Technical Dream Coat

Sometimes I just want to blend in.

That might sound strange if you know me. I’m usually the one thinking about the outfit—the one that feels like me, the one that stands out without trying too hard. Clothes have always been part of how I express myself. Not trends, not labels—just instinct. What feels right. What feels like mine.

But some days are different.

Some days, I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want to think about what looks good. I just want something simple. Neutral. Something that lets me disappear a little into the background. Something… vanilla.

Living with endometriosis and adenomyosis changes your relationship with your body in ways people don’t always see. It’s not just the pain—it’s the unpredictability. The way your body shifts, bloats, tightens, refuses what once felt easy.

And then comes the question I dread:

What am I going to wear today?

It sounds small, but it isn’t. Because it’s not just about clothes—it’s about comfort, identity, and confidence all tangled together. Most days, my usual clothes don’t fit the way they should, or the way I want them to. And suddenly I’m negotiating with my own wardrobe.

What can I fit into?

What won’t hurt?

What won’t make me feel like I’ve lost myself?

I don’t follow fashion, so I don’t have a “go-to” formula. My style has always been fluid, a reflection of how I feel. But when your body dictates the terms, that freedom can start to feel like pressure. Like you’re losing control of something that used to come naturally.

And that’s when the doubt creeps in.

Who am I now?

Who have I become?

Blending in has never been my thing. I’ve always been someone who leans into difference, into expression, into showing up fully as myself. But chronic illness has a way of quietly challenging that. It nudges you toward safety, toward invisibility, toward just getting through the day.

But here’s the truth I keep coming back to:

Even on the days I choose comfort over expression,

even on the days I dress to disappear,

even on the days I don’t recognise my own reflection—

I am still me.

The clothes might change.

The body might change.

The confidence might waver.

But underneath all of that, I haven’t disappeared.

And I won’t.