What goes around... comes back to me

Oh, high school gossip circles, what would we do without you?

Apparently, there have been enough conversations between high schoolers that word that there's something unusual about me has reached one of my oldest friend's dads, who talked to my dad about--and I quote my father here--an "intervention."

Dear World:

My life, my decisions. If you have a problem with me, either keep it to yourself or talk directly to me.

Thank you.

Increasingly, I've been toying with the term "militant transsexual" (alternately, militant gay, militant lesbian, whatever). I define it as someone who is angry at society at large for how they are treated and perceived, and thus takes steps they might not normally take as a way of fighting back. In my case, deliberately dressing more feminine, as a sort of "I dare you" to the world.

It really doesn't make sense to me that the choices I make about my body and my life should be in any way the business of anyone that I don't even talk to. It doesn't affect you, High School Classmates; the vast majority of you have never said two words to me (including 'excuse me' or 'thank you'). If you don't talk about me, I won't talk about you, and we can all go about our lives peacefully.