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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

I wanted to be a girl.

Someone asked me recently what it felt like... to be so dysphoric. She asked me about all the standard qeustions. You know... the sorts of things that can take up a whole book. I wrote the following... thing. I called it:


I wanted to be a girl

I wanted to be a girl. It was a nevere ending trainwreck of self-depricative thought. It consumed every moment of every day. From my earliest recollections, it was thus.

I wanted to be a girl. Image, love, mysterious, advertising, beautiful. female, mother, girl, daughter.

I wanted to be a girl. Growing, hating, despicable, learning, self-image, destruction, despair, nightmares.

I wanted to be a girl. Clothing, hair, toys, games, boys, sewing, not me.

I wanted to be a girl. Feminine, atrractive, desire, love, soft, loving.

I wanted to be a girl. Her, girlfriend, confidant, bright, wife, betrayal.

I wanted to be a girl. Son, offspring, family, love, betrayed.

I wanted to be a girl. Drumming, thrumming, beating, throbbing. Every thought. Every moment. Every day.

I wanted to be a girl. Spoiled, damnation, rejection, hate, spite, excommunication, disowned, abandoned.

I wanted to be a girl. Enlightenment, practice, living, trying, homage, emulation, copy.

I wanted to be a girl. Employment, low pay, debt, clothes, men, disgusting, discrimination.

I wanted to be a girl. Acceptance, space, free, surgery, friends, salary, food.

I am a girl.               Bills, real, cooking, TV, husband, children, clubs, social, smiles, dreams, life.


Hopefully, it captures a range of emotions, time, and all the other detritus we deal with.