Class and other various responsibilities has been kicking my ass for the past, fuck I don't know, pretty much since I last posted almost a month ago. Add onto that I haven't had a computer for over a month because the pins on my cpu were bent because the cpu fan got jostled so I needed to buy a new cpu and install it and you've got a fun combination leading to a lack of posting.
Anyway, not a whole ton of this is actually trans* related, it's just sort of a stream of consciousness bitchfest about my life, so take it with a grain of salt.
My classes are fun, and pretty interesting. I feel like I'm actually delving into real engineering more so than I have in the past, although in many ways it's not quite there. I'm looking at a million different engineering related projects I want to do, but I can't see how I'll ever have time for. Like put together a team, get a grant and build a reprap with grant funding from the college of engineering, and maybe design a wireless communication system for it. Or making and selling vaporizers to the local stores in town to get some extra money. learning matlab scripting, autocad, and muiltisim in more meaningful ways than the bullshit we do in my freshman level class. Or working on the million bio-medical engineering ideas I have. I could probably patent quite a few ideas, but I have no idea how the fuck that process works, or criteria for what fulfills a patent. Actually doing design.
But I also have a million social justice things going on to. I'm the co-representative of a trans* advocacy group that growing and become more mature with every meeting. We're doing things like cataloging all the gender neutral bathrooms on campus. We're putting together educational flyers, figuring out printing, and trying to put information out there, all trying to advocate for trans* people on campus. This is a shitton of work.
I also have class obligations for grades and am currently in the application process for a job that will keep me financially stable for the next 3 years, and the grades and certification I get from my classes which is usually seen as "the reason" people go to college, so they can get a mediocre mind-numbing office job that pay decently so they can get a nice white picket fence, pop out children for a while and then die at 80 of a heart attack are a distraction from what I want to do.
I want to actually do things, and maybe children in the long term might not be a bad idea, but I don't want that to be the sole contribution I make to the world. This sounds lame as fuck, but it's true: but I want to work towards fundamentally changing the world in positive and progressive ways whether that's through social advocacy and change, or through helping the world by developing useful technologies, or through a combination of the two, or something else entirely. I could give two shits about money, outside of not starving, and being able to afford the things and tools I need in order to continue what I want to do. I don't care about my grades, outside of having them good enough to get past gate-keeping mechanisms, like getting into grad school and whatnot. I care about learning useful information from my classes that will let me do what I want to do, and accomplish what I want accomplish. Grades, certification, and money are a means to end, not the end itself, and I feel like a lot of people my age simply do not grasp that.
I've got a million responsibilities, and sometimes I feel super-overwhelmed. Getting organized has helped me a lot. I've got a little planner that is filled to the brim each week with all the shit I have to get done. I have little 30 mg tablets of vyvnase, an ADD drug, which helps keep me focused. I've got strategies for studying and learning, and philosophies for processing and incorporating new knowledge, but I get so much on my plate. I don't want to narrow myself in anyway because as Richard Heinlein once said "
Showing posts with label MTF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MTF. Show all posts
Monday, April 30, 2012
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
The "Wrong" Body
There's a common narrative in many trans* stories about being born "in the wrong body", or a being a woman in man's body, or vis versa. This has been exacerbated, and in some part perpetuated, by medical gate-keeping communities. (A shrink might say "Oh your story doesn't quite match up with everyone elses? No hormones for you." so what does the trans* person trying to get on hormones say? Exactly what the shrink wants hear.)
That's not to say that's the "wrong" trans* narrative. If that fits for you, then by all means use that to make sense of your identity.
But it's never really fit for me personally.
So I'm a pretty narcissistic person (understatement of the century).
I love mirrors as well as pictures of myself, but probably not for the reasons that one would expect.
I use these to gauge myself. To see how much of the person looking back at me is "me"
Usually it's not a lot. If I tilt my head a certain way, put on the right make-up, wear the right clothes and stand in specific ways, and the lighting is right, and planets are aligned, then I can almost begin to seethe person looking back at me as "me".
Pictures of me "in the wild" almost never are actually of me.
They're someone else. I remember getting the pictures taken, and I saw through the eyes of the person that was in that picture, but that was never me.
It was a puppet. I moved the strings, but the puppet was never me. Certainly mine, but never me.
This idea of ownership as well as identification I think is at the heart of dysphoria for myself.
When I look at a picture like this
Anybody who knows me would tell me that is me. But it doesn't feel that way for me. I mean technically, yes, It's me. But it feels like a puppet. A costume.
It's not a matter of poor body image. I dare say I was a pretty attractive person as a guy. I was fairly built, and didn't have any problem gaining muscle. I have a pretty good complexion and personally I think my eyes are pretty. (I told you I was narcissistic.) From the point of view of someone whose attracted to all sexes, dissociating myself from the fact that was a picture of my body, I think the guy in that picture is pretty attractive, and probably more so than I am now, presenting as a girl.
But that picture isn't me. I don't see that and see myself. That's not my body. That's not who I am. That's could just as well be some dude. But when I see that my brain has to mentally grapple with the fact that IS me.
And that's dysphoria for me.
It's not the wrong body. It's certainly mine. But it's not an indescribable "me". I don't see myself. I see a puppet.
Transitioning has and continues to make a huge difference. I can look in the mirror and seeing myself looking back at me rather than some puppet isn't a fleeting experience any longer.
It still requires some illusion, If I'm not wearing make-up or somewhat girly clothes the costume looks like it's back.
But I see photos like this that were taken as recently as this week:
That's not to say that's the "wrong" trans* narrative. If that fits for you, then by all means use that to make sense of your identity.
But it's never really fit for me personally.
So I'm a pretty narcissistic person (understatement of the century).
I love mirrors as well as pictures of myself, but probably not for the reasons that one would expect.
I use these to gauge myself. To see how much of the person looking back at me is "me"
Usually it's not a lot. If I tilt my head a certain way, put on the right make-up, wear the right clothes and stand in specific ways, and the lighting is right, and planets are aligned, then I can almost begin to seethe person looking back at me as "me".
Pictures of me "in the wild" almost never are actually of me.
They're someone else. I remember getting the pictures taken, and I saw through the eyes of the person that was in that picture, but that was never me.
It was a puppet. I moved the strings, but the puppet was never me. Certainly mine, but never me.
This idea of ownership as well as identification I think is at the heart of dysphoria for myself.
When I look at a picture like this
Anybody who knows me would tell me that is me. But it doesn't feel that way for me. I mean technically, yes, It's me. But it feels like a puppet. A costume.
It's not a matter of poor body image. I dare say I was a pretty attractive person as a guy. I was fairly built, and didn't have any problem gaining muscle. I have a pretty good complexion and personally I think my eyes are pretty. (I told you I was narcissistic.) From the point of view of someone whose attracted to all sexes, dissociating myself from the fact that was a picture of my body, I think the guy in that picture is pretty attractive, and probably more so than I am now, presenting as a girl.
But that picture isn't me. I don't see that and see myself. That's not my body. That's not who I am. That's could just as well be some dude. But when I see that my brain has to mentally grapple with the fact that IS me.
And that's dysphoria for me.
It's not the wrong body. It's certainly mine. But it's not an indescribable "me". I don't see myself. I see a puppet.
Transitioning has and continues to make a huge difference. I can look in the mirror and seeing myself looking back at me rather than some puppet isn't a fleeting experience any longer.
It still requires some illusion, If I'm not wearing make-up or somewhat girly clothes the costume looks like it's back.
But I see photos like this that were taken as recently as this week:
And I see myself.
It's not perfect. I'm still transitioning. But that's an infinitely better representation of me than the last picture. Those photos are spaced at most seven or so months apart.
A lot can change in seven or so, and I'm curious about the next seven or so months.
And I'm hungry for more pictures. More pictures of me.
I want to get know me better.
But also I want to show me to other people. I want my parents, my classmates and my sisters, my friends, and acquaintances, my lover, to all see me, and recognize me, not as some costume or puppet
But as me.
As Natalie.
Because it makes a world of difference.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Stereotypical post after long break
So yeah, I'm still alive and still posting
Queue excuses for why I haven't posted in about a month.
My computer died for about 3 weeks, and I had to replace the fan, heatsink and thermal paste on the cpu. Due to her death and rebirth her name is now Lazarus. And I repaired her all by myself too, which made me feel like a big grown up girl. Go me.
Finals week was also hectic (not really I only had three exams) but I'll go ahead and keep saying it was. Got a 3.05 this quarter though so I guess it went decently, and got around my goal GPA for each quarter which is a 3.0 or above.
I've also spent all my time this break playing mass effect 3 and Skyrim, and hanging out with my roommates on my roof, which is sort of a quintessential way to spend spring break in my humble opinion.
But yeah really the only reason I haven't posted in a month is because I'm a lazy fuck. You're going to have to deal with that. You know, I have to deal with my lazy fuckery on a daily basis you know. How do you think that makes me feel? It's not all about you. God. (It's obviously all about me)
Joke.
Anyway. News.
So I just got my fourth month of hormones. Shits chugging along quite nicely. My body is definately still going through some pretty radical changes, my chest and ass are getting bigger, and I seem more slim (Although that may be more from malnutrition because I'm a poor-ass college student) My face also seems to be changing more, but that's more of my face looks different from 3 months ago, rather than my face looks different from last week.
I suppose that I'll be going full time next week (I sort of have already?), which is kind of a big thing
I mean the only change is that I'll be dressing to go to class and work the same way I want to dress when I'm hanging out around the house, or going the various queer meetings I go to.
I mean it's weird because when I say I'm going full time that doesn't necessarily mean what I think a lot of people thinks it means. I'm still going to be behaving the same goofy way I always do, it's just I'll have make-up on and hopefully strangers will get my pronouns right, and not ask me what my "real name" is (It's fucking Natalie. My name is Natalie, Nat, Natty, Natattack, whatever the fuck you want to call me so long as it's at least tangentially related to my real fucking name: Natalie, okay?)
I sent emails to all my professors though, I'd figure I'd post it up on here (I had originally stole it from tumblr, and then modified it to suit my purposes) because the orginal template is really formal and well done. I've gotten emails back from all but one of my professors, and the responses have all been positive, especially in my RA training class, which is the big thing that needed to happen. If one of my engineering proffesors is a dick, then I can deal with that, but if my RA training instructors are going to discriminate against me, then we have problem, because that's affecting me getting a job.
But yeah.
I'm not really nervous. I mean I'm going to be nervous about particular things. Like are these shorts too short and showing off my manly ass legs and going to affect me passing. Will wearing this shirt get me hatecrimed because my shoulders are obviously too massive to fit in it, that sort of bullshit.
But viewing it as a whole I don't really see anything to be worried about. My campus is liberal as hell, and I don't know a single person on a first name basis who doesn't already know. I'm pretty out, which is pretty awesome.
Honestly I'm just excited for Heidi to get back to me after being away for an entire week (Egads!? A whole week!? How did you survive!? I bet you're asking yourself right now), and for class to start.
Other cools news. Our band Much Much More (You should like us facebook, there's a good chance that will cause world peace, and personal happiness in your life.) is doing 3 gigs in April so here's to a busy month! With luck I'll try to get some video of one so I can post it up here.
So I was going to wax on rhapsodical about my life a bit more but this is already long as fuck. So here's a picture of myself from today.
Have a lovely day.
Queue excuses for why I haven't posted in about a month.
My computer died for about 3 weeks, and I had to replace the fan, heatsink and thermal paste on the cpu. Due to her death and rebirth her name is now Lazarus. And I repaired her all by myself too, which made me feel like a big grown up girl. Go me.
Finals week was also hectic (not really I only had three exams) but I'll go ahead and keep saying it was. Got a 3.05 this quarter though so I guess it went decently, and got around my goal GPA for each quarter which is a 3.0 or above.
I've also spent all my time this break playing mass effect 3 and Skyrim, and hanging out with my roommates on my roof, which is sort of a quintessential way to spend spring break in my humble opinion.
(Seriously, who doesn't want to kill alien invaders as a bad ass starship captain?)
