“Hey! You! Doctor Bates!”
Catwoman’s appearance in the office was completely unlike her usual approach, sneaky and stealthy. Rather, she burst in, swinging her whip and looking very, very furious.
“Yes?” Dr. Psycho asked carefully, “Ms. Kyle, I see that you’re just on time for your regular appointment. You’re as punctual as you are angry, if nothing else.”
Catwoman/Selena could still mentally feel that something was wrong here, but the fog of fury was still strong in her mind, and so she just hesitated. “Nothing else?” she repeated slowly, her
hands still forming fists.
“Well, yes, at a certain point of view,” the doctor continued. “Let’s be brutally honest here: as far as appearances go, your face is perfectly plain, the result of too-many beatings you’ve
received from your father and boyfriends in the past.”
“My face?” Selena repeated, looking in the mirror. Sure enough, it reflected a face devoid of cosmetics, with thick flat lips the color of veal (and they still had spit on it from Selena’s
sputtering rage when she burst into the office) and with a flat nose that still had a faint scar where it was broken and healed with an upwards-turning shape, almost like a dog’s nose – Selena could remember now that part of the reason that she was single
was that she snored at night...
To further emphasize her boyish androgyny, Selena’s dark hair was cut in a short, boyish style, and the only thing that really marked her face as womanly was a pair of simple earrings, little
more than studs in her ears.
“Your chest,” the doctor continued, “is non-existent.”
“My chest?” Selena looked down. True enough, she was flat, her breasts – small flat nubs that could easily pass for a boy’s pecs to such a point that Selena often didn’t bother wearing bras
in public if she could get away with it, socially – what was the point? An expensive – moderately expensive – blouse and jacket did a better job of conveying her femininity than a bra ever could. Plus shopping for them in stores for barely pubescent girls
was wrong on so many levels...
“And so is your ass,” the doctor was not done yet. “It’s flat! Of course, if it wasn’t flat, I have no idea what shape would it be – considering that since your butchered abortion you’re not
only infertile, but also bow-legged...”
“My legs?” Selena looked further down. Sure enough, her legs were bent like a pair of round brackets, and not even the moderately expensive knee-length skirt, and high-heeled shoes could hide
this fact. Selena may not have been a semi-immobile invalid, but she could not move very fast either, certainly not for too long. “My legs... But Bruce...”
“Ms. Kyle,” the doctor continued kindly, “you’re a prospering owner of an art gallery. You know your art, your wines, your delicatessen – you are one of prospering middle-class people of the
city. You are not liked, since you are a very irritable woman with a very explosive temper and issues regarding your appearance, but you are respected enough – self-made sharks like you have plenty of remoras willing to tag along in the wake, as you know.”
“I know,” Selena nodded, feeling her eyes tearing up now: her anger was gone and was replaced with an equally powerful self-loathing. “What do I do?”
“Give up all of your fantasies that you’re a glamorous and dangerously seductive girlfriend of some rich and powerful man, for a start – that’s just not healthy,” the doctor relaxed, seeing
that their dialogue was becoming constructive. “Instead, you should just accept the fact that you’re domineering, entirely homosexual, almost butch, woman, and start your own family.”
“My own family?”
“Yes, yes, you did mention a couple of working dates with a lady friend of hers, who actually seems to like you as a human being – it’s a start. Work with that, work with her, and considering
your determination and go-get attitude, within a year or so, you may have a wife of your own to make yourself a more-rounded person. A child or two would not be amiss either. Ms. Kyle, you are prospering middle-class, but still middle-class – start living
“Yes, doctor, I will, thank you,” Selena whispered as she awkwardly got onto her bow-legged legs and feet and walked quietly out of the office into her new life.
As the door closed behind the former Catwoman, Dr. Psycho allowed himself a very tiny smile.