The Great Pretender

Feeling a bit lost at the moment.  No idea what I want to write, or how to organize the thoughts, but I will try to make some sense, for myself and for you, dear reader.

I'm not in a terrible way, but I do feel it building in me.  There's a melancholy prevailing that has been known to turn into something worse in days of yore.  After a very quiet winter on the depression and dysphoria front, I find myself being visited frequently by both.  Neither are extreme, as I said, but I am unaccustomed to their presence.  I suppose I have gotten spoiled over the last year or so, enough that I thought maybe I had reached a plateau that would be adequate to my needs, and those of my marriage.  Au contraire, mon cheri.

I am in half-calf mode now, epilating halfway to the knee until October rolls around again.   It barely registers as aiding my condition, but no-calf would be far worse, I guess.  My wife and I continue to go through the motions, being parents and roommates pretty successfully, really, but the lack of intimacy is wearing on me, and I don't see it changing.

I have been in denial about a lot of things, things that have been issues for as long as I have been writing on this blog.  I had myself convinced that the worst had passed, but I am no longer certain of that.  The blinders have been slipping off slowly, but the signs have been there all along.  I have been eating junk near constantly at work, in part to stay awake due to the ridiculous sleep habits I have embraced for far too long.  I sense that I am taking years off my life, but I feel powerless to change it.

My brother ran his first marathon last weekend.  I've never run further than a tenth of a mile, but the idea of running holds some appeal for me, at least until I actually try it.  I do wonder when I would have the time to run.  I cannot sacrifice any more sleep, and working less isn't an option either, so it would seem that the excessive computer time should take the hit.  I find it hard to imagine any serious reduction there, but it is really the only place that is flexible.  I dunno, my resolve to change will have to strengthen considerably, but the notion is getting batted around in the back of my head.  I hope it can survive the beating.

Hmmm...more coherent than I expected.

Embracing the Stereotype

I hate to admit this, but I had a blast at last night's meeting.  I know that's the basic concept going in, and I take great joy in seeing my friends.  It's just that...well...

The topic of the meeting was makeup.  We go to great lengths to present high-minded, thoughtful agendas at our meetings.  And this seems so superficial.  Yet, it was fascinating!  Color, and contouring, and liquids vs. powders, and covering the beard, and brushes, and so much more.  Rebecca used to manage a MAC counter in Atlanta, and she knows her stuff.  I learned so much, and she was great with the wisecracks.  A quick wit and an artist.

She did two makeovers while we watched and asked questions.  Cassie got subtler daytime makeup, and Vanessa got a more glamorous look with smoky eyes.  Both looked marvelous, but the main point was to demonstrate technique and choices.

I've always figured that my wife imagines my meetings as a bunch of overly made-up men, talking fashion and brushing one another's wigs and practicing their campy walks.  In fact, I bet many folks would assume that. I don't want people to think that of us.  I want them to know that we are serious, usually sober, thoughtful people, which we are. 

And now I find myself, against all personal tenets, wishing that every meeting could be this feminine discussion and bonding.  My inner killjoy (very strong!) thinks that makeup is a silly, slight subject.  My heart, though, understands that makeup is what allows me to feel like myself at these meetings.  I can't hide my face behind clothing, at least not in this culture, so I am left to feminize it as best I can.  The difference can be startling, as most of you ladies know.  Makeup can make or break your presentation, build or destroy your confidence.  That's a lot to ask of an eyeliner.

Now I must order some primer and bronzer and a full coverage foundation and some kohl pencils and a better set of brushes, and find some time to practice the sweet science of makeup.

The Night the Earth Stood Still

The news is out, and my American audience has surely heard.  Now, in cultural backwaters like the UK (I kid!), you mightn't have heard that my UK, the University of Kentucky, won the national championship in basketball Monday. 

Kentucky is roundly hated in the basketball world.  It's one of those teams that you grow up with and love, or else they are mortal enemies of whatever team you root for.  Would Manchester United be an apt comparison?  Notre Dame football seems similar as well.  The school motto should be, "Don't hate me just because I'm beautiful," words that roll off my own painted lips often.

The contempt of their peers is, in a way, respect.  Who hates bunny rabbits?  Well, we don't really respect them, either.  I was born here, and got two degrees from Kentucky, so last night warms the cockles of my heart, right down to the bone, the cold, cold bone of my Kentucky heart.  (I never studied anatomy.)

