Every once in a while, you have to do a double take when what otherwise appears to be a female of the species has muscular forearms or square hands or pays a bit too much attention to sports. Sometimes, you even have to introduce yourself, just to find out, by hearing a tenor voice or a name like Samantha or Georgeanna, that it's a buck decked out in doeskin.

... but then, sometimes you don't.

Fredella, for example, is not fooling anybody. Not that there's anything wrong with a fellow getting in touch with his feminine side: in the theater of ancient Athens of Elizabethan London, it was perfectly acceptable for a fellow to play the feminine role, mincing around in lipstick and heels to the amusement of the groundlings.

Of course, if you set your standard for masculinity by what Greeks and Brits get up to, your inner child is probably a hermaphrodite. And though you'll probably be confused for the rest of your life, many people live with the same fashionable disorder, which the rest of us call ...

"Politically Correct"