You finally give into your stomach and leave the apartment. Any embarrassment over having long hair is tolerable as long as it means putting food in your belly. You head a couple blocks to the local supermarket.
It's only sprinkling at the moment, but you've brought your umbrella with you just in case. You make it to the store and, once inside, run your fingers through your hair to get the water droplets out.
As you browse the aisles, putting the occasional box or can into a basket, you can't help but notice the stares from several women that you pass. Each one seems to be looking at your hair. You catch a stray comment between two of them: "Isn't her hair lovely? I wish I had hair like that at that age." You feel blood rushing to your face and realize that you're blushing.
What bothers you even more are the looks you're getting from several young guys. Their eyes scan you up and down in ways that make you feel very uncomfortable, causing you to blush even more. When it happens in the dairy section, you have the urge to walk up to one of them and tell him you're a guy, but that would make things even more uncomfortable for you. Instead, you readjust your loose pants and move on.
In the checkout line, an old woman behind you compliments your hair. You smile at her, and muster up a pleasant girl voice to say "Thank you." Surprisingly, your impression sounds spot-on.
You give the cashier your charge card, since you have almost no cash on you. She looks at the card and back at you. She must have noticed your name on the card. For the first time in your life, you wish you had been given a name like "Chris" that could easily work for either gender.
"Uh..., that's my card," you say in a low voice. You hand her your ID so she can verify it. She looks at the card, then back at you, and repeats several times. By now your face must be all kinds of red. You nervously brush some hair behind your ear. "Th-that was...before I grew my hair out," you say meekly.
The cashier, still looking at you funny, nods and swipes your card. In quick motions, you sign the receipt, take your bags, mutter a "thank you" to the cashier, and walk away. You don't dare to look at anyone, instead focusing on the floor immediately in front of you. Your long, girlish hair hangs down both sides of your face, helping to hide your desperate expression.
How could so many people be mistaking you for a girl based on just your hair? Maybe your thinner body has something to do with it. You'd eaten a lot last night, yet today you're even thinner. Something tells you this is a problem far beyond rapidly growing hair.
In the background you vaguely hear the cashier say something to the old woman, who then replies loudly "You mean that was a boy?!"
Your hands tremble as they clutch the plastic bags. You resolve to walk even faster.