I can’t remember if it was the second or the third dressing room where I started crying. Maybe both.
All I want is a dress shirt. I have a bunch of button-downs, but most of them are either short-sleeved or flannel, and all the flannels are too big for me anyway, but I just wear them slouchy and pretend not to worry about it. But I want a real dress shirt, something I can iron, something I can wear with a tie.
Women’s shirts are full of Design: darts and plackets and frills and open collars. It’s nearly impossible to find a women’s dress shirt that doesn’t scream GIRL.
But men’s shirts? I must be tall, have broad shoulders, narrow hips, no chest. Men’s shirts are full of assumption.
As it happens, my main problem is my shoulders. I envy my friends with shoulders made for burden. Mine are small, gracile, rounded. Lithe. Feminine.
I started at Target because I’d had luck there before with boys’ shirts. But dress shirts seem to be different. I tried on a boys’ XL, and then a boys’ L, and it was still too big in the shoulders, but too small everywhere else. I felt ridiculous. I also felt slightly creepy shopping in the kids’ section.
With trepidation, I drove to the ritzy mall, which has an H&M. Everything on the women’s side of the store was made with drape and sheen, no crispness, no martial lines. I could feel the panic rising. On the men’s side were gorgeous patterns, but slim fit—my nemesis.
I went back to the dressing room three times with different variations on the same few silhouettes, determined to make one work, and every time I had to fight the mounting hitch in my chest and keep breathing until the blotches on my face and neck calmed.
Finally, on the recommendation of a friend, I tried Express. A sweet and apologetic salesperson got me frustratingly close to the right fit. Close enough to see what could be. Close enough to notice all the ways my body is wrong.
I hate getting upset in public. And worse, I know I was PMSing, which just added to my already profound dysphoria. I felt like giving up. I felt like calling myself a girl and putting on whatever sack I’m given.
If I’m going to hate how I feel in my clothing, it might as well be because I’m truly in the wrong outfit. Better than almost being in the right one.
Called 
My friend, shopping is tough. Finding clothes that fit perfectly is an imperfect science for, I believe, most people — and I hope you take solace in that. Cisgendered, binary-conforming people share in your frustration. We are here with you.
So let’s go shopping together. We may have to buy you clothes that you love the look of, but need some tailoring — not everything is prêt-à-porter. Just recently, I decided I wanted to buy a pair of skinny-legged denim pants. I’d never once owned a pair because I have especially muscular calves. But Target’s gorgeous dark jeans were too long, but just the right waist size. No shorter length was available — even online! So I bought them, took them to the dry cleaners, and had them hemmed. Did the tailoring cost extra on top of the price of the pants? yes. Did I rock them at the event I went to? also yes.
Will you find a shirt that makes your shoulders look the way you want them to look? probably — we just need to do some looking and some strategizing. And we should do this together because you’re not alone. And you can always cry with your friends. Because you’re loved and wonderful.
This journey is your own, but you need not walk it alone at all times.
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