I am as strong now as I ever was in my teens—steadier, actually, now that my raging hormones have subsided and my lymph nodes have been cut out, leaving me sweatless.
I’m coordinated, flexible, sturdy. Inside, I’m young.
So why do I find myself doing all the old-lady things I swore I would never do: I wear my hair dyke-short and gray. I have not only purchased but actually wear a slipper-like boat of a shoe called Easy Spirit. I wear clothing so without charm, its only and obvious justification is comfort.
How did I come to such a pass?
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