This is going to be one of those rambling posts where I try to make sense of the feelings in my head. It may not make any sense to you because it probably doesn’t make sense to me either.
I want to make it clear that I’m only talking about me here, this is my feelings about me and who I am.
I was hoping a post about lace would be easy to write, all I needed to do was wiggle my arse in front of the camera in some lace panties, right? Actually no, it bubbled so many feelings up to the surface.
I don’t particularly like labels because I’m too big and squishy to fit neatly into a box. So I generally call myself queer because I don’t feel like I fit anywhere. That’s both in terms of my sexuality and my gender.
That’s where things become cloudy in my head. I’m lucky, I don’t have body dysmorphia, I mean I may not like my wobbly bits but that’s as far as it goes. Call my cunt my cunt, my tits my tits and my clit my clit, although calling it my little dick is also kinda hot.
Also, what pronouns you use don’t bother me, I’ve had mine for forty years and I’m too old, set in my ways or lazy to consider any changes. Tell me I’ve been a good girl and I’m going to be grinning but tell me I’ve been a good boi and fuuuuccckkk, I’ve melted into a puddle.
Since shaving my hair a couple of years ago I realised how much more like me I feel, I don’t want to go back to hiding behind long hair again. I generally present myself in a more masculine way. Seeing me in a skirt is a bit of a rarity, I much prefer to live in jeans etc. Growing up I was forced to wear dresses, I HATED it. I was a tomboy and spent my time climbing trees and playing football so being put in a dress was the worst.
I’m generally much happier in who I am when I’m in boy shorts and dungarees. If I’m at home I won’t be wearing a bra either, if I’m out and about then I have to so I can hide my nipples away from the cool breeze or icy air conditioning. You won’t generally find me in pink either, there’s one or two exceptions to the rule, come back next week for one of them.
I digressed a long way from lace didn’t I, let me get back on track a bit. I love how lacy panties look on other people, they’re pretty, delicate and sexy but I feel uncomfortable wearing them. Which brings me back round to the thing that cuts me really deep. Since cutting my hair and being able to express myself as being me, so many people have stopped telling me I look sexy. I feel as if I should conform, grow my hair, stop wearing the cute but comfortable clothes and revert to lacy underwear just to make other appreciate me because who doesn’t like being told their hot.
I don’t know what direction this will go in. Do I stay being who I’m happy with or do I have to revert to wearing lace to make others happy. It hurts my head and the confusion all feels a bit pants!