With each passing week, it gets harder to remember what life was like as a man. When I try to remember what it was like to wear a suit and tie, my mind is flooded with images, sounds, and feelings of walking in a tight pencil skirt and staccato clicks as I walk in my stiletto heels. I try to imagine my tie, but all I can see are my boobs jutting out proudly from my chest. I try to remember what it was like to be a husband, but all I can see is my wife and I zipping up each other’s form-fitting dress and applying makeup on ourselves before going out. Maybe this means I was always meant to be a woman.
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