silky locks (which were not that silky, to be honest, since his bangs were perpetually plastered to his forehead).

Ugh. That wouldn’t work. He couldn’t be suave and sexy when he was all sweaty. But where was a guy supposed to take a bath in the middle of the desert?

Bozai turned the corner and stumbled to a stop. A figure stood in his path.

A female figure.

There was no mistaking it this time. She was Hylian, but she wore the delicate silk of the Gerudo, her stomach and shoulders bare. Even with a veil covering her lower face, Bozai could tell she was beautiful.

“Sa-sa-sa … sa’votta!” he stammered. (Was that the right word? Or should it have been sav’saaba?)

The girl did not reply. She just watched him over her veil, her eyes bright and piercing. Bozai’s heart did a strange little flip.

“The name’s Bozai,” he said quickly. “I’m thirty-five, single, and I love jogging. Especially on sand.”

Not the best intro in the world, but not bad either. It was nothing that couldn’t be saved by the power of The Boots. Bozai shuffled his feet for good measure, so the beautiful stranger would be sure to look down at them.

“Nice sand-jogging!” she said.

Gotcha.

“Ah, you noticed these old things?” Bozai attempted to sweep his bangs back in a cool, carefree way, but they just clumped together awkwardly instead. He launched into a description of The Boots before the girl could decide he was lame and walk away.

“So, anyway, if you want to check them out, we could grab a quiet corner and—”

“Gimme those boots,” the girl ordered.

Bozai blinked. He must have had sand in his ears, because for a moment, she sounded almost like that weirdo from before.

The girl stared him down. She even sort of looked like him now, with those intense blue eyes and that golden-blonde hair. But Bozai was surely coming down with some sort of heat sickness—because surely this desert goddess had nothing in common with that sulky creep! (Not to mention, she was a girl.)

Bozai squinted at her against the sunlight.

“Um … well … here’s the thing …” he began.

Wait. This is a golden chance to woo her!

“I mean—sure!” he said hastily. “I’d love to give them to you, you hungry little boot monster!”

It was a cute nickname, right? Maybe that’s what he’d call her when they were married, holding hands while they jogged across all kinds of surfaces—sand, snow, grass, rock. Maybe they’d even jog over water together. Or lava! That would be extra romantic. Someone had to invent lava boots, right?

Focus, Bozai!

He straightened, standing as tall as he could in his sand boots (which, unfortunately, was not very tall. The guards were right about his legs being short and stumpy).

“But first, a favor.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Ever heard of the legend of the eighth heroine?”

Immediately, the girl was captivated.

Gotcha again, Bozai thought.

A few minutes later, he’d handed over his trusty snow boots—which he hated to do, really, but it was all in the name of love. The girl would be back in a few days, anyway, because even in snow boots, the Gerudo Highlands were treacherous. No sane person would actually scale those cliffs and hike through all that snow just to see an old statue no one was sure even existed. Pretty soon, she’d realize that she’d much rather hang out with the handsome guy in the sand boots than freeze to death.

Bozai settled under the shade of the tent at the front of the town to wait.

“See you soon, Goldie,” he whispered to himself, and then he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of blue eyes and lava boots.

Goldie was not back in a few days.

A whole week went by, and there was no sign of her. Bozai fretted and frowned and fussed, and the nerves made him even sweatier than usual. But there was nothing he could do. Had Goldie fallen off a cliff? Or turned into a beautiful, tragic ice sculpture?

Or maybe she’d just taken his boots and run off, laughing at how stupid he was for thinking he ever had a chance with her. (That one made him so depressed that he tried flirting with the guards again, if only to give him a different rejection to brood over for an hour.)

Just when he’d almost lost hope completely, a familiar pair of eyes was blinking up at him.

Bozai gasped. “Oh, thank goodness! You made it back safely!”

He was so relieved that he couldn’t even think about acting cool. Instead, he found himself confessing the lie of the eighth heroine, apologizing, blabbing about his feelings—basically, rambling like an idiot. He was on the verge of getting on his knees and swearing his allegiance as her eternal protector when she held up a hand.

“Found it.”

She was trying to make him feel better. Which was sweet, but Bozai didn’t deserve that. He tried to tell her so, but she shoved a small, rectangular something in his face.

“Look at this!”

Bozai stared. There, on the rectangle, was an impossibly realistic image of what could only be the real eighth heroine.

