ometimes, my body seems far away.

When I was almost 20, I hiked up the Flatirons of Boulder, climbed out on a red cliff, and took off my clothes.

I was actually pretty thin then. Thin-ner. I looked down at my skin in the drenching sunlight, and noticed that in the last few months ­ year? ­ I'd grown more hair on my legs and arms, and a line of fur below my navel, stretching into my future.

I was going to have a man's body, like my father's.

It was like greeting an old friend.