Haven’t you read the Standards of Care of the Harry Benjamin International Gender Dysphoria Association?” Diana asked him.
“I curled up with them again last night.”
“I mean, it’s one thing to dress up for shows a couple nights a week and another entirely to spend every remaining moment of your life as a female. You know, statistics say that half of the people who get the surgery end up no happier than they were before.”
“But I’m not some impulsive adolescent,” Rusty protested. “I’ve been certain about this ever since I was five.”
It was true that Rusty’s kindergarten teacher had to prohibit him from taking part in most craft projects after she caught him in the lavatory squeezing his testicles between the dull blades of a pair of kiddie scissors.
Diana smiled as she recalled the day Rusty first told her that story. “And now you’re on your way to having your every wish fulfilled.” As am I, she silently added.