Shot in the Butt Part Two

I got my second shot last night, then went out with my roommates to a ridiculous restaurant and had two lavender lemon drops and my share of a calamari basket composed of tiny octopuses each the size of a thimble. So much for masculinizing effects. I then proceeded to make a anise ginger martini for myself and watch Morrissey music videos with my roommates, and then, of course, drunkenly put on my absent roommate Gracie's floral kelly green 70's sundress and almond hair oil and lip-synched the entirety of In The Aeroplane (on vinyl.) Just so you know how cool I am.

I definitely feel like my body is different than it was two weeks ago. The aforementioned notes, of course, plus the skin on my face, though not sprouting beard, feels rougher. People are saying that my voice is slightly deeper, but I think they're humoring me. My voice is definitely cracking though, on occasion, sometimes at inopportune moments. I'm definitely passing marginally, and situationally: I'm pretty sure I got a dirty look walking by the river holding hands with a dude (for some reason this observation reminds me of Woody Allen's "I distinctly heard him say 'Jew'" bit in Annie Hall), but when I'm at somewhere like, I don't know, an antique store or a foofy bar with women, it's "How are you ladies doing?" At the big silent auction fundraiser for work last weekend, someone said of me and my mom, "I thought you were sisters!" My mom got a pretty good kick out of this. I think she's getting accustomed to the whole thing.