I survived a Target bathroom, 2016

As much as I've started reading more news, somehow I completely missed the Target bathroom policy story. Maybe I've gotten better at reading things that actually interest me? Or avoiding things that force me to read or listen to the banal minutiae of people with a little too much time to kill? (I throw myself in this group.)

I'm so cool.

Anyway, this story is not about me.
Actually, it is about me. Me...surviving.

After learning of Target's new bathroom policy that "welcomes" people to their restrooms and fitting rooms in correspondence with their gender affiliation, I was shocked.
Really shocked.
Who is Target kidding?! Nothing about their restroom has ever been welcoming. I make a point to try and never use their facilities because I have yet to find one that is clean, or doesn't induce immediate nausea upon entering. Hate to tell you Target, but while your new policy sounded great in your mind, I can guarantee you that no transgender person even wants to use your restrooms. You should have made clean bathrooms the top priority when changing policy.

Five minutes later after that shock subsided, I was then confused. The way the stories were written and the fact that there were thousands of comments after each article (which I did not read one) I got this feeling like I should be caring about something. They wanted me to care. I needed to care about something from this story.
I could only muster up about a 2 in caring though. But I tried. Hard. I will revisit and try again when I am feeling more vulnerable.

Then five minutes after trying really hard to care, I felt a deep need to go to Target and impulse buy or at the very least get hit in the face by the smell of popcorn.
Luckily, laziness immediately beat that impulse down.

Since we go to Target 2-3 times a week, my trip this morning was inevitable.
I went after working out. Alex's school has been asking us to send a plain, white pillowcase for a "special project". I drank about 2/3 of a Nalgene water bottle on the way over.
Since my stomach was pretty empty, I felt the strong urge to pee. This sent me into immediate panic. Maybe I could hold it, but with my apprehension about bladder incontinence and aging, I thought that was a bad idea. Why don't they provide flushable gas masks at the door? What if I'm in the stall using the bathroom with the stall door locked, but this huge, transgender person breaks down the door and just starts using the bathroom with me?! Does Target allow open carry? Did I have Mace or any other blunt force object? If all else failed, at least I had my elbows (the strongest point in your body).

I walked into my store feeling like it was a stranger. Like, this store that I knew so intimately was not even the same place anymore.

At the front, it was decided that the restroom could not wait. Luckily it was only 9 AM. Most transgender people don't do their shopping until the late afternoon (fact). Unfortunately I had not done a lot to look "womanly" on this trip. I was wearing baggy work out clothes (a trick I use on my Pilates teacher so she can't tell if I'm sucking in my stomach or not...also to hide fat pockets*), a sports bra to flatten an already flat chest, and my long, beautiful hair was slopped up in some sort of failed knot bun. I had (still have) a thin mustache growing in because it's been awhile since I've gone to get it threaded. My back and shoulders continue to resemble that of a man's from my swimming days (a very soft, flabby man). Oh my Gosh, would someone mistaken me as a man slowly transitioning?!?!  Clearly I was not doing my part to help us identify these very aggressive transgender people demanding to use whatever restroom they please!

Even at 9 A.M., it was lucky stall number 4, down the line, that didn't make me want to vomit when checked.

Good news: I made it. Everything went fine. I only encountered one other woman (probably) and we only gave each other a quick glance over to see if either of us was transgender before heading back to browse the toy section NOT labeled by gender. (Seriously, Target...are you trying to mess with people on purpose?)

I wanted to share my experience with the world so that I may be recognized for my bravery and fake tolerance in the face of such a satanic policy.

Make room, Destiny's Child, I'm a survivor.






*fat pockets is not referring to pockets full of cash...it's referring to actual body fat.