Brief Chat with a Swapee

In the midst of the busy restaurant, she sits unassumingly. A sweet-looking girl of about 26 years old, dressed in a light pullover and green top. Her auburn hair is pulled back, falling just to her chin. With a cup of coffee by her side, she peers over a newspaper, the Toronto Sun.

"Alex?" she asks, extending her hand for a shake. I take it. "I'm Nick."

I sit down and order a light lunch, setting out my notepad and tape recorder. Although I've interviewed a number of swapees, this is the first one I could find in my hometown of Toronto, let alone who would meet me in person. I've decided to handle her story somewhat differently.

"I'll let you do most of the talking," I tell her, "And i'll interject when I wave a question, but I mostly want you to tell your story."

She rolls her eyes. "I wish I didn't have a story, but you know there's no getting away from this thing."

I laugh lightly, "You should see the all the post-it notes littering my desk. There's no way I can escape it now."

"So what do you think of this whole thing, anyway?"

I take a pause and tell her, "I really just want to talk about you. Maybe we'll talk about me later."

She shrugs "I guess I'm the interesting one here. So where do I begin...?"

Swap Nation: What were you doing when you swapped?

Nick: I was brushing my teeth. I'd rolled out of bed, visited the toilet, and was brushing my teeth before showering. You know, the morning ritual. I had the toothbrush in my mouth when it suddenly rushed over me, just for an instant. My vision went blurry, me hearing went to, like, a dialtone. I felt like my legs were buckling under me, I think you've probably heard it all before. So I came to and I'm lying on this bed and I've got this pair of jeans half-on, clutched in my fingers. I took me, like, a half of a second to figure out what had happened. And my first reaction was, like "Well there goes my whole day." I didn't know where I was, what I looked like, or who was around, and I'm most worried about how I was going to go to the drug store, because I had a cold. Well, obviously I didn't have a cold anymore. This was early in March, the weather was terrible, not like it is now (the weather is 13 Celsius and sunny as we speak.) So I buttoned up the jeans and look around the apartment. It was a mess, but a nice one... some clutter, you know, some books, I didn't know. So I try to find the washroom and there she is, looking me in the eye in the mirror. I didn't realize I was female at first, and so I'm looking at this face and I'm like "Teenage boy?" I don't know. I felt my chin, no stubble. I'm rambling. Am I rambling? (I assure her she's not.) So first I notice the face and it looks so odd and I didn't put it together. It sounds like an insult to say I didn't realize I was a girl, but that's just my mindset... the thought didn't cross my mind and I didn't ant to believe it. Nothing felt different, at least. Then I notice them. Hard to ignore, right? It's okay, you can glance. I got this sinking feeling and suddenly everything... everything you'd think I would have noticed at first starts to hit me. How short I am, how my weight's distributed, my hair in my face... how I suddenly can't feel what I thought was there.

Now it feels wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. I sat on the toilet with the lid down clutching my sides shaking like I had hypothermia.

I stood up and looked myself in the eye again. I start talking to myself, I guess just to hear my voice. I said, "Nick. Nick. Nick," over and over again, trying to tell myself who I was. "What's going on, Nick? Oh not much, just got a vagina." (Laughs) And then I said that word like a hundred times! "Vagina, vagina, vagina!" It meant something new now, I guess. I felt like I was going to cry, and I was still laughing, but I felt, like, helpless. I didn't know anything about this girl.

So what did you do?

I found out who I was. Actually, since I live with my parents, I e-mailed my dad and told him that his son wasn't there anymore. He e-mails me back and tells me the guy in my body is named Traci, and I say "Dad, that's a girl's name." He tells me, "I know, poor guy." I would have laughed if I weren't so distressed.

Traci, like me, was low on cash. However, at the time of the swap, she was employed as a secretary, except she can't go to work because she's at my house in Chicago. So I think, "Okay, great, secretary, I can do that." So now I've been doing her job for however many weeks and she's been living, in my poor, balding body, without much money.

It sounds like you adapted quickly.

Well, in a sense, you have to. You can't choose your body -- believe me! Little things like pickle jars and jammed doors don't bother me, and that's the only time I remember how I'm not all that strong anymore.

What about your personal life?

(She giggles just enough to seem awkward) I don't really have one. I didn't have a girlfriend, Traci didn't have a boyfriend, thank god. All she had were these modest little rubber jobs in the sock drawer, and I ain't even touched those.

(She sighs, there's obviously something she's not telling me)

The first thing I did, I guess, when I left the apartment, was get a haircut. Traci sent me to her usual hairdresser. She was really excited to see me, but I told her who I was. And then she got even more excited, kind of like "Oh that's so cool, my mom's friend was swapped, I think it's so neat, I'm sorry about what happened but I still think it's cool." (Laughing, a gleam in her eye,) I wanted her to shave my head, but she refused. She did the hard sell on keeping my hair long, "Not many guys get to have really gorgeous hair, so why don't you just try it out?" This 'do is a compromise.

She also told me she'd be seeing me again soon. "As I'm sure you already found out, Traci's not a natural redhead." That made me vomit in my mouth, when I first heard it. Is it okay to tell that part?

I'll let it slide. Why do you think you were swapped?

Why is anyone swapped? I don't know. I'd like to think it's random. I'd rather not think someone's sitting at a control switch saying "Okay Nick, you're going to be Traci now." I hope it's all random and I hope there's a way to reverse it. I mean, Goddamn, it happened, so why shouldn't there be a reversal?

What changes have you noticed in your personality?

Well there's the obvious. I mean, I'm really shy now. Not that I was a ladykiller, but I wouldn't even dream of approaching a woman looking like this, so my sex life is DOA. I stay at home most night and read or watch TV. I tried to get into the Ugly Betty show, but it's not my style, so I guess I'm still a guy inside. And I started drawing. That's weird, because I didn't draw, and Traci didn't, but people have been telling me I'm pretty good.

I'm just really particular about who I talk to. I'm not a supermodel or anything, thank God, but guys like me will talk to any moderately attractive girl, and most of them come off as really skeevy. So there's the shyness for you.

As we shake hands and part, she offers to contribute a column to the site, which I welcome - to add variety, I absolutely welcome it. You'll be seeing Nick's first blog within weeks.