So, I am being fitted for my first fancy suit at the fancy store for men – and the polite man with the measuring tape asks me how I dress.
I respond,
“usually kind of sloppily – I dress for comfort and often dress-down because I am not out to impress anybody. I dress for me and care nothing about fitting in with the finer-dressed elements of society. It’s a class war, really – and I want no part in being on the other side. Even in my 50s, I still cling to my punk roots and anarchistic idealism and do not fit in easily within modern polite society. I dress as I want to”.
After finishing my brief monologue, I notice the polite man with the measuring tape’s facial expression changes to one of borderline impatience.
I then realize the correct answer is simply, “to the right”.
The polite man with the measuring tape shakes his head from side-to-side and audibly exhales with emphasis - while proceeding to measure.
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I stand up, tall, and look at myself in the full-length mirror – and see a man in his first fancy suit. He looks much like I do – a possible identical twin I was never told about or a doppelgänger, perhaps?
“You clean up well”, says the polite man with the measuring tape – and I think I just caught him (momentarily) smiling.
[Conformity]
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I leave the fancy men’s store and feel at a loss on how to feel about it all.
____
Well – at least my genitals are comfortable in my new trousers
There’s that, I suppose
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