One of the great tricks of being non-binary and generally expressing as not the gender I am biologically is that I’ll never quite look how I want to look.
Of course, when looking at pictures of what I like, I have that issue that I’ve mentioned before—do I want that or do I want to look like that? I joked with my sister the other day that not only am I not interested in men, I’m probably a little too into women. The fruits of that are that, if I look at a photo of an attractive, woman, I both want that and I want to look a bit like that.
What I don’t want is to look like a guy trying to dress as a woman. I don’t think that I do, but it’s a continual fear. I’m lucky that I have relatively soft features and longish legs. But I do have shoulders and my torso is just an inch or two longer than a woman’s of my frame would be. So there’s that little fit issue with me.
More than anything, I want to look like me. That’s meant that I largely ignore advice from most people—not all, but most. Many of my closest friends have good advice and are looking out for my best interests. More casual acquaintances? Yeah, no. They’re the ilk who said I was feeling femme because I ate soy.
So I look at the image I’ve used above here, and think, yeah, damn, that looks nice. I would enjoy. But also, I wish I could look a bit more like that, too. I’m learning to be okay with the fact that I won’t, even though my body is at least cooperating and getting me some of the way there.
More than anything, I need to be at least happy when I manage to look like me.