“That—that’s amazing!” he spluttered. And then he was rambling again, nerding out about archaeology (his secret passion, other than boots). He had almost managed to bring the subject around to the subject of eternal love—in a subtle way, of course—but Goldie had a remarkably one-track mind.

“Sand boots, please!”

Bozai’s heart sank. But he was nothing if not a man of his word, so he dutifully took off the boots and relinquished them into her waiting hands.

“Could you be a lamb and return my snow boots?” he asked. “Otherwise ol’ Bozai’s going to be barefoot!”

She looked equally reluctant to hand them over, but she did, watching wistfully as he slipped them on. Or maybe that sad look was her way of telling him that she didn’t want to say goodbye either. Well, Bozai could take that hint.

“I’m pretty tired from my jogging regimen,” he said casually. “I think I’ll take five under the tent at the front of town. Care to join me?”

She didn’t. Bozai jogged dejectedly back to the shade, feet heavy in the wrong kind of boots.

The rest of the day crawled by. Bozai didn’t feel like jogging anymore. Not when he had to do it in snow boots, which were even clunkier in the sand than regular boots. Instead, he watched for Goldie under his tent. She had to come back, right? They were practically soulmates! (Or sole-mates. Heh.)

But alas, she was nowhere to be seen. The only golden hair he spotted belonged to the blank-faced weirdo—this time, practically shirtless, with a stupid-looking ponytail on top of his head. Bozai scoffed. What kind of outfit was that? Was he trying to invent some kind of Gerudo men’s wear? As if that was gonna get him into town. Idiot.

Blondie jogged toward a stray sand seal. It darted away before he could get close.

He jogged toward another one. He looked strangely light on his feet, like the sand wasn’t slowing him down at all. Almost like …

Bozai’s eyes widened. Blondie was wearing The Boots—the amazing, manly, one-of-a-kind sand boots he had just gifted to his true love.

Bozai jumped to his feet. “Hey! You!”

Blondie froze, panic on his normally stony face. Behind him, another seal dove beneath the sand.

“Those are my boots!” Bozai shouted, trudging clumsily toward him. “Or, I mean, they were! Where did you get them?”

Quickly, Blondie pulled something out of his pocket.

And then he started glowing.

Bozai stopped short, gaping. Blondie was glowing like a blue nightshade at midnight. And soon he was also floating, the toes of his stolen boots dangling above the sand. His body dissolved away in gleaming ribbons of light. And then he was gone.

Bozai stared at the spot where Blondie had disappeared, footprints still fresh in the sand.

“Did you see that too?” he asked a nearby sand seal.

“Arf!” said the seal.

Bozai shook his head. There was only one thing to do when your almost-girlfriend was robbed by a dead-eyed, weapon-loving freak who was apparently some kind of sorcerer.

He marched back to his tent and took a nap.

[itsclydebitches]

Cinder is a lot more sexualized then the male parts of Salem's inner circle

Like tyrian is shirtless sometimes but that does not feel as...drawn attention to, as say, the lingering shots of Cinder's butt or thighs. Or her wearing short shorts and high boots you know what I mean?

I do, anon. RWBY got a lot of attention back in the day for its anti-upskirt technology, but that doesn't give it a free pass for all the other ways you might (and it does) sexualize the cast. I've never been inclined to give RWBY too much shit in this regard because it is pulling from media with a LONG history of such designs and cinematography - it feels unfair of me to act like RWBY is uniquely responsible for such problems when I'm simultaneously willing to overlook, say, the 90's "gag" of Yusuke flipping up Keiko's skirt - but there's nevertheless a voice in the back of my mind constantly asking things like, "Why are so many of the girls fighting in heels?" and "Why are they dressed like they're going to the club and not the literal TUNDRA??" I'd kill for the whole cast, but the girls in particular, to get a re-design that focuses on fashionably compelling practicality, rather than sexy fanservice. (Though Ice Kingdom did a good job overall, particularly for Ruby.) Sure, RWBY didn't give us panty-shots, but one of the first characters we're introduced to is literally designed like a dominatrix.

If we're talking about outfits though... I'd say Emerald gets hit the worst out of Salem's minions. Yeah, Cinder is definitely sexualized in a more general sense as the tall, white (that's not a coincidence), long-legged beauty who sensually conjures fire as she prowls towards the heroes, camera focused on her hips swaying. But Emerald?

