I’ve decided this Halloween to dress up like my ex’s worst nightmare: a stud. What? but I thought she was a stud? –That’s right, every stud’s worst nightmare is that their femme will go butch! I think I’ll text her a picture in my costume. (See, totally over her, not thinking of her at all.)
So, being the broke bitch that I am, I headed down to the Roxbury Goodwill to raid the men’s department. I know, if I really wanted to get in the spirit of this, I’d buy new–no self-respecting stud shops at Goodwill. They could be living in they mama’s basement, but everything they wear has to be new and name brand–preferably payed for by they girl. (I know some of you might take this wrong, but some of these studs are just as bad as the black men they emulate. It’s a damn good thing they can’t reproduce the same way or they’d leave a string of fatherless children behind them too.)
It’s not the first time I’ve shopped in the men’s department, but it’s been a while. (The clerk at Tello’s called his friend to tell him about the white girl trying on hoodies last time I did.) I can tell from the looks some of the men shoot me that I’m not entirely welcome either.
I went through a period some years ago where I wore all men’s clothes–a period that was also the (coincidentally?) the first year of what would be a three year stretch of involuntary celibacy. With my shaved head, felt hat and baggy pants hanging low (so much more comfortable that way), I was often called sir during that time. Although I was not really trying for that effect–I just wanted to be comfortable–I learned to smile and shrug off the apologies I inevitably got when I opened my mouth. I didn’t want to be a man at that time, nor did I want to be treated as a woman, I was just me.
Finally I realized that aside from the occasional girl kissing me in front of her boyfriend, people found me much more attractive with hair, and grew it back, but it would be another two years before my drought ended.
So back to Goodwill. I’m going through the men’s clothes in a state of semi-shock. there is so much in my size! And look how well constructed the clothes are! What is wrong with women that we let stores sell us so much cheap clothes that fall apart so easily? And they make us shop in special sections or stores that usually have even cheaper, uglier clothes if we’re “above average” in size?
I find some salt-stained Reeboks that should look okay once I put them through the wash and a stack of jeans and shirts that I take into the women’s changing area to try on. I find a nice pair of jeans that look appropriately baggy when I wear them around my hips, but look good belted around my waist too–I’ll wear these jeans on other days besides Halloween. I want to find a long, baggy hip hop shirt, but end up with the kind of striped, collared shirts I see a lot of studs wearing.
Most of the shirts fit–but there’s a problem. Most of the reveal way too much of my unbound breasts and muffin top. I am not built like a boy! I settle on one that doesn’t show off too much, and decide that once I get a sports bra and some boxers–and my friend lends me a lid–It will work out.
Still have to work up the courage to actually go out in this outfit…