I'd be pleased by the thought that I could wear women's clothing and it would actually fit me appropriately. Which would be immediately followed by the disappointment that i'd be limited in this indulgence. Which would then be followed by the curiosity of whether i'd truly be as comfortable in the body of a woman as I imagine I would be. Which would even further be followed by the remembrance of the innate, temporality of the flesh and limited nature of gender as a whole. Just another existential crisis, I suppose.