Nursery rhymes to paralyze.

Today I went to Bloomingdale's with my mother and my younger brother. I left with a dress, and then we went to Daffy's, where I left with two new bags, a small umbrella, some tights, and some socks. It was a struggle for us to get to the point where I could say yes to the socks.

All I needed to do was glance at a dress and see if the neckline was too frilly or open, if it folded over too much, if it didn't have sleeves, if there were shoulder pads, if the sleeve openings were too loose, if it was a tube with holes cut out for the arms and head, if it had a huge buckle on it somewhere - and I know a lot of it was the environment, where I kept getting things pressed at me without the presser taking the time beforehand to ask what or why. I didn't care about the names of the people that'd drawn up the original designs: I cared how it looked and felt, and how it worked on my body. There was one two-minute period where I talked to a saleswoman about what I was looking for, and she commented I was petite. I told her flat-out "If I weigh more than 140 pounds the industry won't call me petite." She said it was my height, which is true, since I'm five-four on a good day. I still pressed I wouldn't classified as petite.

Weirdly enough, it was my younger brother instead of my mom who took the time to ask, "So what are you looking for in a dress?" All my mother seemed to do was pull out dresses and see if I liked them or not without ever asking what I did or didn't like or what I wanted. It didn't take much for me to start saying "no" automatically because I knew she wouldn't pull out anything I wanted. At Daffy's she wanted me to get a formal coat, but kept getting ones with shoulder pads, or ones that were too puffed, or ones that were too short, or ones with huge built-in belts with huge buckles. When I had a moment of permission, I walked around for a few seconds and then went right over to a section that interested me that might have had something I'd liked if I was in a mood to say "yes" to something. But I wasn't, so I didn't leave with anything.

Both my mother and I wanted me to leave the stores with clothes that would help communicate the message that I am Serious And Professional, but neither of us knew how to communicate with the other in terms of being able to reach that goal. I didn't have the words to describe what I was looking for, and I didn't even get my measurements done so I could make a reasonable guess at dresses sold online.

I'm an excellent female. But I don't have the vocabulary or skills to be feminine. Aptitude, sure, but without the ways or means to make use of that.