Annabelle says hey and I say hey and we hug. At the beginning, I can tell she\u2019s thinking\u2014maybe she has a cold. Her eyes flash to my chest, quick, and by the end of our introductions, she knows.<\/p>\n
Every day is a new performance for me. Today, I\u2019m on stage as Punk Boy: Mannequin Pussy tank<\/em>. Black Levi\u2019s. Nail color: black.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019ve you been?\u201d I ask, sipping my coke.<\/p>\n \u201cGood,\u201d she says, \u201creally good. So, I just finished my MSW\u2014Master\u2019s in Social Work, sorry. I\u2019m starting at Boston Children\u2019s Hospital on Monday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s great,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cHow about you?\u201d<\/p>\n This is my opening. \u201cStill living with my parents, so cringey, I know. Working at a boutique pet spa. And I\u2019m, well. I\u2019m different from when you last saw me. You probably saw on Facebook that my name is E instead of Erica?\u201d<\/p>\n She nods, watching me.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been going through some changes,\u201d I say. \u201cI\u2019m getting to know myself better.\u201d<\/p>\n Her sushi sits in front of her, uneaten. She looks the same as in college\u2014long blonde hair, elegant nose, permanent blush in her cheeks, and a beauty mark by her nose, almost imperceptible. \u201cThat\u2019s awesome,\u201d she says. \u201cReally.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a process,\u201d I say. My voice cracks like a boy going through puberty, and I blush, and then I blush about my blushing.<\/p>\n After college, I was depressed, and the longer it went on, the more I felt I needed to change something. My trans friends all seemed so happy. Every day, they announced a new development. I thought, Maybe this is it. I can give birth to a new me.<\/em><\/p>\n It reminded me of those pregnancy books.<\/p>\n Heart starts to beat (cut your hair<\/em>)<\/p>\n Facial features form (stubble grows<\/em>)<\/p>\n Fingerprints and toenails appear (voice deepens<\/em>)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n \u201cIf you don\u2019t mind my asking, what are your pronouns?\u201d She stops. \u201cWait, you totally don\u2019t have to answer that. Only if you\u2019re comfortable, I mean. I don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want to put you on the spot,\u201d she says. Is this as uncomfortable for her as it is for me? I feel my top surgery scars throbbing, like they\u2019re glowing through my shirt.<\/p>\n I remember after my top surgery, when my mom was changing my dressings and emptying the drains hooked up to my bloody chest. She paused and I said, \u201cWhat?\u201d and she said, \u201cI guess I didn\u2019t know what I was taking on,\u201d and I thought, What do you mean? Like, when you drove me to my surgery? When you took me to a therapist for my panic attacks? When you took me to my first pride parade? Or when you had me?<\/em><\/p>\n I used to vlog about transitioning, as though I knew shit.<\/p>\n I starred as Hipster Boy: Mustard Carhartt beanie, olive green overalls, looks cute holding tools but can\u2019t even hang a curtain.<\/em> I had a series: \u201cYour hipster tranny next door.\u201d<\/p>\n Now, I can\u2019t even talk about it. Her lips are full and perfect, she is a Botticelli painting, I would die to see her tits again, this is my end.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought\u2026\u201d I say. \u201cFor a long time after college, I thought I was a guy. And that\u2019s what got me on T. Testosterone. But now\u2026I think I might be something in-between.\u201d<\/p>\n In-between. A rat. An alien. A mutt abandoned on the side of a country road.<\/em><\/p>\n Her hazel eyes alight on my no-boobs again, and flicker away. \u201cI\u2019m glad you feel safe to explore that now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d I say. \u201cMe, too.\u201d<\/p>\n Some days, like today, I want to be with her.<\/p>\n As a girl.<\/p>\n I want to giggle and tickle her and…<\/p>\n Back in college, when she took off her bra, I felt like the luckiest girl alive. I must be cheating<\/em>, I thought. This is magic<\/em>. My fingers tingled.<\/p>\n I almost wish I still had boobs so I could smush them against hers. It felt absurd that time I did it, like squishing pillows together, or bags of sand, and it made me laugh.<\/p>\n I want to land the role of Girly Girl: Jane Austen-inspired. Lacey corsets, pink bows, silk. Nail color: ballet slipper.<\/em><\/p>\n I don\u2019t know what the fuck I\u2019m doing, sometimes I wonder if I fucked this all up, if I can\u2019t make these monumental life decisions\u2014I got this tattoo the other day on my arm of an anime cat eating French fries to cover my high school self-harm scars, and every night since, it\u2019s haunted me, I think it made the whole thing worse, like covering a joke with another joke, and now it\u2019s on my body forever, and the only thing I could cover it with would be an ugly thing, a big black blob, and then it\u2019d be covering a joke with another joke with another joke, and I look at trans kids who know what they want from the beginning, and I wonder if I\u2019m missing some special gene to tell me who I am now, who I\u2019ve always been, who I\u2019ll always be, but I\u2019m a kaleidoscope, constantly changing.<\/p>\n Every day, a new performance.<\/p>\n Current mode: Desperate.<\/em><\/p>\n Her eyes are sad, or maybe I\u2019m projecting, and I want to say:<\/p>\n I\u2019m still beautiful, at least I think I am, and do you still want me?<\/em><\/p>\n Do you still want me<\/em><\/p>\n do you want me<\/em><\/p>\n do you want me<\/em><\/p>\n do you do you do you do you doyoudoyoudoyou?<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Every day is a new performance for me. Today, I\u2019m on stage as Punk Boy: Mannequin Pussy tank. Black Levi\u2019s. Nail color: black.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":24905,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6,3530],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23964","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","category-flash-fiction","writer-judy-slitt"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23964","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=23964"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23964\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":24907,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23964\/revisions\/24907"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/24905"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=23964"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=23964"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=23964"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}