Waking up on a completely abnormal snowy Texas morn, I had to figure out what to wear, but the majority of my clothing remains haphazardly stuffed away in boxes limiting my options.
I picked out my favorite pair of dark Hudson’s, a once worn black, brown and blue-ish flannel shirt and my generic black Yeti boots. No, I don’t tuck them in either. I felt a bit awkward in this get up. I mostly hate collared, button up and polo style shirts, which is why I've only worn the shirt once; they make me feel masculine looking, especially with my 15 year old boy figure…the rack also seems to disappear in these shirts. Anyway, I walk into the living room where my little brother is watching some Asian looking cartoon and plant myself in front of him:
“Do I look like a lesbo in this outfit?”
“No, but you look like a lumber jack”
“Damn it! That means I look like a lesbo lumber jack”
“Some people like that look.”
“Yeah, then some big butch babe is going to see me and wanna turn me out. You know I’m easy to persuade.”