The Bearded Woman

Every production floor has one, the woman so butch she has actually grown a beard and covered her body with tattoos, the woman who walks, talks, acts, and thinks like a man, the woman who makes you cringe just at the thought of getting near her.

On the production floor where I work our bearded woman has befriend me, in fact, I think she may be in love with me. I avoid her whenever possible, talking to her only when necessary, but with the acquisition of the new guy, everything is out of control.

The New Guy shows up at my desk yesterday, 3:00 as usual, to chit chat. From off in the distance I hear the bearded woman shout out my name and ask what I'm doing.

'Thank God!' I think to myself, someone to pull me away from The New Guy. Excusing myself from the conversation, I tell The New Guy I should really see what is up out there, they need my help. Walking over to where she and one of the receiving girls are standing, I wait until he picks up his notebook and walks away.

"You know, you should be thanking my ass for saving you, yet again!" The Bearded Lady's laughter boomed out across the receiving area.

"I know, Oh My God, what is wrong with that guy!" I'm relieved, yet, somewhat uneasy. I've been boxed into a corner between the rollers and The Bearded Woman.

"You know what I should do, I need to just go up to Asshole and tell him, hey, if I can't have her, no one else is gonna have her either, then give him a threatening glare," I stare at the receiving girl for a second, unable to believe what I just heard. The Bearded Woman slaps her hand down on my back and booms with laughter. I laugh off the comment and quickly make my way out of there.

If it wasn't bad enough that The New Guy had attached himself to my hip like a Siamese twin, I now had The Bearded Woman fighting with him over me.

Yah, just what I always wanted in a work environment.

With only a few more minutes to finish out the day, I quickly wrapped up what I was doing and planned to slip out undetected by anyone.

Plan went up in flames.

In the smoking hut located right outside my exit door sat The Bearded Woman and my acetone bearing friend talking about The New Guy.

"Hey, Phoebe, that's a cute purse! I love distressed leather," reaching out her hand, I hand it to her to take a closer look.

"Yah, that's right up my alley," The Bearded Woman takes my purse and slings it over her shoulder placing one hand on her crotch, like a man who is cupping his package.

"Oh My God, I can't believe you did that!" I'm in shock. I'm laughing, but I'm in shock. Using the hand that was just between her legs she hands me my purse. "Oh My God, you touched my purse with your hand."

"Oh yah," she says, taking my purse and rubbing it between her legs. Words can not describe what coursed through my mind at that very moment.

Needless to say, one purse seriously doused with lysol later, I'm still considering buying a new purse. I have yet to make skin on purse contact.