December 4. Before I go out to CVS to buy toilet paper, I spend half an hour deciding what to wear for the occasion. As I step out onto the street, I feel strangely exalted in my dress clothes, displaying a persona I most certainly am not, a shell that feels weird and stupidly attached to me, and yet I am seeking it out persistently, over decades. I am vulnerable as that display persona, much like someone who can’t run because of impractical heels, and yet chooses, fully knowing what will happen, to be just that.