Persephone
09-02-2014, 12:45 PM
We all probably dream of miracles, hoping to wake up one morning to discover that we’re now women (or men for the FtMs).
I know that I always hoped and fervently prayed for that huge miracle.
In first and second grade, whenever we were divided by gender, I always tried to move to the girl’s side, fervently praying for the miracle that the teacher would finally see that I was really a girl.
Later, one of my GG friends told me that if I kissed my elbow I would turn into a girl. That one even appears in a children’s book, Marvin Redpost #3: Is He A Girl? By Louis Sachar (http://books.google.com/books/about/Marvin_Redpost_3_Is_He_a_Girl.html?id=WiJ9n9J0VOIC ).
After learning that, I spent days trying to kiss my elbow; pretty much nearly tore my rotator cuff trying to get to my elbow (I actually wondered if it would work if I tore my arm off and then kissed it).
But that big miracle never happened. Here I am, many years later, and despite all the prayers and the attempts, I still have some man bits.
But this week I experienced a Miracle, one that has been happening for me for several years, and which I never really thought about – it is The Miracle Of Ordinary.
I’m out for an evening with my spouse, Eryn, and Mimi. We’re waiting in line for an event. There are a few seats and they’ve sat down, but another woman, someone I don’t know, and I have struck up a conversation and we’re standing and talking for about thirty-five minutes (in 4” stilettos!). Her husband joins the conversation and, as husbands sometimes do, he contributes a particularly masculine comment to the conversation. She and I glance from him to each other for a split second and exchange one of those uniquely feminine “What do you expect from a guy” looks. The Miracle of Ordinary.
The next evening I’m again waiting in line, this time I’m with my spouse, my son, and a male cousin. I’m chatting with another stranger, the guy seated next to me, asking him questions about his career as an environmental photographer and letting him brag about all the wonderful places that he’s been that are closed to the public for environmental reasons.
I mention that I was at the same venue last night for a Girl’s Night Out and that we’d enjoyed it so much that we’d invited my son and young cousin for a return trip. I say “We could have brought my cousin last night but it would have been hard to stuff him in a dress.”
He laughs and says, “Yeah, that would never work.”
“Some bits just wouldn’t fit,” I giggle.
“Definitely!” he laughs at the seemingly preposterous idea, apparently never guessing that he’s chatting with someone who didn’t exactly grow up in a female body.
Sunday my spouse and I went to a Gem and Jewelry Show at the L.A. Convention Center. Lots of fun and lots of bling! As one of the vendors hands me my bag of purchased goodies he says, “There you go, Luv.”
The real Miracle doesn’t come in the form I expected, after all, I never did manage to kiss my elbow, but it turns out to be the best Miracle of all -- The Miracle of Ordinary.
Hugs,
Persephone.
I know that I always hoped and fervently prayed for that huge miracle.
In first and second grade, whenever we were divided by gender, I always tried to move to the girl’s side, fervently praying for the miracle that the teacher would finally see that I was really a girl.
Later, one of my GG friends told me that if I kissed my elbow I would turn into a girl. That one even appears in a children’s book, Marvin Redpost #3: Is He A Girl? By Louis Sachar (http://books.google.com/books/about/Marvin_Redpost_3_Is_He_a_Girl.html?id=WiJ9n9J0VOIC ).
After learning that, I spent days trying to kiss my elbow; pretty much nearly tore my rotator cuff trying to get to my elbow (I actually wondered if it would work if I tore my arm off and then kissed it).
But that big miracle never happened. Here I am, many years later, and despite all the prayers and the attempts, I still have some man bits.
But this week I experienced a Miracle, one that has been happening for me for several years, and which I never really thought about – it is The Miracle Of Ordinary.
I’m out for an evening with my spouse, Eryn, and Mimi. We’re waiting in line for an event. There are a few seats and they’ve sat down, but another woman, someone I don’t know, and I have struck up a conversation and we’re standing and talking for about thirty-five minutes (in 4” stilettos!). Her husband joins the conversation and, as husbands sometimes do, he contributes a particularly masculine comment to the conversation. She and I glance from him to each other for a split second and exchange one of those uniquely feminine “What do you expect from a guy” looks. The Miracle of Ordinary.
The next evening I’m again waiting in line, this time I’m with my spouse, my son, and a male cousin. I’m chatting with another stranger, the guy seated next to me, asking him questions about his career as an environmental photographer and letting him brag about all the wonderful places that he’s been that are closed to the public for environmental reasons.
I mention that I was at the same venue last night for a Girl’s Night Out and that we’d enjoyed it so much that we’d invited my son and young cousin for a return trip. I say “We could have brought my cousin last night but it would have been hard to stuff him in a dress.”
He laughs and says, “Yeah, that would never work.”
“Some bits just wouldn’t fit,” I giggle.
“Definitely!” he laughs at the seemingly preposterous idea, apparently never guessing that he’s chatting with someone who didn’t exactly grow up in a female body.
Sunday my spouse and I went to a Gem and Jewelry Show at the L.A. Convention Center. Lots of fun and lots of bling! As one of the vendors hands me my bag of purchased goodies he says, “There you go, Luv.”
The real Miracle doesn’t come in the form I expected, after all, I never did manage to kiss my elbow, but it turns out to be the best Miracle of all -- The Miracle of Ordinary.
Hugs,
Persephone.