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Recently, I got a sex change on a whim. I was out drinking with some friends, got really drunk, and went in for the surgery. The doctors suggested I wait until I was sober, but I said no, give me the sex change.
Well, to make a long story short (so to speak), I woke up with breasts, a vagina, and a splitting headache. Also, I had a tattoo. I donít remember where I got it, but there it was.
I was a woman for several weeks. The people at work were nice about it, but, to tell you the truth, I didnít really have time to enjoy being a womanóI was swamped with projects. Finally, I decided to go back to being a man. For one thing, I hadnít thought about how you need to change your whole wardrobe.
When I went in for the second surgery, I asked the doctor if he could also remove the tattoo while he was at it. He said, ďBut since youíre going to be a man again, wouldnít you like to keep the tattoo?Ē I said no, man or woman, I didnít want the tattoo.
I woke up from the operation, and I was a man again. But get this: I still had the tattoo! I thought, Am I crazy? I confronted the surgeon, and he said he thought we had left the tattoo part undecided. Now that I was a man, I felt like punching him, but I didnít. Instead, I just made an appointment to come back and get the tattoo removed.
I should have been suspicious when I went back to the hospital and they put me under full anesthesia, because when I woke up I was a woman again but the tattoo was still there! They said it had been a mistake, and to make up for it they would do my next surgery for free.
I didnít know what to do. I became depressed. I started getting hounded by my insurance company. They had covered my sex-change operations in full, but they said they didnít cover tattoo removal. But I didnít have a tattoo removal, I told them. They said they had already paid my doctor for one by mistake, and now I had to reimburse them. I called my doctor, and he said he hadnít received any payment for tattoo removal.
I was so mad, I felt like suing someone. But who? My drinking buddies didnít have any money, and I had no luck tracking down the tattoo parlor.
I gave up. I started hitting the bars and sleeping around. I donít even remember if I was a man or a woman at that point. I felt a little cheap, so maybe I was a woman.
One night, after some meaningless sex, he or she turned to me and said, ďYou know, I really like your tattoo.Ē Something clicked in my head, and in my gut or maybe my uterus. I hadnít realized it, but I also liked the tattoo. I was a tattoo person!
I called my doctor and told him the news: I wanted to get another sex-change operation, but I was going to keep the tattoo. He said I was an idiot. But I donít care. If wanting to keep your tattoo makes you an idiot, then Iím the king of the idiots. Or the queen of the idiotsóI have to look.
~~ oOo ~~