Mirror Mirror and *%&)in# Father Time...

Having spent the majority of my life trapped inside a persona most definitely "non-grata", I feel especially robbed by time at this juncture in my life. How, you may ask, can I go from the top of the world yesterday to the hairy armpit of hell today?

Swimsuit shopping!

I have promised my daughter, for years, that someday I would swim WITH her. Traditionally I would recline in the shade and watch her attempt to entertain herself, at the ripe old age of ten, while gliding through the water like a dolphin. My excuse is valid! Pre-surgery complications abound when attempting to "pass" with only the thinnest amount of spandex between you and the world. So, in my later years I have beached myself. Evolved into a desert creature that still longs to return someday to my watery home.

Our last swimming expedition was at my friend, and previous student, Nicole's house. This time I got so far as to dip my oh-so-white stumps into the lukewarm liquid. Staring into the reflective depths, I could feel it's ebb and flow...the steady pull each time a wave washed over my calves. I ached to be wet! Sensing the gravitas of my situation, my friend suggested that we both swim with Kira next time.

What was she doing? Thank God my daughter didn't hear that!

"Yes you should!"

Damn! There it was. My daughter's extraordinary sense of hearing, turned on I believe only when she truly wants it, had captured the suggestion and turned it into a full tilt plea. But, what was even more miraculous was the assent I felt leaving my lips before I could seal them up and stop it's irreversible course. The promise was out. And I...was doomed.

With only a few weeks left of the summer break, the time seemed to rush in on me too quickly. Our last chance weekend is here. And tomorrow...barring the end of the world...I will join my daughter in the pool. Today...we shopped.

I have decided that Super Target has installed the worst possible torture device for women. TWO mirrors, positioned just right, allowing you to see with perfect clarity...your entire backside. A sight I NEVER want to see again. If I could have successfully determined a swimsuit fit by trying them on over my street clothes...I hate you Super Target!

I hate you Father Time as well! For cursing me with 40+ years of testosterone poisoning. I will most likely never have hips. Which means that I will also never have a figure. What I have...is a back. A back that runs from my neck to my thighs! After trying on two swimsuits...I was done. Using the very valid excuse of getting Kira back to my ex...I pulled my daughter past the checkout stands and out into the parking lot. Once we were in the car and ready to pull out, my daughter said...

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I replied.

"I'm sorry about the swimsuit."

People have asked me before if I would change anything about my past. If I could live it all over again would I, knowing what I know now, have done anything different. Do I wish that I had transitioned at an earlier age? Do I regret not having estrogen at work in my body sooner? There is a part of me that screams...

"Of course!"

But, just now, as I sit in the car with my lovely child sitting next to me...and the sun setting behind golden clouds tinged red...my answer is a resounding...

"No."

Sara Jade Woodhouse