Dude Looks Like a Lady...

I started this Sunday night in bed and actually fell asleep with my laptop propped against my knees. I've tried to clean up the typos but have probably missed quite a few. My apologies.
I've been debating on (a) whether to try my hand at blogging again and (b) whether or not to write about this because I don't want to be dooced for blogging about work, but then I saw James Franco channeling Marilyn Monroe at tonight's Sunday's 83rd Annual Academy Awards (or, as those of us at KMS's PJs and Pearls party called it, The 83rd Annual Academy Awards: Men with Canes) and I took it as a SIGN!
Because I am very fond of SIGNS (as long as M. Night Shymalan(sp?) isn't involved.
To catch you up to speed (if any readers stumble across this, that is), a little over 15 months ago, I was laid off from The Job That Sucked My Soul. Actually the job itself wasn't so bad. Marketing can be fun!  I even got to have dinner with Bill Rancic. But still, the environment was, hmmm, repressing, we shall say. This occurred right after my first (and hopefully) only surgical procedure ever. I took the time to lick my wounded feelings--wounded because being laid off sucks. You can't help but take it personally, even when it's not personal--and to physically heal. Because even a minor surgery is kinda a big deal it turns out. I didn't blog about any of this at the time because I went through a period of needing to keep myself contained.
A little over a year ago a funny twist of fate resulted in me agreeing ultimately to manage two stores in a chain of Ye Olde Sex Shoppes. Obviously that's not really the name, and actually we promote ourselves as primarily lingerie stores, but the truth is that we carry what we euphemistically call "novelties", although I particularly like to call them "intimacy enhancers". Or even just therapeutic aids if a person is flying solo, so to speak. So not the job I ever expected to have but I'm really loving it.
So last week I was talking with a customer who was interested in applying for a job at one of the stores. She seemed very cute and sweet although definitely inexperienced in the job field. Long wavy hair and a cute figure.  As she was telling me that she had dropped out of high school and obtained her GED, she dropped the T-bomb on me. As in, transgendered. And then she ups the ante by explaining that she's actually a hermaphrodite because while the visible physical equipment is male, she also has ovaries.
I think...I hope...I managed to keep my professional face on. Because whatever the expresssion, it was frozen on my face for several seconds while I tried to find a response. Because any HR professional knows that we can't ask certain questions and we really hope not to have this type of information divulged randomly. Something about being equal opportunity and nondiscriminatory.  I know I blurted out something about how pretty she was before I could stop myself. And really, I would never have guessed. I've had a few transvestites/cross dressers/drag queens come in looking for lingerie, clubwear and stockings. (Sidenote: why are they always looking for the ultra-neon pink fishnets? Why not orange? Or blue?)  And while I treat them exactly as I would any other customer, there's not mistaking certain identifying traits...jawlines, Adam's apples, the shape and size of wrists, hands and feet, heavy make-up base, and something about the way they talk generally. And I love them for it. They live out loud.
But this customer had very feminine features. Try as I might, I couldn't detect anything that would indicate the Y chromosome's presence. And believe me, when she asked me opinion on a club-worthy outfit (because her dream is to be a go-go dancer), I couldn't help but see quite a bit of her. All I'm saying is that if she stuffed her bra with cutlets, I need to know the brand so I can stock them in the stores. And as for 'down there', I'm guessing she either pulled a Silence of the Lambs-style tuck or she fashioned her own undergarment a la Arkansas' very own Skirtman (whose website appears to have vanished--go figure). Her figure was curvier than the typical male's but not voluptuous by any means.
The most surreal moment, to me, occurred when she asked my opinion on the outfit. She said she wanted to make sure it didn't scream "tranny". I had another Frozen Face Moment. I guess it's like when people of a certain race call each other by derogatory slang words-it's okay if they do it amongst themselves. It's a form of taking it back. Randal would be so proud.
All in all, just when I think I've seen and heard it all, I realize there's still more to this world than I could ever expect to know. I've seen Boys Don't Cry and a short documentary show on Brandon Teena as well as at least two Law & Order: SVU episodes and all I can think is that it takes courage  to 'to thine ownself be true' in this degree. I won't even own the giant gray streak in my hair.