i disappoint myself with contradiction.

stonewallexodus:

it is always surreal for me when i try on women’s clothing. 

i pluck at it and pick at it when it doesn’t cling like it’s supposed to, but feel suffocated when it does.
i am so conscious of my hips, but i don’t want them gone, they just get in the way sometimes.
i am conscious of how small my chest is,  and like that it is so small, but for some reason i still hurt when people make fun of it.

i am admittedly jealous of girls who can get away with anything because of their boobs, but would never want anything larger than what i have now.

i am frustrated that clothes don’t fit me how i want them to fit me.

my family is wide set, big, and bottom heavy.

my style role models (professional and otherwise) are slim, lithe, and triangular. my mother constantly talks about how she doesn’t like her body. 

i am not built like how i want to be built, and my body, naturally, refuses to conform to what i want. 

my hips are my telling and pervasive weakness.

i am ashamed of my stretch marks and cellulite.
i am ashamed that i do not love myself. 
i am confused when i do. 

i am ashamed of how flattered I am when people mistake me for a boy. 

i cannot wear women’s clothes because they show my weakness, i cannot dress too loosely or masculine because that is not who i am.

i am ashamed that i have to pick my outfit out the night before or i will have a panic attack in the morning about my gender and gender presentation.

i am more disappointed and embarrassed than i am flattered when people call me beautiful.

but it makes me uncomfortable when people call me handsome.

because after all i am not. a boy.