What’s up everybody, Racic here.
I was at my brother’s house for Christmas he had on his ugly Christmas sweater. “It takes a man to buy his ugly Christmas sweater in the women’s department.” He boasts. Ugly Christmas sweaters, as a tradition, kind of creep me out.
I hated wearing the “nice sweater” I had to during the holidays. Not because it was a sweater. But because it was some gawd awful cutesy sweater my mom or grandma bought for me. AS A PRESENT. That I picked up Christmas morning, hoping against hope that it was the one thing I wished for more than anything else that year.
Side note, I don’t want to sound greedy, my parents would just buy us lots of little crap instead of a couple more expensive things. They did this because my mother enjoys watching us open presents. Her Christmas crack is the look of joy on a child/person’s face when they open a present. Not that that’s not a wonderful feeling, I just think it’s better to see the look on someone’s face when they get something they actually want and will use.
But alas, it never was. It was always that fucking sweater. Sometimes it had snowmen or reindeer or santa claus or jesus, one year it was blue. Christmas trees or snowflakes nothing I ever wanted to wear in my life. But I had to wear it the rest of the day, at Christmas dinner, with all of my cousins over. It was mortifying.
In 2nd grade I was made to wear it to school, although it was not a sweater, but a complete sweatsuit. It was during the iron on craze of the early 90’s. I’m from a small town, trends used to take time to get around before the internet. I’ll remember that vile creation until the day I die. What started as regular navy blue sweatshirt and navy blue sweatpants, became an abomination covered in iron on bunnies and teddy bears wearing cutesy little santa hats, or playing in snow, or whatthefuckever with different color glitter glue outlines. Fuck I wanted to shoot myself. Possibly the first time I contemplated suicide. You see my school decided it would be fun to make the day before Christmas break…Christmas Sweater Day!!!
I was stuck. My mother and grandmother had made this for me a few days prior, they were making stuff for the whole family. When I told them we could wear our Christmas Sweaters to school they giggled with delight that I would be wearing their handiwork in public. I fought tooth and nail with my mother against it. But she pulled the mighty, “It would mean the world to your Grandmother” card, on top of the “we worked so hard on it” card, and the “don’t you love us?” card. I was outplayed and caved.
I wore my coat as long as I could that day, but the kids could see my pants. Giggles started to slip around the room. The teacher made me take my coat off and full on snickers broke out. Fuck it was traumatic. I tried to play it off like they were cool, “my mom and grandma handcrafted these sweats for me out of their love!” A voice in the crowd said “aw they wove the wittle baby.” My self-esteem died.
Second grade is a weird time, you’re not quite an adolescent, and you’re not a toddler anymore. You definitely don’t want to be wearing baby bunnies and teddy bears playing in the snow on a matching sweatsuit your mom and grandma made for you. I had nothing. I couldn’t shout back, NO I’M NOT, because that would have been childish. I couldn’t get in a fight, because I didn’t know who said it. So I sat in the corner, alone.
Lunch I was on display on the wall because I got in a shoving match in the line. I had to get into a few fights the winter/spring to make up for that incident. I think I’ve blocked out the rest of that day, because that’s all I’ve got. It’s tough going from a boy to a man. Which is what made me laugh at his boast, he didn’t have to wear the outfit they made for him to school. His wasn’t done yet. He only had to wear his on Christmas eve/morning.
Oh yeah they made one for all three of us, in each of our favorite colors. We were fucking adorable. So my younger brother boasts that real men buy their ugly Christmas sweaters in the women’s department, but I thinking he was just making excuses. He has always loved wearing women’s clothes.
Not that there is anything wrong with that. People have the right to wear whatever they want. I’ve always been a fan of kilts myself, but I’m not Scottish so I feel like a poser wearing one. It is kind of nice though when the breeze tickles your junk. He’s just real Jesus-ey these days.
Not that there is anything wrong with that, they just aren’t really tolerant of cross-dressers. So anything he can do to wear women’s clothes without arousing suspicion, he’s all about it. But seriously folks, a real man wears whateverthefuck he wants to wear and I dare you to tell him different.