When I went to my last job interview, which I performed miserably on, the woman who was administering the tests that I had to take, told me that I looked like a famous person. I have heard this before, dear readers of the page. Usually, this happened before I started transition. My hair was short, and my face was round; eight times out of ten I heard Forrest Whittaker. Not bad, but I never wanted to look like a man, nor did I want to look like him. No offence meant, but he was always kind of pudgy, and had a trick eye. I don’t think I have a trick eye. Yes, my eyesight is bad, but no trick eye. Once upon a time, I weighed 300 pounds. No joke. 300. Fuck, I was big. Tall and big, now that’s a combination. Thankfully, I lost the weight, and am now down to around 190 pounds. I feel like I could do with losing another 10-15 pounds.
Back to the story though – Forrest fucking Whittaker. So, at this interview, I assumed that who she might be thinking about, ugh!! Boy, what the fuck have I been doing these last 117 months during transition to still look like a guy ( I’m not fooling myself. I get called a guy all the time. I hope it’s because of my voice and beard shadow. Beard shadow can be covered with makeup and voice can be adjusted to a higher octave)?
So, I say to her that I’ve heard that I look like the above famous thespian, as I am interviewing under my deadname, and almost dead persona. Lo and behold, she says no!! What she meant, she says, is that I look like I’m famous. That threw me for a loop, and stoked the fires of my ego a bit, not gonna lie. So, now I’m feeling like a rockstar! Bam! She probably meant a famous male person, but I choose to believe that all these months of hrt are doing something to my skin, and my clothing, which is female, skewed me to the, well, I don’t know exactly what is going on with this person – side.
I will take looking famous; what I really want is to be gendered female. So, my ego considers this a win (even though a famously bombed on the test. Maybe I am meant for something other than a fucking 9-5). My brain is telling me that she was reading me male, but with some seriously different style?? I’m not sure if that is the best way to put it. My heart is telling me to just tell them all to fuck off (in a polite way, of course. I am from the South, lol) and continue to do me. That is all for this installment, dear readers of the page.