I stare at the image on the screen before me and see…..myself.
Yet it isn’t me, not as I know myself anyway.
The subtleties of the change can not be detected through the gaze of the lense, the medical intervention taking place inside, altering my perception of self, so much I find my mind turning over as I come to terms with the (temporary) …
I want to say mutation because that’s how I feel…a barely recognisable mutation of the woman I was before
…but that word coats the lining of my mind, creating an echo which seeks to deceive. The truth it’s not really a mutation…see, my mind is no longer all my own either, another side effect of the situation. It’s simply a change
…a chemically induced temporary menopause….
which won’t last forever, and as much as I resent it, I am still me, even if I’m angry at who I see staring back in the mirror at me.
So I psyched myself up and played a game of dress up, reminding myself what it felt like as each foot slipped into my trusty fishnets, putting on the slinky little lingerie set and adjusting the suspenders just so, wrapping the corset around me and pulling the lacing tight.
I grabbed the camera and took a shot.
It’s blurry and out of focus,
but that’s ok,
because so am I.
To see who else is playing along this week, click the lips below