Transcendance

I sat opposite a transsexual person on the subway yesterday. At first sight, it looked like a beautiful woman, but upon closer inspection it turned out to be a man after all. Or the remnants thereof. Well, let's say I didn't quite catch all the details, but the combination of high heeled boots, a skirt, a few layers of make-up and an Adam's Apple clearly pointed in the direction of someone who crossed the border in Gender-land.

I have always had a strange fascination with people changing their sex. I wouldn't even dare taking it into consideration; I simply don't have the balls for that. Transsexual people turning themselves into a woman often say that they have always felt like a woman in a man's body. Being a man myself, I can easily relate to that. I mean, every once in a while I do feel like a man in a woman's body. The only difference is that I usually fall asleep afterwards, waking up in the morning with a rather firm piece of proof that nothing changed after all...

And yet, I do wonder how life must be like, when you are a woman trapped inside a man's body. Would it mean that you think about sex every seven seconds, unless you're having a headache? And that you can't resist walking into sports stores when you feel a bit sad, so that you can buy a new pair of soccer shoes that you will wear only once? Or that you enjoy going out with the lads, boozing beers all night long, coming home like a shitfaced monkey, throwing up into the toilet after you put the toilet lid down?

The operation itself must also be quite alienating. Imagine, the last thing you see before they put you asleep is a gorgeous nurse, invoking male thoughts in the vein of "Damned, she's got a nice pair of tits!". A few hours later, you wake up, and the first thing you see is the cute nurse, invoking rather female thoughts like "Damned, that little bitch has got bigger boobs than me?".

Luckily enough, medical techniques are so advanced nowadays that you can hardly tell that the person sitting in front of you used to be a man one day. Unless they're on their period, I suppose, because that's when you can still recognize the male features: "Oh damned, I have a headache. I don't feel too well. It hurts like hell. This is the end of my life, I am dying." Or when they're having phantom pains: I don't think natural born women scratch their vagina's in public, do they? That, and the ultimate give-away of course: peeing habits. I bet transsexuals do feel a natural urge to sit down when they have to pee, but either prefer to do it against a tree or leave droplets on the toilet seat.

[In case you're feeling a bit itchy now, sorry: I forgot to mention you'd better not read this if you're allergic to clichés...]