1948

It was a simpler time, an easier time, especially if you were a man.

Still, I was now a woman, thanks to a rip in the space-time continuum that pulled my consciousness out of my body and left me in the body of a 21-year-old woman in the United States of America in 1948, working as a gas attendant while attending Medical College to become a nurse.

After a week of freaking out, confusion, tears, and the five stages of grief over my old life and body, I pulled up my socks. I got on with her life. 

I became her. 

I changed what I needed to change. 

I became happy, even though I didn't know how I had got here or why I was here. 

I was pretty sure I could get used to it, even if it meant doing everything a man told me to do, needing a man's permission to open a bank account or get a car, and, one day, being expected to marry and have children.