W and I were invited to a baby shower this Saturday.
I don’t do baby showers.
They make me uncomfortable. They seem to embody everything that I’ve rejected over the years … skirts and dresses and lace and heels. Conversation peppered with tidbits such as “I love your outfit” and “where did you get your shoes?”
And the baby is a girl. So there will be all of that pink to deal with. Pink? It’s my cryptonite. Quick, get me some flannel!
I agreed to go to this baby shower because it’s for W’s cousin’s wife. I really like her, and she’s been very kind to me since we first met.
I asked W what I should wear. She said I should wear my black pinstriped pants with a white button down shirt, a vest and a tie. You know, standard Butch gets dressed up to go out gear.
I think I will stand out like, well, a butch at a baby shower.
Maybe I will wear a pink tie to counteract the pink of the shower wrappings and trimmings.
I’m hoping that there will be men folk hidden away in another room watching the game. Drinking beer. No one will notice if I slip away for just a few innings, just a few cold ones.
I did manage to pick out a few butch-inspired, gender-nonconforming shower gifts: A three-pack of Philadelphia Phillies onesies (please don’t let this kid turn into an Atlanta Braves fan); a baseball mitt and pack of toddler superhero underwear. Because there’s a little bit of Amazon warrior in every baby girl.
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What about you? Are there any celebrations or occasions that make you uncomfortable?