Once, back in the day, when you were still teens,
I won the decathlon, a pole vaulting fiend.
On bright orange boxes my face could be seen.
It seemed like I was living the American dream.

Yet my role as a hero was all just a pose.
I never felt comfortable wearing men’s clothes.
I longed for the feel of lace upon skin.
I just didn’t belong in the body I’m in.

I longed to be pretty, I needed a change-
with money no object that could be arranged.
Hormonal treatments would help my ***** blossom
They made my skin soft and they rounded my bottom.

Now in stockings and gingham I’m making the scene,
The thing I’ve most wanted since I was a teen.
Those parts that defined me- now surgically gone,
I just don’t know whether to scratch or to yawn.