I spent a few moments touching up my make-up in the wall mirror, trying not to think about my disappointment. I had just finished applying a fresh coat of gloss to my lips, when the depression that had been building up inside me finally became overwhelming, and suddenly my tears wee flowing like the water over a broken damn. I sobbed loudly and lowered my face into my hands, unable to contain my sorrow any more.
"I don't want to be a girl," I whispered in a choked, gasping voice.. "I don't want to be a girl."
The woman who entered the restroom shortly afterward found me like that, standing before the mirror, head in hands, crying my eyes out, and naturally she was sympathetic, asking me gently what was wrong as she offered me her shoulder to cry on. Feeling fragile and vulnerable, I gratefully accepted her consoling embrace and let her put her arms around me in a motherly way as I shed my tears into her blouse. It was so unlike me to break down in front of a stranger like that, but then I wasn't even sure who I was anymore, so who's to say what type of behaviour was like or unlike me. It certainly felt natural at the time.