gemz

it seemed that, upon my arrival to mexico, i confused people, who, not seeing a bow or earrings, quickly assumed i was a boy. my short curly hair certainly didn't help. neither did my disgust for the color pink, nor my reluctance to wear dresses (this reduced the possibility of showing my underwear, which i believed was one of the biggest mistakes one could make. i must admit, however, that i did enjoy the repetitive display of men's underwear on torso-less, leg-less mannequins at department stores. and the stockings, one pointy-toed leg after another, all reaching for the sky).

it irritated me that these strangers didn't look further for hints of my subtle femininity. like my pink gem-studded moccasins (each shiny gem a different color), which were the only pink exception i allowed because of their comfort and uniqueness (after they were worn out and outgrown, i received a second, seemingly identical pair, which turned out to be, in my opinion, an inferior, gem-shedding replica). they could have seen that my outfit had beautiful, shimmery seashells on it, which everyone knows that boys never wear.

i would later become accustomed to the frustrating reactions of people to my appearance and would eventually thrive on them during my teenage years, when i wore my hair even shorter, my shoes even shinier, and my gems (glued) on my face.