Earnest Ramblings

Not sure what my aim is here, so I'll just dive in.

In anticipation of therapy sessions for both of us this week, I made a point of talking to the missus about our status. She was very surprised and sorry that I had been left depressed and worried by our late night "hating it all" chat of three weeks ago. She confirmed my recent suspicion that the lack of affection was a symptom of her own stress. I guess she shared this with her therapist, because she later told me that she had been reminded to check in with her husband from time to time. I'm often confronted with the fact that I'm not on her radar at all. I don't mind being down the list a bit, but I do want to be on the list.

I had a lovely appointment with my counselor. She recently let her office help go in order to trim costs, so I feel freer now to be myself in her office. This means l dress in something that femmes up nicely by changing into heels and maybe adding a little lipstick. I am much more relaxed and communicative like this. She is always encouraging, despite the fact that I surely look ridiculous with my balding pate. Yes, half-assed is better than none.

We talked extensively about my trials on the marriage front and fighting the depression that results. She was a little surprised that I haven't shaved my legs yet. Still a bit early, but I am SO ready. Perhaps it feels more real now, but it's not causing me distress the way it did in the late summer. I know that my legs will be bare soon, and that knowledge is enough for now.

I'm still trying to decide how to approach the spouse on this. I know you've all read the entirety of my blog(!), but just in case, a little background. In fall 2007, and again in April 2008, I announced my intention to denude my legs. Both times, massive conflict ensued, and I backed down. Just call me Khruschev. In November of last year, I decided that I must follow my heart. I made a decision to shave my legs, without notification. I jumped into the deep end with no lifeguard on duty, and I swam. The result was the happiest winter I can remember. My true self finally got a chance to blossom. Of course, the repercussions were extensive, and intimate contact had pretty well disappeared by the third month. She tried to deal with it, but ultimately had to pull back. I guess I can expect more of the same this time around, except without the trying.

Last year's deal, my suggestion, was to be bare for four months, and hirsute for the eight warm months. I waited for a counter proposal which never came, so I did what I said I would. I've given the missus no indication that the deal has been rescinded, but she seems to holding out hope. If she wants to propose something other than abstaining completely from being myself, I'll listen. There will be no signed contracts this time, for certain.

I trimmed the hair way back yesterday, but the blade will have to wait a few more weeks. Still might get an epilator. I'm totally stoked, dude! The nearness of the goal is making the dysphoria fade. Good riddance.