last night i began what i like to call my 'no pore left untouched' experiment. during my journey of self-awareness i saw no exotic scenery, there were no copious platters of pasta to be had & my great moment of zen did not involve discovering that i no longer fit into my size 2 jeans. no, my big a-ha moment was discovering a few random old lady hairs on my face. there was no glorious feeling of liberation, just a slight pause in which i looked back on my decades-long love of dirt and motorcycles and tools and guns & wondered if maybe in fact i had a bit too much testosterone surging through my veins. had it finally broken free from the confines of my ever expanding flesh in the form of itty bitty man hairs on my nose & chin? maybe i was more man than woman? but then, how could i account for my deep passion of all things robin's egg blue, men's wieners (one in particular) and 50's era couture?
and then the world clicked.
the obvious conclusion to that moment of wonderment was naturally that i must be a gay man stuck in a woman's body. how else could i explain the melancholy days and nights of listening to judy garland's 'the man that got away' on repeat, a preference for french service at all meals and gruff manly men who often have dirt under their nails but clean up nicely & know how to say 'please' & 'thank you'? the whole 'men's wieners' thing even fit snuggly into the picture.
this is all just speculation of course. i have no hard data to prove that i am indeed a gay man trapped in a woman's body... and as for those couple scattered hairs... they are long gone.
like any gay man, i know the importance of good grooming.