Home now, though. Had some open tabs that I thought I'd actually do something with instead of just ignoring.
alskdjflajsdf. Wilhelmina/Pomona fic. Finally got to it. You've all probably already ready it. ALKSDJFLAJKf. (For those of you who don't know, Grubbly-Sprout--or Flora and Fauna as featherxquill reminded me last time--is my strange HP almost-OTP. 'Strange' in that I've never actually written it myself and 'almost' in that I don't really keep OTPs, only one ever, and that's more an OTPA: One True Polyamorous Arrangement [but not OT3].)
Anyway, it belongs to kellychambliss and it's amazing (shock? No? Alright, no shock) and it's rated R since it's Daily Deviant and it's called Talk Dirt To Me. Watch out. It's killer. I warned you.
In other news, would you all still be my friend if I dressed like
Minus the cigar, of course; I'm not much for smoking myself. (;
And for a modern-day suit I'd loooove:
(Now just imagine an AU Minerva. Picture her in the suit. You doing it? I hope I've just improved your day in some way.)
And of course I know you'd all still be my friend. :D
Lately I've been letting myself dress more the way I've always wanted to but have seldom felt up to. There was a time when I was 14-16 that I did go mostly by the masculinised version of my name and wore all men's clothing; that was mostly before my top shelf finished growing, because, er, they did just keep growing and growing quite a bit after I'd personally have preferred them to stop. It wasn't so hard for me to bind when I was around 15. Mostly I went for sort of 'boyish' with informal boy's clothing and ties, the occasional blazer.
Admittedly, my gender identity then felt less flexible; it was more hyper-masculine and actually fell where I considered it to be almost into trans territory, but not to the point that I would ever have wanted to transition; I was too happy being a lesbian. I almost felt more like a not-totally-unhappily female-bodied lesbian with a male mind.
Then I got this idea that androgynous people had to have those stupid tall, slender, willowy bodies (and I considered such bodies stupid only in being completely envious of them, thus actually believing they were anything but stupid and mine was the stupid one). I was considered short for any gender, I had the sort of body built for stamina-related athletics (that was quickly softening up due to my handicap and lack of such activities) and there were things ballooning under my shirt. I was less than thrilled.
I don't know if there was a bit of a shift in my gender identity that happened completely on its own, or if it was related to my feeling inadequate with my ability to present correctly with my prior identity, or a bit of both, but I femmed up quite a bit when I turned 16. (Part of it was that I decided to grow my hair out again, though I consider long hair beautiful on all genders.) I stopped my absolute shunning of skirts and dresses (my English teacher nearly lost his jaw when he saw me in a long dress during class; he said, "Why, [Kiwi], I never thought I'd see you in a dress!"). Instead I became known as the hippie girl who occasionally cross-dressed, which I remained through university, though I retained hope that someday I'd feel comfortable in men's clothing again because I realised that part of my identity had never gone anywhere.
Lately I've been more dogged in finding sites that represented queer fashion for more body types. I've thrifted and been gifted some more trousers, shirts, waistcoats, jackets, shoes, bow-ties (just one self-tie so far, alas), ties, suspenders, sweaters. It's been nice to go out like that again. Housemate Z, the best-dressed (and most expensively dressed, with a number of bespoke suit-wear articles) member of the house, has given me the thumbs up on a number of my daily outfits and at the Boxing Day shindig said, "Kiwi, I love that you know how to dress." My pride was limitless.
I still love corsets and the occasional high heels, dresses, nights of makeup (sometimes even with masculine clothing), skirts and sparkles, but that's almost in more of a drag way for me than anything else, like an act I'm putting on for a fun evening. (Except, strangely, in older-type clothing with long skirts and long sleeves and that cinches in at the waist; I feel more comfortable in those, the way I do with surprisingly more androgynous clothing like t-shirts and jeans.) I just feel the most comfortable with masculine clothing and it's nice to be back to a place of openly acknowledging that in myself in a way that I actually allow myself to do it despite not having the type of body that my brain seems to think is most suited to it. Well, damn, I don't have the type of body to do a lot of things that I like doing anyway, and sometimes that includes just walking, so eff it! I think HP fandom--with Amelia Bones, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, Rolanda Hooch--has helped me with the whole 'all shapes and sizes can wear what they want' idea, or at least pushing myself to practise what I preach.
Once upon a time I felt a bit more like a man's mind in a woman's body in a suit. These days I am, happily, a genderbendy lass-lark in a suit. (That's when I can be bothered to get out of my pyjamas, which is to say when I have to leave the house, and even then I have to feel energetic enough to climb into more than just the jeans and the t-shirt. :P )
For some reason I felt like combining those two almost-completely-unrelated things in this post! One I've been wanting to write up for a while and one was just sprung upon me.
And now for something even more completely different: Dear Friend of mine posted the young!Minerva portrait to my Facebook wall, saying she thought of me, and in the original there's a cat at the bottom; I had labelled the picture 'young Minerva' in some way and another friend jokingly said "nice! so who's the woman next to her? ;b" (indicating the cat as Minerva) so I pointed out, equally jovial, that the cat doesn't have the square spectacle markings; the friend wrote back, "young Minerva doesn't need them yet (; ". I just about died laughing. (I am ignoring the fact that the cat in the portrait is not a grey tabby. :P)
[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]