I am not a man, I am a coffee table

I am procrastinating. I have decided to write something else and am midst outline. I am also a procrastinator and so I am writing on here.

I am in severe pain.

One of the most enlightening and pleasing things I have learnt in the last few months is that I am female. I spent some time with someone who is clearly masculine and it finally dawned on me that I am not equal to a man, I am different. Allowing for that difference and embracing it is is really quite a charming place to be. Masculinity it turns out is really very....attractive. I have loved it. It makes no less of me and in fact makes me more complete.

Except there is still the issue of my androgynous quality. Sometimes, just sometimes - in the midst of my new found female side, my inner male appears - as if from nowhere. In a moment of sheer stupidity and in a bout of tom foolery, I thought I would challenge a male with brute force. I lost. Not only did I resort to begging for mercy, I tore my meniscus.

Now I am facing potentially another knee operation and on top of that, have been banned from wearing high heels. This is a profoundly troubling ban. I have never purchased flat shoes in my life. I will have to spend the next few weeks being mistaken for a coffee table.

Repeat after myself: I am not a man, I am not a man, I am not a man.