But yeah really the only reason I haven't posted in a month is because I'm a lazy fuck. You're going to have to deal with that. You know, I have to deal with my lazy fuckery on a daily basis you know. How do you think that makes me feel? It's not all about you. God. (It's obviously all about me)
Joke.
Anyway. News.
So I just got my fourth month of hormones. Shits chugging along quite nicely. My body is definately still going through some pretty radical changes, my chest and ass are getting bigger, and I seem more slim (Although that may be more from malnutrition because I'm a poor-ass college student) My face also seems to be changing more, but that's more of my face looks different from 3 months ago, rather than my face looks different from last week.
I suppose that I'll be going full time next week (I sort of have already?), which is kind of a big thing
I mean the only change is that I'll be dressing to go to class and work the same way I want to dress when I'm hanging out around the house, or going the various queer meetings I go to.
I mean it's weird because when I say I'm going full time that doesn't necessarily mean what I think a lot of people thinks it means. I'm still going to be behaving the same goofy way I always do, it's just I'll have make-up on and hopefully strangers will get my pronouns right, and not ask me what my "real name" is (It's fucking Natalie. My name is Natalie, Nat, Natty, Natattack, whatever the fuck you want to call me so long as it's at least tangentially related to my real fucking name: Natalie, okay?)
I sent emails to all my professors though, I'd figure I'd post it up on here (I had originally stole it from tumblr, and then modified it to suit my purposes) because the orginal template is really formal and well done. I've gotten emails back from all but one of my professors, and the responses have all been positive, especially in my RA training class, which is the big thing that needed to happen. If one of my engineering proffesors is a dick, then I can deal with that, but if my RA training instructors are going to discriminate against me, then we have problem, because that's affecting me getting a job.
But yeah.
I'm not really nervous. I mean I'm going to be nervous about particular things. Like are these shorts too short and showing off my manly ass legs and going to affect me passing. Will wearing this shirt get me hatecrimed because my shoulders are obviously too massive to fit in it, that sort of bullshit.
But viewing it as a whole I don't really see anything to be worried about. My campus is liberal as hell, and I don't know a single person on a first name basis who doesn't already know. I'm pretty out, which is pretty awesome.
Honestly I'm just excited for Heidi to get back to me after being away for an entire week (Egads!? A whole week!? How did you survive!? I bet you're asking yourself right now), and for class to start.
Other cools news. Our band Much Much More (You should like us facebook, there's a good chance that will cause world peace, and personal happiness in your life.) is doing 3 gigs in April so here's to a busy month! With luck I'll try to get some video of one so I can post it up here.
So I was going to wax on rhapsodical about my life a bit more but this is already long as fuck. So here's a picture of myself from today.
(Yes, my room is janky as fuck. Yes that is a christmas wreathe, and my dresser is broken, and I only have one curtain. This is why my life is awesome.)
Have a lovely day.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
A little post.
So sometimes I really need bitch.
Okay. Let's be honest. I bitch about things ALOT.
Okay. Let's be honest. I bitch about things ALOT.
(I can't help myself. It gets me everytime)
But sometimes its nice to look at the positives.
And my life is super awesome right now.
I'm on hormones and transitioning to who I want to be. Changes are becoming apparent. I get to dress up the way I want to.
I have a great group of friends who I hang out with.
A community that accepts me.
A girlfriend who I'm madly crazy in love with, whose in love with me.
I'm in line to have a dream job for the next few years, and provided I get it I won't have to worry about money until I graduate.
I'm going to school for something I love, taking classes I enjoy.
I live in a sweet house with great roommates.
I'm in a fucking band, making money, for making music. And loving every minute.
Life is fucking awesome.
When I first came out, and the months after, while still at military school, and a lot of the summer afterwards I was in a really terrible place. I didn't' think things would improve.
I'd be pleased to see myself now.
I wish I could go back and tell me life's gonna be great, just hang in there.
Because I didn't have too much in the way of hope.
Because now life is fantastic.
That is all.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
I can piss in peace now.
So my first class of the day this quarter is Biology. Every weekday morning at 9 am.
After that class I have a circuits class in another building a good 5-8 minute walk away.
The span in between when one class ends and the next one begins is 10 minutes. No problem right?
Well actually problem.
I have the bladder of a 12 year old.
Combine that with the fact that spironolactone is a diuretic (Makes you pee more) and the fact that I usually drink either a monster of a giant fucking cup of coffee during biology, we do have sort of a problem.
A big problem, especially considering that the only gender neutral bathroom is a detour in the opposite direction of where I need to be, so I'm consistently late to my circuits class by a good five to ten minute, which my teacher doesn't necessarily appreciate. Especially considering I'm one of about 11 people who are in the class.
I've tried using the guys bathroom in the engineering building where my circuits class is, but that is literally the most awkward experience, and probably not the safest. I don't pass or go in girl-mode to class 90% of the time so I can't really use the womens.
But I mean. I HAVE to pee every morning at 10 am. It's fucking clockwork. (Actually its for maintaining homeostasis of water and electrolytes, but still.)
But guess what?
I found a gender neutral bathroom RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BIOLOGY CLASS.
And it's clean. And it locks. And it's completely hidden.
I can pee in peace.
I swear finding new gender neutral bathrooms is like encountering a unicorn.
It's a rare and magical experience.
I don't understand why they don't put the gender neutral bathrooms in plain sight next to the other two bathrooms. Seems screwy to me, but whatevs.
So problem solved. Yay!
I hope you enjoyed this post about my pissing habits. Tune in next week.
After that class I have a circuits class in another building a good 5-8 minute walk away.
The span in between when one class ends and the next one begins is 10 minutes. No problem right?
Well actually problem.
I have the bladder of a 12 year old.
Combine that with the fact that spironolactone is a diuretic (Makes you pee more) and the fact that I usually drink either a monster of a giant fucking cup of coffee during biology, we do have sort of a problem.
A big problem, especially considering that the only gender neutral bathroom is a detour in the opposite direction of where I need to be, so I'm consistently late to my circuits class by a good five to ten minute, which my teacher doesn't necessarily appreciate. Especially considering I'm one of about 11 people who are in the class.
I've tried using the guys bathroom in the engineering building where my circuits class is, but that is literally the most awkward experience, and probably not the safest. I don't pass or go in girl-mode to class 90% of the time so I can't really use the womens.
But I mean. I HAVE to pee every morning at 10 am. It's fucking clockwork. (Actually its for maintaining homeostasis of water and electrolytes, but still.)
But guess what?
I found a gender neutral bathroom RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BIOLOGY CLASS.
And it's clean. And it locks. And it's completely hidden.
I can pee in peace.
I swear finding new gender neutral bathrooms is like encountering a unicorn.
It's a rare and magical experience.
I don't understand why they don't put the gender neutral bathrooms in plain sight next to the other two bathrooms. Seems screwy to me, but whatevs.
So problem solved. Yay!
I hope you enjoyed this post about my pissing habits. Tune in next week.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Third Month of hormones
Woot, just got my third months worth of hormones.
Always a good feeling.
So I'm working to help start a transgender advocacy group on campus because there really isn't anywhere for us to go, aside from the local support group but that has limits on what it can lobby for out of the virtue of protecting people's confidentiality
Shits been busy and rocky, but we're slowly getting moving.
Who knew starting a group to advocate for the needs and desires of an entire section of a community would be hard?
I mean it will get off the ground. Or I'm gonna die trying. The big problem that I can see happening is that I push for a bunch of shit to happen and people get excited, but without anyone saying hey these things need done a lot of people will lose interest.
It's just a game of building momentum right now.
Anyway, these next two weeks should be fun.
I am fucking broke as shit. Like I'm gonna have about 10 dollars to my name after bills and other expenses until I get paid next in two weeks. I guess there's just going to be a lot of skyrim going on instead of going out.
It's not too bad, I have food, and my bills will be paid. But nothing extra is happening. I need it to be next quarter so I can get my student loans and be able to have money once again. It'd be nice.
In other news in my life. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but I'm the baritone ukulele player of a three person ukulele band in Athens Ohio, so if you're ever around you should check us out. We're called Much Much More and we're sort of a big deal. Here's our band page. On facebook. Like us and all of your hopes and dreams will come true. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Much-Much-More/337188362981870
ALSO
I'm really fucking ridiculously super excited because my girlfriend asked me out to queer prom a while back and it's happening the weekend after next! She's letting me borrow this beautiful black dress from her high school prom and she's gonna wear a girly suit and we're going to be adorable and gay and pretty and asdfl;khasdfkjasd
I'm just really excited.
Always a good feeling.
So I'm working to help start a transgender advocacy group on campus because there really isn't anywhere for us to go, aside from the local support group but that has limits on what it can lobby for out of the virtue of protecting people's confidentiality
Shits been busy and rocky, but we're slowly getting moving.
Who knew starting a group to advocate for the needs and desires of an entire section of a community would be hard?
I mean it will get off the ground. Or I'm gonna die trying. The big problem that I can see happening is that I push for a bunch of shit to happen and people get excited, but without anyone saying hey these things need done a lot of people will lose interest.
It's just a game of building momentum right now.
Anyway, these next two weeks should be fun.
I am fucking broke as shit. Like I'm gonna have about 10 dollars to my name after bills and other expenses until I get paid next in two weeks. I guess there's just going to be a lot of skyrim going on instead of going out.
(Where I basically just run around yelling FUCK YOU and catching butterflies)
It's not too bad, I have food, and my bills will be paid. But nothing extra is happening. I need it to be next quarter so I can get my student loans and be able to have money once again. It'd be nice.
In other news in my life. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but I'm the baritone ukulele player of a three person ukulele band in Athens Ohio, so if you're ever around you should check us out. We're called Much Much More and we're sort of a big deal. Here's our band page. On facebook. Like us and all of your hopes and dreams will come true. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Much-Much-More/337188362981870
ALSO
I'm really fucking ridiculously super excited because my girlfriend asked me out to queer prom a while back and it's happening the weekend after next! She's letting me borrow this beautiful black dress from her high school prom and she's gonna wear a girly suit and we're going to be adorable and gay and pretty and asdfl;khasdfkjasd
I'm just really excited.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Post Anarchy / The interview
So this one post every two weeks thing is dumb.
So is once a week.
The thing is, my life doesn't happen in nice manageable chunks like that. So I'm just gonna update whenever.
Fuck the man.
Anyway.
So here's the thing that's been dominating my thoughts the past few days.
Job Interview.
Here's the deal.
I'm fucking poor.
I go to school full time, which thankfully is covered by my Dad working for the university. But as far as paying for bills rent, and food I'm on my own, and I'm getting loans out the ass for that. But loans aren't much. They cover my rent, and some transition cost, which are important things. Food and utilities are covered by my ten hour a week minimum wage job, which is actually only a five hour a week minimum wage job because my house got cut. I don't have much money left over.
And to be honest I don't much care for being fucking poor.
But here's the thing. Resident Assistants get a pretty much free dorm room, as well as a grand a semester. What's more is that there's special populations, like international students, or substance free, or in my case, gender neutral housing, which is pretty much designed for trans* people. The job description fits me pretty damn well.
This sounds like a awesome job that I could do, and do well.
And I wouldn't be as poor. I'd have much more money that I could spend on transitioning, and buying pretty things. (Although I hate to sound stereotypical I would love some bitching shoes. Which are expensive, especially for a size 13 womens.)
So I'd get an extra two grand a year, and the 3.5 grand I'm already getting in student loans would be mine to keep. While I would be making payments on various bullshit (Phone bill from at&t that I got with army money, I'm looking at you), as well as paying back my parents for various stuff, I'd be able to keep a pretty hefty sum of that and possibly even begin saving up for some surgeries.
So basically I could be financially secure, and afford nice things until I graduate and then I'll have a pretty engineering degree which will see me through having a job and being financially secure after graduation. (Thank the flying spaghetti monster the field I'm in love with actually has job prospects, unlike say, english, or theatre).
So yeah this would basically be a dream job for the next two years. So I sent in an application with some recommendations.