She suffers from the same problem Yang has. AKA, if your woman isn't classically beautiful (like Wiess and to a different extent Blake), or cute / child-like (Ruby, Penny), but is instead going for a sporty, comparatively masculine-esque vibe... then they've got to show a LOT of skin. RWBY makes it sexy by just denying them clothes. You're entering dangerous battles on the daily? You want to protect yourself? Too bad. The audience needs a midriff and cleavage and your whole arms to stare at. Shorten the skin-tight pants so we can see some leg too. Oh, Yang has to have long pants because she's heading into the coldest Kingdom in Remnant? Never mind that, cut a strip out to show her thigh.

"But Clyde, the girls don't need to wear armor because of aura--" then why the hell does Jaune bother wearing that heavy-ass suit? Is it weight training? Does he just think it makes him look cool? ...or does it exist in case his aura breaks and he's allowed to wear more protective gear because there are different gender expectations attached to his design? The aura argument is just a modern rehashing of the Supergirl sun argument: using made up lore to "justify" getting your women characters into skimpy outfits, despite the men rarely being held to the same standards.

Tyrian is actually an interesting exception here and if I were less tired I'd think through this argument more, but something something as the "crazy" character he's allowed more leeway in breaking those expectations. Also the open shirt shows off his scars, which likewise help sell how dangerous he is. With the exception of characters like Cinder and Nora - whose injuries are Important Character Moments the audience gets to see play out - scars are surprisingly uncommon in Remanent. Or, again, they're severely downplayed so as not to interfere with that classic beauty design (like Weiss', or even Yang who gets a perfect cut when losing her arm). So when you see a character with giant scars spanning the length of his chest, an open shirt drawing deliberate attention to them... that makes you go, "Oh shit. What's he been through to scar like that in a world where most people make it out of fights with no permanent damage?"

[mekyrdesign]

Step back in time with our Vintage 90s Joggers for Women, the perfect blend of nostalgia and comfort. These joggers feature a relaxed fit and vibrant colors that capture the essence of the 90s era, allowing you to express your unique style. Whether you're lounging at home or out on a casual outing, the Vintage 90s Joggers for Women will keep you stylish and comfortable. Pair them with your favorite crop top or oversized tee for a chic retro look that never goes out of style.

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

do you have any tips for subtly looking more masculine? I can’t fully transition now because I’m a minor in a confirmed to be transphobic household, and if you have any suggestions that would be amazing

Lee says:

You can try starting slowly incorporating more masculine-styled women's clothing into your wardrobe. This is usually a gradual process anyway since it can take time to save up enough money to purchase enough new shirts/pants/shoes etc. to fully replace your current wardrobe, especially if you're working part-time as a babysitter, dog-walker, etc.

Clothes that are more structured or straight-cut, like button-down shirts or straight-leg pants, can help create a more traditionally masculine silhouette. Layering with hoodies or jackets can also be effective. You can sometimes find these things styled as "boyfriend" clothes, and you can tell your parents that it's the current trend/style. You can see our post on finding masculine clothing in the women's section here.

Another easy change is dropping the accessories. That means not wearing feminine necklaces/earrings/bracelets/hairbands, not painting your nails, etc. It's easy to say you want to keep things basic and sporty and that's why you're going without the accessories. Wearing a neutral watch or a smart watch is another accessory to consider instead of a thin-strapped "women's watch" if you wear watches at all that is.

You can see our post on purse alternatives here since bags are often the biggest practical change in the accessory category. Not carrying a purse when you hang out with your friends in the mall, go out on a trip, etc is obviously a high-impact change to make.

If possible, choose a haircut that's more typically masculine. Shorter haircuts, or styles that are longer on the top and shorter on the sides, can subtly change your appearance. If you use a female reference for your photo when you show your parents what you want they may not suspect anything. You can see our post on convincing your parents to let you get a haircut without coming out here.

If a haircut isn’t possible, consider styles like pulling your hair back in a low bun or wearing hats. If you're Black, cornrows, box braids, and locs are styles that can be gender neutral depending on how you wear them. There's a few links on that here.

There are also things you can do to come across as subtly more masculine without buying anything at all.

Sometimes, adopting a more traditionally masculine posture and body language can make a difference. This doesn't usually have a big impact on passing, but it can help you feel better about yourself and boost your self-confidence and reduce dysphoria, and it's something that your family may not notice because it's easy to alter when you're with them. You can see a post about masculine body language here.

