OMG I Have Nothing to Wear to the Ball!

The story of a Fifty-four-year old lady who dresses like a twelve-year-old boy and only owns one pair of pants searching for an outfit that’s comfortable yet appropriate to wear amidst fancy adults.

“I’m about to do something super f*&king scary – so I’m carrying you with me.” I hit ‘send’ on my phone just before opening the heavy glass door. Amy Ferris responded with an immediate phone call. I answered and she said, “Ooooo what are you doing?” I said, “Well, this is going to sound weird coming from someone who loves to run into burning buildings and do the Alcatraz swim without a wetsuit, but I have to go to this black-tie gala and I have nothing to wear that’s even close. So I’m standing in a Men’s Warehouse trying to figure out what in the hell I can wear.” I normally do all my clothes shopping in the men’s section of Sport’s Basement and you sure as hell won’t ever find me in a dress. She said, “Wear whatever in the fuck you want. You’d never catch me in fancy clothes.” As I talked I paced through the store in random-sized figure eights, not stopping or slowing down long enough for one of the twenty-something-year-old boys in the store to ask me, “Sir, can I help you?” I said to Amy, “At least you dress girly like, like a woman.” She said, “No I don’t. Never.” I said, “Yes you do!” Amy replied, “It’s an illusion, I wear oversized T-shirts.”

“Well, you look womanly in them.”

“Oh ya you are right, but it’s the jewelry. Lots of jewelry. Just wear an oversized T-shirt to the gala and lots of jewelry. Wait what’s it for?”

“The Mathew Shepard Foundation Annual Gala.”

“Oh. Ya, you need to wear something nice.”

I finally exited the store before the staff called the cops thinking I was casing the joint.

We continued to talk about Mathew Shepard and how his horrific death caused a nationwide movement of tolerance. We ended the phone call with ridiculous amounts of love and praise for each other. That’s how Amy rolls, always full of love and praise for her friends. I decided to go through the ordeal of being looked at like a weirdo renting a tux wasn’t the answer I was looking for. Like so many things I am afraid of or unsure of, I kicked this can down the road. All the way down the road until I ran out of road and it was only a couple of days before I got on to a plane to go to the gala. Finally, the answer popped into my head—my friend Daisy, of The Daisy Edit, whose business it is to help people become themselves in their clothes.

I sent Daisy a text, “I am having a wardrobe crisis. I have to go to a fancy black-tie gala in Denver.” “And I am poor.” “And I am fat.” After gaining 15 pounds from cortisol pumping through my body from PTSD and plentiful emotional eating over the last few years, only my elastic shorts and a few T-shirts still fit. Money, in addition to my pants, was tight. Daisy replied right away, “Oh wow! I can help!”

Over the next five minutes, Daisy sent one text after another. Each one contained a picture and link to a piece of clothing needed to complete a Christy Warren outfit for a black-tie gala. Everything was even on sale and had a wide variety of sizing for my short legs and muffin top belly. By the time I got home, I had my entire outfit ordered. The best part was not feeling the shame of being judged for being a woman wanting to wear men’s clothing. I also didn’t have to fret over my choices being stylish or not. For months, the thought of attending this super fancy party had filled me with dread. But now, I was totally stoked about it. Yes, totally stoked.

As each piece arrived at my doorstep, I tried it on with my fingers crossed it would fit. Well, my fingers were crossed metaphorically since it is difficult to pull up and button a pair of pants with crossed fingers. Even metaphorically fingers crossed worked because everything fit. Perfectly.

When it came time to pack, I gingerly tested out different ways to fold my new outfit to minimize wrinkles while packed in my suitcase. It was there and then I realized that for the very first time in my life, I’d get to use the hotel iron. Using hotel hangers would also be a new experience for me.

The evening of the gala came and after carefully getting dressed, I stood in front of the mirror and felt like half a million bucks. I normally had been walking everywhere around Denver but I took a Lyft to the Gala to keep my outfit crisp and clean. I walked into the lobby and when I descended the extra-long escalator into the event, I realized I could have dressed like a pirate from the 1700s and I’d still be welcomed and valued. Christy, you are at the Mathew Sheppard Foundation Gala for fuck’s sake - this entire foundation and everything and everyone is all about tolerance and honoring the value every person possesses no matter who they are or what they look like.

If we lived in a world that exemplified the mission of the Mathew Shepard Foundation, I wouldn’t have felt shame looking for a fancy outfit at the Men’s Warehouse. I keep hearing the world is a little bleak right now in that arena. But how much am I to blame for assuming the staff at Men’s Warehouse would treat me with shame and unkindness? I never even gave those guys at Men’s Warehouse a chance! I also missed an opportunity to talk about Matthew Shepard and his family’s message. I was the one who created the Us vs Them by assuming and we all know what happens when we assume… Sticking with our ‘own kind’ is comfortable, but we must often step outside our comfort zone to find the amazingness in the world. Several years ago I met a white police officer from Memphis Tennessee who has different political views than me, and he has a pretty strong Southern accent. I thought to myself, here we go, I’m going to get shit about being a women firefighter and being gay. Well, you know what? He has a gay son who he couldn’t be more proud of and is married to a woman firefighter. He loves me and fiercely has my back. Give the other side a chance, you just might be surprised.