And I applied as a girl. (sort of)
I had to put my legal name and everything, but I put my preferred name next to it, and put female as the gender marker (Hey, they asked for gender). I made it pretty explicitly clear that I am trans* in the application too, which should be okay, since gender identity is on my university's non-discrimination policy. (Which, as most people should know doesn't mean discrimination doesn't actually happen)
And surprisingly/awesomely enough, I got an interview.
Fuck yes.
Now in the past, I've interviewed pretty well. I've never gone into an interview and not gotten a job, although I've only done like 3. I'm pretty well-spoken if I do say so myself. (Although it doesn't hurt that I'm a better bullshitter, for the most part.)
But this is different. I was always really good at going in, and being the stereotypical all-american boy with a strong handshake and abusing the fuck out of my privilege to earn a job. This is how I got my prestigious four-year paid army scholarship (in addition to being decent at standardized like the ACT which I got a 31 or 32 on.)
I couldn't necessarily do that for this interview.
I know I'm definitely going to be full time presenting female by next school year regardless of whether or not I get this job, because at the rate I'm going my body on hormones won't let me do anything else (As well as the incredible mental relief that will bring). So I'd much rather be presenting female from the get go. Which is what I did.
Can I just say that I was nervous as fuck going into that interview?
The day before it really hit me that this was the route I chose, and I needed to figure out a semi-formal outfit to go into the interview. I was wigging the fuck out running around my room desperately trying to figure out what to wea, should I wear a sports bra and look like I don't actually have any boobs (sports bras are ridiculously comfy and at the moment make my chest still appear relatively flat), or should I wear a real big-girl bra, which will make it very obvious? Should I wear eyeliner? How about mascara? Shit I still have redness from laser the other day (Still hurt like hell) Is cover-up going to take care of that.
I was a fucking mess.
So I got my shit together, whined to my girlfriend for a little while via text (She's away at MBLGTACC a big LGBT conference in Iowa this weekend.) and figured everything out. Still nervous though. I half suspected walking in and them just being like "Why does this dude have eyeliner on and boobs?"
So interview came around, I walked in told them I was Nat (last name) (I usually go by Nat instead of Natalie in day to day, because it's shorter and won't immediately out me if I don't want to be outed) and did the interview.
And I think it went pretty well. I answered questions pretty decently, and explicitly mentioned I was trans* a few times, in regards to diversity and creating safe spaces, and the two interviewers were really nice.
But I don't find out for another week or two if I made it to the next round of the application process (A one quarter long class, which I'm pretty sure I will rock the shit out of)
So yeah. We'll see. It sounds almost too good, so something will get fucked up and it won't work out knowing my luck.
Here's a picture of me in my room after my interview.
So is once a week.
The thing is, my life doesn't happen in nice manageable chunks like that. So I'm just gonna update whenever.
Fuck the man.
(Shamelessly stolen from this chick I know's tumblr, also foxes are adorable)
Anyway.
So here's the thing that's been dominating my thoughts the past few days.
Job Interview.
Here's the deal.
I'm fucking poor.
I go to school full time, which thankfully is covered by my Dad working for the university. But as far as paying for bills rent, and food I'm on my own, and I'm getting loans out the ass for that. But loans aren't much. They cover my rent, and some transition cost, which are important things. Food and utilities are covered by my ten hour a week minimum wage job, which is actually only a five hour a week minimum wage job because my house got cut. I don't have much money left over.
And to be honest I don't much care for being fucking poor.
But here's the thing. Resident Assistants get a pretty much free dorm room, as well as a grand a semester. What's more is that there's special populations, like international students, or substance free, or in my case, gender neutral housing, which is pretty much designed for trans* people. The job description fits me pretty damn well.
This sounds like a awesome job that I could do, and do well.
And I wouldn't be as poor. I'd have much more money that I could spend on transitioning, and buying pretty things. (Although I hate to sound stereotypical I would love some bitching shoes. Which are expensive, especially for a size 13 womens.)
So I'd get an extra two grand a year, and the 3.5 grand I'm already getting in student loans would be mine to keep. While I would be making payments on various bullshit (Phone bill from at&t that I got with army money, I'm looking at you), as well as paying back my parents for various stuff, I'd be able to keep a pretty hefty sum of that and possibly even begin saving up for some surgeries.
So basically I could be financially secure, and afford nice things until I graduate and then I'll have a pretty engineering degree which will see me through having a job and being financially secure after graduation. (Thank the flying spaghetti monster the field I'm in love with actually has job prospects, unlike say, english, or theatre).
So yeah this would basically be a dream job for the next two years. So I sent in an application with some recommendations.
And I applied as a girl. (sort of)
I had to put my legal name and everything, but I put my preferred name next to it, and put female as the gender marker (Hey, they asked for gender). I made it pretty explicitly clear that I am trans* in the application too, which should be okay, since gender identity is on my university's non-discrimination policy. (Which, as most people should know doesn't mean discrimination doesn't actually happen)
And surprisingly/awesomely enough, I got an interview.
Fuck yes.
Now in the past, I've interviewed pretty well. I've never gone into an interview and not gotten a job, although I've only done like 3. I'm pretty well-spoken if I do say so myself. (Although it doesn't hurt that I'm a better bullshitter, for the most part.)
But this is different. I was always really good at going in, and being the stereotypical all-american boy with a strong handshake and abusing the fuck out of my privilege to earn a job. This is how I got my prestigious four-year paid army scholarship (in addition to being decent at standardized like the ACT which I got a 31 or 32 on.)
I couldn't necessarily do that for this interview.
I know I'm definitely going to be full time presenting female by next school year regardless of whether or not I get this job, because at the rate I'm going my body on hormones won't let me do anything else (As well as the incredible mental relief that will bring). So I'd much rather be presenting female from the get go. Which is what I did.
Can I just say that I was nervous as fuck going into that interview?
The day before it really hit me that this was the route I chose, and I needed to figure out a semi-formal outfit to go into the interview. I was wigging the fuck out running around my room desperately trying to figure out what to wea, should I wear a sports bra and look like I don't actually have any boobs (sports bras are ridiculously comfy and at the moment make my chest still appear relatively flat), or should I wear a real big-girl bra, which will make it very obvious? Should I wear eyeliner? How about mascara? Shit I still have redness from laser the other day (Still hurt like hell) Is cover-up going to take care of that.
I was a fucking mess.
So I got my shit together, whined to my girlfriend for a little while via text (She's away at MBLGTACC a big LGBT conference in Iowa this weekend.) and figured everything out. Still nervous though. I half suspected walking in and them just being like "Why does this dude have eyeliner on and boobs?"
So interview came around, I walked in told them I was Nat (last name) (I usually go by Nat instead of Natalie in day to day, because it's shorter and won't immediately out me if I don't want to be outed) and did the interview.
And I think it went pretty well. I answered questions pretty decently, and explicitly mentioned I was trans* a few times, in regards to diversity and creating safe spaces, and the two interviewers were really nice.
But I don't find out for another week or two if I made it to the next round of the application process (A one quarter long class, which I'm pretty sure I will rock the shit out of)
So yeah. We'll see. It sounds almost too good, so something will get fucked up and it won't work out knowing my luck.
Here's a picture of me in my room after my interview.
(I really should figure out a way to take pictures on something other than my webcam.)
On an unrelated note I'm thinking about dying my hair the blackish/blue it was before it faded away. Right now it's pretty much my natural color, which is boring, but I don't really have any money to burn on hair dye right now either.
More updates when I feel like it (Hopefully shorter ones)
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Two Months! (Or "How the fuck did this happen" AKA "Yay boobs")
So I've officially been on hormones for two months at 5:30 on the 22.
We'll knock out some non transies stuff first.
The reason this is late as fuck is because I've been super busy and continue to be super busy with midterms.
Here's something weird for me.
This past month I've done pretty much just three things. Schoolwork, gay & trans* stuff, and hanging out with my lovely girlfriend, whose crashed out in my bed right behind me as I write this, recovering from some illness that I will likely catch in another day or two.
We'll knock out some non transies stuff first.
The reason this is late as fuck is because I've been super busy and continue to be super busy with midterms.
Here's something weird for me.
I'm pretty sure this is the first time in college, or school really, that I've actually had to study shit. And you know, do homework. Since high school I've always just been able to attend class/lecture, and walk out of there with B's and A's without putting forth much effort at all. That carried onto my freshman year of college at the military school (which is good because there was literally no time for schoolwork outside of class, given all the military shit we had to do) and most of last quarter with the exception of massive cram sessions towards the end.
Now it's like every night and day, I'm doing problems for my two engineering classes, going over differential equation bs because my teacher speaks very little English and likes ramble instead of, you know, teach. And biology takes up large swaths of time because so much material is being covered in such short time.
Now it's like every night and day, I'm doing problems for my two engineering classes, going over differential equation bs because my teacher speaks very little English and likes ramble instead of, you know, teach. And biology takes up large swaths of time because so much material is being covered in such short time.
And I'm not going to lie to you:
I fucking love it.
I'm enjoying the shit out of being busy. And my classes are reminding me how much I want to be an engineer. I love the logic puzzles, the circuits, learning about the brain (I actually had a small learning-gasm while our ordinarily very boring professor was describing how synapses in the brain work)
My classes are at just the right level of challenging without being overwhelming. Add that to the fact that I'm starting to actually get a little organized, (I am literally the least organized person in the world, as one glimpse at my room, or my notebooks would tell you.) just makes me feel really good about being in school for something I love.
It definitely doesn't hurt that my girlfriend is encouraging that, making sure I get my stuff done, we study and do our separate homework together. I have a really bad habit of doing what those around me are doing, and since she's really studious, I become really studious, which is an immense help.
I have noticed something though. I don't really hang out with non-queer people very much. Given that engineering tends to be really conservative and most the people in my class tend to just sort of stare at me, and then look away really quickly if I glance in their direction (I guess they don't want to catch THE GAY), and so with one or two exceptions I don't really talk or hang out with people in my major. Which kind of blows because I love nerding out about engineering stuff, and don't know many other queer engineers. So maybe that can be a project for the next month or so. Talk to people. I dunno.
Anyway. (So at this point your probably thinking "Natalie you ramble a fucking lot." to which I will reply "Yes I do", and then continue with a different story.)
I'm helping to start a Trans* advocacy group on campus right now. It's a ton of work at the moment, but luckily it's all being done online as far as organization is concerned. This is something that's been talked about between those involved in the trans* community here for a while, especially since our only way to meet is through the local trans* support group, which runs into confidentiality issues if we try to use that for anything public. So that's in it's fetal stages, right now and we'll see what comes of that.
On a slightly different note I've been having some feelings about my name. Well I guess it's not really my name. My old name rather. All of the people I know who I interact with in my day to day life call me either Nat or Natalie. Pronouns aren't as commonly gotten right, with the exception of a few close friends, but that's not as big a deal at the moment.
Anyway, I was at the library with a few friends, and I suppose after midnight you need to present your student ID to prove that you're a student. Okay, whatever, no big deal. But I didn't have mine on me, so when the guy strolled around asking for IDs, I asked him if I could just tell him my student number instead. He said sure, I told him, and then he asked for a name. I hesitated for a minute about to say "Nat *last name*, but instead realized that he probably needed my old, legal, name.
And so I said that instead.
One of my friends at the table with us, just stared at me and said "Wow, that looked really fucking painful."
And it literally was. It felt like being punched in the gut. I'm not sure if it was the name itself or the fact that I never wanted any of my friends to view me as "My old Name" rather than Nat or Natalie. I felt like fucking crying.
It plain sucked.
And I mean I still use my old name. My parents and siblings use it. But that sucks too. To a lesser degree because I'm more or less used to it. But I wish I could convey how much it would mean to me if they started using Nat or Natalie instead of my old name.
I dunno. Just being blatantly reminded that I sometimes have to play someone else entirely fucking blows, in a way that's hard to explain.
Rambling and bitching.
Sorry.
As far as actual body stuff goes I'm actually starting to see the results of laser which is GLORIOUS.
