It seems slightly old-fashioned these days, but there's something I still aspire to in my scruffy day-to-day persona: to be a gentleman. My ever-handy dictionary describes a gentleman as "a chivalrous, courteous, or honourable man", and I'd render it into a more down-to-earth "do the right thing mate, don't be an arsehole".
It goes without saying that this is not an aspiration confined to blokes. The dictionary definition for lady made me laugh: "a courteous, decorous, or genteel woman", I never knew it would be OK to be decorous but I wouldn't need to be honorable when in Jenny mode. But it still works in the vernacular: "do the right thing love, don't be an arsehole".
This week I have been disappointed in some of what I have read on our little corner of the blogosphere. Views that contradict mine I have no problem with, I welcome the cut-and-thrust of debate. Rants are fine too, even unfocused ones. Hell, they can even be entertaining. Where I felt a line had been crossed was the point at which I started reading personal attacks based on people's appearance. Just as we can't help whatever weird and wonderful brain structures have been bestowed upon us, we can't help our genetics and the ravaging effects of years of the wrong hormonal mix on our bone structures. I won't post links, but some of you will know where I've been reading.
Medical science has been wonderful for those of us suffering from GD. It can never erase a male history but it can now deliver as good a facsimile of womanhood as we could possibly hope for. However I've learned this week that there is one thing it can not do. It does not matter where on his scale Dr. Benjamin would have put you, how many surgeries you have had or how many years practice you have under your belt: the doctors can make you into a woman but they can't make you into a lady.