i feel so strange, like i have two personas and am caught inbetween them for the moment. the first is a spandex-clad biker who spins her way downtown with a rapid but cautious cadence, avoids ineffecient bouncing in the saddle, and lugs 15-lb boxes of xeroxes to battery park city with a bag of work clothes slung awkwardly off of one handlebar... successfully avoiding any accidents!
the second is a square androgyne in a blue work shirt and levis who drinks a little coffee, reads the nytimes, and navigates the glitch-ridden landscape of protools with relative success. this one inspires girly-girls to gasp and turn on their heels in the women's bathroom. what i wanted to say: 'what-- never saw a girl with short hair before?' what i said: 'it's ok, you're in the right place.' i do feel a certain need to comfort these annoying made-up dolls with their narrow conceptions of femininity. i know i am a sexy stick. i know i might be even sexier with a boxer brief waistband peeking out from the top of my blue jeans, leaning over the sink. but that would be so over the top, don't you think, for these girls with tight ponytails and polished fingernails, who squirm in front of occupied stalls, whining, 'i have to pee!'?
anyway, i think it's funny, the idea that i would pee in a bathroom and then proceed to nonchalantly wash my hands, surrounded by women, were i just a man moonlighting in the ladies room. but the shock of a dark brown haircap was too much for that blushing, double-taking beauty.
Here is a picture of aforementioned sexy stick during today's bicycle adventure.
I too was frequently mistaken for a man when I had shorter hair.
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