Some of you might remember that a little while ago I reblogged an entry from Butch on Tap, in which she spoke about being stopped by airport security in the US, since her presentation to the agents didn’t necessarily match up with what the body scanner was telling them. It hit me while reading it that I’ve been lucky, in some ways, that I haven’t had more experiences like that. In my comment on the original post, I said that “I suppose I should get ready”. Well, I’m glad I did, at least a little.
I went shopping yesterday, as I am wont to do even though I have no money whatsoever. I decided to try on a few shirts and jumpers, and so I gathered my choices together, and headed off to the changing rooms, which are all individual cubicles, but for some reason in two separate corridors. As usual, I checked with the (very distracted) changing room attendant and went on my merry way. I checked which was the women’s, and wandered down, only to hear a slightly frantic (and loud) shout of “Sir! Excuse me, SIR!” from behind me.
I just knew she meant me. I turned with a grin (hey, make the best of it, right?) and I sort of made a pathetic little gesture to the cubicle. I could see the moment of confusion on her face, and she just sort of let it go. So in I went, and I’ll be honest, I had to take a minute or two before I tried on the clothes (None of which were right, just to add insult to injury. If I had at least found something nice to indulge with it mightn’t have been so bad). I think it was the shouting that got to me most. I mean, I’ve been called “Sir” a good bit, especially since going with much shorter hair, which isn’t the ‘girly, elfin’ type short hair. I have a pomp. And it’s styled. Every day. So that seems to be what has been the change to being seen more as a guy in everyday life. What’s even weirder though is that I don’t have a flat chest. Like, at all.
But being called out to like that was harder than I thought. I could just picture the other women in their cubicles thinking some dude had tried to get into the women’s section. Maybe they thought to themselves “Bless him, he must have gotten lost!”
After I had finished trying on the clothes, I came back out, only for the same woman to say “Thank you, sir” as she took my clothes back. Really? Twice?
I suppose there are some good sides to this. I mean, since it looks like I can pass for a guy at least some of the time, it makes me less of a target for street crime. Maybe. Or maybe it’ll make me a bigger target when people realise I’m actually a girl. I don’t know.
What I do know is I’m not growing my hair back out. I look too badass like this.