Day in her life.

MORNING

You walk off to the bathroom in a half sleep daze and expect to shoot straight into the bowl. But there is nothing to hold and you are forced to sit to do your business. It’s odd but doable and you think nothing of it. You believe your facial hair to itch and you run a hand over your face to find absolute smoothness.

You start to wake up!

You open your eyes to find two new friends hanging off your chest. Now you are wide awake. And sleepy or not, you should have known something was off. It doesn't stop you from touching the strange apparitions on your chest. They've always amused you anyway. Why deny yourself the pleasure when they are in close range. Not large and a bit of you deflates. Size matters. You know this so well as a boy. Does it matter to girls?

You sit on the toilet wondering how long this will last. Is this a bad dream or not? Worst of all, is this permanent or not? You settle for a bad dream and temporary and go back to bed. Any minute you will wake up and all will be right with the world again. An hour later and you realise this is not a passing fever.

You call in sick at work. You need all the time in the world to figure this out. You can't remember if there was ever a moment in your life when you wanted to be a girl and now you are lost at what you should do with this predicament you find yourself in. What was the first thing you wanted to do as a girl? How do girls fill their days? It's a redundant question you know. They probably do the same things guys do. You figure that this day is going to be filled with questions of what is appropriate or not for a girl.

None of your clothes fit the small frame you appear in. You have no bra. Obviously. But you've noticed the new trend where girls are hardly married to them anymore. Your underwear feels weird. Really weird. Every movement reminds you of your missing member. And that is truly what you feel like - dismembered. You shudder to think of the permanence of all of this.

You slip in and out of the jeans easily and settle for your shorts whose waist fitting you can adjust. And throw on one of those slim-fitting shirts that appear large on this tiny frame. Look at the bright side of things. This could be fun. You try to convince yourself. You make a plan.

But first, breakfast. You think of whipping up something like your mother used to - a pie or those butter cookies you loved. You go through the motions and find that cooking is not inborn or particular to girls. Or maybe that's because you retained your 'male brain'. Shouldn't muscle memory be stronger? Or this body you got had never done any cooking. For the first time, you consider if there is anyone out there who woke up in your body. Were they handling their transition better?

MID-MORNING

You go visit your father. When he opens the door, he sputters. You know why. You've always looked mostly like him and whatever voodoo they performed on you didn't change that fact. You think of explaining that it's you but there are few times in your life that you've seen your father off his tracks and you relish this moment. And besides you've always wondered how he'd behave around a girl, a daughter.

In his shock, he lets you in and asks you to explain. You don't think there is much to say and you make up a story hoping he'll fill in the gaps. He shakes his head fiercely and insists that he has only ever had sexual relations with your mother. You are a blur of emotions on how to take that information. Especially considering that at just 28, your 'body count' is quickly catching up with your age. And they have been at least two girls who claimed you had gotten them pregnant. But your father doesn't budge from his claim. You tell him that it might have been a result of a drunken night. He seems doubtful. You start to wonder about the life your father has led but still insist. You look like him! To push him into a corner you suggest a DNA test and he gives up. He asks why you are here and you give those scripted answers 'to know you, know my origin'. In your head, you can't wait to laugh about this away from him.

He cries over this and you feel guilty. He is so open around his 'daughter'. You can't recall if you ever saw your father cry. Even when your mum died. You know he mourned her. He still does but he was never vulnerable around you. He just patted you on the back the day you buried her and asked you to be strong. He writes you a cheque of an amount you didn't think 'poor father' had. You've always asked him for money and all he ever tells you is to man up. You are shocked by the amount, truly shocked. And you wait for him to explain that he was leaving this for his son but he says nothing. You feel robbed somehow. Of course, you've still ended up with the money but he doesn't know that it's you.

On your way out, he hugs you. You haven't done that in a decade and it feels good. You don't know if he is this expressive because he lost his wife or because you are a girl. And you refuse to ponder it further for fear of what you might find. He says he wants to get to know you and you feel yourself on the brink of tears. You want that too. Deeply. Before he goes. He asks for a meeting a week. At your favourite place. You tell him 'The Garage'. It's where you work but he shows no recognition. You can't wait for the shock on his face when it's you; male and estranged, that shows up.

AFTERNOON

Your meeting with dear old dad eats up most of your time but it paid off. You have enough money to pay off your debts and then some. You feel rich and it's a good feeling. You surmise that it is a good feeling in any gender. The boys are at your usual hang out. For a moment, you forget your new body and rush up to them. They stare at you all weird with something that looks like recognition laced with suspicion. You tell them you are your sister and you talk about them so often it feels like meeting long-lost friends. They buy it and conversation flows. They send drinks round the table and once or twice they find excuse to bump into your chest. They do it so casually it takes you forever to notice that it is inappropriate.

A girl walks in and you all turn to look. She ignores the stares and cat-whistles. You wonder if her breasts are comfortable in that bra and try to tell if hers are bigger. But you think she's got great legs and say that out loud. She raises an eyebrow and stares at you till you are uncomfortable. The guys on your table are choking with quiet laughter. She says thanks and shrugs it off. Almost. She chances glances at you a number of times but you've moved on to more thinking. Don't women comment on those things? They always seem so open with each other. Did you say it wrong? Do women have a code to go by on how to compliment each other? You give up. Women are just as unfathomable from a female's meagre perspective as a male's.

The boys smooth it over and the moment is passed.

EVENING

You also want a date and pull up your dating app. You look a mess, you know it. But you've thought about it, on and off throughout the day - how different sex must be from a woman's perspective. You think of going through with it but does pregnancy mean staying in this body for 9 more months, tied to the purpose of ensuring the continuity of the species? You decide to go out with a girl, at least that's not so far out of your depth.

You find your date dressed to impress and you feel a little terrible. The app showed your very male profile. You give her the well-used sister excuse. That you were caught up but didn't want to stand her up and sent your sister instead. This could be fun. You'll still pay the bill though. She relaxes visibly and says you'll go dutch. 'Us girls have got to stick together you know' she adds. Your day experience hasn't given enough insight into the depth of that statement. But you've noticed the looks that have followed you throughout the day from the men. And because you know most of the thoughts that accompany those looks, you've felt uneasy. You've also noticed the looks from the women, so open and trusting. They've encouraged you to coo at their babies, one even asked you to hold one as she searched for something. You've always loved babies so it's not an aftereffect of oestrogen but here it's not laced with suspicion of how you could be a killer or worse, a pedophile. It's uncanny how occurence of just one chromosome changes your course in so many ways.

You sit through the date and its great. Disarmed of your need to impress, you both bring your imperfect selves forward. You really listen to her now that your mind is not high on the aftermath of the date. And she is not stiff like you usually find them, as though constantly auditioning for something. She likes the food here and says so, admits she can't cook. You say same but are now thinking of cooking classes. She loves the idea and wants to tag along but there is a high chance you'll be back to your true self and say maybe she should go with your brother. She asks you if your brother is nice. You think of talking yourself up to her but the trust in her eyes leads you to give the truth. If she is looking for long term commitment, you don't think he is there yet but if she is looking for a good time, a wild body shaking then he's the guy. She laughs at your term but thanks you for your honesty. Away from the sexual tension, the two of you have really gotten along. You decide she makes a good friend, maybe more. But slow steps. Slow steps. You think of making a 'Find Friends App' fashioned after your experience.

NIGHT

You are not a man of prayer but you find yourself bargaining with the gods to return your weird old self just before you turn in. It's not been bad. It has actually not been bad, aside from a few mishaps. But a day is not enough to appreciate all the facets of a female existence.