Similarly, you can try voice training and practice speaking in a slightly lower tone or in a more monotone style, which is often perceived as more masculine. Be careful not to strain your voice, though, and maybe avoid doing it while you're with your family. You can see a post about voice training here.

Engaging in exercises that build upper body strength can also help in achieving a more masculine physique. Focus on workouts that target the shoulders, back, and arms. You can often do body weight workouts at home in your room without needing a gym membership or specialized exercise equipment.

Find a support system, whether it's friends, online communities, or a counselor/therapist, who understand and support your gender identity. This can provide a safe space to express yourself and explore your identity. It can help to have other friends who are also masculine to feel like you're not isolated.

Observing and adopting some masculine behavioral cues, like how men typically occupy space or interact in social settings, can also be a subtle way to express masculinity, but you want to be careful that you're not imitating toxic masculinity / obnoxious guys. Similarly, engaging in hobbies or interests that are stereotypically masculine can be a subtle way to align with male peers, but always choose activities that genuinely interest you and you can probably find other guys out there who are also interested in the things you already care about to be friends.

The above suggestions are all things that you can do without your parents necessarily noticing. Binding is something that may not be subtle depending on your chest size, so while it is possible to sometimes bind in front of family without them noticing (saying it's a sports bra, for example) I would recommend keeping your binder in your backpack and only changing into it at school in the bathroom / at a friend's house / in a public bathroom when you're out with friends but not family, etc. unless you really are wearing only a single well-fitting sports bra. You can see more about buying a binder and that whole process in this post.

It's harder to be seen as masculine or male when you're pre-medical transition and not passing which means people often have to "overcompensate" by being more masculine than they would otherwise choose to be, but as always, I'd like to note that it can be possible to pass as male / be masculine while doing any of the things I recommended changing!

So while I might advise someone who wants to come off as more masculine "don't paint your nails" for example, that is a general rule and doesn't mean that you have to follow those guidelines if you're really passionate about painting your nails. You can always choose whatever gender expression you're comfortable with. There are plenty of guys who wear nail polish and otherwise come across as masculine or who are recognized as men. It's important to remember that masculinity is diverse and there's no one right way to be masculine.

Followers, any other tips on performing subtle masculinity that won't make transphobic parents suspicious?

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Summerslam 8/5/23

Bianca wore the Sporty Vibes Faux Leather Pant Set in Yellow/Combo. She customized it and added some rhinestone and her EST and lips logos

[gabisatidur]

Here is a low budget inspo if you guys want to cosplay Yashiki ♥️♥️♥️

Lacoste stripe-collar UV-protective tennis polo shirt: https://www.farfetch.com/ao/shopping/women/lacoste-stripe-collar-uv-protective-tennis-polo-shirt-item-24130818.aspx

Burberry Long Gabardine Trench Coat:

Ralph Lauren Gregory Hand-Tailored Suit Trouser Purple Label: https://www.ralphlauren.com/men-clothing-pants/gregory-hand-tailored-suit-trouser/100034011.html#pmin=500.00&pmax=99%252C999.00&allRefinementsRemoved=true&start=1&cgid=men-clothing-pants

Dior Oblique Tie: https://www.dior.com/en_us/fashion/products/03C1046A0330_C900

Versace Metropoli Derby Shoes: https://www.versace.com/us/en/metropoli-derby-shoes-black/1016077-1A11084_DSV_480_1B00E__.html

Miu Miu Runway sunglasses:

Have fun cosplaying him ♥️♥️♥️

[jomiddlemarch]

Alina and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day 

Alina was fairly certain that kindergarten pickup was actually a level of Hell. One of the deeper ones, though she had to admit that waiting for the divorce to be finalized and the week in February that Mal had been away at a conference in Hawaii when Eli got the stomach bug and she’d run out of orange Pedialyte, Clorox, and episodes of Elmo’s World just as she’d succumbed were both worse. She’d gotten a tee-shirt out of the conference and not herpes, so it was slightly ahead, which was the kind of thing she’d say that would make Gen tell her she really had to stay in the here and now and focus on herself and Eli; the fact that focusing in herself to Gen always meant some form of hot/stone/the feminine Divine yoga plus or minus a green smoothie was something Alina figured she just had to suck up as part of the best friend code. Especially if she wanted (needed) Gen to remain on Eli’s emergency contact list and deal with kindergarten pickup if Alina had a deadline or her car decided to call her bluff on her perpetually overdue oil changes.

