Zipped up tight
I was a salty newcomer, swaddled in my hoodie and leather jacket, not wanting to talk to anyone. That jacket had protected me everywhere, from sleeping behind dumpsters to traveling by freight train. Now I kept it zipped tight in the meeting that was to become my home group. I was a sexual assault survivor, and part of how I dealt with that was dressing so that many people mistook me for a young man. I kept my hair buzzed short.