First, please accept my sincere apologies for not blogging more often. No one told me the first year of teaching would require me to be at school for 10-12 hours a day. But I L-O-V-E it...except for when that little sixth grader turned over four desks in my classroom in a rage...but that's a different can of worms.
So, for my story. It's been awhile since I've had a good solid piece of material to expound on, so I'm sorta jazzed about this one.
Tonight was the Gaither Concert. Say what you will about southern gospel music, but I love the Gaither concerts, and if you are a true music lover, you would probably love them too. Bill Gaither has amassed some of the MOST talented singers on the planet. Anyway, my Mom and I were making our way through the unbelievably crowded lobby during intermission. I say "making our way," and not "walking" because it was PACKED with blue hairs trying to buy CD's and strange-looking hopefuls trying to take pictures with Michael English. He's married, I didn't even stop.
So we're at a stand-still and there's this long line of women to our left. The following is a conversation that took place next to me:
Elderly woman: Is this the line for the bathroom?
Eskimo Joe shirt-wearin' individual: Yes, it is.
Elderly woman: For the women's restroom, this whole line?
Eskimo Joe shirt-wearin' individual: Yes.
Elderly woman: But surely you're not in line for the ladies bathroom.
Eskimo Joe shirt-wearin' individual: Um, yes. I'm a woman.
So let me interject that at this point, my mom and I are DYING of embarassment. I don't know who I was more humiliated for...me, large Marge in the Eskimo Joe shirt or the elderly woman. So my Mom and I turn our heads and stare at some speck of dust on the upper wall of the Mabee Center and we're both muttering:
Mom: Why would you even ask someone that??
Me: Ohmygosh,ohmygosh, I'm so embarrassed.
Mom: I mean, you might think it, but you don't say it out loud.
Me: (putting my head down on my Mom's shoulder, since I'm feeling lightheaded) Ohmygosh, I need this line to move. I need to move. I need to get out of here.
Mom: what's wrong? Oh no, are you getting claustrophobic?
Me: Claustroph...what??!! No! I'm so embarrassed, and I can't even remove myself from the situation....because there's a wall of humanity in front of me!!! I'm dying.....find a happy place, find a happy place.
Mom: Oh here....I'll help you get your mind off of it. Look at that lady's hair. Look how high it is! hahahaha
Me: Ya, already saw it. Still dying.
So as we were able to finally move away from the woman, who at this point I need to admit something, I THOUGHT SHE WAS A MAN TOO....I take a deep breath of fresh, unblemished air and feel 400% better.
As a parting shot, I heard the woman say to the elderly lady "Yes, I am a woman. Thanks."
Now, here's the issue I have with this whole debacle. #1, yes...it's important that we don't say everything we think. The elderly lady should have NEVER questionned why the woman-who-looks-like-a-man is in line for the ladies restroom.
HOWEVER....if you are a woman, LOOK LIKE A WOMAN.
Eskimo Joe shirt-wearin woman was large, hard to detect any physical features that might point towards femality, and was sportin' a buzz cut. No lie.
I leaned over to my mom and said as much. If you don't want to be mistaken for the opposite sex, then don't look like the opposite sex....unless that of course is your goal. But then you should be happy if someone mistakes you for a guy!
It was such an amazingly awkward and hilarious moment of my life.
I love those moments.....if only for the words it gives me to write.
