The Real Me

I'm a tabby at heart.

Bruce Jenner becoming Caitlyn is child's play compared to what I've got going on. I've known about it for a long time but have kept it a secret, feeling trapped but with no options. But now I think maybe there is a possibility, what with all the  wild things going on these days in plastic surgery, to become my true self before I die. I even read about some Russian surgeon planning to do the first head transplant by 2017.

See, I'm really a cat inside. I look mostly like a human female but I am a kitty at heart, in mind, in ambition, goals, relationships -- in fact the whole ball of wax. (And by the way, a ball of wax seems like it would be lots of fun to play with, especially if it were rolled in catnip.) Cats have it all over people, and it pains me to have been born the wrong species. All I really want to do all day is run around outside chasing things but not catching them, then come back inside and eat treats and yummy food prepared for me, then find a secret place to take a nice, long nap. And not have to answer any questions like, "What's wrong with you today?"

I need to get hold of Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon. He would love this.