His secretary seems unaware. I assume whatever conversation my counselor had was recent. The memo, so to speak, not yet issued.
“Yes,” she looks up not recognizing me.
“Warren, here to see Mr. Thompson.”
“Ms. Warren, are you expected?”
“It’s Renee Warren, and I believe I am.”
She buzzes. When announced I hear my boss suppress laughter but bids me to enter. For some reason I find myself stamping the floor to exaggerate the clicking of my high heels and swaying my hips most seductively.
There is no going back, I tell myself.
***
A most emotionally cathartic day. Jeers, whispers, some understanding women, some horrified men. The interoffice memo beseeched that my fellow workers accept my choice in lifestyle. No mention of the catalyst of all this... the acute medical need to snip my g
