Thursday, January 12, 2012
Yesterday Jessie took her first gymnastics class as a girl, with girls. Girls who didn’t know (or care) that Jessie has boy parts. Out of respect (and a healthy dose of anxiety) I had made sure that the teacher knew the reality of the situation and waited with bated breathe when the class ended to see how things had gone, both for Jessie and, frankly, the teacher, Laura. Much to my pleasure, both came out over the moon. Jessie, a bright red mass of sweating child with the cute hairclips meant to both hold back the hair and feminize her (ever so slightly) hanging on by a single hair, was elated and only wanted to ensure that I had followed through and handed over the cash to hold her spot. Some call it a mortgage payment (really? $400 is the pro-rated amount?) , but it was worth it. Laura, who I have to believe was a bit trepidacious going into class (I know I would have been)(wait, I was) had a smile just as wide as Jessie’s.
Ever the worrier, I quietly and privately inquired as to whether the other girls seemed to notice anything different about Jessie and Laura emphatically assured me otherwise. While Jessie still looks, in many ways, like Georgie, it didn’t entirely surprise me to hear this. It thrilled, but didn’t surprise me.
Later in the evening, after showering and having a “healthy” dinner (my chow hound has suddenly become more aware of that which she puts in her belly) I inquired if this was one of the three happiest days of her life. She nodded and asked, “which do you consider the other two?”. I responded that the others were the day she discovered that she wasn’t the only person in the world who feels this way and the second was the afternoon we spent ravaging the racks at Delia’s. With a huge smile, Jessie agreed and thanked me, for the dozenth time, for being so supportive. She then asked for a chocolate pudding with extra whipped cream. So much for the hangup about healthy eating…
p.s. I am finally finding writing about this helpful to me. (For a while there it was impossible for me to write a check, let alone anything of meaning) (And yeah, part of the reason I couldn’t bring myself to write a check was, well…never mind. That’s a whole different blog) If you are finding it annoying, cumbersome, boring or otherwise irritating, please please please let me know and I will stop sending them to you. I figure this is better that eating, drinking or shopping away my feelings.