Trans-America
September 25, 2006
I saw my first transgendered individual this past weekend. When I noticed her I did a double- then a triple- and quadruple-take. She had hair like a woman—medium-cut blonde hair with whispy fringes and bangs—shoes like a woman, faux boobs like a california woman (whether they were implants or simply a stuffed bra, I do not know), most of a physique like a woman, and darn cute shoes. But her face... chiseled jawline, jagged cheekbones, sloped brow... all the makings of the male form.
I tried very hard not to look more than four times, but I made it my duty to find an Adam's Apple. Alas, I didn't want to stare so I didn't bother looking any further. "It could be a woman," I said to my friends, to which they quickly refuted, "No. No."
Living in towns of under 100,000 people I have lived a sheltered life. I learned through schooling, The Learning Channel and Discovery Channel, and Will & Grace that transgendered and transexual individuals indeed exist and should be a welcomed part of society. Before encountering my first one (if even that) I thought I could do a double-take—no more, no less—and go on about my business. However, I was baffled and I hate to admit it. Though I am fairly certain that if I had met the person face-to-face, introduced myself, had a drink, and/or conversed with them, I would know that they were not abnormal and I would no longer be baffled. It's the initial BAM that kind of catches you off-guard, you know?
That's what I'm going to tell myself and it's the thought that counts, right?
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