[Converse]

I’m a Stone Butch, I’m tough, I came out of the womb that way – In fact I’m so tough that I had to google “ where do Stone Butches come from?” and found the word “womb”, after all Stone Butches don’t concern themselves with that kind of “women’s stuff” do they?

I have an education, I can write a dissertation without much of a nudge, but ask me to discuss an ovary and I will stare blankly. Women don’t discuss “secret women’s business” around baby stone butches let alone grown ones, and the most personal conversation between tough Stone Butches may involve tips on packing or if we are feeling particularly sensitive- the awkwardness of binding may get raised.

It was clear to me that the new washing machine obviously caused my jeans to shrink, but I became slightly confused when the same happened to my belts – had someone been putting them in the wash as well? I checked the buckles for signs of being placed in the dryer.

Then my energy level dropped, probably a reaction to the world climate change, I should start eating raw meat or buckets of spinach, and will as soon as I stop turning the house upside down looking for chocolate. The hunt for sugar is exhausting.

I’m probably so tired because it’s hard to sleep in the furnaces of hell, laying there in a pool of perspiration I think I should quickly go and water all of the plants before they die in this heat – I will as soon as I get the energy.

What I don’t understand is why the teenager is so loud all of the sudden, and why the cashier is moving at a speed that if any slower would actually result in her working in reverse, and since when did my pin number on my debit card end in a zero, and have I always taken sugar in my tea?

Those weren’t tears that came from watching that stupid show, it’s quite obvious that my eyes are simply watering - a reaction to having just recently been prescribed reading glasses. I knew that I didn’t need glasses because I was getting older- its just that my eyes are tired, they will believe me once I start eating that raw meat and my hawk eye vision returns. It’s also probably why I can’t finish reading a book, and has nothing to do with suddenly developing the attention span of a 3 year old (although oddly, a childish temper tantrum has some appeal right now).

After I had run the cold water over the top of my head, opened all the doors and the windows and put the ceiling fans on maximum – I stared in disbelief at my wife who seemed to be sitting calmly unperturbed by the sudden heat wave that had hit. “Aren’t you boiling up?” I asked, “No” she replied – I had to touch her skin before I could be convinced.
I finally declared “I’m sick! I have a fever!”
She smiled, she said “it’s called menopause”. “No you don’t understand- I just don’t feel myself, I can’t explain it”.
My wife took me to the healthfood store – we stood in the women’s care section, I looked at the labels. I was suddenly struck with having to acknowledge the body I was born into - I became disorientated and chose to wait outside.

As I type this I’m looking at a bottle labelled “ Womensense – for the reduction of hot flashes and other symptoms of menopause”.

I select “female” on official forms, perhaps in my lifetime “Butch” will appear as an option on those forms, but until then I’m ok with my selection. And one day “happy birthday to our daughter” cards will sit next to “happy birthday to our Butch”, on the shelves at the gift stores, but in the mean time I’m ok with opening the card that my parents send me. But this, this dialogue, verbiage and images of womanhood and femininity in the context of discussing Me, is something I’m having a hard time coming to terms with.

I’ll think about it some more after I have splashed some cold water over my head.