I am Woman, hear me stare blankly into my purse.

I ran into Randall's this morning to grab some plastic Easter eggs for Charlotte's school. There aren't any, so don't even try. When I say "ran in," I mean I actually dressed myself, which is huge. Normally jammies are worn. Actual jammies, like the kind Bert and Ernie wear. I have no inhibitions on that front. Anyway, I put on jeans, gray t-shirt, bra (be shocked), and flip flops that match each other. Although there were no eggs, I did pick up milk and diapers.

In the checkout lane, the guy in front of me was having trouble with his card. Rather, the machine was having trouble with his card. He had to swipe three times. He was getting frustrated and he turned to me AND HE SAID, "I'm sorry ma'am - sir."

Huh? Sir? He wasn't talking to the guy behind me because there was no guy behind me. There were a couple of lady-looking ladies. He didn't say it to the cashier because he was looking right at me. And he didn't say it like he was covering his bases. You know, just tossing out both because he hadn't noticed my gender at all. As a matter of fact, he thought he had mistaken me for a woman. He was very obviously correcting his first gender choice. He even kinda turned his head in my direction as he said it so as to direct the comment to me.

This is not the first time this has happened to me. Or the second. In the college cafeteria I was called "sir" repeatedly when I turned in my tray and dirty dishes. Those get passed into a small window through which those collegiate employees could see me from shoulders to waist. Do you know what this says? Boobless.

It is the crappiest hand dealt to a girl. If a girl wears her hair short, she should have an ample bosom. Water boobs¹ come to mind, but regular boobs that are noticeable from, say, four feet away, are sufficient. B+, C. If a girl is flat-chested, she should have the pleasure of long, luxurious hair. I have neither. I wear my hair short out of necessity. I have thinner hair than anyone I've met who isn't a) geriatric, b) undergoing chemotherapy, or c) shaving their head for style. (Like my husband, who looks hot.)

What a sucky start of the day. I just froze as I was digging in my PURSE for my wallet, just staring down into the darkness. I didn't want to see if he would look up and notice his actual mistake. I mean, how awkward would that be? Maybe it would be like the time the hairdresser finished my cut and said, "Now you don't look forty anymore; you look thirty-three!" When I told her I was, in fact, thirty-one, she smoothly turned away from me as if she had never spoken. At least I could lower her tip. I couldn't do squat to vindicate myself in a check-out lane.

I am currently wearing makeup.

¹Glorious water boobs! The kind that wobble like a waterbed when they move. Think Queen Latifah. They aren't just regular big boobs. They are special, and I want them. Actually, if I had to be someone other than me, I'd be Queen Latifah. Total package, that one.