Martin Misunderstood

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Martin Reed had decided long ago that he was born into the wrong body. He often wondered how different his fate would have been if that amorphous lump that stared vacantly from his first photograph at the hospital had shown even the slightest bit of potential. But, no, it was clearly not meant to be. The picture of baby Martin, thrusting himself into the air like a bloated seal, wet, pink lips parted, chin sliding into his neck even then, and – perhaps worst of all – the words 'Mama's Little Angel' emblazoned over his grayish, hairless head, would be one that would haunt him throughout his entire life.

It wasn't that Martin was a dreamer. He did not think, for instance, that George Clooney had gotten his true face. Nor did he see Brad Pitt's physique and spit bitter 'if only' vitriol. He would have been fine with an average man's body, something his many hours on his Chuck Norris Total Gym system could exploit into the semblance of muscle tone instead of a lateral realignment of flab. Even Will Ferrell's physique would have sufficed. The cruel truth of the matter was that Martin's body more closely resembled Jodie Foster's during her Yale years. Add in his weak chin, his hawkish nose and the C-shaped curve to his shoulders, and the root of his displeasure (and that of many blind dates) became painfully apparent.

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