She was wearing my dress

Again, I encountered something on my gender journey that I didn’t expect. Usually these are nice surprising events or feelings, but this time I have some mixed feelings about it. The good news anyway is that once again I understand many women a little better.

A while ago I went shopping with a good friend. It was like every meeting of the two of us again very cordial, pleasant and spontaneous. We tried on some things, we said what we thought of them, and we scored some stuff. That day I also tried on that shirt dress with leopard print. Yes, it suited me, my friend thought so too. However, we had only just started, so it was too early to decide. In the end we did not go back to that store.

After a night’s sleep that dress came back to my mind. Yes, it was comfortable. And I liked the image in the mirror. I decided to go to another store of the same brand. If the dress was hanging there, I would buy it. And… it was there.

I still think it’s a fine dress. Simple, it didn’t cost much either, and it still fits well. Especially at home I wear it often.

So far, so good.

A few weeks later I went out for a drink with another friend. I put on that dress. I felt comfortable in it. We went for a walk for a while. And then I saw this other woman. She was sitting at a table with a man. And she was wearing the same dress. I noticed it immediately. It was a weird feeling at first, but then I felt some disappointment. My dress was somehow less special. Suddenly I wished I had worn something else. It didn’t help that the other woman also seemed to have a rather grumpy look on her face.

And it didn’t stop there.

A few weeks later, in the city where I work, I saw another woman wearing that dress. And really, on the same day, a few hours later, again another woman wearing that dress. And all three of those women wearing the same dress were older than me. Had I bought a grandmother’s dress?

Perhaps there is a small point of light. A popular dress may be a sign of good taste. However, there is also that desire to be a little unique.

Two women at a party wearing the same dress. How awkward that must be.

Well, again I’ve learned another import lesson on womanhood.