Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Attention Transvestites and Cross-Dressers
I was sitting around with my girlfriends the other night, before the Ain't Diane Estate Sale, boring them with the overwhelming details of trying to unload 70 years of unnecessary habitual collections and treasures in one week. One of the most difficult items to find homes for was her clothes. She was at least 6' tall, wore size 12 shoe, and her bra was a 42DDFF. Not everyone could just slip on one of her outfits and go on a job interview.
One of the girls suggested that transvestites and cross-dressers would really appreciate her wardrobe. Seriously brilliant! So I put an ad on Craigslist something like this:
ATTENTION TRANSVESTITES AND CROSS-DRESSERS
Here's an estate sale for you!
Size 12 womens dress shoes
Size L and XL clothing for a 6 foot person
Plus Giant Bras!
I was thrilled at the prospect of placing Ain't Diane's clothing on someone spectacular. Someone in need. Someone with a size 12 foot! I fantasized about High School track coaches and Hewlet Packard engineers riffling through her beaded dresses and leather fringe jackets exclaiming "Oh My God! Can you believe this fits me?!" I wanted to see her giant multicolored sling backs on a big hairy man walking in the next Freedom Day Parade. I wanted to bring some adventure to these clothes. Ain't Diane would love it.
Before the estate sale, I received this message:
hi, wow you actually sell my size shoes-12....can you tell me what style shoes
and general condition as would have to drive from far away, do you have many ? thanks,
I just loved Bob already. I was warm all over thinking that he'd find some shoes that would fit him. I know how hard it was for Diane, so being a man it must be a constant process of disappointment. Too high, too narrow, too small, too boring.
On the day of the sale, I was waiting with great anticipation and enthusiasm for all the trannies and cross-dressers who'd arrive with their colorful tote bags and cash. I assumed most would arrive in their man clothing so they might be a little difficult to spot right away. But I'd look for big men with a little twinkle in their eye that said "I've got a secret." I watched for men who seemed nervous or uncomfortable and I was going to help them select some items and support them. I was ready for them.
Nothing. Only little tiny Mexican women were buying these tremendously gargantuan clothing. I couldn't conceive of what they'd do with a size 12 ladies shoe, but a buck is a buck. Then finally a large man walked in with a twinkle in his eye. His hair was all gerry curled out and his voice was sing-songy. Ah ah!!! Found one! He looked through things around the house with little interest and I wondered if he was trying to get up the nerve to rummage through the closets. I decided that I should take him under my wing.
"Excuse me, are you Bob?" I asked somewhat suspiciously.
"No. My name is Manny." and he looked at me like I'm crazy.
"Oh, can I help you find anything?" I said with hopefulness.
"No, I'm just here with my wife." Bummer.
It was sad, really. He would have looked better in the creme colored Liz Claiborne suit with the gold peek-a-boo sandals.