Today is a new day

Today is a new day. My toenails are neatly painted white, my eyebrows are plucked, my legs and all other appropriate areas are shaved. I've considered waxing, but it's expensive to get done and I'm nervous to do it by myself or to ask for help. There are only so many tactful ways to ask a friend:

"Hey, mind getting my coin purse and starfish?"

And though I'd like the hair removed from those regions (I'm no prude, believe me, just...I feel weird about my physical gender and don't really like exposing those parts of myself which prove that in some of us gender is inescapable...more than an image maintained through careful pruning, planning and painting.)

Having a woman I don't know remove hair from my scrote seems terrifying and embarrassing. Shrinkage wouldn't be my only issue- I see myself tearing up and sobbing my way out of the salon, swollen and dejected by my own body and another's too up-close view of what I was born to be. A man-woman-lady-boy who feels it's nice to have a big penis when someone's looking, but embarrassing to feel inadequate when pressed, desiring an intact vagina, clitoris and perky tits to cal my own. This is a paradox that I own, maintain and somewhat cherish.

Thanks to the circle of friends I've carefully cultivated over the years, I am now safely outed among my friends as GenderQueer. I don't really identify as tranny, simply because I equate that with the label of Drag Queen. I honor my sisters in that tradition for sure, but that just ain't me. I'm more Amy Winehouse and less Priscilla Queen of the Desert.

I described myself to a woman who very cheerfully sold me a pair of pumps and polka dotted dress, as a tom-boy in a male body. I'm like that girl with the mohawk and jeans who cleans up nicely in a strapless and heels. But I still like to play rough and toss 'em back like one of the boys.

I'll never be one of the boys and that's OK with me. I'm a total girl. At least...on my way to being.