Passing at the Department of Public Safety

Jeanette Johnson’s Passing Success Story

On a Monday morning back in August, I decided to go to the Department of Public Safety to obtain a photo identification card for Jeanette. I thought that going to the office in Katy, rather than Houston, might result in a shorter line and quicker service. I was very mistaken.

I dressed appropriately for the endeavor. I wore black dress pants, black flats, a black and white stripped boat neck blouse with complimentary jewelry and makeup. The blouse had a wide neckline and I chose a bra with clear straps that showed slightly, but was great with this blouse.

When I entered the building, I saw about 200 people sitting in folding metal chairs waiting in line. The chairs were arranged in two long rows inside what I assume, was an old gymnasium. The program seemed to be as the person in the very front of the line was served, everyone stood up and then moved one seat closer to a walled-off office where the clerks were housed. My ability to pass was about to be tested to the max.  

I had women of all ages for the next three seats on either side of me. It turns out that the women were all very friendly and talkative. I had been taking voice lessons from a local speech therapist (Sally McKee) and felt my voice would not give me away. The six of us became somewhat of a group. The women in the last two chairs to my right and left would slide their chairs a little forward to form a moving quarter moon.  

I was neither the center of attention nor was I completely ignored. I was just one of the group. We talked about how long and slow the line was. We debated whether or not our particular need with the D.P.S. could be accomplished on line. Where Gloria got her blouse, where Ellen got her hair styled, where I got my shoes, the best steak place in town, the cost of gasoline, soccer, little league, ballet...

Four of the six of us decided we would go get a margarita if we ever got finished. As it turned out, the 3.5 hours to get finished killed those ideas because of my buddies’ obligations with children, husbands and boyfriend.

Nearing the end of three hours, I passed through a passage way to a hall where the ceiling lowered from the gym height to that of a normal office. I could see inside the inner sanctum and knew that soon I would enter where the clerks would take care of my request. There was a ladies’ room in the hall, but no one dared enter it for fear they would lose their place in line.  

I began to think my legs would wear out from all of the rising and sitting. I was wrong. My legs did fine, but the strain on the clear, flexible bra straps was just too much. As I rose to move one seat closer to the Holy of Holies, my right bra strap released from the back hook. Like a sling shot, it shot forward and almost out of the front of my blouse. The girls were all looking at pictures of Peggy’s new grandchild and didn’t notice.

My right silicone breast form teetered at the top of the cup trying to decide if I would look better with my boobs horizontal or vertical. It decided vertical. I am sure a couple of my new friends were old enough to have experienced sagging breasts, but I don’t think theirs sagged as quickly or as unevenly as mine. I tried to be very nonchalant as I placed my right forearm under the runaway to try to corral it before anyone noticed.

Gradually I worked it back into the vicinity of symmetry held in the general area of the bra cup. I could have gotten up, gone to ladies’ room, removed my blouse and bra, reconnected the strap, redressed and returned to line. However, I was afraid the pace of the line would suddenly surge forth, my compatriots would be finished and gone and I would have to fight with strangers to get my place back. I decided, if necessary, I would pick my boob off the floor, stick in my purse and continue forward rather than face going to the end of the line. As it turned out, I could have gone home, changed bras and blouses and would still be sitting in about the same place when I got back,

I realized that short of a ladies’ room trip, I required some other means of securing right boob. I chose to pull the loose strap over to the secured strap and then proceeded to tie it to the good one just beneath the blouse opening. I figured this configuration might hold up through 10 to 15 more rises and reseats.  There were still 12 people in front of me.  

I kept my arms crossed beneath my breasts. Most would assume this posture indicated frustration with the wait in line. I hoped none of the girls would suspect that I was trying to save them from possible harm from the rebound that might occur when a three pound breast form bounces off of a vinyl composition tile floor. Yep, that’s me, always looking out for others!

I saw what was causing the line to be so slow when I finally entered the office. Two of the three clerks were on break. One young man was processing customers while one lady in her early thirties was sitting against a back wall, eating chips and reading Cosmopolitan. The third clerk was an older lady who had pulled her desk chair back a few feet and was reading the Bible while making notes in the margin.  After 10 minutes, the two other clerks assumed their duties.

As my luck was running so good, when my time came, it was inevitable that I took a seat before the Bible reader. She asked how she could help me and I stated that I would like a State of Texas Photo Identification Card. I presented her with my driver’s license to prove I was the person I claimed to be.

She accepted my driver’s license and asked me why I wanted a photo identification card since I already had a driver’s license which had my picture. Before I could answer, she looked down at my license. She glanced up above her reading glasses after about five seconds and looked at me. Then she looked at my license. Then me. My license. Me. I kept waiting for her to hit me with her Bible or at least start quoting scripture from Deuteronomy. Neither happened.

She informed me that I had filled out the wrong form, gave me the correct form, directed me to a counter attached to a nearby wall and told me to come back and stand behind the person she would be helping next. She informed me she would take care of me as soon as she finished her next customer.

With only my left arm supporting by breasts, I filled out the form. I returned to her desk and within another three minutes, my payment was made, my picture taken and a temporary identification card presented with a promise that my final card would arrive in about 15 day. I found a side door to leave so I wouldn’t have to parade back through the gym. 

I received my card two weeks later an, thankfully, the head and shoulders photo does not show that my boobs were about a bubble and a half off plumb when the camera flashed.

Wearing H&M

Max von Sydow and Alberto Lionello femulating in the 1977 Italian film Gran Bollito.