Me want woman

This week, I won’t have to shuttle any kids to or from camp.

But, I thought I would share a camp memory from last week.

Kid #3 was enrolled in a film class.  The drop-off instructions said to  enter through the front doors of the school on the first day of camp and meet the instructor in the lobby at 8:45.

So, on the first day of camp, we parked the car, entered the school through the main entrance and looked around for someone to help us.

A man in a suit greeted us.  “Can I help you?” he asked politely.

“We’re looking for the film class,” I said.

“Oh, I’ll escort you to the front office,” he replied.  “I apologize for all of the commotion.  We’re having a principals’ meeting today.”  He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

As he spoke, I became aware of all of the principals walking through the front lobby and gathering in a large conference room.  The men were wearing collars.  The women, long, starched habits.

AnimalI suddenly became self-conscious of my clothing choice.  After rolling out of bed, I had chosen to wear a pair of camo cargo shorts and a Muppets T-shirt emblazoned with a picture of Animal and the words “Want Woman!”  Standard butch attire.  I folded my arms in front of me and tried to look casual and maternal.

I told W about my adventure later that night.

“You owe me big time,” I said.

“Did you not notice the words ‘Pope John Paul II’ in the name of the school?” she asked.

4 responses to “Me want woman

  1. I am voraciously reading your blog on the recommendation of my friend Maia over at the Saltwater Twin (I am her Biggest Fan). This made me laugh (as did a lot of other stuff you wrote) and reminded me of when I worked for a lesbian-owned software company that ended up catering to the evangelical market (not intentionally). One of my co-workers, a man named Arnie, was dressed in his standard summer wardrobe of ultra shortshorts, a gold lame tank top and sandals with sparkly pink toenails. The receptionist got a call that one of his Christian clients was in town and on her way to see him and that she would be there in 10 minutes. Immediately, we went to work to “de-gay” his office, which in Arnie’s case was no easy process. And he had to switch clothes with our head programmer, a butch woman who thankfully came to work in button-down shirt, khakis and a pair of sensible shoes that Arnie could squeeze his feet into. There was nothing we could do about his frosted hair, and no amount of subterfuge could hide the truth anyway. Ultimately the experience caused the company to re-think the ethics involved in trying to appease people with abhorrent views for money and they decided to come out of the closet as a company, but they also decided, gay or not, that maybe they needed some sort of dress code. Sorry for the long comment, but I love your blog so much I got a little carried away!

    • Aw shucks. Thanks for the kind words and for sharing your story. For some of us, we can’t easily hide or coverup who we are. If you dressed me in a gauzy skirt and painted my toenails pink, I’d look like a big ol’ butch in a skirt with pink toenails. And quite silly at that. Over the years, I’ve learned that it’s way easier to just be myself.

      Hope you stick around and share some other amusing stories.

      Oh, Maia rocks, as if you didn’t already know that. I’ll have to thank her for sending you my way.

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