![]() “Well, I ain’t a little girl and I’m not a woman.” It’s something that happens to little girls who become women and their bodies just stop making enough estrogen.” It was something that happened to other people a long time ago and would never, under any circumstances, happen to me. We talked about it the same way we talked about the Black Death in school. The sounding of an alarm, the clarion call of biological reality coming toe to toe with everything I had imagined for my future and my dreams. The man I was going to become even clearer.īut what was apparently clear to everyone else, and not to me, was that at some point as a pre-teen, I would enter the bathroom and there I would find it in the crotch of my underwear. Often I would pretend that I was a swashbuckling pirate sailing the seven seas, rescuing damsels in distress, or a swarthy Lothario who knew just what words to say to make women swoon. And just like in the horror movies, the call, oh, the call was coming from inside the house. Oh, I thought this shit was amazing.Īnd then I got infected with an estrogen-laden hormone-infused invasion known as puberty. It had zombies, misbehaving corporations, a flesh-eating virus that made anyone infected, human flesh-craving monsters, an infection that turned the body against itself. My favorite video game was Resident Evil. I was usually in the school library reading the latest fantasy or science fiction novel we had gotten or at home playing video games trying to figure out when best to revive a fallen character so that we could go on and beat the boss its final, final, final form. ![]() And growing up, there were kids who could run faster than me or kids who were dunking at 12 years old, tongues flailing from their mouths as they did their best Michael Jordan impression. So I have the perfect body, because it’s mine. ![]()
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