Anyway, I was at the library with a few friends, and I suppose after midnight you need to present your student ID to prove that you're a student. Okay, whatever, no big deal. But I didn't have mine on me, so when the guy strolled around asking for IDs, I asked him if I could just tell him my student number instead. He said sure, I told him, and then he asked for a name. I hesitated for a minute about to say "Nat *last name*, but instead realized that he probably needed my old, legal, name.
And so I said that instead.
One of my friends at the table with us, just stared at me and said "Wow, that looked really fucking painful."
And it literally was. It felt like being punched in the gut. I'm not sure if it was the name itself or the fact that I never wanted any of my friends to view me as "My old Name" rather than Nat or Natalie. I felt like fucking crying.
It plain sucked.
And I mean I still use my old name. My parents and siblings use it. But that sucks too. To a lesser degree because I'm more or less used to it. But I wish I could convey how much it would mean to me if they started using Nat or Natalie instead of my old name.
I dunno. Just being blatantly reminded that I sometimes have to play someone else entirely fucking blows, in a way that's hard to explain.
Rambling and bitching.
Sorry.
As far as actual body stuff goes I'm actually starting to see the results of laser which is GLORIOUS.
I mean my face is still hairy and I still have to shave, but it's a fuckton less dense, and there are patches where there's no hair at all. I think after 3 more of the treatments then I should only have to shave maybe once a week or so. Basically very rarely. At most I might have to do a once annual upkeep thing after that, since electrolysis isn't really an option in my area, but still that's so much better than shvaing every goddamn morning.
Also Boobs!
Still not quite a cup-size yet, but they're definately getting more noticeable. I'm not sure what I'm going to do come time when I can't just throw on a hoodie over them and be able to pass okay as a cis-dude so I can go about my daily life relatively unharassed.
It's one thing to have a bag covered in rainbows and buttons clearly spelling you out as trans*. Or have your friends use female pronouns and name in front of people you don't know. That might garner a few raised eyebrows, at most.
It's quite another thing to be walking around in between genders, and not just in a wearing girl's jeans sort of way, more of "You have boobs, but you look sort of like a guy"-way. That might garner a bit more than raised eyebrows, and I'll have to be more careful about doing certain things, like walking around alone at night. Or using certain bathrooms (Thank Cthulhu for gender neutral restrooms).
I mean don't get me wrong. I'm fucking excited about all these body changes.
They're awesome!
But it's a lot easier to write about nervousness than being more comfortable in your own body. There's more words for nervousness. Suffice to say I'm really fucking enjoying the effects of hormones.
Anyway. Gotta get back to studying.
P.S. I think I'm going to start doing every other week instead of every week, because like I said, I'm busy as fuck, but that will also give me more time to write about trans* stuff that doesn't necessarily relate to my transition which I really want to do.
Also Boobs!
Still not quite a cup-size yet, but they're definately getting more noticeable. I'm not sure what I'm going to do come time when I can't just throw on a hoodie over them and be able to pass okay as a cis-dude so I can go about my daily life relatively unharassed.
It's one thing to have a bag covered in rainbows and buttons clearly spelling you out as trans*. Or have your friends use female pronouns and name in front of people you don't know. That might garner a few raised eyebrows, at most.
It's quite another thing to be walking around in between genders, and not just in a wearing girl's jeans sort of way, more of "You have boobs, but you look sort of like a guy"-way. That might garner a bit more than raised eyebrows, and I'll have to be more careful about doing certain things, like walking around alone at night. Or using certain bathrooms (Thank Cthulhu for gender neutral restrooms).
I mean don't get me wrong. I'm fucking excited about all these body changes.
They're awesome!
But it's a lot easier to write about nervousness than being more comfortable in your own body. There's more words for nervousness. Suffice to say I'm really fucking enjoying the effects of hormones.
Anyway. Gotta get back to studying.
P.S. I think I'm going to start doing every other week instead of every week, because like I said, I'm busy as fuck, but that will also give me more time to write about trans* stuff that doesn't necessarily relate to my transition which I really want to do.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Week Seven
So this post is really late. I've been busy. My bad. (It seems to me like about half these post are going to end up with me starting with apologizing for being late. Perhaps I should just stop giving a shit and update whenever)
Oh well
My life more and more seems like a cheesy coming of age movie. It's developing in ways that I would have never expected to, and instead of the gorgeous Zach Braff as the protagonist it's my trans* ass.
For instance. People come over to my house and hangout on a regular basis. Me and my roommate actually host get-togethers where everyone gets really fucked up and plays video-games. Or goes down to the club. Or just hangs out.
It's glorious.
It's unexpected though. I was always this little nerdy kid who would play elder scrolls games in her room for hours on end. Now people come in and out of my house, we enjoy each other's company. People crash on my couch. I'm actually being social. Voluntarily! Crazy!
It's weird. And I get to wake up next to my gorgeous girlfriend most mornings.
I've started a three ukulele band with a few friends named Much Much More (Yes this will probably be the most hipster thing I've ever done with my life.)
It's almost like I'm growing up a bit. I'm not as much of a kid anymore, hiding in my parent's basement, emerging only at midnight to feast on peanut butter and jelly.
It's like I'm almost a for-realsies adult, leading my own life, doing the things that I enjoy. It's a good feeling.
But anyways.
Trans-stuff.
Next week marks my second month of HRT. Go me.
It hurt like fucking hell.
If you were to google to see if laser hurts you're probably going to read something along the lines of "It feels like someone snapping a rubber band on your face."
Let me tell you something.
That's fucking bullshit.
Laser was probably the most painful thing I've ever experienced in my life. And considering the things I've done to my body that's not a meaningless statement. I've got a scar on my right eyebrow from a staff sergeant kicking a fucking door into my face (funny story that) and subsequently getting 4-5 stitches. I used to do parkour and fall and hurt myself A LOT, and have more than a few scars from that. I've no less than 5 3rd degree burn scars on my body that will be with me for the rest of my life.
And while your experience may vary, none of that was up to par with getting laser done on my face.
I didn't have any anesthetic or numbing creme, maybe that would change things. And the lady doing it said the first time was going to be the worst because the hairs were the thickest.
But. FUCK.
The best analogy I can draw is someone heating up a needle strong enough to give you a second or third degree burns and then sticking it in your face repeatedly at a steady beat for 10 minutes, with it never cooling down.
Holy shit.
When I actually saw smoke from my facial hair being literally burned away, I had to just closed my eyes and just suffered in silence, til it was done, taking occasional breaks when it got a bit too intense.
It might be that hormones are affecting the way that I feel pain. It's just that, I've always been able to sort of grunt my way through any sort of pain. Finally it goes away I yell profanities for a few minutes and then I'm good to go.
Not this.
I literally just cried for about 20 minutes after I was done. I cried harder than I've ever cried for any sort of physical pain. I finally composed myself, payed my 200 bones to the doctor, left, found a bathroom (Thank the flying spaghetti monster for gender neutral, 1 stall, bathrooms) and then cried for another half-hour. Just weeping from the pain. I've never felt anything so intense.
It. Fucking. sucked.
It doesn't help that your face has a metric shitton of nerve endings, especially around the lips (where there is a lot of fucking hair for me).
As far as effects, the doc said that it should take about 4 sessions and I should see a 80% or so reduction in permanent hair, which should rid me of my dreaded beard shadow, as well as the need to shave daily,. My hair is definately thinner on my face, and I definately see improvements. My face was red as hell afterwards, and felt like it was sunburned to hell, and it seems likely that it's causing me to break-out with acne right now, but that should go away.
Also another thing to mention right quick. I was under the impression that I would go in, they'd zap me, and my hair would be gone by the end of the appointment, burned away to oblivion.
That's actually not what happens. They zap the fuck out of the hair follicles and then the hair gradually falls out half a week to a week later. Which sucked because I wasn't able to shave until about a day after I had it done, and had already been growing the hair for a day or two prior, so the laser specialist would actually have something to zap. So I got to walk around feeling dysphoric as fuck from my facial hair for about half a week. Just something to mention I suppose.
So yeah, laser. I've got my next appointment next month, provided the salvation army actually fucking pays me so I can afford it (Don't get me started).
On a slightly different note one of my good friends (whose actually dating my roommate, also trans*) just came out as transgender (ftm), which is super super exciting for him. It's always fun to know people like yourself I suppose, but also it's such a big step for him to be going by different pronouns and whatnot. Luckily our circle of friends is really affirming, and have been really good about pronouns (for me and him).
(Though my lovely girlfriend played a pretty huge role in getting my friends to switch to using she for me, since I always feel awkward asking people to use my preferred pronouns.)
The really funny thing is that prior to coming out as a guy he was what one would consider a super-dyke lesbian. Like unicorns eating glitter and shitting rainbows sort of gay. Fabulous, one might say.
But since he came out as guy he started dating one of my roommates (also male), so ironically enough, he's still got the gay albeit in a different direction.
Go Team Queer.
Anyway.
That's pretty much it for this week. It's not that I don't have more to talk about but I do sort of have real obligations. Like you know, School. This fucking differential equations class may kill me (although it would be nice if the teacher had a working grasp of the English language). The life of being an engineering major. Good thing I fucking love it, otherwise I'd probably end up killing myself.
Here's a picture of me from this past saturday before heading out to gay night at the local bar.
Cheers.
Oh well
My life more and more seems like a cheesy coming of age movie. It's developing in ways that I would have never expected to, and instead of the gorgeous Zach Braff as the protagonist it's my trans* ass.
(With feel-good indie pop constantly playing in the background)
And then we wake up in the morning and drink coffee, maybe make some breakfast.
It's glorious.
It's unexpected though. I was always this little nerdy kid who would play elder scrolls games in her room for hours on end. Now people come in and out of my house, we enjoy each other's company. People crash on my couch. I'm actually being social. Voluntarily! Crazy!
It's weird. And I get to wake up next to my gorgeous girlfriend most mornings.
I've started a three ukulele band with a few friends named Much Much More (Yes this will probably be the most hipster thing I've ever done with my life.)
It's almost like I'm growing up a bit. I'm not as much of a kid anymore, hiding in my parent's basement, emerging only at midnight to feast on peanut butter and jelly.
It's like I'm almost a for-realsies adult, leading my own life, doing the things that I enjoy. It's a good feeling.
But anyways.
Trans-stuff.
Next week marks my second month of HRT. Go me.
Also, more body changes are happening, and much faster than I anticipated. I'm actually starting to grow boobs now instead of just having these nasty little headlights poking out of shirt. I mean don't get me wrong, they're not exactly developed, and I doubt that I would fit even the smallest cup size. But I do need to wear a sports bra pretty much all the time now. And it feels pretty awesome. And is really exciting.
Oh and I got my laser appointment this past Wednesday.
(Pew pew)
It hurt like fucking hell.
If you were to google to see if laser hurts you're probably going to read something along the lines of "It feels like someone snapping a rubber band on your face."
Let me tell you something.
That's fucking bullshit.
Laser was probably the most painful thing I've ever experienced in my life. And considering the things I've done to my body that's not a meaningless statement. I've got a scar on my right eyebrow from a staff sergeant kicking a fucking door into my face (funny story that) and subsequently getting 4-5 stitches. I used to do parkour and fall and hurt myself A LOT, and have more than a few scars from that. I've no less than 5 3rd degree burn scars on my body that will be with me for the rest of my life.
And while your experience may vary, none of that was up to par with getting laser done on my face.
I didn't have any anesthetic or numbing creme, maybe that would change things. And the lady doing it said the first time was going to be the worst because the hairs were the thickest.
But. FUCK.
The best analogy I can draw is someone heating up a needle strong enough to give you a second or third degree burns and then sticking it in your face repeatedly at a steady beat for 10 minutes, with it never cooling down.
Holy shit.
When I actually saw smoke from my facial hair being literally burned away, I had to just closed my eyes and just suffered in silence, til it was done, taking occasional breaks when it got a bit too intense.
