Speaking of Genitals…

One of the problems with being transgender is that the first thing everyone wants to ask about is surgery. Which is embarrassing. Who wants to spend the first 30 minutes of every conversation talking about their genitals? Who except every guy I’ve dated in the last 10 years?

A Product of Soy

I know I look “real” these days. I’m totally passing. In fact, I look so good that someone is always coming up to me after performances to tell me, “Gosh, you look just like a real woman.” Which is really wonderful, when you think about it, especially when you consider that I’m composed almost entirely of compressed soy by-products.

Special Inspection

I seem to locked in this death-struggle with the TSA. They always pick me out for “special inspection,” which is transportation security terminology for “check out the trannie.” Even when I’m wearing a skirt and high-heels, they address me as “Sir” and insist on wanding my chest  four or five times like my size-B boobs are hiding 20 or 30 pounds of C4 explosive wired to detonate at any second.

Groin Jobs

You have to say these weird things to get surgery. You can have a tummy tuck, tooshie lift, face lift, ear bob, eyebrow lift, nose job, boob job, and enough Botox to paralyze the facial muscles of a charging bull elephant but no one says you have to go see three psychiatrists.

But if you tell them you want to have a surgery down there – a “groin job” – suddenly you’re sick with something called “Gender Identity Disorder.”

This is the medical diagnosis you have to get if you’re going to get surgery. Otherwise it’s considered “elective,” like Viagra.

Ooops, sorry, no. That’s always covered because old men getting erections is critical to the foundation of our very social fabric.