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||FANTASIA
I woke up at precisely 5:45 am on the dot just as my iPhone alarm intended. I unearthed myself from underneath the covers, pushing them back and swinging my legs over the side of the bed to slide my feet into my fuzzy wine-colored VS slippers. I pulled my grey gym shorts on over my Ethika boxers, putting a cropped crew neck on over my sports bra as goosebumps rose up on my skin from the draft of cold air in my bedroom. I walked across the carpet into my bathroom, sliding the glass door of my shower open and turning the water on. I took off the old eucalyptus that was hanging around the shower head and replaced it with fresh greenery. While I waited for the mirror to fog up, I stripped out of my clothes. This is the part of my morning routine that I always dread. The part where I stare at my reflection and hyper-fixate on the one thing I hate about myself that I can't change. It's so big and veiny. It makes me feel like a freakish monster and I hate it. I was born intersex, which means that I have a penis. My birth certificate says female, but the appendage hanging between my thighs tells a completely different story. I don't know who or what I am. I hate my body. I feel so ridiculous with these triple d-breasts and fat ass with a dick between my legs. I grew up in a foster home all the way up until the age of 18 when I was legally able to go out on my own. Nobody wanted a genetically mutated monster baby. The police found me in a trash can a few days after I was born. My parents couldn't love me, and I can't say that I blame them. I don't know how to love me, either. I feel like my spirit is trapped in a body that doesn't belong to me, like my body is not my own. It's an awful feeling that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, and I have to live with it every day of my life. Nobody knows my secret, not my best friend who I consider my human diary. I tell my roommate everything, but this is something that I can never talk about. I don't want her to be disgusted with me like I am with myself. I'm so afraid of her abandoning me like my parents did. I would rather carry the burden of my secret to my grave than risk losing Taraji. Her presence in my life and my kids that I teach are the only thing that keep me going sometimes.
I tore myself away from the mirror, thinking that the shower water would turn cold by the time I was done scrutinizing my body in the reflection. I stayed in the shower for about 10 minutes before getting out and completing the rest of my morning hygiene routine. I went back into my connected bedroom with only my robe on and I made my bed. Once I was done, I sat at the edge of it to lotion and oil my body. I stared down at my fresh pair of cream Skims boxers in disdain as I scanned the racks of my walk-in closet with my narrowed eyes, trying to find something cute yet casual and breathable to wear to work. I'm so tired of boxers and boy shorts. I wish that I could wear the sexy, dainty little lace thongs that Taraji and most other women wear, but I don't have the reproductive parts that Taraji and most other women possess. I picked something off of a hanger, taking some jewelry out of the top drawer of my vanity to go along with it. I walked out of my closet, closing the French-style doors behind me. I did a light face-beat and put my ensemble together on my body. I always feel so much better when I'm covered up.
