So, I’ve been trying to hold back. I’ve been trying to not be on my soapbox. However, I have to say some stuff. I keep thinking of a recent song by Drake where he says:
“When I look back I might be mad that I gave this attention. Yeah, but it’s weighin’ heavy on my conscience. Yeah, and fuck, you left the boy no options.”
That’s where I’m at. Aside from random strangers on the internet telling me to kill myself and that I’m a (slurs redacted), I’ve had extended family of my wife tell me that I’m a narcissistic asshole, and that he doesn’t give our marriage 100:1 odds. (He’s an excellent handicapper, so he boasts.) All this while misgendering me and basically saying that being a transsexual is something we do only for ourselves or for cosmetic/aesthetic reasons. Not because I’m really a woman. For what it’s worth Rob, I think you meant selfish, not narcissistic. I do like to take pictures of myself, but I’m not really all that.
Now, I’ve found out that a family at church… I know what you’re thinking, but stay with me.. A family at the church that I don’t attend is leaving the parish because of me. The reasoning? I allegedly sent their teenage son a facebook friend request. I have no idea who they are, nor do I know who their kid is. Couldn’t pick them out of a line-up, I’m certain. Megan asked me “Do you know who (name redacted) is?” and I replied “You mean the guy that created The X-Files?”
I mean, this comes after the realization that my marriage might not work out. (No thanks to Rob, we had that discussion before you started off on your unsolicited diatribe.) This comes after I’m having recurring thoughts that I would rather be dead than alive. After the daily ritual of crying somewhere, like my car, the bathroom, wherever… You know, because I have so much free time, that I’m trying to befriend strange cis teenage boys. For what end? Who knows, maybe they think that because I’m a transexual, I must be a pedophile.. or maybe I’m going to make your son want to wear dresses and listen to Tori Amos. This also assumes that I actively go around sending people facebook requests… because I don’t. Despite coming out of my cocoon slightly after switching from regular to diet, I’m still fairly close to being a misanthrope. I’m still socially akward. I’m just less awkward with myself, I’m no longer faking two things.. 1) that I was a man and 2) that i enjoy interacting with people.
I’m rambling. I’m torn across people. I’m torn across issues. I’m torn across trying to be a trans right activist and trying to not piss off all my “friends.” I’m trying to support my wife, I’m trying to support my co-workers and my union as we work without a contract. I’m trying to be a parent to my children. I’m trying to take a class and stay in therapy and all that entails. I’m exhausted.
Well, that’s not 100% true. I have written 2 or 3 pieces, some complete, but never published. Some of it was too personal for this forum, others too bitter or negative. I don’t want this blog to become the place where all I do is bitch and moan. I don’t think that’s fair and accurate. Despite my comments, I do spend a lot of my current existence in a better place than I have been in years. For all of the turmoil, I think the end result is still positive. The push was worth the shove, the juice was worth the squeeze.
So things are good, things are bad, things are indifferent. Kinda sounds like any other life, if we’re being vague. Vagueness begets vagueness.
"That's me. I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint you… but I'm not. I excel at not giving a shit. Experience has taught me that interest begets expectation, and expectation begets disappointment, so the key to avoiding disappointment is to avoid interest. A equals B equals C equals A, or… whatever. I also don't have a lot of interest in being a good person or a bad person. From what I can tell, either way, you're screwed." --George, Dead Like Me
In the grand scheme of things, my transition is moving along at about the pace I expected. I think the term is “glacial.” It’s actually not that bad. My biggest complaints at this point are still the same as before. I have compiled a short list, in no particular order. I put them in bullet points, because everyone loves bullet points.
I still have to shave (my face) every day. We need more power in the dilithium crystals, Scotty.
My boobs are actually growing, but at the aforementioned glacial pace.
My voice. **sigh**
I still have my penis. Oh but your day will come….
My body is doing interesting things. I’m already starting to notice fat shifting to and fro. In May, I went out with my mother, and I bought bras. I had tried previously to buy bras from Aerie. The largest band/smallest cup combo they carried was a 38B. I wasn’t and still am not a B cup, but I thought it was worth a shot. Since they don’t carry them in store, I had to order them.
When they came, it was all I could do to get it fastened, and there was no chance I was wearing it all day. I think I bent the hook on one of them, actually. So back to the store they went. So we ended up finding some 40B sizes at Macy’s. This is what I have been wearing for the last 3 months. Due to the nature of the padding, and the full coverage of the bra, I have been slightly limited on shirts and dresses. In fact, half of the t-shirts and stuff I bought before I owned a bra I couldn’t wear.
As I started to fill in a little, I found that I might be able to start employing tricks and tips of the trade. A friend (more on her later), clued me to something that someone else had mentioned months ago. Layering of bras. At the time, I was washboard flat, so no combination of push-up was going to make Florida look like Colorado. Anyway, I started looking at things like the “Bombshell” bra from VS. I was upset to find that again, 38 was the largest, but C cup was the smallest in a 38.
So, I thought, band extenders. For those of you that don’t know, you can buy little things to make your band bigger without replacing the whole bra. So I bought some at Wal-Mart and I marched my happy little transsexual self into VS and picked out a nice 36A bra and headed to the fitting room. Being untrained in brassiere sciences, I quickly learned that not only are the 2, 3 and 4 hook bras, there are also various widths. I quickly thought back to rack mount server equipment, and remembered a JMcA quote “Standards are great, pick one.”
Foiled. As I stood there in the dressing room, half naked, alone and vulnerable… I thought, well, uhh.. maybe it’ll fit? I didn’t really believe that, because I’m a cynic realist, but I was already topless. What did I have to lose? So, I reached behind my back and to my surprise I can wear a 36 band now. It’s a little snug, but we’re all about sacrifices these days, right?With that solved, I got that bra and a slightly larger bra (38B) and have layered them together to get just enough cleavage to be able to pull off some lower cut garments.
I also noticed that a pair of pants that I bought a couple years ago that were always a little baggy in the hips and butt department are now fitting considerably better. This coupled with the fact that I’ve not really gained any weight in 3 months is a good sign that things are happening. So while I might not see it in the mirror, the results are somewhat tangible in other ways.
As for other things, the laser continues. I go back next week for the 4th session at the newer place. This will make 9 total sessions since January. I have a significant amount of loss there. In fact, up until the last couple days, I could actually skip shaving for a day and still not really worry about it. At this point, I think the growth cycle is picking back up and dormant hair is growing. So, next week, we blast them with laser beams. Repeatedly.
My voice continues to be my biggest stumbling block. I strain and I strain. I occasionally pass on the phone, but I endure a regular barrage of unsolicited commentary from people on the other side, some examples are “Well, you sound like a man” and “You’re a woman? Are you sure?” and “Yes, Miss Addison, sir, (rest of comment)”. The beatings will continue until morale improves. I had a great day on Thursday, where I made until 6pm before I got sir’d. It was a first. By that point, my voice was so tired, I wasn’t even upset. However, yesterday, I got sir’d within an hour. So, we march on.
Other than that, on a transition related level, the only other thing I keep thinking about is my GRS surgery. It’s so far away. As currently scheduled, it’s 536 days away. That’s, near as makes no difference, 18 months from now. I will have been full time for 22 months, on hormones for 23, and out for 26 months at that point. I think that’s too much time, but what can you do?
As for the rest of my life, well it has it’s highs and it’s lows. Unfortunately, I find myself wanting to bare that part of my soul, but due to the other people involved, I find that it’s just too personal to put out there. Maybe one day. As JFB said in an interview to Dr. McGinn, in reply to McGinn not wanting to make things up; “Hey man, there’s a great future for you as a memoirist.”