She’d actually finished the article on affordable housing while sitting at the oil change place, wondering from time to time how oil change places still existed and why they still had a TV mounted on the wall when everyone was on their phone, earbuds in, podcasts and memes washing over them as digital sedatives. When she’d said anything like that at home, Mal would accuse her of being a Luddite, while continuing to shoot some monster on his gaming PC, and she’d launch into an explanation of why the Luddites got a bad rap and remembering it, she once again rejoiced in the finalization of the divorce, despite everything else it had cost her, starting with her rosy ideals about happily-ever-afters. In the timeless, nameless oil change place, happily-ever-after seemed like something that wouldn’t even appear on the TV as an infomercial. On the flip side, she wasn’t worried her car would die in kindergarten pickup.

Instead, she wished for death. Or something that would free her from her misery, besides the over-priced pistachio latte that she promptly spilled as soon as she got out of her car, half of it landing on her already dingy sneakers. She was surrounded by totally put-together, mani-pedi-ed moms in Lululemon or power suits or hand-knit sweaters and $300 jeans, with younger siblings in the latest paisley slings, Labradoodles with monogrammed collars off-leash and milling about, the same women who’d post their freshly washed and fashionably dressed kid holding a “First Day of X Grade” chalked on adorable chalkboard pics on social media. She’d waffled for a good ten minutes over the latte, since it really wasn’t in her budget and almost certainly was contributing to climate change and her chances of developing Type II diabetes, and all for what? Turning her greyish sneakers a bilious shade she associated with Dickensian misers with gout and getting her hands sticky.

“One of those days,” she heard, a man’s voice drifting down from behind her left shoulder. Before Alina could twist around or even cant her neck upward to see who was talking to her, he’d offered her an unopened pack of travel wet-wipes.

“Uh, thanks,” she said, peeling back the sticker closing the wipes and dabbing at her cuff of her cardigan. 

“Sorry about your coffee,” the man said. He’d moved into view, tall and dark-haired with a neatly trimmed beard, a sporty fleece vest layered over what he had to have worn to work, suit pants and a dress shirt still wrinkle-free. “I could easily spare a juice-box—apple-carrot ended up being a bust.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Alina remarked. “Plus, juice isn’t supposed to be good for kids.”

“No?”

Alina shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you’re giving them absinthe. Or liquid plutonium. But yeah, whole fruit is better. And they can just drink water.”

“You’re the first mom to talk to me at pickup,” he said. “I’m Alex, by the way. Cosima’s dad.”

“Probably because you’re like the only dad to show up,” Alina replied. She didn’t say “and you look like you’re on the cover of Vogue except for the navy fleece” but she thought it. Loudly.

“Their loss. Cosima always has so much to say as soon as she leaves the building, I get a play-by-play,” he said. “I’m out of town enough I don’t like to ask her nanny to get her if I can do it.”

Alina knew she should not say it. It was clear as day, as a bell, as crystal. Hell, she only had to make a leading remark and he’d probably volunteer the info, if his unprompted remarks about being Cosima’s dad and having a nanny were anything to go by. She had, however, been known to make bad decisions. See: Mal, though Eli was the most silvery of silver linings.

“Her mom can’t pick her up?”

Alex, who had every right to freeze up or withdraw or otherwise let her know she had far overstepped in her latte-stained sneakers, shrugged.

“She left me to go find herself. That doesn’t make her terribly available for kindergarten pickup. Or bath-time, beginning ballet, or urgent care visits for ear infections,” he said, not as bitterly as he could have but not as Zen as he’d likely intended. There was a look in his eyes that only another divorced, custodial parent could recognize, a pain made of equal parts anger and humiliation, the need to conceal it from the child who shouldn’t see their other parent as a villain. The fatigue from being the one who was there, who couldn’t think about a weekend away or a night out without worrying about whether there’d be a call from the sitter, a fever, a crying jag over the fear of abandonment and the finite quantity of chicken nuggets allotted to a meal.

“I really thought you were going to end on bake sales,” Alina said. 

“I always get a pass from the class moms on those,” Alex said. “They don’t expect a dad to bake, so if I do, I’m basically a superhero and if I can’t manage to send in homemade banana chocolate chip muffins and send her in with a box of cupcakes from Kaminsky’s, I’m still in their good graces. It’s completely unfair.”

