Dysphoria Curveball?

Most days, the patterns of dysphoria are so well-worn through my mind that I could draw you a roadmap.  Sometimes, though, completely new ones show up.

Today I got a very cool letter.  Apparently, some work I did a while back has earned a national award.  The letter was to inform me of this, and to invite me, expenses paid, to the award ceremony in Washington, DC.  (I know, right?)

So a very nice letter to get.  But here's the thing.  What do I wear?  (DYSPHORIA!)  I won't have transitioned yet... but hormones should be around the 4-month mark by then, which might make me passable.  My hair will be long enough, etc...  And of course, its not like you have the opportunity to dress fancy and thank an old guy for a plaque very often... but... really??? in a suit??? =(...  I just... I'm a girl...

I don't own a dress, and I likely won't by then... but... yeah...sort of spills the wind from the sails, a bit...  At the very least, I suppose I'll be far less boyish by then, and might manage a snappy androgynous number... yeah... that's the spirit, Hailey!

The Tie is a Lie

On the outside, I'm pretty put-together most days.  I usually blame my traditional mid-west upbringing for my habit of wearing business attire even when nobody else does.  I wonder why I feel like I have to be so polished?  I wonder if anyone has ever stopped to wonder if I'm actually hiding the disheveled wreck that is sometimes so dominant behind my collar and smile?  Probably not.  I guess I wouldn't really want to be able to see everyone else's woes either... a very depressing way to see people, I suppose. God must have a very heavy heart...

Still...  it's something of an obsession...well, maybe not an obsession so much as a nervous habit.  Is it that I think looking put together on the outside will help me feel put together on the inside?  Maybe it does...