Page 13 - jesse book

reading time, scoffing loudly at one of our group’s inevitable giggles.
The Clay Ball Room, my favorite, finally answered the question of what does it feel like to be a human “pie dough”; as tiny weights coexisted all around and on top of us. They were the perfect heat to relax your muscles and added a nice texture as well.
We were only advised to stay in the Hottest, wood laid, sauna for ten minutes; anyone who stayed longer was either an idiot or showing off; or perhaps an idiot for showing off.
After all was well and done, jokes were made, water was drank, and sweat had oozed from every single pore; it was time for the Cold Room. As far as I understand, smite Victoria if I’m wrong, you excavate your pores and release them of toxins through the heat of the first four rooms. Then you let them constrict and lower your body to a normal human temperature.
Considering how profusely we had all managed to sweat, the Cold Room brought a new meaning to the phrase “Disney on Ice”. We stayed for about 15 minutes before shuffling back down the stairs. It was again time to strip, however this time, we would all be showering and therefore naked for an even longer period of time.
What played out before me was not completely unlike the opening scene of Carrie. Of course I didn’t have my first, or any period, but I constantly felt under the searing gaze of 60 women. I figured it was only a matter
of time before they pushed me over and hysterically laughed at me. Scenarios like this becomes more and more believable when my stomach was in complete view, as I am truly at my most vulnerable.
It wasn’t just my unfortunate flab, it was my transness. Whether I found myself at a crowded black tie party or bare ass at a Korean Spa, my identity found ways to permeate. It was palpable in the eyes of people’s stares, their whispers, the air they breath; everything felt like judgment day. I was not a stranger in a strange land, I was a focal point, a drop of blood for the sharks; every move I made felt like a test I needed to pass. If I failed, I would be immediately reported or worse, attacked.
As a a woman, I did my best to be a woman, present like a woman, interact with my coworkers like any typical (cis) women would. Nevertheless, I feared when my laugh got too deep, when my adams