Schröedinger’s Cat
How did I get here? Crossing the gender line for good and all. Truthfully, I was always both. Never homosexual but always ambiguous in behavioral terms. I have never seduced a female. They have always seduced me. The celebrity I was most mistaken for was Bowie, another ambiguous character women couldn’t resist.
I don’t think this is terribly unusual. Everyone is some combination of male and female. And everyone is full time in the business of suppressing the other sex that resides within them. Not talking about sexual preference here. That’s pretty hard-wired from childhood. I’m talking about soul identity, which is why our current controversies are so clumsy and confused.
Age is a factor that drives the sexes together via fading hormones, as women become more visibly mannish, even growing mustaches and sometimes beards, men growing man boobs (moobs!) and gradually losing their physical courage and sexual desire.
I’ve been migrating the gender line for a while now. Transition has nothing to do with becoming better or nicer. Women are just as character free as men for the most part, if somewhat less violent. I just feel more female than I did when I was young. I look at my hands a lot. Thinking I should get my nails done. I sense, intensely, that I need makeup, especially around the eyes and brows. I weigh myself often. I worry about my ass. Is it finally, fatally, flat and flabby? Probably.
Becoming a woman is not a physical but a metaphysical act. We used to speak, back in the days when people were educated, of the transmigration of souls. What’s going on in our exhausted, enervated, and decadent culture. It just feels more productive to be female, because reason has died and its male-ish corpse is stinking up the place.
I haven’t died because I didn’t choose to. I opened the box and saw not an old man any longer but an ageless woman cracking wise. The good news? She probably won’t shoot you. The bad news? She can be a real, and completely unapologetic, bitch.
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