You have no items in your cart. Want to get some nice things?Go shopping
It wasn’t the first time I was shaving my face but my heart was pounding with such virgin pleasure. Today was different. It would be the last time that I had to cover my face with girly makeup and powder to look like the perfect feminine “normal” girl that my parents said I was born to be. But this was the last time I had to pretend to be someone I knew I wasn’t. Six more hours of pretense and then that would be it. I would walk into that surgery room and come out as my true self, my true body, my true face, my true masculine being. Of course I would be banned to “set foot in the house I lived for eighteen years” but guess that was the price of “changing your destined fate,” the ransom of “messing with what God created.” I don’t even care about my “cursed” soul or “abandoned” body anymore. I’m just happy that it’ll be all over soon. I’m gonna be a man. Wow just the thought of that gives me thrills.
Okay makeup’s all done. Goodbye black eyeliner. Goodbye red lipstick. Farewell cream foundation and mascara. I’ll never use you gain. There! In the trash where you belong.
I pass by the mourners by the door: my mother, my father and my sister who was too young to understand what was going on. Her big sister would soon be her brother. Of course they would tell her that I died or something, make the whole “damnation” easier upon themselves. I’m pretty sure they’d much prefer it if I turned into a cockroach or some other insect rather than a boy.
My friend was waiting by the car. We drove to the hospital together and I entered the room. Kiss, goodbye, and see you on the other side!
“Is he awake doctor? Can I see him now?”
“The transformation was successful. But unfortunately there was a problem and she had a heart failure. We did everything we could but she didn’t make it. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“HE! HE didn’t make it. HE died a MAN.”