bathroom disclosures

My horoscope for today reads something like: Everyone can see how you're feeling today. The best idea is just to express yourself as you go through your day.

Funny thing about Wal-mart is that I'd never worked with so many people before, who were not much like me superficially but that tried to treat each other like family. In my two months at Shaw's, I never made even an acquiantence, and no one made an effort, either. At Wal-mart, people try to connect. They sometimes even act more comfortable with me than I am with myself. The most common example of this is telling me to smile. Somehow, if I am feeling shitty, no matter how much I try to keep to myself, some random employee will tell me to smile.

I hate being told to smile, especially when I'm feeling crappy.

Well, today, I had been feeling really low. Angry and low-energy and antisocial and depressed, for no particular reason. I know that I feel that way not because of anything happening in the present, but just because I've been through hell and feeling low is my body's way of slowly helping me heal. I expect to be depressed. I don't need to be forcibly cheered up, although I understand that that makes sense to some people.

So anyway. That first part of my horoscope was so true today, because my heart truly was on my sleeve and this woman, this other employee, could instantly see that I was depressed and told me to smile and be bubbly and that would make me happier. Hearing this I felt about ten times worse. The personell manager walked by and called me Ma'am, even though I've told her to please not do it. At this point I felt like I was about to walk off the job or hit my head on the wall.

I wandered for a few more minutes, and then went back to work. I felt my spirits lift a little, because it can be genuinely nice to interact with customers and help them, and this does cheer me up a bit sometimes. Then I had to go to the bathroom.

I usually hold it for as long as I can before I make my decision whether to go and which bathroom to use. This time I opted for the public women's room. I saw an elderly woman walk in, and then waited about ten seconds, the time I figured it would take for her to enter the stall and close the door. I try to get in and out of there without anyone seeing me. Management forbids me to use the men's room.

I timed wrong. I walked around the corner just as she was closing the door to the stall, and thus was facing me. Her mouth fell open and she stared. I usually just ignore things like this, and go about my business in a pissed off and put upon way. But for some reason, perhaps because she was staring and there was no one else there, I said "Hello."

She startled at my voice and started to explain that she had thought I was a boy because my hair was short, but then hesitated and became unsure of whether her second assumption was true, either. I started to talk to her.

"I have a lot of trouble with restrooms. It's because I'm so androgynous. Whether I go in the men's room or the women's room, I have problems. People stop, and stare and gasp," I told her. "If I use the women's room, especially, people are shocked and offended. I have had people call security on me."

She looked completely shocked. "But why?" she said. "Are you--are you a male--? Or?"

"No," I said. "I am, physically, female."

"I have no experience with this," she said. "I mean, I have heard about it on TV."

"I work here," I said, fingering my badge. "The management will not let me use the men's room in the staff office."

Again, she looked shocked. After a long pause, she turned to go into the stall. "Well," she said, "You just do your best."

Her words were still echoing in my head as I used the men's room later that day, and every day after that.