Before Caitlyn and Rachel slip off the radar screen entirely, I'm thinking of taking advantage of the possibilities opened up by these courageous pioneers.
I plan to walk around on stilts and say I'm seven feet tall.
I'm going to wear a prosthetic and claim a ten inch penis.
I may start speaking in a British accent and say I'm an earl.
Or I may get some Ta moko tattoos, learn how to do a war dance, and claim to be a Maori.
What I want most, however, is to get a fake ID that says I'm only 25 years old. I'll be the pioneer there.
Actually, I'd be far from the first to lie about his age. But, I'll probably be the first to refer to himself as "trans-age."
The fact is, I just don't feel right in my (old) skin. This grouchy, querulous old 61-year-old just isn't me. Inside, I'm a lithe 25-year-old who wants to -- and can -- do a lot of women.
And the important thing is, I identify as 25-years-old.
Anyway, since I'll undoubtedly have the media on my side, don't you dare contradict me, or you'll be denounced as a reprobate.