“Hello you big beautiful hunk of woman! Hello you gorgeous, wonderful, brilliant femme! Hello!”
It was TBB on the phone as I walked through the supermarket
“Thanks,” I said. “You are probably the only one who will call and wish me happy Valentines. And you did it so bold and big!”
“Well, you deserve it. A crazy tranny called me this morning, exuberant about me. I wasn’t expecting a Valentine, but I thought about it, and it counts. It so counts,” she told me.
Yes, it does, even if I can’t melt too much in my uniform in the grocery.
My mother also got me a valentine and wrote two names on it, saying she loves me “whatever.” It would have been nicer if she hadn’t needed to interrupt my work to give it to me, rushing to get her urine towels in, to move cars, scrape the sidewalk, after having to fix my sister’s new phone, falling on the ice, hard, shopping and all the rest. But she is like an eight year old; she wants attention when she wants it, and waiting for someone to be open is work too hard.
TBB surprised me and made me smile, even if my body is bruised and I can’t really be pretty until next week.
But it counts. It so counts.