My birthday is today. Each year I tell those that know, to please not worry about it. I tell them that I was born only once and to celebrate its anniversary is unnecessary. It’s not the entire truth, however.
I don’t like my birthday for the obvious reason, well obvious for a transgender person I think. I was born the wrong gender and I have been suffering through it my entire life. Who wants to celebrate that?
I was hopeful that during some random doctors visit or during my very in depth physical and medical evaluation for the military, that they would find I was supposed to be a girl. That we should get these genitals corrected right away and thank god we caught it in time. It didn’t happen. So on my birthday I usually cry, and I manage to just make it through one more day.
I endure my family and friends expressing birthday wishes and happiness. I nod and give a quick smile and I move on with my day, shutting it away. They mean well and with exception of two of my children and my wife, how could they really know? I have mastered being a man so well that even I can’t stand to look at me.
So happy birthday to the guy in the mirror. I actually feel bad for you, I wonder where your soul is, why I am here behind your eyes instead. I make plans to alter you to better fit me, do you have my body elsewhere? Do you wonder where your penis is and why you are stuck in my body? Happy birthday guy, I’m truly sorry I know you at all, but all the best.