I just returned home from Banana Republic's 40% off sale. I had a gift certificate inhand.
I returned home empty handed.
How do I stop fighting?
Why does the fact that my body doesnt look the way I think it should feel like a social justicy issue inwhich I was denied equity?
I recall thumbing through stacks of magazines as a teenager... Delia's, Girlfriends LA, Moxie and circling things, just like any other teen. I would sit on my friend's beds and we would play the game where you had to pick one thing from each page. Dance catalogs were my favorite.
I would circle things, excited as magazines arrived, but why?
I played a game in my head, hit a magical switch that let me pretend, that only in that moment that there was a chance in hell that those things would fit me. It was common knowledge that they would not. I recall imagining I had a daughter or a younger sister that I had to dress, or atleast a twin who was in the same situation so I would not feel so alone.
I recall, not living in a fantasy world, fore I knew it was untrue, but perhaps 5 or 15 minutes at a time where atleast in my head, I could chose to believe my body was different.
And as I write this, it seems so wrong. So dissacociative. But really, what was I supposed to do? Actually aknowledge the truth? All of the pain? Even now, I know it is there, underlying so much, but when I tap into it, it goes nowhere, because nobody can ever have a childhood reclaimed. Sure, Ive changed, ive grown, ive become the person ive always wanted to be, but I will NEVER have a childhood without what I went through. And in some ways I am thankful.... I do not regret it, but goddamnit I am tired of fighting whe people tell me is yesterday.