Gah I just want to buy that foundation now! But have to wait a whole freaking week. On Wednesday I get my money, then I can spend them. Cause I hate my face and I want to start wearing make-up more often again, but I really can't without a decent foundation in a matching shade. I'll buy the one two shades darker hoping that it will be one shade too dark so that I can use the foundation I already have to mix and find my actual shade.
Then when I've used up both of those foundations I'll know which shade to buy in the future. But they're probably gonna last me for a long time seeing as it's extra much in each tube and that I'll have two. Good thing I really like the formula of this foundation. It covers a lot of my acne with the thinnest layer, doesn't feel heavy and doesn't look cakey at all. It's soft and smooth too, not too matte or dewy. And it comes in shades light enough, even too light, so really got no complaints on it.
Having my 4th cup of coffee for today, time to get high! No but seriously, I want to drink more than enough to get some kind of caffeine kick. If I'll stick to only coffee for today I can have 9 cups before I reach my 500 calorie limit. That should put me at 490 calories. Thinking maybe I should tell my mother about that make-up I want to buy, like afterwards, cause it's 400 kr and that might make me more broke than otherwise.
I do see it as an investment that will last me a long time though. I don't often buy make-up. And I don't need to. The only things I do use last for quite long. It's foundation, transparent powder, white powder for highlights, brown eye shadows for shading, brown or black eyeliner and white eyeliner. That's suddenly sounds like a lot, haha. And that is only for my "invisible" make-up. I sure use a lot more if I want black, smokey eyes or something as well.
I hardly put on make-up every day lately, but would like to at least a few days a week or something. It's a confidence boost, especially if I can make it look natural. I rarely go for a dramatic look these days. Not outside of my apartment, at least.
Oh, but how I would love going out in complete goth drag someday. Just go batshit crazy on the heavy make-up look with lots of eye shadows, trimmed eyebrows (gave up on trying to cover them), lipstick, extreme shading and highlighting. And then wear my black pvc corset with matching skirt, ripped fishnet pantyhose and my platform boots with lots of buckles. Then my blonde wig with that.
I would look awesome. Everyone would mess with me and I'd love every second of it. I'd drink, dance, sing along with a mismatching male voice and just rock the night. I hope that can happen at some point at least. I don't really think that makes me any less of a guy, just because I like dressing up that way sometimes. I'm just a cross-dresser.
Being in drag doesn't make me feel like a woman, or even genderfluid. I don't put gender in my clothes and make-up, it's just an expression, it's like a game for me. Like performing. Sure it's somehow a part of me that I sort of bring forward when I go into drag mode, but it's still a guy. I could never go back to living like that full time again. So no, detransitioning will never happen, no matter how much I love wearing skirts and heavy make-up. I love wearing that as a guy.
I think though, that I needed to take a break from it to realise that. That it doesn't change anything inside of me, I'm still male. I do "conform" to the gender binary by simply identifying as entirely male, or do I somehow not fall into the binary because my gender expression varies? I do though, believe that I'm not going back to my old pattern when I dress up in drag, I'm taking a step forward.
My reasoning behind that statement is that before, it was a way of hiding my true identity, now it's a way of showing it. I'm not so black and white, not so stereotypically male, but that doesn't mean I'm actually female. I've always been fairly, more or less androgynous leaning over to the feminine side, but also always identified as male. It has confused me a lot, in a lot of ways. Cause it's so easy to equal femininity with being female and vice versa, that when it doesn't add up it creates short circuits in my already kinda over stressed brain.
I know what I'm doing, transitioning to male, I know it's the only way I can possibly survive. I do still dream of that flawless masculine (although thin) body. To me gender expression has always had a lot more to do with my skin than what I put on it. To look like a guy clothes off, and be able to appear female, male or whatever in between with clothes on. Changing my body simply has one purpose: to make me to be able to feel comfortable in my own skin. No matter how complicated or simple my gender identity is, I know for certain what I want to look like. And you don't even have to be a guy to want to look like one and be read as one in society.
Being read as female and looking like a girl before my transition was possibly one of the worst things ever, if not the worst. Especially since after I figured myself out. I tried to take control over it, make it into a freakshow that I was more or less responsible for. I don't ever want to go back to that again. I might feel trapped in my own body like I didn't back then, but at the same time I also feel a lot more free. It's hard to explain exactly how that works.
So yes, I'm sure that I'm male despite how much it fucked me up with the cross-dressing this summer. It's been a few months since then and I've been sure for over 6 years, so I don't even know what got into me. There are ghosts in those clothes and they haunt me. I think it is just that, my past haunting me. Asking me questions like "Was this the right choice?" and "Don't I miss presenting as female?" when it should have asked me "Why do these clothes mean more to me than they should?" I needed to let go, mourn that past and see things as they are. Those clothes helped me survive when the thought of transitioning was too scary and overwhelming, they supported me when I thought no one would understand.
And maybe I miss their comfort, the false protection they gave me. How they made my teenage years into a tragic drag show, they gave me something I confuse with confidence. A confidence that I no longer have. Now I feel vulnerable and unprotected no matter what I wear. I can't get back that feeling of comfort again. But those clothes don't work that way anymore. They've lost their magic and now are only tragic. But the memories remain, and they haunt me.
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