At the opthalmologist recently, there was another situation somewhat like the one with the lady on the bench, from my previous post...
I was sitting in the doctor's office with my wife, awaiting my followup appointment from the eye issue last November, when a 60-something gentleman (bearded and mustachioed, but quite bald on the top of his head, with a thin "comb-over" unsuccessfully trying to hide the bald spot) and his wife walked in and sat down direcrly across the room from me. I was wearing 5" inseam women's tan shorts, pantyhose and a women's black tee, with my necklace, ballet flats, purse and long hair/nails. (Again, no picture...sorry.)
All was well until he finished the obligatory paperwork they gave him, and turned it in.
At that point, he sat there, staring at me. The first few times I innocently glanced his way, I found his eyes trained directly on me - there was nothing at all to see behind me but a completely blank wall. No window, no clock, no wallpaper or wall hangings. He obviously felt guilty about it, as he immediately redirected his gaze each time. But the instant I looked away, his eyes gravitated right back to me. This little "dance" went on 5 or 6 times over about a minute. So, I took a different approach, and simply sat there, staring intently at him, giving him a dose of his own medicine. I didn't look away each time he stared my way, forcing him to repeatedly avert his own eyes.
After about three minutes of this version of the game, he finally picked up a magazine and began reading. I kept staring at him for about three more minutes and he began "minding his manners." So it was "Game Over." Thankfully, five minutes later they were called into the exam room. I was surprised that his wife didn't do anything similar.
It would not have been appropriate to do any trans-education, since my wife was present (though she was reading, through the whole incident), and to do so would likely have caused issues for me once we got into the car to go home. This was unfolding in a nearby town, so I probably wouldn't try that anyway. But these incidents indicate that when dealing with the topic of crossdressers/transgenders, "a lot of folks temporarily forget (or simply don't have any) manners."
Let's hope there isn't a third time...but if there is, I'll deal with it again. "Bathroom Wars" certainly seem to be stirring up the troops...and emboldening them. Even when the bathroom issue isn't involved...
For those who may wonder, my eyes continue to survive the November incident just fine...one more exam in six months, and then I can go back to 12 -18 months between check-ups.
The other day, my wife (the eternal never-wears-heels girl) received the new pair of shoes she ordered on-line, lovely peep-toe wedges with about a 3.5" heel and a 1" platform. When she put them on to check the fit, I told her they looked very pretty...which they did. (They weren't my size, but if they were, I'd have worn them in a heartbeat.) I also told her I was surprised she would buy heels of any height. The comment was "they're not heels, they're wedges." "OooooKaaaaaayy."
Next day, she was wearing sneakers. And same thing the following day, when she took a shoe-sized box to the post office. I didn't have a chance to note where it was going, however. And I mentioned that I hadn't seen her wearing her new shoes very much. Her comment was "I sent them back." "Oh? Why was that?" "They just weren't comfortable." My comment was: "That's too bad, you looked fabulous in them. I guess that pair of clogs (with the over-2" heel, and half inch platform) leaves me with the honor of being the high-heel-wearer in our family." There was no response. I didn't expect one.
But I didn't utter a word about my Mary Janes with heels:
Haven't been able to put them on yet this year (pic from the archive, about two years ago), but they're comfortable enough "out of the box" for a few hours. And if I wore them more often, probably would be able to leave them on them all day. I'm looking forward to putting some miles on them later in the season!
Below is a picture from a visit to Ohio for a car show in the early 2000's, where I found some time to dress, and drop in at a town bearing my name - "Amanda." I didn't get my name from the town, nor vice-versa. But it was a cute coincidence...
Unfortunately, I no longer have the skirt suit... :-(