Pretty Gals

I was watching, with respectful curiosity, a “drag queen” at a local watering hole. I say “drag queen” because it was really just a man dressed as a normal 40-ish gal in a sports bar. Although she was wearing unattractive shoes (probably hard to find a cute pair in her size, unfortunately), she had nice jeans, a pretty cardigan, albeit a little too tight across the shoulders, and her hair and nails were done impeccably. Her mannerisms were so amazingly feminine, I felt more than a wee bit jealous! I watched her with sadness as she waited and waited for a date that never showed. She was delicate and sweet-looking in spite of her size and I wished I had the wherewithal to sit down next to her and strike a conversation. I didn’t want her to think I was making fun of or pitying her, I just thought she could use some company. She sat there with so much grace until she finally gave up on her date and left alone. As I sat on my barstool - back hunched over, legs flailed unflatteringly, makeup nonexistent, hair a consummate mess - she glanced at me on her way out and I thought to myself, “I wonder if she looks at me and thinks: what a perfect waste of a female body!” ..... ??