Can’t get enough of that Jockey

So I’m boldly forging ahead, deeper into the territory of exclusively wearing men’s clothing. I bought another three pack of boxer briefs (they’re so comfy!) along with cheap white tshirts and A-frames.

I’m also reveling in wearing said undershirts in lieu of a bra. So liberating!

And yet.

During our continuation of Feelings the other night, I mentioned that I’m hard pressed to think up many instances in which I proudly declare my womanhood. I’m quite proud of my membership on the women’s crew team, and will probably be much more likely to give to Radcliffe than to Harvard in the future. But at the same time, it’s in the boathouse that I feel the most uncomfortable sharing these new forays into my gender identity. I’m never going to wear boxer briefs before practice, and I have to wear a bra when I practice. And I’ll never feel comfortable when one of my teammates starts chattering away whilst completely naked, nor will I ever feel compelled to use the group showers.

All this makes me wish just a little that I were on a team more like, say Wellesley’s, which (according to rumor) pretty much sleeps with itself all the time. In all honesty, I started rowing partly because I was convinced I’d find the dykes that way. Instead, I found two other gay girls in my class, one of whom (to my knowledge) remains closeted. I still doubt that any of the underclassmen are lesbians, though I’d be thrilled to be proven wrong.

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