Life on the Train

Do you remember last year, when I jumped off the train? At that time I wrote:

This is my quandary. I stand at the crossroads. I can no longer straddle the line. I should do what is best for me, but is that the best thing? These are questions asked by thousands of others on the train. I’m not the first, nor will I be the last. For now, I’m climbing back on the train.

That was a year ago, and I stayed on the train. There have been things during the last year that made me cry. Some things made me grin, but I’m still on the train. I’m here for the duration and I’m sad I couldn’t see a therapist a year ago. One more year against the day when I wakeup in the hospital with my vagina.

I got everything right the other day. Makeup was good. Hair was fantastic. Clothes were beautiful and I cried. I might’ve been born a male, but I am a woman. I am so ready . . . If only I could have the resources Ms. Jenner has, then I could do more than covet.

That will be my happy place. I will dream of inheriting a small fortune. Did you ever listen to the lyric of, If I were a Rich Man, from Fiddler on the Roof?

If I were a rich man, dubie dubie dum
I would be the woman that I am,
If I were a wealthy man.

Of course, between the cost of hormones, doctors, and surgeries, I wouldn’t be a rich woman at the end of it. Still, just so you won’t think I’m selfish, I wish I had the resources to assist others in their quest. I would be the woman that helps others, but I would do for myself, too. God bless you, sisters. I love you.