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> Dear fuckin’ diary: You are just not gonna believe this one!
. Remember that dream about my sister suddenly turning into my brother- which was weird- because I never had a brother? Then that really unsettling one where my second ex-wife turned into my ex-husband, which kinda freaked me out, because I’m pretty sure I never married a guy? I mean, that’s the kind of thing you remember. What do they call those crazy future-telling visions? Prescient dreams? I remember that when my wife suddenly-turned-husband came out of the shower, I screamed as loud as I thought it possible to scream. But I was wrong. That was only a dream.
. I can scream much louder than that!
. I couldn’t sleep, as usual. What’s new, huh? So I watched another episode of Better Call Saul, and while I was at it, had a second beer. Just before 2 AM the extra beer made me sleepy enough to doze off, but only for two lousy hours, because it also made me have to get up to pee at 4 AM.
. Everything was going according to plan- geez, I’d done it, what- a million times before! But when I dropped my longjohns to relieve myself- HOLY FUCKING CHRIST, MY LITTLE MAN WAS GONE! I mean it! I was not, like- a GUY anymore! My little fella was totally GONE and my outie had turned into an inny! That was the scream that took my voice away. Can’t believe the uptight neighbor bitch didn’t call the cops again. I did this toilet ritual just- what- two hours before, peeing before I hit the sack. Everything was fine then! So- what? I changed genders in the two hours I was sleeping?! Apparently, yes!
. Scared the bejezus out of me!
. I raced back into bed and hid under the covers, just like- NOT able to deal with it! Oh man, I really wanted to just ignore it and get back to sleep. I mean, it just HAD to be some kind of hallucination or unusually vivid dream-inside-a-dream, you know? This kind of thing- well it doesn’t usually happen. But try getting any shut-eye at all after a shock like that! I just couldn’t help myself. I had to keep checking every few minutes… Yep! Still a vagina down there! Yep! Still the wrong plumbing! The whole episode was making me kind of anxious.
. So I ran into the bathroom and dropped my robe to, you know- study my new body in the full-length mirror. Tits! I have tits too! Nice ones. You know, truth be told: I don’t look bad as a chick. Just checking it out, I gave my nipple a pinch. Ouch! That shit hurt! No wonder women don’t like that. And standing there, admiring my new self, I kinda decided to just go with the flow on this thing. What the hell. Didn’t seem to be much I could do about it anyway. And of course, I always wondered how the other half lives. Guess now, I was about to find out!
. Just, like- testing the waters, I tried to put on the make-up my second wife Lucille left behind, but ended up looking more like a clown than anything else. The only dress in the house was my first wife DeeDee’s wedding dress. I tried to get her to take it with her when she left, but she made an obscene suggestion as to what I should do with it. I meant to throw it away, but it smelled like DeeDee- and though I came to detest DeeDee, I always liked the way she smelled. Well, I tried to wear it, but tore it at the seams trying to put it on. I may be a chick now, but I’m a big ass chick! Threw that fucking rag on the fire, and that felt pretty good. Good riddance DeeDee!
. When dawn broke and I was at the sink washing the clown makeup off, I realized that it was a Friday. A FRIDAY. I had to go to work soon! And with no girlie clothes, I realized that I would just have to go to work dressed as a man. I man- nobody should suspect anything, right? After all, I’d always been a man in the past- and I’ve worked there for almost nine years. That’s a pretty consistent record. The boobs wouldn’t show if I wore my baggiest shirt.
. It was truly weird, but truly weird in a good way to have this little, no: MASSIVE secret that nobody could possibly guess. Couldn’t help it- I had to suppress a secret smile whenever anyone at work called me “Mr. Smyth” or even “Martin”. I was the only person in the whole world who knew that they should actually be calling me “Ms. Smyth” or maybe “Marie”. I like Marie. At lunch, it felt strangely awkward using the men’s room, though I couldn’t imagine why! Wasn’t anything there I hadn’t seen every day of my stinkin’ life, up to this point. The only thing- the really uncomfortable thing, was that the people I work with- mostly guys I’ve known for almost a decade, seemed oddly dismissive or like- unhealthily interested in me! I could fucking swear the janitor was hitting-on me in the elevator!
. I wasn’t sure I was going to like this being female shit, so I thought it wise to get good and drunk, since it was a Friday anyway, and just enjoy feeling sorry for my new soft, pink self. When I pulled into my garage and shut the door to the outside world, I felt a little better. But first things first: that beer on the passenger seat was calling my name and saying: “Come to papa!”… or rather: mama. (Or rather: Maria.) I didn’t wait to pop the first beer, but guzzled the whole thing in a few deep drafts. So I cracked another. Last thing I remember was sitting there in the driver’s seat listening to the song “Lola” by The Kinks. I was so beat from the disruption of the night before, that I guess I just conked out right there behind the wheel.
. I woke up at 4 AM badly needing a pee. No big duh. So I ambled sleepily into the bathroom, dropped my trousers and HOLY FUCK IF MY MISSING AMBASSADOR WASN’T BACK! Man! I cheered at least as loudly as I screamed the night before. My beloved dick was back! I was a dude again! It was maybe the biggest relief of my life, after Lucille leaving me. I figured: I obviously don’t know anything about applying make-up, and I certainly don’t want to take the reduction in pay that comes with having a Va-JJ! Now I could go back to objectifying women without feeling like a lascivious lesbian.
. So, like- everything turned out fine then, right? NO. NOT! My euphoria only lasted for 24 hours, when I discovered to my chagrin on Sunday morning, that from now on, I was going to interpolate between male and female EVERY FRIGGIN’ NIGHT at 4 AM!
– Could be worse, I guess, Dear Diary. I do get free drinks on ladies’ night. Apparently, there is some power in womanhood. Go sisters!
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