For Cory, who showed me anything was possible.
“I still need to have rhinoplasty.” My ex played with the collar of her blouse, her gaze fixed on the mirror above the sink, and rattled off a list of surgeries I didn’t recognize. “And then I’ll be able to pass.”
I put my chin into my palm, leaning on the kitchen table. “What does it matter? I think you’re beautiful. Besides, the fact that you obsess over your body proves you’re a woman.”
Her voice dropped an octave as she smoothed imaginary creases from her shirt. “I just want to be perfect.”
I reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “No one is perfect.” I dug through the assortment of pastels on the table. “Here. Go try this one on. You look good in purple.” Smiling, she took the tank-top from me and headed into the bathroom. I felt a pang as she closed the door. With a sigh, I wandered the kitchen, finding myself in front of the mirror under garish lights.
The soft contours perplexed me, but before I could recognize my reflection, my ex emerged from the bathroom.
My breath caught.
Brock, B. A. (2015). In Between. Alchemy, volume 41, 5.