Return of the Kacee (cue the Star Wars theme and scrolling text)

Late last week, my fabulous prom date (who, after graduation, had gotten married, later divorced her husband, embraced her lesbian identity and is currently in a relationship with a woman) texted me to ask whether I was going to our 20^th high school reunion.  While I may have received emails in ‘his’ Facebook inbox about the reunion, I really haven’t paid much attention to them.  I mean, why disturb the thin layer of dust thats settled over ‘his’ neglected Facebook account to read them?

Intrigued, I checked and, sure enough, the reunion is set this weekend in our school’s gym.  For the paltry sum of $100, I will be able to dine on the finest foods (maybe) and imbibe freely in the open bar (keeping in mind my tipsy limit of one whopping drink) in the sweaty gross place where I spent many a tortured morning in all campus masses.  (As an aside, have I mentioned that I’m not really Catholic?  Yeah, those weren’t fun.)

As a bit of background, I didn’t attend the 10^th or 15^th reunions because I didn’t care to see the majority of those people.  I have kept in touch with my group of high school friends and, at those gatherings, hear gossip about the others who I have not kept in contact with.  Growing up transgendered, high school was a difficult time for me.  While the teenage me couldn’t comprehend that I was transgendered, I just never felt comfortable in my own skin.  I was the awkward, nerdy Asian boy who played with computers and took the geeky math and science classes.  While I’m sure that it would’ve come in handy had I pursued a career involving math and science (d’oh!), it also meant that I didn’t have much of a social life.  Consequently, while many would consider high school their glory years, for me, it was akin to a 4 year proctological exam administered by Mickey Mouse and his big Mickey mitts.

My initial knee jerk response was that I would only go for bad karma reasons… to see how many times the kids, who used to tease and make fun of me, had been to prison, whether they live in trailer parks, if they clean up after buffalo with digestive problems for a living or if they have fewer teeth in their mouth than an 11 month old infant.  However, while amusing, none of these seemed to be a good enough reason to drop a Ben Franklin and spend an evening at the reunion.

As a result, when my prom date first reminded me of the reunion, the memories of high school didn’t exactly prompt an immediate ‘hell yeah.’  Over the weekend, I’ve had more of an opportunity to think and chat with friends about whether this is something that I’d like to attend.  I mean, going to an all Catholic high school, how would people handle a transsexed Kacee?  Will people relate to me?  Or treat me as an outcast because they think I’m freaky?  Even worse, what about the senior portrait pic on my “Hi! I’m Kacee, really… even though there’s a picture of a boy in the left corner of this name tag” name tag?    

With all of these worries in mind, why would I consider going to the reunion?  I could spend my $100 on a much more fabulous and yummy dinner.  If they’re charging $100 for a dinner in the gym, they better be serving mesquite grilled unicorn drizzled with a chutney made from the fruit from the Tree of Life and Knowledge… but I’m sure it’ll be rubber chicken, soggy vegetables or ‘mystery meat’ meatloaf. 

While reliving the torturous high school years isn’t something that I really want to do, I’m hoping to gain some insight into that awkward boy… and how he became the confident self aware woman I am today.  Second, as the nerdy Asian boy, I really didn’t know a lot of the people who I see trading messages on the reunion chat page; perhaps this is a good chance to get to know some new people.  Third, in light of the difficulties I’ve been having at work with my boss, post transition, perhaps I can meet someone, hit a networking home run and find a shiny new job.  However, the most important reason to go to the reunion is for myself.  As a nerdy Asian boy, I never felt at home at school or in my own body.  This weekend will allow me to retread his steps down the hall and into the gym… this time, in fabulous heels and radiating the wonderful and loving feminine spirit within me. 

Do I know that things will go well?  Will I meet some interesting people?  Will I get to knee one of the jerks who messed with me back then in the groin?  Will they serve mesquite grilled unicorn meat?  While, I don’t know the answers to any of these questions (perhaps, except for the last one)… the main attraction is the adventure of showing up and seeing where it takes me.