I had to enter the hospital this past Monday for a medical test procedure. I was dressed as male as I can and yet I didn't seem to fool anyone. I was asked "Has anyone helped you yet, Mamm" when I was waiting to register. The nurse at the operating room corrected herself after asking Mister to come back. This went on and on all morning with every nurse or attendant.
I guess the facial work I had done in January has come to fruition. I wanted to look younger and more feminine and I suppose I have achieved my goal in spades. It is becoming so common that I almost am no longer shocked when it happens.
I guess I don't have to give much effort to not look male any longer but what is left of the man I once was is not buried as deeply as I assumed.
About two weeks ago I was heading to work and stopped at a CVS pharmacy. As I began walking towards the entrance I saw a man violently shaking a young woman. A nanosecond later, he was flying backward into the brick wall with my forearm planted firmly against his neck. I looked up (emphasis on looked up) and told him to pick on someone with a disposition as bad as his (I imagine there were some profanities scattered about that statement).
I stepped back with my right arm drawn back ready to try and land the first blow. It was then that it dawned on me that I had slammed a man into a wall who was 30 years my junior, who outweighed me by 40 pounds of muscle, and was maybe 4 inches taller than me (probably only a couple of inches taller had I been wearing heels....but as I was on my way to a construction sight, I had chosen cross trainers rather than stiletto pumps). Vegas odds makers were suddenly offering odds against me greater than if the New York Yankees were playing a game against a group of six year old girls.
I like to think he was intimidated by the rage in my eyes. Probably, he didn't want to risk having my blood splash all over him and half of the vehicles in the parking lot. For whatever reason, he said nothing, turned away, walked to his car, and left.
The adrenaline left my body at that point and I felt my entire body becoming very weak. I leaned against the wall and tried to catch my breath. I turned to the young woman and said "Please tell me you won't be back with that abusive (insert your own word here) later this evening. She explained that she had broken up with him several weeks back but had started carpooling with him a few days earlier. She assured me that she had her own place, a good job, and would never be with him again.
I waited with her until her sister came to take her back home so she could get her own car. She thanked me and was gone. Whatever I had stopped for no longer seemed important so I left too.
I am not sure there is a moral to this story. A natal woman would have probably ran inside and screamed for help (of course, this being Texas, many natal women would have reached in their purse, pulled out their pistol, and blew him straight to Hell). I suppose what I learned from this episode would be:
that I have grown a lot as a lady over the last few years but I am not yet grown;
that a man who will abuse a woman isn't much of a man at all and will back down from someone even if that person no longer strikes fear in the hearts of most men;
gel nails really do flex a bit before they break even when the wearer's fist is in a ball ready to throw a (hopefully) one punch knockout (you cannot say the same for acrylic nails);
I am happy that I could use what was left of who I once was to help someone in need.
