That's 28 days bumbling around as a man in a girl's body, 28 days of forgetting to answer when I hear "my" name, 28 days of homework, 28 days of avoiding non-essential human contact.
I make it seem all like gloom and doom, but shockingly, the school aspect has at least given me something to focus on. It's frustrating and soul-crushing, sure, but it gives me a reason not to be seen with the family or visit Lauren's friends. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself during the summer, although I hear summer school has open enrollment beyond being a punishment for failing, which at this rate is also on the table. I'm doing my best to make sure that doesn't happen, though, going over the textbooks as closely as I can manage. It's giving me a headache, although that, along with the bloating and spate of acne dotting my hairline, may just be symptoms of PMS. "Sadface," as they say.
28 days as it turns out is just long enough to stop the sirens that go off in my head every morning. Less and less as I head out into the world for the day, do I tense up and think "I AM SO FUCKED!" Instead, I just make sure I've got all my notebooks, othe ressential items, make sure I'm dressed appropriately. (I don't think this is something I need to worry about but I've heard of girls being sent home for wearing things that are otherwise considered normal fashion - slightly cleavage-baring or low-rising jeans, but I'm erring on the side of safety.)
With regards to the new me, I'll admit that this is the first thing that has made me a true nervous wreck. Be a teenager? Fine. Be a girl? Whatever. Give control of my life over to some random individual, who now hasn't contacted me for over a week? Concerned. So I sink a little further into my schoolwork. And I text my sister and Meghan constantly.
I'm also 28 days without a drink - the last time I tasted alcohol was the night I lost my body. There are a few sixpacks of Coors in the garage that I wonder if anyone wouldn't miss a few. Lord knows Lauren wasn't no saint, I found an empty bottle of Captain Morgan under her bed, among other damning items that I may or may not discuss later.
28 days. Long enough to start having to take some ownership of this body. Not only am I furtively investigating the cabinet under the bathroom sink, but wondering when I should do something about the light stubble that has emerged from my legs and armpits. It's not that I want to be a gorgeous girl, but I wonder what level of grooming I would put into myself if I had always been one.
When I get a bit more time - ie when I'm using this blog for more than just procrastinating, once the semester's over - I'll tell you more about Lauren's life and how to live it. For now I just needed to take a breather.
Lauren's mom pokes her head into my room, finding me still in my pj's, lying with the laptop resting on my abdomen. She looked confused, like this position is utterly unknown to her daughter.
"Honey, we're going to the mall today, are you coming?"
"No," I almost say, then I look over at the pile of textbooks I was intending to peruse for the tenth time. "Sure. Couldn't hurt."