Insecurity or identity

"Move boy", I was told by a woman in the local language. She obviously thought I was a boy from behind, short hair that hid my earrings, wore a simple tshirt and jeans, all the signs said I was a boy. Only when I turned back to face her, her eyes immediately scanned my chest and the "move boy" turned into "haha sorry madam". It wasn't so haha for me, but it's our generation's thing, to mask uncomfortable feelings with humour because if you acted otherwise you wouldn't be "cool". She was in her mid fifties though. Whatever the age, there are a few ideas that bind all of us.

My breasts saved my gender once again. My bob cut means my boobs have to work overtime, which also means unwanted attention to top off the already unwanted attention women get.

I walk out wearing a top tight enough to show I'm a "madam" but not too tight that I'm "asking for it". The men on the road certainly don't know that, do they? Then the same me who wore a semi tight top wished I just wore a loose hoodie. Wished I wasn't a hot or wished I was just a boy who could enjoy his walk. I arch my back a little to make my tee look looser and go back home with a backache. Oh the things we do for insecurities.

But nope I'm not insecure. I love my body and I'm a hottie, or so my friends tell me. I'm definitely not insecure, just the fear of what or who could follow after the catcalling. 

So I told the woman who scanned my chest, "Ma it's not an insecurity but definitely an idenTITY." I'm kidding I didn't, my mid fifties, old fashioned mother wouldn't have gotten it.