When you work in the industrial supply world, you tend to blur the lines between what is masculine and what is feminine. I often just slide a bunch of tools on my belt (Gerber, box cutter, fat Sharpie marker, two-way radio) like a cop and take on the merchandise, no matter how big, dusty, dirty, or heavy it may be.
I lift what the boys lift, whether I should or not.
This past week we hosted a management meeting at my location, and for two days I got to dress up. "Dress up" means stay in my pumps, not put on all the tools, and wear jewelry that dangles. It also meant that I got to curl my hair. The second day of meetings the hair collapsed, but the first day it looked good--good enough to get compliments from another manager. (And no, the manager was not a man. I don't get compliments from men since I broke my hand. I guess when you break a bone it destroys the sexy side of you.) That compliment blew my mind--the other person was noticing something feminine about me.
A couple of weeks back, I did a two-week gig cat-sitting for someone. The stay was wonderful and I loved the cat, but the owner was grateful anyway and gave me a collection of small gifts. One of them was the item you see in the center of the black circle in the picture here. What do you imagine it is? A candelabra?
This is a lipstick holder. I own exactly one tube of lipstick. The rest of the my lip products are Blistex, in squeeze tubes, or are Burt's Bees. But someone else thought I was a girl, not a brawny dock worker.
Time to buy more lipstick. Time to celebrate in girl clothes.