Transitioning – Part 1

With a rusty dull blade, I make a small incision and cut counter clockwise around the protruding flesh on the right of my chest. Knowing that they will be gone in a few short moments supersedes the excruciating pain that is coursing through my traitorous body. I saw hard and fast that sounds reminiscent of dull scissors cutting through jean-like material echo through my ear. Again, I am absent of feeling the pain because my over joy that they will soon be gone is more overwhelming. I try not to cut carelessly, in fear that if I cut too deep, then I will have to go to a hospital and explain my self mutilation. The first yellow clump of mammary flesh falls with a loud thud into the red plastic bucket below. I press an alcohol-soaked towel against the side where my breast once was. God made these, man taketh away. The white towel rapidly turns pink and then a deep shade of blood red, but slowly it soaks. With one side gone, I can already feel the freedom to move my arm without any obstruction. Like I said before, just knowing I will have gotten rid of my womanly curves that betray me on a daily basis is enough to ignore the throbbing blood-curdling pain and I begin to cut off the left. My sculpting is not as precise with my left hand, as I am not as well-versed in being as controlled, but somehow I manage successfully and once again replace the once was fleshy area with an alcohol-soaked towel. Finally I don’t have to lie down anymore to get that almost flat chest. Finally I am without the burdens that have lied to me all my life, so much so that I am ignorant to me slowly bleeding out, as I fall into a deep un-awakening sleep.