I look in the mirror, dissatisfied at the lumps that no matter how tight I bind them still seem obvious. At least they are to me. Tori says I could go to the mall and pass for a guy but I’m not sure. She’s my friend, and besides, she’d say anything to go to the mall. I saw someone like me at the movies once. He walked confidently up to the counter and bought a ticket. Then I saw his hesitation as he paused by the bathrooms, deliberating. Eventually he walked into the girl’s bathroom. I understood. Too risky.
Notes: This piece came from a Writing Workshop I attended this summer. The task was to write from the perspective of a different gender. Since I am not a big believer in a gender binary, and also because I could not figure out how to write as a guy, I chose to write as a transgender teenager. It was still a big stretch because it’s been years since I’ve been a teenager. I didn’t have the postcard framework in mind when I began writing this piece, but in the rewriting/revising process, I decided that it would be a good match.
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