Easter Sunday...My last before the surgery. It's ironic that Bruce has told me that my transition "resurrected" me. Now I've just a few more weeks to go before my surgery. If my transition was my "resurrection," then what will my surgery be?
Today I've eaten enough for three people. I had a bowl of Corn Flakes this morning. Then, my landlady's mother brought me some Indian-Guyanese food--curried goat, rice and peas-- enough for a light lunch. After that, I went to Millie's for lasagna, pulled pork, vegetables and salads, rice and desserts. All great stuff: just what a growing girl needs, right?
Tomorrow I go to the doctor for an EKG and HIV test. If you're, ahem, a certain age, the former is required within 90 days before the surgery, and the latter is required for everybody. Even though I had an HIV test in November, it's not recent enough for the purpose. I just hope the doctor doesn't find any problems now. Or, I should say that I hope I haven't developed problems I don't know I have. Dominick says the doctor will say I'm crazy, but I pointed out that it's not a physician's job. Besides, everyone knows that I'm the sanest person in the world. And the most beautiful, too...
I took my hormones with food today, so I can't blame them for that last bit of silliness. Last week, when Dominick came to my place, I was giggling at everything he did, including his breathing. Then I realized that all I had in my stomach were the hormones and a couple of cups of green tea. My giggle fit could just as easily have been a crying jag; I'm sure that Dominick preferred what he saw.
Another thing on which I can blame the hormones: I watched the Sex and the City movie again. After dinner, Stephanie and Lisa--Millie's daughters--and I sat on the long green couch in the living room and watched that wonderful monument to fashion, shopping and all other aspects of being a Material Girl. Yes, it's mindless and trashy, but I loved every second of it. It's funny how brainless, pointless movies that are full of violence--especially of the militaristic variety--are not deemed as "trash" and aren't denigrated to the same degree as movies like Sex and the City or The Devil Wears Prada. I mean, some guy who got an exemption from going to Vietnam by teaching phys ed at a private girl's school in Switzerland and doesn't even hold a machine gun properly plays a storm trooper and is considered more credible than women who are approaching middle age and trying to deal with it through sex and shopping. You tell me: Which is the real American way?
The American Way. Now all we need is Truth and Justice (yes, with a capital "T" and a capital "J") and I will have completed a journey from Rambo to Carrie Bradshaw to Superman. Why anyone would want to do such a thing, I'll never know. All I know is that if I was once Clark Kent, I'm turning into Lois Lane. At least, I hope for something like that.
Actually, I think it's weird enough to watch Sex and the City the night after watching (at least partially) The Ten Commandments. I guess I'm not the first to have done that. But I don't think anyone has ever planned such a thing. I must say, though, they had some interesting clothes in The Ten Commandments, even if they weren't the latest from Yves St. Laurent.
What will next Easter bring?
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