Speaking of artifice...

...let's talk about architecture.

That sounds like an odd opening line.

Let me give you some context.

I am, as header image so nicely tells us, a transgirl on the go.  Hoopla!

What.  Does.  This.  Mean?

It means, because of my age, I probably should be saying transwoman.  But damnit, there's nothing diminishing about calling myself a girl, even if I'm a grown woman.  My age means that there are some nasty hormones inside me that do some crap things until I get them shut down...among them (and I can blame genetics here too, as well as chemotherapy) causing the hair on my head to make a general retreat away from the Russian front.  Never fight a war on two fronts...Napoleon didn't learn that, and neither did Germany.

So, yeah...not so much on top.

So we rely on artifice and architecture to help us feel more confident, more ourselves, or both.  For me it's more the second, but go with me here, OK?

It means my dresser is covered in equal parts medicine bottles, makeup, and comic books.  I'd have more makeup, but I have a budget, you know, and tacos have to fit in there occasionally.  I'm not too bad with eyeshadow, I love mascara like a really loving thing, and I can do amazing things with lipstain.  I have to learn about the wonders of lipliner though, I am told.  Eyeshadow and I do NOT get along.  And I've not played with concealer, foundation or blush yet.  A half dozen things at a time, please.

Here's the thing about makeup...for some of us, it's the very first thing we can do that gives us some kind of control over how we look, and how we present ourselves to the world. It's the first thing we do that shows the world us, rather than the mask we've been wearing all our lives.  It can be lifesaving, or sanity saving.  It was for me...the first time I was confident enough to wear makeup out in public to meet with a friend, it was noticed and the cause for smiles.

It also means I get to rely on the wonder of artificial hair to bolster my otherwise thinning locks.  This could be weaves, but I went the route of wigs.

Now, I say that in the plural because I got three, with the idea that at the very least I could play with them and get a feel for how they work, how to style them, how to place them, now to keep them on, et cetera.

I didn't realise when I put the first one on that I'd be sitting looking at myself in the mirror with my hands over my mouth practically crying because OMG I HAVE HAIR AND IT LOOKS LIKE MINE AND THAT'S JULIE IN THE MIRROR *thud*

Hi, I'm Julie.  Nice to meet you finally :-)

So yeah, kinda revelatory.  And awesome.  And moving myself, and a bunch of other people, to tears.  It's not MY hair, of course, but it makes me so happy that I don't care.

As evidenced by a friend's Twitter feed.  Names, IDs and User Pix redacted for privacy.

And it's artifice.  Architecture.  Just as the makeup is paint on the walls of my architecture.

But here's the thing...

I do this for myself.  Not because someone tells me I have to.  Not because someone said 'you'd look prettier with this and that and that.'  Not to impress a partner.  I do it because it makes me feel good.  Yes, it draws attention to areas I want people to look...like my eyes and my mouth, because I want them to pay attention when I talk.  And I personally want to feel good when I walk around, feeling hair bounce on my head, brushing it away from my eyes (BANGS!), and all that.

It helps me feel good, and in the end, that's what matters.

So it may be artifice and architecture, but I like it.

Now, I just need to find room for some wig forms...though it will make my plushies sad to lose their locks :-)