The Art of War

“Ultimate excellence lies
not in winning every battle,
but in defeating the enemy
without ever fighting.”

You guys remember my “friend” from the window?

I’m…kinda depressed.

I wonder how Cao Cao felt when Sun Jian and Liu Bei bit the dust.

I’m a girl (I have boobs)

Yesterday afternoon, I went out shopping with mom (never, ever ends well, right?). I needed new running shoes, and I could use some new clothes in general, since I’ve lost weight and nothing fits me. I’ve been wearing the same baggy clothes for probably a year and a half now. Loren actually felt bad and bought me a shirt and pants for my birthday last year, since I mostly wear Joey’s clothes.

What mom likes to do is save money by NOT buying girl clothes (because girls will spend $40 on a T-shirt) and just buy boy clothes since that’s all she wears anyway, and she figures we can all just share stuff. She always puts the damper on anything I’ll come up with (“What do you think of this [shirt/pants/jacket, whatever]?”, “I think this [whatever] is kind of cute.”) by saying the color makes my complexion turn a sick color, or it makes me look pregnant, or it makes ass look huge.

So yesterday, I had found a pair of shoes I liked, then went over to the men’s section where mom was looking at all sorts of stuff for Joey. The only time she ever really buys clothes for ME is at Christmas. Last year I had to return everything because she thought I was still an XL in spite of having lost 30 lbs.

Instantly, she turned and went “Rose, try this on.”

Every damn time.

I told her “Mom, I’m sick of wearing black, and I’m sick of dressing like a guy all the time. I want to know what it’s like to have a boyfriend. (I’ll be twenty this year and still you treat me like a kid in department stores!)”

One woman actually stopped talking her husband a few figures over and looked at me. I was standing there in Joey’s athletic shorts, and the hood from my sweater (that I had found in the boy’s section at another store last year) was sticking out of dad’s extra, extra large pullover. I felt like an idiot.

Mom leaned in and said “Don’t start with me, Rose. Just go over there and try these on.”

“I can’t try things on in the boy’s dressing room.”
“Yes you can.”

It was so humiliating. I decided to drag a massive selection of men’s loungewear across the store to the girl’s dressing rooms so I could try them on in there, where all the girls looked at me like I was blatantly transgender anyway.

I reported back, saying that most of the stuff was too long or looked weird on me because I don’t have the body of a guy, but they would probably fit Joey. I hated myself, but at least I had new shoes (and Joey had three new pairs of pants).

SO! We return home and I made myself some food. Mom hands me a knife, so I said “Nah, I just need a fork” (noodles, people) and she says (brace yourself) “Haven’t you ever thought of being more ladylike?” I wanted so bad to just clock her one and somehow managed not to say a single word.

There’s more. This morning, I was rushing around trying to find pants to wear so I could get to class, which was nearly a fruitless endeavor except for my spare kung fu pants. Okay. Those will do. Mom and I cross paths in the hallway and she says “Maybe guys would treat you better if you tried to act more dignified.”

All I could think about was Nate going “Haha, Rose, what a sight,” when I answered the door, or Laura going “How come you aren’t dressed nice?!” on New Year’s Eve, or sometimes they’ll both agree “Well it’s an improvement from last time we were over,” or Matt telling me to quit complaining and do more push-ups, or how I had wanted to grow out my hair in high school just so that a guy might want to touch it, and cutting it because mom repeatedly said I looked better with a boyish cut.