You know, when I was two, I had a beloved bathing suit (a boy's suit, given to my mother as a hand-me-down, the former wearer of which has since grown up to be the current Attorney General for the State of New York!) that sported wide navy blue and white horizontal stripes. It was the news that I could no longer wear that beloved and extremely comfortable bathing suit and had to adopt a pink, flowered, one-piece girl's suit that pulled on my shoulders and made me feel restricted that sent me on my childhood quest to grow up into a little boy.
The quest became a little problematic when it became inescapably clear to me that I was only attracted to boys, not girls, but still, Fashun Police and their strictures aside, I loved that bathing suit. Maybe my rebellion was misdirected. Maybe I should not have striven to become a little boy. Maybe I should have gone for zebra instead, although it would be problematic to enjoy doing the butterfly, which is my favorite stroke.
I'm having trouble envisioning a zebra doing the butterfly. (The funky chicken, maybe.) But in this world, if a little girl wants to grow up to be a zebra, I think she should.
For my part, my best swimming experiences have involved being free of the need to wear anything at all.
no subject
The quest became a little problematic when it became inescapably clear to me that I was only attracted to boys, not girls, but still, Fashun Police and their strictures aside, I loved that bathing suit. Maybe my rebellion was misdirected. Maybe I should not have striven to become a little boy. Maybe I should have gone for zebra instead, although it would be problematic to enjoy doing the butterfly, which is my favorite stroke.
no subject
For my part, my best swimming experiences have involved being free of the need to wear anything at all.