Why I Am A Bad Person: The Inner Judge Edition
A few weeks ago, Lionel told me the story of the worst transvestite he'd ever seen. Apparently, he met a person who simply threw on a denim vest and acted like a woman- but in a very bad, wrist-flappity, mincing, fluttering kind of way that really convinced no one and sort of insulted women everywhere. Other than that the fluttery, affected giggle, no effort was really made not to be mannish, no make-up, short hair, a five o'clock shadow. As he put it, it was like meeting a man pretending to be a woman pretending to be a construction worker.
But who are we to judge the work put into the life choices of others? If a dude decides he wants to dress like a woman, well, bully for him and his poor execution, right?
I thought about this yesterday, walking up 19th Street. I saw a woman (whoaaaaaaaaa, man!) at happy hour dressed with the sparkly, meticulous precision of a transvestite. Her pink camouflage-pattern capri pants were dotted with rhinestones that glinted in the afternoon light; her faux-punky deconstructed blouse glittered with rhinestones in the afternoon sun; her engineer's cap from two seasons ago glimmered in the afternoon light (are we sensing a theme here?), and her enormous feet were jammed into dainty little peeptoe wedges that showcased her pedicure dappled with - you guessed it, rhinestones. Across her sharp, angular jawline, she had fastidiously shellacked several layers of foundation that didn't quite mask her facial hair, and over her thickly lined eyelids, her eyebrows were plucked within an inch of their lives and then pencilled right back in. Although she looked a little like Gaston in casual drag, there was clearly a lot of work that went into affecting the image, and I appreciated the effort.
I thought to myself, "Good for her! I'm glad she made the life choice that works for her, and I hope she's happy!"
But as I got closer, something didn't seem right. Something was... missing.
An Adam's apple.
Because she wasn't a transvestite; she was a regular woman. And I thought to myself, "Well, that's just tacky."
But who are we to judge the work put into the life choices of others? If a dude decides he wants to dress like a woman, well, bully for him and his poor execution, right?
I thought about this yesterday, walking up 19th Street. I saw a woman (whoaaaaaaaaa, man!) at happy hour dressed with the sparkly, meticulous precision of a transvestite. Her pink camouflage-pattern capri pants were dotted with rhinestones that glinted in the afternoon light; her faux-punky deconstructed blouse glittered with rhinestones in the afternoon sun; her engineer's cap from two seasons ago glimmered in the afternoon light (are we sensing a theme here?), and her enormous feet were jammed into dainty little peeptoe wedges that showcased her pedicure dappled with - you guessed it, rhinestones. Across her sharp, angular jawline, she had fastidiously shellacked several layers of foundation that didn't quite mask her facial hair, and over her thickly lined eyelids, her eyebrows were plucked within an inch of their lives and then pencilled right back in. Although she looked a little like Gaston in casual drag, there was clearly a lot of work that went into affecting the image, and I appreciated the effort.
I thought to myself, "Good for her! I'm glad she made the life choice that works for her, and I hope she's happy!"
But as I got closer, something didn't seem right. Something was... missing.
An Adam's apple.
Because she wasn't a transvestite; she was a regular woman. And I thought to myself, "Well, that's just tacky."
posted by The Goo at 9:19 AM
3 Comments:
Hmm, that's a good point. Why is it that something that would look good on a transvestite would be so tacky on a regular girl? And is that why I've not worn anything that could be described as "metallic fuschia" since my bat mitzvah?
was surfing the web (like browsing old blogs) and saw yr post about mozart's 250th and kwilberg and was wondering when u graduated, (being a current willows student) if u were a TWA student... just curious.
Yep, by my calculations, I was student at the Willows Academy for Girls from 1991-1996- 6th-10th grade. It was at the old building though, my parents transferred me to public school before the school moved into the building in where is it now- Des Plaines? Anyhoo, if you wanna talk Willows and Karen Wilberg-who is AWESOME, even though I haven't spoken to her since the time I wrote that post (whoops, I may or may not be a flaky keeper-in-touch), shoot me an email: poofygoo@gmail.com. Oh, and is Mrs. Popolizio still there? Tell her I said ca va, et que tous sont bien.
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