“Excuse me, aren’t you in the wrong bathroom?” I stare through the woman as she speaks to
me. Excuse me. Huh. At least she tried to be polite. I avert my eyes to the floor, noting my
too flat chest and mumble some sort of apology. I ignore the woman and stare into my
reflection in the mirror. I take in every detail starting from the top. Short, spiked dark
hair. Arched eyebrows. Dark brown eyes. Button nose. Full lips. Slim shoulders. My too flat
chest. Am I that unrecognizable? Am I that misleading? I stare back at those brown eyes
ready to cry. This isn’t the first time this has happened, but it doesn’t get any easier.
Sometimes I feel like showing them proof that I am, in fact a female. Sometimes I feel like
smiling and making a sarcastic remark like, oh I thought this was the girl’s bathroom.
Sometimes I just feel like crying right there.
Sure I could grow my hair back out. Sure, I could wear those stupid dresses everyone else
wears. But th