My Day As A Man

It was Halloween. I decided I had to dress around my super- short hair. Although it's been very short for months, it's still a novelty. So, I decided on Buddy Holly. I've always been a fan, love his look, what could be more fun than trying to look like a six foot tall rock and roll pioneer who happens to be A MAN? Got the sport jacket, wanted a wild print. I got pale green. Got the geek glasses. White dress shirt, tie, skinny jeans with cuffs, tiny man shoes (Docs). Did my hair, no makeup or jewelry, went off to work. We usually dress for Halloween, and I was tickled to show off my look. My husband was both amused and distressed at my male drag, kindly said I looked just like Buddy Holly, sure I did! My friends were also amused, but as the day went on I realized I looked nothing at all like Buddy. I looked like a very little business man. A miniature insurance salesman. A tiny accountant.

It was great fun until I realized I had to stop at the supermarket after work. I worried aloud to my friends, what will people think, in this conservative town, of me in male drag? A drag king! But it's Halloween! they said. People will know it's a costume. So, to the store I went. And I got plenty of looks. I really think some of the people who gave me the stinkeye were unaware that it was Halloween. Double-takes, triple-takes, oh, they were looking, all right, and I just smiled and shopped. I kept wondering if the people who were obviously gawking at me thought I was a crossdressing lesbian making a statement, and an unfortunate one in my pale green sport jacket. Had I really been crossdressing, I would have looked much cooler for sure. 

I felt stared at, uncomfortable, and a little sad. I realized that this is how some of my friends have felt as they try to live their lives the way they are entitled to. My dear friend J, who always dresses, in her words, like a dude. My Facebook friend and professional drag queen V, who applies his makeup better than I do, but walks around just as comfortably as a man with a shaved head. I would never want to think of them feeling hurt, feeling the judgement, the unkind staring eyes, but they must. Every day. I realized how brave you have to be to be true to yourself. I wish I were that courageous.

The next morning, in my pretty skirt and sweater, my black tights and boots, my lipstick, earrings, my lace scarf, I presented myself to my husband. He smiled from ear to ear, said he was happy to have his girl back. I was happy too.