Playing dress up

Over the weekend, I was mistaken for a guy. I was in a hotel lobby with my dad and the short one, waiting for my mom to wrap up a meeting, when this man walked up and asked if I knew where the elevator was.

More precisely, he said: "Excuse me, young man, do you know where the elevator is?" Dumbstruck (last I checked, I do, in fact, happen to look like a girl), I pointed and croaked out, "That way." He then slapped me on the back and told my dad, "I figured if anybody would know where the elevator was, it'd be this guy."

Sure, I was sprawled out across a chair in such a way that it might have been hard to tell that I happen to be, you know, A GIRL. Yeah, I was wearing a hat that isn't necessarily the most girly hat in the world. Let's not forget my creaky voice brought on by a cold.

But I was wearing shoes with pink stripes! And jeans that actually fit, which not many guys seem to go for. I figured I looked somewhat girly.

My first reaction was to buy one of those pink ribbons, the one's little newborns get before they start growing in hair so you don't have to constantly inform people that the little thing you're toting is a girl. Maybe even get a few dozen. Because subtlety is over-rated.

My next, and arguably more logical reaction, was to just try dressing a little more like a girl. I tend to live in jeans and t-shirts, and have been slowly inching towards wearing a few of the skirts and dresses I've managed to accumulate over the past several years. This just pushed me over the edge. I have been mistaken for a boy maybe twice before this, and the one time, I was wearing a polo, the kid only saw me from the back, AND my hair was significantly shorter.

If this was a few months ago, it wouldn't really be bothering me. I've just finally started getting comfortable with being a girl, and dressing up when I feel like it, or painting my nails(which I did for the first time in a year yesterday. It looks about as bad as you would expect after not painting them for a year), and it just really grates on me that I can feel so girly, and yet still be mistaken for a boy. I'm restraining myself from drenching myself in pink clothes and accessories, but when you see me and I'm not in my usual 'I fell out of bed and grabbed what I knew was clean from the top of my dresser' garb? Don't be surprised.