I sobbed silently over a scone wrapper on Leia’s kitchen table, the day after her dinner party. Her sister found me that way.
“How are you doing?”
“…Okay… I was just getting ready to leave.”
I excused myself. She wished me luck. I set out on a walk of shame so epic that I had to buy sunglasses and froyo. I have got to stop traveling without makeup.
I guess a lot of girl scientists cry about their research.
I’m still not used to it.
I’m not used to a lot of things – women are so easygoing around one another, it’s absurd. Form-fitting clothes break my stride. Shaving reveals scars on my legs from 20 years ago, and a nasty varicose vein from that time I played The Sims 2 for 27 hours straight.
I want to get upset about that. Transition is making me look younger, but I don’t feel younger. I worry about every blemish, all of my virilized features.
I remind myself that I’m lucky to even be a woman.