When UK won the semifinal game Saturday, the whole campus area erupted in riots.  Cars were flipped, couches were burned in the streets.  Multitudes were arrested.  Imagine if we had lost!  Monday night, the celebration was enormous, but the police were better prepared, and the school warned that there would be academic consequences to any student misbehavior.  The riot was much more subdued, a riot tempered by respect for one's fellow fan.  A nice riot.

Tuesday will be a day of parades and people skipping work.  Not me, mind you.  I am far too mature to be taken in by Wildcat Fever.  Wildcat Rash, maybe.  Mostly, I will sit back and observe others, as I have done all my life, and scratch every now and then.

A-Neut'rin' We Will Go

Our newest cat, Tab Hunter, had his orchiectomy yesterday. Imagine his surprise when he awoke to find the eight breast implants, and us calling him Tabitha. A little forced feline feminization. He should pass well, as he was already quite beautiful.

I kid, I kid. Our vet is one that comes to the house, so Tab's operation was on the kitchen table, just like Desmond's a few months ago. And with that, I won't have to worry about tendering any dinner invitations to you nice folks.

I promised a report on last Saturday's meeting, and I'm sure all ten of my readers won't let me rest until I fulfill that vow. The meeting had a short tutorial on wig care from Cassie, combing and washing methods and such. Quite informative, really. I learned that I should definitely take my wig into the shop for a re-stretching of the cap, as it gives me headaches and tends to ride up in the back. Can you say ill-fitting? Sure you can. Guess it's a good thing I don't wear the darn thing more than four hours a month, huh?

We then had a lot of social time to mingle and converse. Our meetings have been so chockful of content lately that we haven't been able to just be social for some time. A nice change of pace, and very healthy for the bonding of the group. This meeting was again well-attended, with around 26 or 27 folks. This was unexpected, as the agenda was largely blank. Coming to hear a speaker is one thing, just coming to be there is quite another. I think we must be doing something right.

The leadership has been working valiantly toward getting a real website up and running, as I've mentioned previously. Sylvia has created a great logo, actually a bunch of variations on a theme, and I think it's a winner. When we finalize it, I will share it here. She is quite the artist, and not a bad photographer either, as you see her handiwork above. Of course, a lovely subject is a plus.

As I write this, I am wearing a new pair of girl jeans. I love the fit, though I confess to a lack of coordination buttoning and zipping with a different hand. I don't remember my other girl pants being reversed, but I can't swear to it. I feel that I could wear these in boy mode, but I would hate to stretch out the back pocket with a wallet, and the front pockets are very shallow. They would hold a lipstick pretty easily, but not everything I'm accustomed to carrying. I would need to accessorize with a man purse. Not quite ready for that, I fear. And my world's not ready for it either.

Maybe the vet could give me a bargain rate on an orchiectomy. The jeans would fit even better then.

Say Goodbye to My Little Friend

As the calendar turns inexorably to the warmer months, a young woman's fancies turn to...what?

I dunno. I'm neither young nor a woman. I do know that it's time for a transition. That's right. It's time for the hair removal implements to be put away once again, for the slash, burn and tweeze habits to be put to bed for a summer hibernation.

That's not totally true. The half-calf (tm) will make its quiet return, but the frequency of maintenance will be drastically cut back. Translation: Take a little off the bottom when I can no longer stand it. I am done with skirts till next November, probably, unless I do something with opaque tights next month. My gams aren't prize-winning, but I love to have them on display. As a lifelong leg man, nothing says feminine to me like a well-turned ankle, even my own.

We had a fantastic meeting last night, but I will save that for the next post. Sylvia will be sending me the latest pics, so that I might illustrate my post. We are finally on the road to having a proper website for the group. We have almost zero web presence, and feel like we are not serving everyone that might need us. If you can't find us, we can't help you. A website with the right tags embedded will help us pop up on search engines (and that is the extent of my knowledge and understanding). Making the world a better place, one deeply confused person at a time.

St. Monday / St. Valentine's

Nobody can say what the matter is,
I'm trying to recharge my batteries.
--Billy Bragg, "St. Monday"--

Time for my monthly epistle, no? Monday was very nice, as my usual workmate was taking a day off. I like John, but a day without his repetitive questions is like a vacation for me.

