Never tempt a recovering transvestite…

12 Jun

Balinese hotel staff keep asking me where my husband is. The regular, “I’m not married” response is getting a tad tiresome so I’ve been getting slightly creative with my answers. I’ve concocted a few that I plan to dip into at random, depending on who’s asking.

So why aren’t I married?
Well, I was, but I’m a war widow. There’s a strange war going on Sydney between Inner West and East and my poor husband was stricken by a Westie’s surfboard while paddling in Bondi. No one knows if it was intentional or an accident yet but I’ve taken some time out in order to escape the media hype (which hasn’t yet made it to Bali) and attempt to soothe my broken soul. Lots of massages are doing the trick. And Balinese coffee, served in copious amounts by attentive, silky skinned men with beaming smiles is also helping, though I may break down at any moment.

Again… why aren’t I married?
Well, I’m dying, you see. I have an unidentified disease and I’m actually here at this stunning resort as a result of the Make A Wish Foundation. I had a boyfriend but he ditched me when he realised I’d be dead in six months and I reached out a withered hand to a helpful charity organisation who are, over the course of however long I last, making my dreams come true. One by one. When you see me heading off to the elephant sanctuary, you’ll know I’ve only got moments left on this earth, as I’ve also requested a funeral involving a parade of exotic, ivory-tusked creatures, carrying the handles of my coffin with their trunks.

So really… why aren’t I married?
Well, OK, if you really want to know, I’m a transvestite in recovery. I just had “the” surgery, which after years of struggle, torment and inner torture, has finally rendered me 100% female. I’m a filthy, man-ravishing tornado of sexuality in my hometown, but being under strict instructions to “rest” after surgery, I’ve come to Bali for a bit of time out. I’m hoping some me-time will add the final touches to my new sense of being, as a woman, and so far I have refrained from prowling the grounds of this resort after-hours in an attempt to test the functionality of my new parts with innocent male employees.

Don’t tempt me. Can I have another coffee, please?

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