On a certain level I'll always think of myself as a man with an incurable disability, no matter how hard I work I'll never be able to keep up with the men around me if they ever seriously considered me as competition. The fattest and laziest manlet on my site could pop my head like an overripe cantaloupe if he ever really wanted to. I manage to scrape ahead and look good for management just because they're rotund and disinterested, too comfortable to really care or push themselves. I'm a mangy feral weasel outcompeting pampered domestic terriers only because their needs are met just for existing, if they were ever truly hungry they would tear me to shreds in an instant.

I hate the way my body looks, I hate my body's useless protrusions and its pointless monthly ejaculations of gore. I hate the way I look and I hate the way other women look, I hate their gawky swaying strides and I hate that no matter how much I might try I'm more like them then I want to admit. I hate the way they talk, I hate the way they laugh, I hate their wretched clothes and overdone hair, I hate their cloying skin concoctions and all their ornamentations, I hate that some of them say they're men, I hate their dependence and their fake superiority and most of all I hate the fact that I'm stuck as one of them.

To men I'll always be a curiosity at best, a fucked up mascot that they keep around as a bauble with a pulse a two-headed calf that just refuses to die. In my relations with men I'm only protected by the fact that I was blessed to be born ugly, if they respect me it's only in the same way they might admire a toy dog that tries to chase down a bear. To women I'll always be a traitor and a subhuman thing, a polluting industrial runoff that they'd rather just ignore but occasionally see fit to attempt to correct or do away with, an irritating blight on their landscape.