Identity Crisis? Naaah.
Let me clarify that, taking into consideration my appearance description in the previous post, I am definitely not as butch as they come. I have long since retired my leather jacket and chain wallet. My hair has never been particularly short. I’m not stick-thin with bound breasts. I do, however, open doors, lift heavy things, wear a baseball hat (all the time, often backwards), kill bugs (especially in the middle of the night), connect the tv/cable/playstation, drill holes for toggle screws, and drive 93% of the time. I’m also in a Rock Band. No, not the video game. An honest-to-goodness rock band, complete with late nights, smokey bars, shots of Jager, pints of beer, and jumping around on stage. I’m the singer, the front-woman. For all of my life, I have been “one of the guys.”
So as much as a mere wardrobe change seems daunting, believe me that there is much more going into maintaining my identity while being pregnant. I’m sure my mother waiting patiently as I grew up, hoping that one day her tomboy daughter would embrace (or, rather, willingly accept) wearing a dress.. a skirt.. perhaps a shirt NOT from the men’s section? Here we are, 32 years later, and I think she’s finally given up hope. But here we go, folks. Maybe it should be butch versus pregnant. Round one. Ding ding!
I’ve never felt so much like a unicorn in my whole life, something that, I’m sure, will become more pronounced as my body and emotions start to change. I’m so incredibly fortunate, however, to have my partner by my side. We’ll be our respective unicorns together, looking for relevant community, support, and information, perhaps even reluctantly pushing our own envelope.