I Am a Girl

When I wake up in the morning, I am girl. I may not have breasts, I may have a penis, but I am a girl. I see the world through a girl’s eyes, I think like a girl, I reason like a girl, and I am a girl. No matter what the world tells me, I know better.

I get up in the morning and I dress. I’m two months into my year-long requirement before the gender reassignment surgery can happen. I double-check the tape to ensure that it’s still holding up, and if it isn’t, then I redo it, making sure everything that shouldn’t be there is tucked away. Then I go to the dresser and pull out my panties and bra (always a matching set). I put in the silicone cups that begin to give my body the form I should have been born with. (My doctor says my breasts should begin to develop soon.)

Then I walk to the closet and choose my outfit for the day. It might be a dress, it might be jeans and a tee shirt. It all depends on my mood, same as you. On this day, it is a dress. Light blue and nearly to my knees, thin straps. The material is so light that it dances on my body when I slip it over my head.

At my vanity, I pull out my make-up and begin to paint my face. Foundation and pink, shimmering lips. Eyeshadow and eyeliner. Blush and concealer. If you saw me on the street, you wouldn’t doubt my femininity. The only that the would me give me away to you is this lump in my throat and that is always covered by a scarf or something else of the sort.

I’ll feed the dog, let him outside. Make myself breakfast and check the calendar to see what appointments I have that day. Therapy, refilling my meds, getting a hormone shot, seeing my doctor. After I eat breakfast, I take my hormone pills for the day. I let the dog in and I go outside to my car to run some errands.

I shop for groceries, I pick up a quick lunch, I buy a new pair of shoes.

When I come home, I put away the groceries and let the dog out again.

I am a girl.

When I go to bed at night, I am a girl.

And you. Who are you to tell me any different?