“It is,” Alina said. She couldn’t be that annoyed because he knew it. “I wish I could get away with banana bread muffins. I sent Eli with red velvet cupcakes once and I didn’t use organic red food coloring or organic, locally sourced cream cheese for the frosting and I got the smoky cat-wing stink-eye for the next month. I should have risen above it, but honestly, it sucked.”

Alex laughed. He had a nice laugh, a nice voice, and seemed like a nice man who was a good dad. With her luck, that meant that he was either secretly an immensely powerful, evil mastermind intent on world domination or that she’d never see him again.

“You’re Eli’s mom? Cosima says he’s very smart and good at sharing and he makes the best dinosaur sounds. Somewhere between a growl and a yodel, I gathered after she gave up trying to describe it and demonstrated her impression,” Alex said. “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous, but would you consider a playdate for them? It’s been rough, these past few months, and I’m trying to make sure she still has a normal childhood, whatever that means these days. My mother thinks I spoil her, but she’s very old-fashioned. My mother, not Cosima.”

“My schedule is a little tricky,” Alina said carefully. She would have been more wary if it had been one of the exquisitely put-together mothers asking, more relaxed if one of the nannies had made the proposal. She wasn’t sure what to make of Alex’s offer, except that she’d wanted to say yes right away and that meant she needed to watch herself. The opportunity to even subtly trash-talk her ex was irresistible, however. “Eli’s father is around, but never when I need to organize anything.” 

“We could meet at the park. I can bring enough snacks to last the afternoon, you could come when you’re free,” Alex suggested. He said when and not if, enough hope in his voice and those dark eyes that it sounded like an appeal and not an attempt to control her.

“I wouldn’t want you to go to too much trouble,” she said. She had thought arranging playdates would be easier than actual adult dating, but thus far, she’d been wrong.

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll go to Kaminsky’s and stock up. I’m friends with the owners,” he said. “I should say, I’m friends with Theo and Ivan doesn’t outright loathe me and allows me to eat his pastry. If you are not Theo, that is about as close to friends as you can get with him.”

“Sounds like my friend Gen’s boyfriend David, except substitute updating all my devices so I don’t get hacked or locked out of my bank account for petit fours and apple turnovers,” Alina said.

“That’s what you’d like, apple turnovers?” Alex asked, looking at her with a degree of focus that started out as unnerving and then suddenly felt warmer than appraisal, too thoughtful to be mere flirtation.

“You don’t have to—” Alina began, cut off when the kids were released, much like a swarm of infuriated bees or the Charge of the Light Brigade, Eli running a credible Olympic qualifying sprint with her latte-splattered knees as the finish line, a dark-haired little girl with neatly braided hair arriving slightly more decorously in Alex’s embrace; he’d instantly dropped into an unfairly elegant crouch to receive his daughter, while Alina planted her feet to take on the onslaught of Hurricane Eli. 

“Papa, you have to tell Baba not to eat snails anymore because Ms. Costas got one and it’s got a name and snails are people too,” Cosima announced, small hands planted on her father’s shoulders.

“Its name is Greg,” Eli said, as if the four of them were having a conversation, which Alina now supposed was the actual truth. 

“So, a boy snail,” Alex said.

“No,” Cosima said. “Just Greg.”

“Can we go to the park, Mommy? You said we could. Can we bring meatballs?” Eli asked.

“Not today, buddy,” Alina said, bracing herself for a tantrum or a closing argument worthy of Clarence Darrow or Judge Judy. 

“You said—”

“Your mom said we could have a playdate on Saturday and that is in two days,” Alex interjected. “Cosima and I are going to bring a blanket and some treats. We could include meatballs too.”

“Don’t,” Alina said. Alex’s expression went blank but Cosima and Eli’s both looked mutinous and on the verge of tears. It was amazing Ms. Costas could stand firm regarding quiet time in the face of such unified disapproval. “I just meant, don’t worry about meatballs. Meatballs is Mr. Lanstov’s cat. He’s our neighbor, we help out a little—”

“Yeah, because Mr. Lantsov is a million years old,” Eli said. “He said to call him Niko, but Mommy says that’s not polite because he’s so old.”

“We could bring apple turnovers then,” Alex said. “And maybe some catnip for Meatballs. It would be nice to make everyone happy.”

For @vesperass-anuna and @aloveforjaneausten who were wanting a modern AU for Darklina where our two unhappy characters meet at school picking up their kiddos.