Here was me a female in thought within the body of man hitting a bulls-eye my first launch of ovum seeking genetic coded wrigglers.
“How’s that for potent accuracy” I thought.
This gig as Ivan Stan had sure taken a turn around a corner I didn’t calculate.
I’d always prided myself in being organized with at least three or four backup plans.
So was this life teaching me not to be so anal in my strategies and teaching me that life should be a mix of plans and the unexpected?
To get a grip I tried to add some normalcy to my life and got into some major domestic bliss. It surprised me how quickly I got it done getting this man me to reach into places and lift furniture out of the way. This was indeed a good body that I cohabitated but the pervading thought was it wasn’t mine; I began to yearn for my feminine curves, bosom and hoo-hoo.
Another week passed leaving me with just two weeks and panic was starting to raise its ugly mug. Mum phoned to see how Ivan Stan was going for my ruse was he was house-sitting for me while I holidayed in Peru. Hearing my mum’s voice I wanted so badly to say “Mum, I’ve some news, you’ll be a grandma like you’ve wanted all these years but I’m not the mum to be, I’m the dad”
I could see her fall to the floor clutching her chest so I kept my mouth shut and muttered “no I haven’t got a postcard either, maybe they’re lost in the mail. “
Rita my girlfriend turned up late that night forgetting that I was out of town and met me instead as Ivan Stan. I could see she’d not had the best night out and had come to visit for a natter about her single status feeling like it was tattooed on heart.
Geeezzz… she took one look at me as Ivan Stan and I could see the wedding ring on her finger materialize. She’s my dearest friend, we know each others inner secrets and I felt so low down and mean as I kept a polite distance.
She got the hint and I knew she‘d later be lamenting “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get a bloke?”
I wanted to tell her straight that she goes for them dudes who have way too much baggage in their past.
A few days later a letter arrived from the cop dude who’d been instrumental in releasing me from my hostage situation from the ‘Bride of Frankenstein’.
Maybe my name should have been Frank instead of Ivan Stan.
The letter informed my Frankie bride was to have a medical exam to determine our baby’s gestation.
I read the letter and my eyes started to water with fear and bewilderment. Was it right to use my last wish to delete this chapter of my life and would I feel like I’d committed some kind of crime?