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Monday 17th May 2004

Weight 13st 8. CNPS numbers spotted 3 (701).

I had to take my car in to the garage again to repair the damage I did to it going over a speed bump last week. I was on my way to play squash and dressed in sports gear, but with my leather jacket on (despite the heat) and wearing a pair of sunglasses. As I entered the garage I lifted the sunglasses up on to the top of my head, keeping my flowing locks of hair out of my eyes.
There were four people at desks at the reception, but two of them were on the phone and the other two were having a conversation. They were being a bit flirtatious and weren't discussing anything relating to the mechanics of cars, so I thought this was a bit rude. But I waited for about a minute and no-one acknowledged me. Evenso, I waited patiently.
Then an older guy who I guess was the manager came in the door behind me. He saw me waiting and saw his employees chatting and said, "Could somebody please help this lady?"
Now, I know I've got quite long hair and this man was looking at me from the back, but even with my sunglasses up and a squash racquet in my hand, surely I am obviously a man from any angle. I may not be all that good looking a man, but I would be a horribly ugly woman. The lack of breasts (of any decent size) and the presence of a penis would put off most gentlemen callers for a start. And the men who liked women with tiny fatty breasts, podgy stomachs and male genitalia would soon be put off by a punch in the face (unless they were especially good looking or rich).
I turned round and said, "Gentleman," which isn't a way I would usually describe myself, but it was in response to him calling me a lady. I felt like I was in a poorly conceived Benny Hill sketch, without any adequate punch-line (so, "I felt like I was in a Benny Hill sketch" would be information enough).
The man looked embarrassed, and mumbled an apology. Did I detect a flicker of disappointment in his eyes? Had he seen me from behind and thought "Wow, that is the woman that I'm going to marry." Or was it a flicker of lust - "Blimey a woman with tiny fatty breasts, a podgy stomach and male genitalia - all my dreams have come true."
Just in case I gave him a look which said, "Look pal, you're bald, short and middle aged and you work in a garage. You don't stand a chance all right," and then I did one of those head roll things that feisty, independent women do on the Jerry Springer show in order to demonstrate their feisty independence. He got the message and stopped undressing me with his eyes and one of his minions saw to my car-related needs.
Maybe all this time spent with women is turning me into one.
Well, as long as I get to lez up with some of them, I'm not sure that I'd mind too much.

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