Lately I've started feeling insecure about my transparency. The first signs I'd inherited the gene from my dad came at age 15, when I mumble-asked my parents for blackout curtains—my eyelids no longer effectively blocked light. By the time I could buy alcohol legally, I could read newsprint through my hand. My driver’s ID is a sketch artist’s best guess. When I go for a jog, dogs bark, kids run away, and even grown-ass adults try not to double-take as they see—well, don’t see—the parts of me that remain uncovered. Yeah, invisibility sucks…but you know we’ll all inherit it eventually.