Loving The Skin I'm In

"Being a woman is about more than just the pleasure you've been chasing," she starts, after a sip of her fathomless tea, "Hell, being a human is about more than just fucking. You should know that. You've certainly had enough dry spells in your life to gain that level of understanding."

I cock an eyebrow and retort a mocking refrain, "That's not a particularly solid point there, Baba. I wasn't exactly living a fulfilling life when I wasn't getting laid."

"Fair point," she concedes, "But are you living one now?"

"Too early to tell," I shrug, "Maybe it'll be enough for me."

"It won't," she smiles knowingly, "And you know it. And you know why too. You've seen it too much in those glimpses that you spied of the future.

"With your friends and your enemies. With people you tried to love and those that tried to love you. You saw each of those possibilities and you know they were empty. Roommates with Rachel or submissive to Eddie. Doting wife to Blake or daring woman on his arm to Lucas. None of them struck you as particularly happy. In none of them were you anything more than passingly content.

"And I could give you a million more glimpses into a million different possibilities and each one would be just as hollow in its own unique way. Because each one of them would hold a singular flaw that you're still keeping to and that you are indulging in each and every time you try to find some fundamental meaning in the pleasure of someone elses company.

"Do you know why that is?"

I shake my head, suspecting that I could give a million answers and none would be correct because this was one of those fundamental kind of blindspots that encompass your fatal flaw.

"They're not about you."

Something clicks in my brain and I laugh, a snort that is half-bemusement and half-mocking, "You're saying I need to be more self-centered?"

"No," she replies, clearly exasperated that the child she's been speaking to isn't really getting it, "I'm saying that you need to realize that if you rely on others for your own happiness then you'll never be truly happy. If your own happiness is dependent on the whims of another, you'll always be left wanting.

"And I'm saying that you need to find your joy, your fundamental pleasure, outside of the pleasure of someone elses company. That you need to learn to love all the moments you're in, in order to love yourself and in order to find your own happiness in the end.

"And I'm saying that you know it too. That you've caught glimpses of it in the subtle little moments. That being her, in the moments in-between, are sometimes better than being her at the height of a climax."

It's true. It's something that I cannot deny. The little moments when I'm just enjoying the stretch and the movement of my body. When I'm reveling in the pleasure of being her.

Even here, mere moments ago, when she made me reflect on myself and the difference between my old body and this one it wasn't just the pleasures of the flesh that I noticed. It was the difference in her, the shift of nerves and the heightened sensations and...

"I love being her," I say, "Not just in the moment of climax but in all moments. I love being her and I need to revel in the feeling of it, in the quiet things. I'm her now and I need to understand that being her is about more than being with someone else and more even than about loving the skin you're in. It's about..."

"It's about finding joy in the quiet moments," she finishes for me, "It's about finding those moments pleasurable that everyone else just dismisses almost out of hand, almost forgets about.

"And you have such a unique perspective my dear because you're starting in the middle. When you reflect on yourself you only notice the changes, the differences, and so you are uniquely situated to recognize and celebrate them."

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