will you still love me when i look like myself?

It's not right that we never hear about people who take T to end up androgynous outside of context of "these are bad shallow transition goals, they're not taking being trans seriously". And it's even worse that we never hear about people who take E to be androgynous, because the dominant narrative is that they don't exist and any depiction of them is a mockery of binary trans women. It all also has an implication of greater safety/privilege sprinkled on top. As if it works like that for literally any trans person at all.

Ideas I've had so far:

A gold plated wine opener with her name engraved on it

some kind of classy-but-cunty Christmas decor. Something chi-chi and sparkly that's giving "oh, it's Christmas, bitch"

one of those instax mini cameras in a color like "blossom pink" because you know this diva scrapbooks

those little bone china Tiffany's cups that are made to look like cheap disposable paper cups but they're Tiffany blue and they say "Tiffany's" on them (because you know this diva is obsessed with Tiffany's)

a Swarovski birthstone bracelet because you know this diva actually gives a shit about her birthstone

sea moss on sand

Their mother picked up after them. They were not required to take plates the kitchen or do the dishes or anything like that.

My mother, who would tell you she is for equality, came home one day, sighed at the mess of dirty dishes scattered about, and said, "Gayle, help me pick up."

"Those aren't my dishes," I said. "I picked up my dishes."

My mother sighed again. "Just help me pick up."

"No," I said again. "I didn't make that fucking mess."

She never approached my brothers and said, "Boys, in this house, you take your dishes to the kitchen." She did not tell our dad, "Hey, tell the boys they need to pick up after themselves."

It was, "Gayle, pick up the dishes."

And when I refused because it was not my fucking mess, I got lectured about being difficult.

See also: My brothers--in a classic dick-move of all siblings--figured out they could pop the lock on the bathroom door and throw it open, and I would freak out because I was in the shower and trying to get five fucking minutes of peace.