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June 7, 2011
I always feel like an imposter when wearing a dress, like someone a kid in a diner booth, a wizened crone on a bus, a drag queen will take one look at me, raise an eyebrow to rival the McDonald's arch, and say, "Yeah, right, who do you think you're kidding, sir?" High heels are no problem; I feel like I've earned the right to wear them. But a dress? Not so much. Put me in my cargo pants and tank top to show off the arms that the gayboys admire, and I feel so much more like a girl.