It might be that hormones are affecting the way that I feel pain. It's just that, I've always been able to sort of grunt my way through any sort of pain. Finally it goes away I yell profanities for a few minutes and then I'm good to go.
Not this.
I literally just cried for about 20 minutes after I was done. I cried harder than I've ever cried for any sort of physical pain. I finally composed myself, payed my 200 bones to the doctor, left, found a bathroom (Thank the flying spaghetti monster for gender neutral, 1 stall, bathrooms) and then cried for another half-hour. Just weeping from the pain. I've never felt anything so intense.
It. Fucking. sucked.
It doesn't help that your face has a metric shitton of nerve endings, especially around the lips (where there is a lot of fucking hair for me).
As far as effects, the doc said that it should take about 4 sessions and I should see a 80% or so reduction in permanent hair, which should rid me of my dreaded beard shadow, as well as the need to shave daily,. My hair is definately thinner on my face, and I definately see improvements. My face was red as hell afterwards, and felt like it was sunburned to hell, and it seems likely that it's causing me to break-out with acne right now, but that should go away.
Also another thing to mention right quick. I was under the impression that I would go in, they'd zap me, and my hair would be gone by the end of the appointment, burned away to oblivion.
That's actually not what happens. They zap the fuck out of the hair follicles and then the hair gradually falls out half a week to a week later. Which sucked because I wasn't able to shave until about a day after I had it done, and had already been growing the hair for a day or two prior, so the laser specialist would actually have something to zap. So I got to walk around feeling dysphoric as fuck from my facial hair for about half a week. Just something to mention I suppose.
So yeah, laser. I've got my next appointment next month, provided the salvation army actually fucking pays me so I can afford it (Don't get me started).
On a slightly different note one of my good friends (whose actually dating my roommate, also trans*) just came out as transgender (ftm), which is super super exciting for him. It's always fun to know people like yourself I suppose, but also it's such a big step for him to be going by different pronouns and whatnot. Luckily our circle of friends is really affirming, and have been really good about pronouns (for me and him).
(Though my lovely girlfriend played a pretty huge role in getting my friends to switch to using she for me, since I always feel awkward asking people to use my preferred pronouns.)
The really funny thing is that prior to coming out as a guy he was what one would consider a super-dyke lesbian. Like unicorns eating glitter and shitting rainbows sort of gay. Fabulous, one might say.
(Fair approximation)
But since he came out as guy he started dating one of my roommates (also male), so ironically enough, he's still got the gay albeit in a different direction.
Go Team Queer.
Anyway.
That's pretty much it for this week. It's not that I don't have more to talk about but I do sort of have real obligations. Like you know, School. This fucking differential equations class may kill me (although it would be nice if the teacher had a working grasp of the English language). The life of being an engineering major. Good thing I fucking love it, otherwise I'd probably end up killing myself.
Here's a picture of me from this past saturday before heading out to gay night at the local bar.
Cheers.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Week Six!
Okay, so I've had like the best week ever.
(with the exception of when I got my hormones, but I mean that was more crazy/lifechanging/emotional, and this is more just everything is awesome sort of thing.)
Schools back in session. I finally have something to do with my life again. My class schedule is a lot less ridiculous than it was last quarter which is awesome. (Apparently having 9 hours of lab classes every week in addition to having a full regular class schedule and working a part time job wasn't as good an idea for my mental health as one might think)
But since school's back in session that also means that all my friends are back, which is super-exciting! Most of my friends are queer as well, and fit somewhere under the alphabet soup lgbt umbrella. Which is fabulous in every sense of the word.
And I'm going to go on a brief tangent for a minute, so bear with me. One thing I've noticed though, we all joke about gay things. Stereotypes, euphemisms, innuendo, all that fun stuff. It's legitimately hilarious. We never joke about trans* things.
And there are quite a few trans* identified, and gender variant people in our group (although I'm the only one transitioning at the moment) And I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's sort of unmentioned. Trans* jokes don't really pop up, other than for the sake of "Oh hey we've got an entire alphabet here" sort of jokes.
I mean to be fair I really fucking hate things like obviously cis-gender guys in drag for the sake of a joke. Like that horrible abc series that's staring up.
So, on one hand it's sort of relieving, but on the other I wonder/worry if me being trans* might make some of my friends uncomfortable, or if they feel like it's a subject that just shouldn't be joked about, or if it's just something that never crosses their mind.
I'm not sure how I'd take a trans* joke. I mean at a party for new years, this one guy who is as camp as a row a tents and was on the border of complete liver failure came up to me said "Nat come here, ya' trannie bitch, give me a hug."
ಠ_à²
I mean, Browhat?
I judged him with my judging eyes.
Then again I really fucking hate the word "trannie", especially from people who aren't trans* identified. I mean he's sort of my friend/acquaintance, and still is I suppose. And he apologized later, and I'm not about to hold something against someone they say 'cause they're shitty wasted. I've been there. But still.
Fucking A
Maybe it's best to just joke about the homo stuff for the moment and leave the trans* stuff out. I dunno. More on this later. Need to think about it.
Anyway. Tangent Over. Back to awesomeness.
I finally scheduled an appointment for laser hair removal on my face. Which is absolutely epic. It's relatively cheap from what I can tell ($150 per session, for four sessions), and almost literally right next to my house. I can walk there. I don't know why I was never able to find this place before with all my googling.
I mean it's a legit dermatology clinic, and you have to licensed to use the equipment they're going to use, so I'm not going to show-up pay 150 bones and have them just shine a little laser pointer on my face and tell me
I'm good to go.
It's going to be so nice to wake up in the morning and not be immediately dysphoric because I have to shave these nasty fucking pube hairs growing out of my face. I can't wait. My first appointment is on the 11th, at 4:20, which gives me interesting ideas on how I might be able to deal with the pain, (although I hear it's not too bad).
Oh, and I got my lip pierced yesterday! I always feel so fucking shwanky when I get new peircings. It's like a little switch. Swag on. Fucking exciting. I really like it, although my lip is swollen as hell right now, and it's sore as shit.
Also exciting news, I got a kitty!!!
(with the exception of when I got my hormones, but I mean that was more crazy/lifechanging/emotional, and this is more just everything is awesome sort of thing.)
Schools back in session. I finally have something to do with my life again. My class schedule is a lot less ridiculous than it was last quarter which is awesome. (Apparently having 9 hours of lab classes every week in addition to having a full regular class schedule and working a part time job wasn't as good an idea for my mental health as one might think)
But since school's back in session that also means that all my friends are back, which is super-exciting! Most of my friends are queer as well, and fit somewhere under the alphabet soup lgbt umbrella. Which is fabulous in every sense of the word.
And I'm going to go on a brief tangent for a minute, so bear with me. One thing I've noticed though, we all joke about gay things. Stereotypes, euphemisms, innuendo, all that fun stuff. It's legitimately hilarious. We never joke about trans* things.
And there are quite a few trans* identified, and gender variant people in our group (although I'm the only one transitioning at the moment) And I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's sort of unmentioned. Trans* jokes don't really pop up, other than for the sake of "Oh hey we've got an entire alphabet here" sort of jokes.
I mean to be fair I really fucking hate things like obviously cis-gender guys in drag for the sake of a joke. Like that horrible abc series that's staring up.
(*Shudder* Let us never speak of this again)
I'm not sure how I'd take a trans* joke. I mean at a party for new years, this one guy who is as camp as a row a tents and was on the border of complete liver failure came up to me said "Nat come here, ya' trannie bitch, give me a hug."
ಠ_à²
I mean, Browhat?
I judged him with my judging eyes.
Then again I really fucking hate the word "trannie", especially from people who aren't trans* identified. I mean he's sort of my friend/acquaintance, and still is I suppose. And he apologized later, and I'm not about to hold something against someone they say 'cause they're shitty wasted. I've been there. But still.
Fucking A
Maybe it's best to just joke about the homo stuff for the moment and leave the trans* stuff out. I dunno. More on this later. Need to think about it.
Anyway. Tangent Over. Back to awesomeness.
(This was actually posted on the wall of my barracks at military school. Flawless victory.)
I mean it's a legit dermatology clinic, and you have to licensed to use the equipment they're going to use, so I'm not going to show-up pay 150 bones and have them just shine a little laser pointer on my face and tell me
I'm good to go.
It's going to be so nice to wake up in the morning and not be immediately dysphoric because I have to shave these nasty fucking pube hairs growing out of my face. I can't wait. My first appointment is on the 11th, at 4:20, which gives me interesting ideas on how I might be able to deal with the pain, (although I hear it's not too bad).
Oh, and I got my lip pierced yesterday! I always feel so fucking shwanky when I get new peircings. It's like a little switch. Swag on. Fucking exciting. I really like it, although my lip is swollen as hell right now, and it's sore as shit.
Also exciting news, I got a kitty!!!
(Created by billions of years of evolution, the sleek and deadly killing machine, in the flesh.)
His name is J'zargo (if you get the reference there's a good chance we can probably be best friends). He was a stray, but now he's my own little babykins, and I love him dearly.
He's absolutely adorable.
And also batshit insane.
He tries to pounce on EVERYTHING. He does midair flips when playing. And he cuddles with me at night. And falls asleep in my lap, and in boxes. I can't stop trying to take pictures of him with my webcam.
My girlfriend keeps on telling me I'm gonna turn into a crazy cat lady.
(You'll notice that eventually regardless of how cute a girl is you'll eventually stop giving a shit and not want to hear about her fucking cat anymore. Shamelessly stolen from Dmitri Martin)
Speaking of which. New news, I have a girlfriend now. She's fucking terrific. I mean we've been kind of sort of dating, but now it's official. Happy feelings all around. I mean. God, she's beautiful. And smart. And makes me laugh. And is shamelessly adorable. And she considers me her girlfriend without a second thought.
To be pretty honest, she's pretty much all around super awesome.
There's just a ridiculous number of good things about her. Like how since we both identify as pansexual and point out attractive people to each other. Or how we cuddle. Or paint our nails together. Or how we talk about everything.
Fuck. I'm gushing.
But yeah, ANYWAY. Awesome week. Hopefully it continues. Now that I finally have money from my student loans I can go for realsies grocery shopping, and I've been craving jalapenos like a motherfucker. Weirdness. I think I'm gonna see if my roommates mom can trim my hair since I haven't had a cut since I shaved it completely in February (yes purging is pretty terrible, and yes, I looked like a neo-nazi. The uniform didn't help). Apparently she cuts hair. So awesome sauce. Anyways. I promised a shitty drunk picture of myself from new years. That didn't really happen, so it will have to wait. In the meantime here's me and little Jazzy cuddling (J'zargo's nickname is Jazzy, apparently it's a hard to remember for people not well versed in Khajiit names.)
(Not sure I pull of that fashion mullet as well as Tegan and Sara :P)
Friday, December 30, 2011
Voice
So I originally was going to post this in my Week Five Update, but I sort of began to ramble and that became long as hell, and plus I figure this deserves it's own post anyway.
Probably more than anything but facial hair, my male voice right now makes me feel incredibly dysphoric. Which fucking sucks.I literally find myself talking less because I hate my voice so much. It's deep and somewhat gravelly, and not at all what I want to sound like.
What's worse is that when I'm in awkward conversations, which are pretty frequent for me, or when I'm feeling really dysphoric or out of my element in a conversation, I tend to drop my voice to a almost comically low tone. Which, as one might imagine, doesn't help the situation much for me, even though usually the person I'm talking to might not notice it.
So I've told quite a few of my friends that once school starts back up after the new year that I'm probably going to sound a bit different, and not to laugh at me, because it's going to sound horrible.
You see, I've been practicing my voice on and off since April, especially in the last month. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified to actually use in an actual conversation.
Here's the problem.
Well multiple problems.
First of all I'm struggling with what I talked about in a previous post, in that I'm worried that I'll try too hard and it will sound even less like a girls voice. I mean my "girl voice" (for lack of a better way to differentiate the way I've been practicing to speak) doesn't sound like minnie mouse or anything. It probably sounds more androgynous than anything else, but that leads me to the problem that I might not be making it feminine-sounding enough. It's difficult to tell if I'm landing on too low, too high, too much "chest" or "head" or a million other variables, with just my own ears to judge, even if I do record it with a mic and play it back to myself.
