I have a coworker who dresses up everyday to go to work. I’ve always admired them for their courage in doing so. It’s not an easy thing to do living in conservative enclave that is Amarillo. It’s not as though I haven’t thought about it. I have. I’ve even had other coworkers ask me why I don’t. The answer is simple: I don’t want to mess up my clothes!
I came away feeling a little jealous last week, however. They had a male customer ask them for their phone number. Damn! Though They aren’t into men, I could tell they were flattered as they would’t stop smiling.
I don’t regret my decision to not go in fem mode. Okay, maybe I do a little, but I do so out of a need for expediency and comfort. It’s not an easy place I work at. I have no time to try and stay clean and neat. I come out looking sweaty and dirty, and I usually want to strangle someone by the end of my shift. Forget about looking feminine and cute. My make up would be sweated off within minutes.
That’s not to say that the women who work there come in looking delicate and dressed up. Hell no! They’re there to work. They don’t have time to play around. There’s work to be done, but I have to work more so to pull of my look. I don’t want my look to be half-assed. Vanity is a bitch.
Maybe one day I’ll find a job where being me will be easier to achieve, or perhaps I’ll come to the point where transitioning will be what I want. For now, the duality of my existence is something I’ve grown used to dealing with.
I’ll just have to accept that no guy will come in to ask for my number. Not that it’s something I want. Or is it?