Not yet a woman...

I look like a girl.

This stated to me, matter-a-factly, by a persun, self-proclaimed of that very gender- age 6, who would vote John McCain if she could.

Never mind the fact that I haven't shaved in a week. It's my sunglasses.

"They are boy sunglasses," I insist.

"No they aren't," is the response, short and quick.

Since they are slightly larger than the norm apparently allowed boys (or excuse me... *ahem*... men) I am hence forth to be referred to by girl gender status for lunch recesses unto eternity.

Not that I take offense. Girls can be very pretty.

Some other kids think I look like a spy when I wear them, especially with my high neck-collar pea coat, and they have taken to calling me "Mr. Mysterious".

I have even convinced a few others that I am actually blind when I wear them, and need their assistance to monitor the playground.

"Thank you," I respond in sincerity to the impressionable youth, 3/4 body length below. She peers up at me for several seconds, with a blank stare that somehow reads with confusion and slight disgust and then skips off carelessly, her mind already moving onto other exciting prospects and more cruel remarks to share.

As girls of that age are like to do.

(an old moment pulled up fresh from the archives-April 17, 2008)