Suburban Genderfuckery

One of my great joys is genderfucking in my everyday life.  I pack a cock in my briefs every day and I’m sure (hoping really) that I’m causing brains to spin a bit as people try to reconcile my boobs with the bulge in my pants.  My hair has gotten shorter in the past years and my clothing less feminine.  All of this contributes to the mixed gender appearance that represents more closely who I am on the inside.

Most of the time I have to guess what others think about my gender:  male, female or indeterminate? Occasionally, I get direct feedback.  For example, there is the feedback I get in the way the cashiers at Safeway hand my receipt to me.  Well, it’s more what they say, or don’t say, at that moment.  For the longest time, I’d get a “Have a great day, Ms. Jones” or “Would you like help out, Ms. Jones”.  Using name and title is something they started doing a couple of years ago, to give the impression of more personal attention and better customer service.  Most of the time, I accept the salutation and go on about my business.  Occasionally, though, it makes me wince a little.  I guess those are the days I’m feeling my male side more and don’t want to be reminded that it’s not visible to the outside world.

The last time I was in Safeway, this weekend, the cashier didn’t even attempt to assign a gender to me.  This has been happening more and more.  There was a slight pause as he looked at the receipt, an upward flicker of his eyes as he looked for physical cues.  My name, ‘Casey’, doesn’t really give it away.  I was wearing my glasses, ball cap over short hair and a really big orange hoodie that mostly erased the bumps on my chest.

Just a momentary pause, almost unnoticeable — except that I was paying attention.

… “Have a great day.”

Yep, I think I will.   In not assigning a gender title to me, he recognized me.. even if he didn’t realize it at the time.

This content is published under the Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license.