In my long and masculine life, I never considered identifying as a woman - until now. Yet, I'm sure of my decision. In fact, I wish this option had existed in the oppressive days of my youth. Let me explain. If I had been given a chance to live as a chick in high school, I wouldn't have begged cheerleaders to give me the time of day. In the locker room, I'd simply have asked them to pass me the soap. Plus, with me in the shower, those budding babes wouldn't have had to wonder about where they could hang the towels.
As a she-author, my writing career would've taken off sooner. You see, I sent my first article to many mags. When I got an offer, I discovered it was a lesbian publication. They obviously didn't realize that Lyn refers to a dude. (The feminine form is Lynn. With one N, it's the manliest name in all of the English language.)
Apparently, they thought my predatory juvenile old-school lust was hot edgy girl-on-girl eroticism. Unfortunately, I wasn't just a guy but relatively honest too. I felt compelled to tell the mag, and they felt compelled to never speak to me again. I foolishly decided to focus on my writing rather than filing a sexual discrimination suit. That was a horrible career move. So, why decide to publically declare myself a woman now? It's not because I need the taxpayers to buy me hormone therapy. At my age, all I really need to grow breasts is laying off the bench presses and laying on the butter cookies. It truly is that simple. No, I'm being driven by a deeper instinct.
As a believer in karma, I expect to someday be arrested for one of the many crimes against humanity or common decency I've commited over the years. How could I not? When the time comes that I must shower between the hairy beards of the Nation of Islam and the hairy asses of the Aryan Nation or with those rough-and-ready gorgeous ladies of wrestling at the penis-free penal colony, we all know where I want to be.
How should my enlightened readers respond? (I know I'm leaving most of you out, but right now I only want to talk with the enlightened ones.) You should call me Lynn and make sure that everyone can hear the double N. Male readers should respect that I'm an old-fashioned lady. You need to open doors and buy shit for me. Sundresses are nice, but I still prefer whisky and fine cigars. A girl wants what a girl wants.
Otherwise, I will call the sensitivity police at that toll free number where cowards can secretly report bullies. (I don't know whether there are government numbers where bullies can boldly report cowards.) Then, either the prison system will designate you as a woman or your cellmate will. Now, how do
you like not having your choices respected, hmmmmmm? Man up while I woman up!
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