I do relate to the feeling of being mistakenly assigned the wrong body.
Because deep down, I'm an aesthete. The way things look matters deeply to me. For instance, while I was 17 years old, still living in a dorm room, I started collecting antiques & teaching myself about styles & periods within the decorative arts, and buying Victorian furniture that needed refinishing. (You should have seen my room in my college apartment that I shared with seven other students -- it was quite unlike the rooms of any of my peers -- with the Victorian ladies' chairs & the marble-topped table & the stained glass Arts & Crafts lamp.) One of my fellow students was studying fashion design & the history of clothing & I used to borrow all her books & sometimes sneak into her lectures. I have always loved clothing. Just to finger the fabrics. sometimes. I have always loved playing with makeup & in fact, I still find the "how to" makeup application videos on YouTube endlessly fascinating. Nothing makes me happier than an excuse to visit Sephora & splurge on some makeup or beauty product.
And yet there I was, fat & misshapen. I remember the arrival of the Spiegel catalog as something that could make me nearly sob with longing because I was unable to fit in the clothing that I admired & I looked at as though it was an art object, never meant to be worn; and even if it came in my size, it did not look right on me. Easier to focus on the look of rooms instead. Even then, to me, I was always the oddest-looking thing in the rooms I was decorating. I created these environments imagining that a woman of distinction & beauty lived in them, but I never felt I could quite live up to them -- I was a set designer doing this for some famous actress, not for myself, really, but for someone I wished I could be. That woman would be thin & sophisticated.
So yeah, I had those feelings all the time. All the time.
Last edited by saef; 07-17-2010 at 04:07 PM.