This has nothing to do with my move, but is worth mentioning. While I was on the subway this afternoon I was standing off to the side of a pleasant looking middle-aged woman who was sitting down reading a magazine. When we reached 14th Street, the doors opened and a flood of people came in. Among them was a girl in her late 20’s who was, what’s the right word?, chubby. Not fat, not large, just a normal looking girl carrying around some chub. She prepares to sidle up next to me when suddenly the woman sitting down stands up, taps the girl on the shoulder and says, “Here, you take my seat,” and ushers her over.
Obviously this woman, meaning well, thought the chubby girl was pregnant. Also obvious was the intense physical effort I exerted to prevent myself from throwing up in my mouth out of sheer embarrassment. This poor girl, minding her own business, wearing a polo shirt from Old Navy and her iPod shuffle on a cord around her neck, is suddenly thrust into what I can only imagine is one of the most mortifying, sobering experiences any woman can ever endure. I don’t think there even exists a male equivalent. What could it possibly be? Someone approaching you offering a “Gender Reassignment Surgery Recipient Support Group” pamphlet? Actually, yeah, someone offering you a “Gender Reassignment Surgery Recipient Support Group” pamphlet would probably do it.