Which leads me to another problem. I've never actually used my voice in a conversation. It's always just been alone in my room talking into my computer and then playing it back to myself. Repeating the same thing over and over again. The most variable practice I've gotten is reading things occasionally. I have no way of knowing if I'll be able to maintain the right range when talking. Or if I'm scared, upset, happy, trying to think, drunk, using different tones or anything else. It's all incredibly foreign.
And all those things that use your voice but aren't actually talking, like laughing, coughing and a million of other things.
There's just so much room to fuck up.
And I mean I have really awesome friends. I doubt any of them would ever laugh at me because I accidentally slip back into "dude voice" mid-sentence. But still. I just don't want that to happen even though I know it will.
I mean in all honesty I'm going to absolutely suck in the beginning. But
But I am fucking terrified of those first steps. I know I'm gonna fuck up. A lot. I'm gonna need to force myself. And it's probably going to sound forced, which scares me even more.
Probably more than anything but facial hair, my male voice right now makes me feel incredibly dysphoric. Which fucking sucks.I literally find myself talking less because I hate my voice so much. It's deep and somewhat gravelly, and not at all what I want to sound like.
What's worse is that when I'm in awkward conversations, which are pretty frequent for me, or when I'm feeling really dysphoric or out of my element in a conversation, I tend to drop my voice to a almost comically low tone. Which, as one might imagine, doesn't help the situation much for me, even though usually the person I'm talking to might not notice it.
So I've told quite a few of my friends that once school starts back up after the new year that I'm probably going to sound a bit different, and not to laugh at me, because it's going to sound horrible.
You see, I've been practicing my voice on and off since April, especially in the last month. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified to actually use in an actual conversation.
Here's the problem.
Well multiple problems.
First of all I'm struggling with what I talked about in a previous post, in that I'm worried that I'll try too hard and it will sound even less like a girls voice. I mean my "girl voice" (for lack of a better way to differentiate the way I've been practicing to speak) doesn't sound like minnie mouse or anything. It probably sounds more androgynous than anything else, but that leads me to the problem that I might not be making it feminine-sounding enough. It's difficult to tell if I'm landing on too low, too high, too much "chest" or "head" or a million other variables, with just my own ears to judge, even if I do record it with a mic and play it back to myself.
Which leads me to another problem. I've never actually used my voice in a conversation. It's always just been alone in my room talking into my computer and then playing it back to myself. Repeating the same thing over and over again. The most variable practice I've gotten is reading things occasionally. I have no way of knowing if I'll be able to maintain the right range when talking. Or if I'm scared, upset, happy, trying to think, drunk, using different tones or anything else. It's all incredibly foreign.
And all those things that use your voice but aren't actually talking, like laughing, coughing and a million of other things.
There's just so much room to fuck up.
And I mean I have really awesome friends. I doubt any of them would ever laugh at me because I accidentally slip back into "dude voice" mid-sentence. But still. I just don't want that to happen even though I know it will.
I mean in all honesty I'm going to absolutely suck in the beginning. But
(Adventure Time is basically win in purified form)
And I know Jake's right. I've done it with everything from teaching myself guitar to learning about computers, to school. Story of my life at this point.
.
I'll steadily get more used to sounding closer to what I want to sound like, and my fuck-ups will become less frequent. I'll eventually get down things like laughing and whatnot. And in the long-run everything will be totally spiffy.But I am fucking terrified of those first steps. I know I'm gonna fuck up. A lot. I'm gonna need to force myself. And it's probably going to sound forced, which scares me even more.
Week Five
So Christmas has just passed, and 2011, as well as winter break from school is rapidly coming to an end, Which means a bunch of friends are coming back to the lovely little college town I live in to drink with me. Oh, and school.
Which is awesome.
Anyways, word vomit from the week.
Starting with fun HRT stuff; Let me preface this with the fact I haven't actually put on any additional weight (although I'm read quite a bit of anecdotal evidence that E usually means weight-gain, so it's probably coming)
I feel like I'm starting to fit into my jeans a bit differently. They're seeming a bit tighter, which means apparently my ass is getting larger. To be completely honest I'm not sure it really is. It's likely just my imagination, but luckily for me, that's why I keep pretty regular body measurements so I'll be able to say whether or not it really is in two weeks or so.
My abs are also no-longer is the 6-pack it once was. It's quite a bit more fleshy. I mean I don't have a gut or anything but it's just sort of a bit more flat. I'm not sure if that's from fat beginning to redistribute itself, not actually having worked out for almost 9 months, or me gaining fat and at the same time losing muscle, keeping my weight the same. Most likely a combination of all three. I mean I definately still have a dudely looking stomach, but it's an interesting change.
My chest is also starting to appear to be shaped a bit differently. It's hard to put into words. It still hurts like hell, but that's definitely getting a little more fleshy too. Which, not going to lie, I'm super-stoked about. Who doesn't like boobs? But I don't think I qualify to have anything placed into a cup-size.
Emotions are really just continued craziness. Everything is so much more extremely intense than it was before, but in a really awesome way. I mean I really can't complain. Even being sad is better than pre-hrt.
I'm getting weirdly really super-excited about small things. Like something cool happening on a show, or getting a heart container playing zelda has me jumping around my room with happiness. Which is really cool. Happiness is always a plus.
And (family, look away) my sex drive seems to be returning. Might get a bit TMI here, but after getting on testosterone blockers you realize how much that chemical really just makes you want to HUMP EVERYTHING. And that feeling pretty much just disappears after you're on T-blockers. I mean don't get me wrong, I still got aroused, but it took a lot more to get me there, and didn't just sort of happen randomly, while I was making eggs or something. Since starting estrogen, my sex drive seems to be slowly returning but arousal is definately a different sort of feeling. It's difficult to put into words, and I could probably write a whole post about it, but it's much more of a whole body sort of feeling rather than concentrated wholly in the pelvic region. Which is pretty awesome.
ANYWAY, switching gears slighty.
I've made a new record for bursting into tears at the most innocent thing: Sitting at my computer and this song coming on.
So yeah emotions. Crazy shit.
Christmas with my family went pretty awesomely if I do say so myself. I mean my family doesn't use my preferred name or pronouns or anything, but the highlight of my Christmas (aside from seeing my little brothers unwrap there presents, and then me subsequently stealing all their toys and playing with them) was seeing my name on Christmas gifts from my wonderful sisters, and even on about half my gifts from my parents, which was pretty huge for me, and really meant a lot.
It was also really terrific to see my lovely oldest sister, Taylor, and her wonderful husband, Dom, which doesn't happen enough, since he's in the army and they live together way down in the far away land of North Carolina.
After Christmas didn't go so well though. I had a bit of a falling out with my mother, which sucks. But I'm pretty confident it won't last too long. I know she cares a lot for me, but for the time being, I guess we're not really talking, which is pretty saddening. I wish they didn't, I suppose these things happen.
I am incredibly excited for New years though. Friends are coming back, school is starting back up, all sorts of fun shit. And the beautiful girl I'm talking to is finally coming back. Sempur stoked.
I'll probably do an actual New Years post, hopefully before midnight tomorrow, but if not then probably on New years day, because there definitely is some stuff I'd like to get into writing about 2011 and the new year, but this post seems to be plenty long enough as is. I'll try to get an awful drunken photo of myself to post on the internet tomorrow.
Toodles
Which is awesome.
Anyways, word vomit from the week.
Starting with fun HRT stuff; Let me preface this with the fact I haven't actually put on any additional weight (although I'm read quite a bit of anecdotal evidence that E usually means weight-gain, so it's probably coming)
I feel like I'm starting to fit into my jeans a bit differently. They're seeming a bit tighter, which means apparently my ass is getting larger. To be completely honest I'm not sure it really is. It's likely just my imagination, but luckily for me, that's why I keep pretty regular body measurements so I'll be able to say whether or not it really is in two weeks or so.
My abs are also no-longer is the 6-pack it once was. It's quite a bit more fleshy. I mean I don't have a gut or anything but it's just sort of a bit more flat. I'm not sure if that's from fat beginning to redistribute itself, not actually having worked out for almost 9 months, or me gaining fat and at the same time losing muscle, keeping my weight the same. Most likely a combination of all three. I mean I definately still have a dudely looking stomach, but it's an interesting change.
My chest is also starting to appear to be shaped a bit differently. It's hard to put into words. It still hurts like hell, but that's definitely getting a little more fleshy too. Which, not going to lie, I'm super-stoked about. Who doesn't like boobs? But I don't think I qualify to have anything placed into a cup-size.
Emotions are really just continued craziness. Everything is so much more extremely intense than it was before, but in a really awesome way. I mean I really can't complain. Even being sad is better than pre-hrt.
I'm getting weirdly really super-excited about small things. Like something cool happening on a show, or getting a heart container playing zelda has me jumping around my room with happiness. Which is really cool. Happiness is always a plus.
And (family, look away) my sex drive seems to be returning. Might get a bit TMI here, but after getting on testosterone blockers you realize how much that chemical really just makes you want to HUMP EVERYTHING. And that feeling pretty much just disappears after you're on T-blockers. I mean don't get me wrong, I still got aroused, but it took a lot more to get me there, and didn't just sort of happen randomly, while I was making eggs or something. Since starting estrogen, my sex drive seems to be slowly returning but arousal is definately a different sort of feeling. It's difficult to put into words, and I could probably write a whole post about it, but it's much more of a whole body sort of feeling rather than concentrated wholly in the pelvic region. Which is pretty awesome.
ANYWAY, switching gears slighty.
I've made a new record for bursting into tears at the most innocent thing: Sitting at my computer and this song coming on.
(Although to be fair, it's an absolutely beautiful song by a terrific band)
Christmas with my family went pretty awesomely if I do say so myself. I mean my family doesn't use my preferred name or pronouns or anything, but the highlight of my Christmas (aside from seeing my little brothers unwrap there presents, and then me subsequently stealing all their toys and playing with them) was seeing my name on Christmas gifts from my wonderful sisters, and even on about half my gifts from my parents, which was pretty huge for me, and really meant a lot.
It was also really terrific to see my lovely oldest sister, Taylor, and her wonderful husband, Dom, which doesn't happen enough, since he's in the army and they live together way down in the far away land of North Carolina.
After Christmas didn't go so well though. I had a bit of a falling out with my mother, which sucks. But I'm pretty confident it won't last too long. I know she cares a lot for me, but for the time being, I guess we're not really talking, which is pretty saddening. I wish they didn't, I suppose these things happen.
I am incredibly excited for New years though. Friends are coming back, school is starting back up, all sorts of fun shit. And the beautiful girl I'm talking to is finally coming back. Sempur stoked.
I'll probably do an actual New Years post, hopefully before midnight tomorrow, but if not then probably on New years day, because there definitely is some stuff I'd like to get into writing about 2011 and the new year, but this post seems to be plenty long enough as is. I'll try to get an awful drunken photo of myself to post on the internet tomorrow.
Toodles
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Overdoing It
So when I first went into the endocrinologist, one who actually specialized in transgender care, I pretty much went fully in "Dude-mode" with a really good friend of mine who is cis-gender female and rocks a badass mohawk, and also tends to be fairly butch. The first thing the endo said when she walked in was "Okay, which of you is Nat?" Okay, definitely a fair enough question, and I sheepishly said I was.
Anyway, the conclusion of this first endo-visit was this little gem. The endocrinologist had told me that basically that "most trans-women who came in had a tendency to over play any sort of femininity, they caked on make-up, they wore skirts, were excited to show off their shoes and it wasn't until later that they usually fell into a type of femininity that fit them better" I was wearing boys jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and some old running shoes. I had a therapist letter, but she decided that she just wanted to start me out on testerone blockers so she could give me some more time to "settle into my role, and make sure it was right for me before starting out on actual hrt"
(The next time I came in I had on way too much eyeliner, my tightest jeans, and a cute sweatshirt, and she perscribed me HRT. My letter from my therapist was the same it was the first time I went in, and the only change to my convictions was that now I knew that I functioned better without testosterone, rather than suspected it.)
