Clothes, beanies and boy's underpants

Here's the deal. Most of the time I wear jeans and a shirt appropriate to the occasion. It works for most occasions - whether it's for the fruit shop job (black, collared, short-sleeve polo), running around playing frisbee (sports top with built-in boobsmasher bra), going out (dress shirt, long sleeved, possibly with a tie) or just a casual t-shirt day.

I've taken to wearing boy-style clothing. Which leaves me cruising the men's section of any clothing store almost exclusively. I stick away from the frills and sequins and darted fitted things as much as possible. The only part of the women's section I really feel comfortable in is the sportswear. Not that I'm especially sporty at all - it just houses the boobsmasher sports shirts I've come to love. I can't resist them. Different colours, styles. Collect-a-set pops into my head every time I see one on sale.

Now, the men's section is a place of wonder for me. I'm like a kid in candy store - wide eyed and full of hope and happiness. Dress shirts, ties, jackets... I love it. Even the casual tees are so much more exciting for me. But I have a problem.

I'm little.

I'm not a midget. I'm not a stick figure. But I'm small enough that I get milk crate jokes regarding my height. And a lot the men's dress and casual shirts that I like are still too big, even in the smallest size.

So in search of smaller clothing I occasionally head off to the kid's section. I wade through all the coathangers and clothing on the floor - how that section always gets so messy is beyond me, I know the people who clean it daily. I bypass all the fairy stuff and head for boys only. I bypass the Bob the Builder and Spiderman age-specific crap. However, after wading into that section and succesfully navigating toward something half-decent I get the most awful feeling.

It's true that I'm drawn to it. I have a purpose. But my mind screams at me. WRONG! GO BACK! in big red flashing letters accompanied by a siren. I start to get paranoid that I'll be seen as a paedophilic wanderer, a weirdo to be avoided and looked at with distaste. I check both directions of the aisle before riffling through the items to see if one will fit me. I feel almost... dirty to hold an item against myself to check what it will look like. Going to the change rooms with these items? Not a chance. Maybe in another town where I won't be recognised as a guitar teacher checking out boy's clothes, but only maybe. That feeling of WRONG! is so overwhelming. This is madness, I think. You could be shopping for some kid with roughly the same body shape as you. You could say that and it would be okay. If the question was asked. But how often is the question asked? How often is the assumption just made without question being asked?

One of my children's section finds that I don't have a problem admitting to is my beanie. Most adult beanies are too big for my head. I like to keep the tips of my ears warm (since my short dykey hair certainly hasn't got a chance of doing the job) and not the whole of my ears and most of my head. With an adult beanie to be able to hear I have to roll up the sides so much that I look like a cartoon condom ad. There goes Vic the midget looking like a franger ad again. Great. But then I found a kid's age 3-6 beanie. And it's perfect.

Another thing that I'm fascinated by but totally intimidated to look at closely is men's underwear. I've had plenty of conversations with Gayman regarding the subject and I'm working up my courage to just buy a pair to try. He's been great and supportive and obviously pretty knowledgeable.

And yesterday, all this knowledge of my fears and desires in hand, Gayman buys me a present. Kind of a joke, kind of serious.



Unfortunately, I don't have stick figure thighs and being a 6-8 they are a little... restrictive. But these are an item of clothing I'll treasure forever, even if they only get worn as the emergency I've run out of my preferred undies but haven't progressed to the I'll go without stage yet pair. I know, regular use of the washing machine would fix this - but it's not the way I work. I let it all get to crisis point and then spend a day getting it all done.

Thanks, Gayman. Love you to peices.