E is for Eunuch

It seems my last post elicited an accusation of misogyny. For the record, no one is a bigger crusader for gender-neutrality in absolutely everything than me. I defy, flout, and undermine suffocating social convention all the time. I attend wedding showers constantly, even if not invited, and love to make and wear penis-shaped balloons at bachelorette parties, where I scream with transgressive delight.
I am, you see, a Eunuch. I have been since the first Clinton administration, when I was forced to guard his harem in the White House basement. Bill must have slipped me a roofie. I passed out, and when I woke up I noticed that I sounded like a ten year-old boy. I looked down, and sure enough, I had been permanently modified. (I was told that Hillary, after downing multiple shots, tried to do this herself to Bill.)
After getting over the immediate shock, I embraced my Eunicity. I fought for a third bathroom in public places, marked neither M or W, but E. Same thing with forms that ask you for your gender; an additional "E" circle to fill in (I am also satisfied with a simple "neither"). I demanded admittance to the American Boychoir School, though I was far beyond the age of the so-called "normal" student.
Still, I must continue fighting the stigma attached those like me (we prefer "people of alteration"). It is an outrage that department stores have no Eunuch section, nor Eunuch dressing rooms, nor helpful Eunuch salespeople. And just how women like to shop for underwear that makes them feel sexy; I'd love to find just one pair that makes me feel deliciously sex-less.
So Eunuchs of the World Unite: You have Nothing to Lose.

I can't believe no one got worked up about real misanthropy in "Surf's Up." Even the Onion passed on the Tsunami. At least with this new one you can tell me I might as well be E.