While plenty could be said about gate-keeping as a larger societal problem for the trans* community from this experience, what I got from it at the time was this.
I was and continue to be absolutely terrified of over-doing my feminity and looking "false"
I don't want to look like a cross-dresser
I don't want to look like a "drag-queen". That was what kept in the closet to myself for so long
I'm not even super-femme to begin with. I don't know that I'd describe myself as butch, but I definately prefer jeans over dresses.
It's not that I hate dresses, or make-up.
It's just that I often feel super-dysphoric wearing them. I feel like I'm trying too hard. That, as my mother puts it, I'll be "a mockery of women" (God, I hate that phrase)
I'll be honest, I like to pretend confidence, because when you're confident in yourself people tend to be confident in you, but wearing make-up in public, or wearing explicitly female clothes?
That terrifies me.
That I could try my hardest but know that's not going to be good enough. That people will perceive as a "man in a dress" instead of what I am, a girl.
I can play off tight jeans, and shirts. I like having my nails painted pretty colors. But those are all things that I can do without immediately advertising that I'm trans*.
In my one-month photo, I was convinced that I would look awful wearing a flower in my hair and some make-up. I was nervous and the only reason I was able to pull it off is because I consumed quite a bit of alcohol and the person standing next to me in that photo, whose one of my best friends, had to validate that I didn't look awful. I can't put on eyeliner without first asking my friends if I should, when I should, by all means, be able to own that sort of shit.
And I'll be honest, I like that picture a lot. It may damn well be the best I've taken so far. I wish I could look like that everyday!
But I would never have been able to do something like that in public (or in this case at a Christmas party) by myself.
And I'm not even dressed that femininely in that picture! I'm wearing a button down and jeans (even if they are girls). I simply cannot imagine myself pulling off something that shows my shoulders, or anything without legs. I can't do the nylon-stocking-birdseed-breast.
One day I really hope that I can (things like sundresses that is; I'd much rather have my own breast attached to my body, thank-you very much), and in all honestly I'll probably ease presenting more "femininely". But I can't just do it right off the bat. I'll feel like a "guy in a dress", that I'll try too hard and only look like a parody instead. That terrifies me.
The problem is that I'm incredibly afraid of being perceived as a "fake-woman", and not even by others. It's more a struggle with myself than anything else. It makes me more dysphoric to look down and see fake breast, than it does to see my flat chest. The former only reminds me of male body more. Which sucks.
And that may be non-politically-trans*-correct. Being trans* is something that no-one should ever have to be ashamed of, or afraid to broadcast. Call it internalized trans* phobia, but I have difficulty acting as though that were true, even when I know in my head that it's just as valid to be trans* as it is to be cis-gender.
And I'm openly out as a trans-woman to pretty much everyone I know! I shouldn't have to worry about this shit! But it's not really about other people. It's about me.
I think it's awesome that a lot of trans-women who are transitioning can leap to super feminine and then gradually slide back on the scale until they reach a point where they're comfortable.
But I can't do that. Instead, my way of figuring out where I land on the broad, complicated scale of gender expression is to gradually slide over from male to female, keep the male things I like and slowly adopt the female things I like. I know my comfort range will expand though, especially as my body changes, but I'll be damned if it will expand easily, without me fighting myself each step of the way.
Anyway, the conclusion of this first endo-visit was this little gem. The endocrinologist had told me that basically that "most trans-women who came in had a tendency to over play any sort of femininity, they caked on make-up, they wore skirts, were excited to show off their shoes and it wasn't until later that they usually fell into a type of femininity that fit them better" I was wearing boys jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and some old running shoes. I had a therapist letter, but she decided that she just wanted to start me out on testerone blockers so she could give me some more time to "settle into my role, and make sure it was right for me before starting out on actual hrt"
(The next time I came in I had on way too much eyeliner, my tightest jeans, and a cute sweatshirt, and she perscribed me HRT. My letter from my therapist was the same it was the first time I went in, and the only change to my convictions was that now I knew that I functioned better without testosterone, rather than suspected it.)
While plenty could be said about gate-keeping as a larger societal problem for the trans* community from this experience, what I got from it at the time was this.
I was and continue to be absolutely terrified of over-doing my feminity and looking "false"
I don't want to look like a cross-dresser
I don't want to look like a "drag-queen". That was what kept in the closet to myself for so long
(although I've since realized that there are MANY incredibly gorgeous drag queens, like Manila Luzon)
It's not that I hate dresses, or make-up.
It's just that I often feel super-dysphoric wearing them. I feel like I'm trying too hard. That, as my mother puts it, I'll be "a mockery of women" (God, I hate that phrase)
I'll be honest, I like to pretend confidence, because when you're confident in yourself people tend to be confident in you, but wearing make-up in public, or wearing explicitly female clothes?
That terrifies me.
That I could try my hardest but know that's not going to be good enough. That people will perceive as a "man in a dress" instead of what I am, a girl.
I can play off tight jeans, and shirts. I like having my nails painted pretty colors. But those are all things that I can do without immediately advertising that I'm trans*.
In my one-month photo, I was convinced that I would look awful wearing a flower in my hair and some make-up. I was nervous and the only reason I was able to pull it off is because I consumed quite a bit of alcohol and the person standing next to me in that photo, whose one of my best friends, had to validate that I didn't look awful. I can't put on eyeliner without first asking my friends if I should, when I should, by all means, be able to own that sort of shit.
And I'll be honest, I like that picture a lot. It may damn well be the best I've taken so far. I wish I could look like that everyday!
But I would never have been able to do something like that in public (or in this case at a Christmas party) by myself.
And I'm not even dressed that femininely in that picture! I'm wearing a button down and jeans (even if they are girls). I simply cannot imagine myself pulling off something that shows my shoulders, or anything without legs. I can't do the nylon-stocking-birdseed-breast.
One day I really hope that I can (things like sundresses that is; I'd much rather have my own breast attached to my body, thank-you very much), and in all honestly I'll probably ease presenting more "femininely". But I can't just do it right off the bat. I'll feel like a "guy in a dress", that I'll try too hard and only look like a parody instead. That terrifies me.
The problem is that I'm incredibly afraid of being perceived as a "fake-woman", and not even by others. It's more a struggle with myself than anything else. It makes me more dysphoric to look down and see fake breast, than it does to see my flat chest. The former only reminds me of male body more. Which sucks.
And that may be non-politically-trans*-correct. Being trans* is something that no-one should ever have to be ashamed of, or afraid to broadcast. Call it internalized trans* phobia, but I have difficulty acting as though that were true, even when I know in my head that it's just as valid to be trans* as it is to be cis-gender.
And I'm openly out as a trans-woman to pretty much everyone I know! I shouldn't have to worry about this shit! But it's not really about other people. It's about me.
I think it's awesome that a lot of trans-women who are transitioning can leap to super feminine and then gradually slide back on the scale until they reach a point where they're comfortable.
But I can't do that. Instead, my way of figuring out where I land on the broad, complicated scale of gender expression is to gradually slide over from male to female, keep the male things I like and slowly adopt the female things I like. I know my comfort range will expand though, especially as my body changes, but I'll be damned if it will expand easily, without me fighting myself each step of the way.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
1 Month!
So today marks the 1 month anniversary of when I started hormones.
I also have a little tape measure and have been keeping measurements of myself, because I know the human mind likes to make up evidence where there isn't any. The only real changes in so far as measurements go in the past month is that I've lost a bit off my waist, which is probably more due to diet than anything else.
Mental Changes have been much crazier in this first month than physical. I go into detail about them on my Week Three Update.
Basically I'm just a lot more emotional about everything.
One weird thing is that I think I need to relearn how to handle stress. I was always pretty cool-headed before being on hormones but that's changed quite a bit. Maybe it's because I'm more involved and invested emotionally in the world around me, but for example my house started flooding today because the temperature-pressure valve on my hot water tank was broken.
I didn't know this at the time.
I just saw water pouring out of it like a faucet and flipped shit. I had no idea what I was doing and was worried this was going to cost me a metric shitton of money (which it shouldn't, thank eight-pound, six ounce, baby Jesus), and by the time I figured out that hey, I should just shut off the water valve, and by the end of it, I was shaking. So yeah, I need to figure out a way to deal with stress in a manner that doesn't involve breaking down.
Scary movies are also immensely more entertaining. I freaked the fuck out watching "The Descent". Which was sort of fun. But also terrifying. I really don't like things popping out at me, more-so now than ever. But it's like riding a rollercoaster.
And I'm also getting bad cravings, for chocolate mostly (stereotypical, I know) but also for strange things, like for example I was really craving some jalapeno cheetos earlier today.
I feel a lot more childish, and care-free as well if that makes sense. I'm smiling a lot more. I'm quite a bit more expressive. My body language has changed pretty significantly. This is probably more of me being comfortable with myself than an actual effect of hormones though. It's a wonder what self-acceptance can do for you.
The biggest emotional change though, is that I dysphoric a lot less frequently than I did before I was on hormones, which is really awesome.
I definitely react stronger to dysphoria when I do though, and it tends to hit me a lot quicker.
For example I was having a great day earlier this week. I had moments where I looked at my reflection and thought "Fuck yeah, this is coming along nicely". And then I got home, saw my reflection out of the corner of my eye, and spent the next half-hour crying into a pillow and then another good long time talking to my lovely lady-friend who helped me through everything. But yeah crazy mood swings.
All I can say is that it's really awesome having people you know you can talk to. Anyway, this post was mostly just rambling, but here's a picture of me drunk off my ass at a Christmas party earlier this week, so you can sort of see how I'm changing. (And this one has make-up, which is always exciting)
Anyway, more next week, provided I survive the craziness that is the holidays. Stay Frosty.
So initial impressions?
Female hormones are awesome.
For physical changes, bear in mind I was on spironolactone (testosterone blockers) for about 2 months before I started.
So then, gory details, which may, or may not end up being more information than you bargained for.
When I went in to the endocrinologist to start full hrt I already had the beginning of breast buds, these hard little nasty things under the nipple that are the beginning of breast development. In this first month, they've gotten quite a bit bigger and a hell of a lot more sensitive. And I still haven't quite adjusted to them.
For example I'll open up a door and slightly swipe them with it. And goddamn it hurts. I mean holy shit. It's not quite as bad as being kicked in the dangly bits, but it still hurts like a motherfucker.
They also poke through shirts in a weird, really unattractive way. Layers are a positive. Let me just say I'm pretty glad it's winter. It's just weird because there's no actual breast development happening, although I know that's on the way.
My skin also feels much softer than it did a month ago. Especially on my face. I still haven't gotten facial hair removal (next on my list of things to do transition wise, and laser will probably happen sometime in January), but it has thinned out significantly. Which is strange because most trans* resources say that hormones don't affect facial hair growth.
Body Hair is definitely thinning though, which is fantastic because it means I don't have to shave my legs daily, which is a near impossible task.
And while I don't have any way to measure this objectively, I feel like my sense of smell is improving. That is probably more likely due quitting smoking than from hormones though. (I quit about the same time that I started HRT)
I also have a little tape measure and have been keeping measurements of myself, because I know the human mind likes to make up evidence where there isn't any. The only real changes in so far as measurements go in the past month is that I've lost a bit off my waist, which is probably more due to diet than anything else.
Mental Changes have been much crazier in this first month than physical. I go into detail about them on my Week Three Update.
Basically I'm just a lot more emotional about everything.
One weird thing is that I think I need to relearn how to handle stress. I was always pretty cool-headed before being on hormones but that's changed quite a bit. Maybe it's because I'm more involved and invested emotionally in the world around me, but for example my house started flooding today because the temperature-pressure valve on my hot water tank was broken.
I didn't know this at the time.