And now, the world is transitioning into Tuesday. It's the marketing department's designated day for professing undying love. I have done so by purchasing dying flowers. Mixed message, you say? Perhaps. I will suggest that we go out to lunch, and hope that she hasn't made a less perfunctory purchase for me, as that would be embarrassing for both of us.

We are often on different pages when the gift-giving holidays roll around. I tend to spend more on her when we are in an iffy period. She spends more when I am charming the pants off her. I guess my approach to this holiday indicates that I am flush with love for my spouse. Today will be the test to see if my perception is wrong. I'll let you know eventually.

Had a meeting a week ago, though, alas, no pictures. It was a very exciting meeting, as we had several guests in the field of speech therapy. The university will be forming a group to train transpersons in changing their speech to match their preferred gender. The main thrust of the project is to give students some experience with a demographic they might not otherwise come across, a group with unusual and challenging needs. One of the leaders has done something similar in Albany, New York for three years, with excellent results.

They hope to have a group of eight to twelve each semester, and I think we will have no trouble providing that number for their project. There is an upfront $50 fee, for a scoping of the vocal cords, ensuring there are no physical issues before work begins. After that, it is $20 a week for a Monday night 2-hour meeting. I would love to get in on this, but I work in the evening, and I cannot skip out of work every week. Just as well, as I don't have the money for it, and really, I have nowhere to be that I need to have a good female voice.

Anyway, don't worry about me. I am getting along fine with the family, and the dysphoria has been modest all winter. I am having my head shrunk only once a month, and even that seems beyond my needs at the moment. It could all coming crashing in any minute, but for now things continue to sail along smoothly.

Later, girls!

I Owe Ya One!

Hey, girlfriend! We haven't spoken in a long while. Totally my fault. I've missed you, and thought that there were several things that deserved to be shared with someone, and, of course, I thought of you first.

I've been thinking a lot about transitioning. No, not me, silly! More the way that things change around you. A friend dies. A friend for years disappears, either bored with her old friends or completely smitten with new ones. Another friend goes underground for awhile, and still hasn't reemerged. But then, a new friendship forms through the support group, and a half-forgotten pal comes out of the woodwork ready for long chats. The cosmic balance restored.

Our oldest black cat, Dr. Hook, gave up the ghost last month. More to the point, his kidneys gave up and we had to take him to the finish line ourselves. We are perfectly capable of giving fluids, and have done so for several cats, but Hook was a terrible patient. No matter how weak, he fought us tooth and claw, essentially refusing treatment. Couldn't let him suffer, and couldn't render aid, so the only option was the big sleep. We have a pretty high bar regarding euthanasia, but he managed to clear it.

The gap he left has been filled by two other strays that have entered our lives. Desmond, a tailless gray, has been with us for four or five months. And in November, we pulled a four-month old kitten out of our front bushes. I named him Tab Hunter. The Tab part was no problem living up to, but he earned the second part of his name this week. He killed a mouse in our basement, the first we've had in 19 years here. And last night, he and Timmy managed to catch another twice, letting it get away both times. I think that mouse is on borrowed time.

Christmas was grand. We spent too(!) much, but I think everyone was happy. I bought the missus a garnet necklace that nicely matched a pair of earrings she's had awhile. I have been busy flying sorties with WWII fighters in my new video game. I'll be trying to take out one of Hitler's Norwegian heavy water plants in my next mission.

Had a great support meeting last Saturday. A rep from the local police department came to talk to us. I was very impressed that he never betrayed any uneasiness, talking to an odd looking crowd. He was very professional and informative, and I hope he learned a little about our population, too.

I didn't think I would be able to attend. Mrs. L had arranged an outing in the early evening with some friends, and she really wanted me to spend time with her. Her friend, though, backed out when she realized that she had a schedule conflict. I had gone ahead and prepped for the meeting on the off chance of going, and it paid off completely. My car was already packed with everything I needed. The picture is from the meeting, of course, and if you look closely at my left calf, you'll see the nasty scratch that Dr. Hook gave me toward the end of his term. And new earrings I bought myself for Christmas (not on my calf, look higher)!

Well, I hope all is going well for you, girlfriend. Don't be a stranger!

Love,
Leslie