Gender surrender

I had a 10-minute conversation with a customer today and I genuinely cannot tell you which sex they belong to. He/she/it was about six feet tall, with long, skanky, unkempt hair, a face that could have been male-and-recently-shaved or female-and-horribly-pitted, and a voice that sounded somewhere between Mick Hucknall with a cold and Sarah Lancashire on steroids. They were overweight and dressed in loose black clothing, and there were definitely boob shapes, but whether they were unsupported titties or fulsome manfat, I‘m not sure.
I didn’t know if I was talking to a man, or a woman, or a Meat Loaf tribute act.

RC 23-6-11