2002-09-13 - 4:30 p.m.
Today I woke up and I just didn't feel like myself. I couldn't put my finger on what was different until I looked in the mirror and saw that I was a woman. Not just any woman, mind you, but a 54 year old CEO of a major media company. I felt the power of mass market paperbacks flow through my veins. The electricity of fourteen worldwide cable television neworks shocked the synapses in my brain. I felt hyperalive. For a moment.
Then my reality set in. My life is . . .The seat of all my skirts smells like the polished leather of my car service, my shit has the stench of creamed benefit ball dinners, my tits are weighed down by the stockholder's expectations, my vagina has skinned over due to my need to be genderless, my face is painted up like a morning talk show host despite the fact that my genes have given me the facial features of a hardened Midwestern farmer's wife (if I have to cover up my fear lines and bags with something, it might as well be Shishedo). The thing that disturbs me most is that my fingers have webbed together from lack of use. My penguins, as I like to call them, formed from not opening my car door, not typing, not cutting my own steak, not scratching my face. I'm sure these things don't bother the usual inhabitant of this body but, let me tell you, it fuckin' sucks being in here. I finally get to be a woman and this is what I get. I want to be a full woman, who flaunts all of her menstral womanness, not this man with a swollen chest.
I ripped my panty hose, popped a tit out of my blazer and headed down to my office. God, I felt hot. I pulled out my Montblanc pen from my blazer pocket and jammed it in the webbing between my fingers. I freed most of my digits (except for my left ring/pinkie combo, the flesh fought back). A stream of blood followed me down the Avenue of the Americas and , God, I felt even hotter. I puddled up the elevator on the ride to the top floor. I stormed into my office and wrote my resignation letter to myself on the back of my blazer in my webbing blood. I left there, pawned my fancy pen and bought some real slutty clothes. I hope the regular inhabitant appreciates the changes I made.
