(Not) Looking Good

There is a Visa ad on now, where a gal breaks a heel and a fairy godmother takes her into a shop where, with one swirl of a beauty chair, she has a great hairdo and a fabulous new dress, then a line of handsome men offer her elegant shoes, and she dances down the street.

It’s a lovely idea, that somehow, looking good is feeling good, like the Kohl’s ads that venerate transformation nation.

I don’t understand that.  The better I look, the more endangered I feel.  Domina Blue was surprised that I would often try new makeup just before taking a shower, the better to clean it off.

I did get to see one transwoman on Pride Lobby day.  She was at the shoe department in Marshalls.  I hated her, of course, because I have never been able to buy women’s shoes at Marshalls, as my feet are too big.  I flicked between broad-shouldered and well turned out her, and this live wire mother sparking off energy, and saw how keeping your head down is keeping your head down.

My father will probably get a hip replacement in the next month.  It will be good for him, more work for me.

But more separation from the place where looking good can feel powerful.

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