It wasn’t hard to tell that something was a little different about her. The jean skirt, deep cut, pink V-neck sweater, heels and turquoise hand bag were immediately overshadowed by a deeply masculine voice and a thick, strong hand as she reached out to shake mine. The Kink’s “Lola” and Aerosmith’s “Dude looks like a lady” were competing with equal force for real estate in my mind.

“Hi, I’m Lily. I’m transgender. What time is your appointment?”

We were both there to see the gynecologist.

To my great fortune, the doctor was running late and Lily was a talker.

It didn’t take more than a “nice to meet you,” from me, and Lily was off and running, sharing highlights from the last 73 years of her life under the unapologetic, florescent lights of a crowded, medical waiting room.

Whoever claims “life is boring” clearly hasn’t spent enough time in waiting rooms in Israel.

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