I just saw water pouring out of it like a faucet and flipped shit. I had no idea what I was doing and was worried this was going to cost me a metric shitton of money (which it shouldn't, thank eight-pound, six ounce, baby Jesus), and by the time I figured out that hey, I should just shut off the water valve, and by the end of it, I was shaking. So yeah, I need to figure out a way to deal with stress in a manner that doesn't involve breaking down.
Scary movies are also immensely more entertaining. I freaked the fuck out watching "The Descent". Which was sort of fun. But also terrifying. I really don't like things popping out at me, more-so now than ever. But it's like riding a rollercoaster.
And I'm also getting bad cravings, for chocolate mostly (stereotypical, I know) but also for strange things, like for example I was really craving some jalapeno cheetos earlier today.
I feel a lot more childish, and care-free as well if that makes sense. I'm smiling a lot more. I'm quite a bit more expressive. My body language has changed pretty significantly. This is probably more of me being comfortable with myself than an actual effect of hormones though. It's a wonder what self-acceptance can do for you.
The biggest emotional change though, is that I dysphoric a lot less frequently than I did before I was on hormones, which is really awesome.
I definitely react stronger to dysphoria when I do though, and it tends to hit me a lot quicker.
For example I was having a great day earlier this week. I had moments where I looked at my reflection and thought "Fuck yeah, this is coming along nicely". And then I got home, saw my reflection out of the corner of my eye, and spent the next half-hour crying into a pillow and then another good long time talking to my lovely lady-friend who helped me through everything. But yeah crazy mood swings.
All I can say is that it's really awesome having people you know you can talk to. Anyway, this post was mostly just rambling, but here's a picture of me drunk off my ass at a Christmas party earlier this week, so you can sort of see how I'm changing. (And this one has make-up, which is always exciting)
(I'm on the right, with one of my best friends on the left, and coincidentally this is my first explicitly female presenting picture on facebook and it's also my profile picture, which is kind of awesome.)
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Week Three Update
So this is pretty late, but I have a legitimate excuse! My power has been out for two days for circumstances beyond my control. And I've been working. So sorry.
Onto transition stuff.
I really don't have much in the way of new physical changes to report.
My chest still hurts like hell, body hair still seems like it's thinning out and my skin seems softer. Nothing different from last week.
More and more I can't wait until I get laser. I really hate my facial hair, I have shaving, I hate it being prickly. It makes me self-conscious even though I rarely, if ever, actually attempt to present as explicitly female in public right now.
Not a good situation. Do not want.
Facial hair on actual dudes can be pretty sexy, but not on me. I just want it off.
And that same policy extends towards muscles,
But the whole facial hair situation should be fixable with laser, and subsequently electrolysis, once I get my refund check for winter quarter (Hurray for student loans).
So yeah, not much in the way of physical changes to report at the moment.
My emotions, on the other hand, are doing crazy things right now.
I hate that it sounds so stereotypical, but I'm crying to things that I wouldn't have ever batted an eye at 3 weeks ago.
Prior to starting hormones I cried maybe, three or four times over the course of the last 4 years. I didn't get involved in anything emotionally, with the exception of a few fights I've had.
I didn't give a fuck.
And not in a cool, "yeah I was a badass who walked away from explosions without looking back at them" way. It was much more of an "I was an emotional cripple way"
FOR EXAMPLE
When my dog, Sam, that I had raised from a puppy and loved with all my heart, died, I didn't cry. Didn't even acknowledge it. Basically, I was an emotionless asshole.
But now? Jesus-Goat-Fucking-Christ.
I can't help but tear up when I happen across a sad song. My emotions simply respond to everything.
Sappy shit? Nostalgic shit? Adorable shit?
That's my jam right now. I am eating it up.
Fuck.
I cried while re-watching Lord of the Rings because it was suddenly obvious that Frodo and Sam are actually madly in love with one another, and have the most adorable perfect romance ever.
It swings both ways though. I'm reacting to real life in ways that I never would have before.
It probably doesn't help that I spent a solid portion of Tuesday afternoon, and most of Wednesday night arguing with my parents about trans* stuff, especially me transitioning. (And apparently they read this blog now, which kind of terrifies me)
But when my mom says something about how she's worried that I'm "going to be a mockery of women" that means me immediately on the verge of tears, instead of just being able to brush it off as bullshit.
Which doesn't really help me argue my case a whole lot.
So yeah. The emotional roller coaster that I've heard and read so much about is currently leaving the station. Please keep all hands and feet inside at all times. Have a fun ride.
As far as awesome things happening in my life right now that are only nominally trans* related, I've got a seasonal job as one of those people that stands outside of malls for the Salvation Army as a bell ringer, through a friend of my mom.
This is sort of weird for me, considering that the Salvation Army is super religious and super homo/trans*-phobic.
But, being a poor college student trying to finance transition, I don't have much in the way of options here, so I'm just gonna swallow my pride, take off my nail-polish, wear a nice conservative button-down, and stand in the cold for a few hours a day.
At least it's nice to know that I'm gonna be financially stable until my loans come through.
Anyway, my next HRT update will mean I've officially been on hormones for one month. Which is super awesome. Go me.
Onto transition stuff.
I really don't have much in the way of new physical changes to report.
My chest still hurts like hell, body hair still seems like it's thinning out and my skin seems softer. Nothing different from last week.
More and more I can't wait until I get laser. I really hate my facial hair, I have shaving, I hate it being prickly. It makes me self-conscious even though I rarely, if ever, actually attempt to present as explicitly female in public right now.
Not a good situation. Do not want.
Facial hair on actual dudes can be pretty sexy, but not on me. I just want it off.
(Example 1, although it definitely doesn't hurt that he has super pretty eyes)
And that same policy extends towards muscles,
(With exceptions. Goddamn, the things I would do.)
But the whole facial hair situation should be fixable with laser, and subsequently electrolysis, once I get my refund check for winter quarter (Hurray for student loans).
So yeah, not much in the way of physical changes to report at the moment.
My emotions, on the other hand, are doing crazy things right now.
I hate that it sounds so stereotypical, but I'm crying to things that I wouldn't have ever batted an eye at 3 weeks ago.
Prior to starting hormones I cried maybe, three or four times over the course of the last 4 years. I didn't get involved in anything emotionally, with the exception of a few fights I've had.
I didn't give a fuck.
And not in a cool, "yeah I was a badass who walked away from explosions without looking back at them" way. It was much more of an "I was an emotional cripple way"
FOR EXAMPLE
When my dog, Sam, that I had raised from a puppy and loved with all my heart, died, I didn't cry. Didn't even acknowledge it. Basically, I was an emotionless asshole.
(Oh Sam, stock photos do not do you justice, even if they do look exactly like you. You were the greatest thing ever.)
But now? Jesus-Goat-Fucking-Christ.
I can't help but tear up when I happen across a sad song. My emotions simply respond to everything.
Sappy shit? Nostalgic shit? Adorable shit?
That's my jam right now. I am eating it up.
Fuck.
I cried while re-watching Lord of the Rings because it was suddenly obvious that Frodo and Sam are actually madly in love with one another, and have the most adorable perfect romance ever.
(Try and tell me they don't make the most adorable couple)
So yeah, that's the upside of all this emotional stuff.
It swings both ways though. I'm reacting to real life in ways that I never would have before.
It probably doesn't help that I spent a solid portion of Tuesday afternoon, and most of Wednesday night arguing with my parents about trans* stuff, especially me transitioning. (And apparently they read this blog now, which kind of terrifies me)
But when my mom says something about how she's worried that I'm "going to be a mockery of women" that means me immediately on the verge of tears, instead of just being able to brush it off as bullshit.
Which doesn't really help me argue my case a whole lot.
So yeah. The emotional roller coaster that I've heard and read so much about is currently leaving the station. Please keep all hands and feet inside at all times. Have a fun ride.
As far as awesome things happening in my life right now that are only nominally trans* related, I've got a seasonal job as one of those people that stands outside of malls for the Salvation Army as a bell ringer, through a friend of my mom.
This is sort of weird for me, considering that the Salvation Army is super religious and super homo/trans*-phobic.
But, being a poor college student trying to finance transition, I don't have much in the way of options here, so I'm just gonna swallow my pride, take off my nail-polish, wear a nice conservative button-down, and stand in the cold for a few hours a day.
At least it's nice to know that I'm gonna be financially stable until my loans come through.
Anyway, my next HRT update will mean I've officially been on hormones for one month. Which is super awesome. Go me.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Rant
So first of all let me say, I fucking love tumblr.
(This is where I post pictures of really attractive
people, kittens, and bitch about my life)
I also really like the blog MTF Confessions on tumblr. The basic idea is that MTF identified
individuals can submit confessions anonymously, which I think is really awesome
and empowering. But when I logged on to tumblr this morning I saw
this.
"323) I'm tired. Every trans blog out there is run almost solely by trans men. Every
trans meme focus on trans men (I can only think of Transrex as an exception).
FTM confessions has three times the number of confessions here. Every new blog
run by a trans person I find, they're afab and masculine. No one seems to care
about us."
Feel
free to bash me, but I really, really, think this is the wrong attitude for our
community. I don't want to bash the person who wrote this specifically, but I
feel like this sentiment is fairly prevalent within the MTF spectrum community,
and really needs to be addressed.
Really
I have two big problems with this notion.
First
of all, it encourages oppositional sexism. Which is bad. We shouldn't judge our
community of mtf spectrum individuals against the community ftm spectrum
individuals. We are all fighting for the same thing. Trans* rights, awareness,
and advocacy. This is not us vs. them. We are all on the same side as gender
variant people. Although we may face different challenges and privledges, when
it comes down to it, trans* people are one community, and we should support
each other.
To
foster an us vs. them mentality which splits between the sexes and genders of
trans* people just seems incredibly counter-intuitive to me. We, of all people,
of all communities, should be supporting our trans* siblings, regardless of
gender or sex. This should be intuitively obvious, and if it's not I really
think you should probably reexamine the way you think about sex and
gender.
My
other problem with it is that it seems very "Poor me" to me.
Know
who this guy is?
Mahatmas
Ghandi helped to free India from the British. He was generally a
pretty good guy but also sort of a dick, considering he let his wife die
of pneumonia because he disallowed her
from having penicillin because he thought god would save her. He did
have a quite a few good quotes though, and one of my personal is favorites is
this "Be the Change you want to see in the world".
If
you don't think there are enough blogs by MTF spectrum individuals, and you
happen to identify as a MTF Spectrum individual, then it seems to me that the
obvious solution is to start your own blog.
If
you're just gonna sit on your ass and whine about how shitty our community is
without actually doing something, then I'm not going to have much respect for
you. You are not creating solutions. You are not creating a sense of
community. You may not be part of the problem, but I'll be fucked sideways if
you think you're part of the solution. And if you already have a blog, use it
to encourage others to create their own blogs and/or events!
(This
is where I'm gonna do the little "practice what you preach" thing, and encourage
any trans* people reading this to create their own blogs, and help create
trans-visibility, it's really not hard, and you'll be glad you did)
I'll
be the first to admit, we, as a community (and not just the mtf community, but
also the trans community and queer communities in general) need more vocal
advocates. We need more noise. We have very specific problems that need to be
addressed by society, and they're not going to be changed by us sitting quiet,
and hoping that the government, liberals, the greater lgb community, or anybody
else is going to help us.
I mean Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ people! We need
awareness! We need advocacy! We need intra-community support networks! We need more rainbows, Goddamnit!
(That's a little better)
But most of all, we need people like YOU. You are our community. If you see an aspect of the community you don't like then make an attempt to change it. If you don't think you're ready then wait. But there comes a time when just being a spectator isn't enough. Start your blog.
Again
this is NOT meant as an attack for the person who wrote this confession. I've
heard this sort of sentiment before, and I really think that this sort of
thinking is a problem we as a community need to be really critical of, because
I think it's a type of thinking we simply cannot afford to have. It's self-defeating,
and not at all helpful to us.
Anyway, leave some comments, whether you agree with me or think I'm full of shit. Let me know!
Anyway, leave some comments, whether you agree with me or think I'm full of shit. Let me know!
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