What would you do?

Opposite sexI was playing on Pinterest when I ran across the image on the right. If tomorrow you woke up as the opposite sex, what’t the first thing you would do? The grammatical errors notwithstanding, it got me thinking, what would I do?

It’s a thought that haunted me growing up. I would fear that I would lose my manhood during the night, but behind the fear was a thrill, one that I couldn’t admit until I was much older, and I confessed my secret to a girlfriend. I never understood the fear until she accepted me, and in turn taught me to accept myself. It really wasn’t a fear of become a girl, it was a hope that I would. The fear was that I would keep my boy parts and remain in my prison.

There’s one dream in particular that still fascinates me. As a rule, I never remember my dreams. Sometimes I can hold onto snips for a few moments after I awake, but then they are gone, erased from my memory, beyond my ability to recall. This one, however, has stayed with me for almost thirty years.

In it, I’m in the school gym, and the class is walking out onto the court. I look down to discover I’m wearing a dress, and under that pantyhose. It freaks me out for a moment, but curiosity wins out. In front of everyone, I pull up my dress to look underneath, and I find nothing. No bulge that would indicate a penis or scrotum. I had girl parts.

Right then a spark of relief and joy overtook me. A confidence I had never known imbued me with a sense of purpose, and I walked out to the court, almost like some sort of amateur fashion catwalk, with my head held high. I was finally me, or rather the me I should have been and had always wanted to be.

I can’t remember what I thought when I woke up. Was it relief or sadness? I don’t know. I think I was probably confused. I was a boy, and I was taught to accept my gender role with out question. I didn’t even now what crossdressing was or that transgender was a thing. Crossdressing would come much later, when I hit puberty, and always in secret.

But back to the original premise of my post, what’s the first thing I would do if I woke up as a woman?

I’d probably cry with joy. My body would match my mind, and my soul would find peace. I would pull out a dress, fix my hair and make-up, and put on a pair of heels and soak up the light of day. I wouldn’t have to hide myself anymore. I could be me, on full display for the world to see. I wouldn’t be some freak anymore. I’d be a real woman.

For all the talk about accepting myself, in the recesses of my mind, I still think of myself as a freak, an outcast. Am I alone? I’ve prayed to be made sane, to be the man that I was born into, but behind the supplication, I cry out to be free of the man. I don’t want to be him, a mask I wear to the world. I am Stefani, after all. I’m a woman wanting to break out!

But if I were to be as attractive as I think I could be, would I do more? Part of me wants that, to find a real man to please. I don’t know if I would enjoy a series of one-night stands or if I would look for a something meaningful. I do know that in time, I would want to have a family of my own, to be a mother my own small tribe.

But wishful thinking is just that. It’s a fantasy that’ll never come to pass. Every morning I wake up, look in the mirror, and see the face of a man nearing middle age, desperate for love and acceptance, it breaks my heart. But if I had the chance to make the dream come true, would I have the courage to do so? I hope so, but hope is a double-edged sword, one that I’ve learned to handle it with due caution.

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