Odds and Ends (Mostly Odds)

I thought that I'd lay off talking about epilation, as I figured it was making people sleepy the way large servings of turkey do. But, if two people specifically ask for an update in the comments section, who am I to deny my audience? So, if you want me to write about something, all it takes is you and a friend lobbying.

Ergo, the update. A whole lotta epilatin' goin' on. I had sessions three or four days in a row, and I'm starting again after I post this. I find it to be labor intensive, but worth the effort. I'm told it will get easier after I finish clearing brush. The lower legs are almost to the maintenance point, some stragglers, but stubble-free. The thighs are another story. The pain is much greater, the hair is thicker and coarser, the skin much more sensitive. The back of the thighs are where I discovered my pain threshold. Intense, plus I can't really see what I'm accomplishing. These are times when I'd like to have eyes on my bum. The only times.

So, I'm pleased with my progress. Now, whether this is affecting my love life...well, I'm just not sure. We've alternated being sick and having periods (only her on that) and just being tired, so the opportunities have been few. As I've gotten smoother, I'm exposing the legs more often to her (is that cruel?). She's not avoiding contact with my legs in bed, but that was also true before she took me down a peg last month.

I cut my nails back to boy length last week since I'm unlikely to be attending the Transgiving festivities next weekend. The upside is that I got my guitar out for the first time in many moons. It's like riding a bike. I may forget some non-standard chords, but most of it comes right back. My middle child has become quite proficient, much more so than me, and I find her example inspiring. I taught myself over the course of many years, and after I got her started, she has taught herself a great deal more. Now I need to sit down with her and see if she can help me with my technique. She is a Beatlemaniac, and has taken to a lot of my other favorite bands as well.

I'm going to the Kentucky-Tennessee football game with my brother Saturday night. This used to be a major rivalry (the teams, not my brother and I), but Kentucky has lost every annual game for 24 years. I've been to many of them. Most weren't even close. I have no regular readers in Knoxville, so I ask that you all join me in pulling for the long forlorn Kentucky team. I will consider you all honorary Kentuckians for the day. Thank you for your support.

That's all the Odds I have, so here is the promised End.

I'm Full (of Holiday Reflection)!

I'm not boasting. I'm bursting. That is, after all, what we are celebrating in the American incarnation of Thanksgiving. Ours is a land of plenty, where complaints about all we lack are set aside for a day.

I had two big meals today. The first was largely stuff purchased at the supermarket with a few special homemade dishes. The second was a vegetarian feast, entirely crafted from scratch. I liked both, and plenty of both. I grew up with Kraft Macaroni & Cheese and Chef Boy-ar-dee Spaghetti Dinner and Hamburger Helper. Not sophisticated in our tastes. I've taken on a slightly hautier worldview since, and my tastes have expanded with them. Yet, my comfort foods still frequently fall on the white trash end of the spectrum. Nothing wrong with that if it's not the staples of one's diet, and for me, it's not. Hence, my sleek and sexy bod! Writhe in envy, mere mortals. Scalloped pineapple, broccoli cheese casserole, meat-less loaf. Mmmmm...

At both gatherings, I felt at ease. I wasn't overtly feminine (God forbid!), but my more social side was at the forefront. I felt unencumbered by the man mask I was wearing. I was relaxed and making the quips that I'm known for, connecting with my people. Comfort food for the soul. Both meals featured folks that know my secret, my brother at one, my sister-in-law at the other. At both, I nearly made veiled references that they would understand at a deeper level, and that would've been okay with them, I think. But I opted not to, figuring the missus would also get it, and not be as amused as me. I wasn't censoring myself, just being thoughtful on a very pleasant day.

I have really enjoyed the somewhat bemused but kind writings of my non-American friends on this major holiday in our self-absorption pantheon. We are a puzzlement to the rest of the world, I think. 'Salright by me. Puzzle on. We intend to continue our weirdness, and I will try to do my part with aimless writing and the occasional picture in feminine raiment. Weird to the core.

Wherever you are, I hope it was a pleasant day with lots of familial affection, holiday or not.

No More Nyquil

Nothing earth shattering to report. That'll have to wait till 2012.

Thanks to all my well-wishers. I am feeling much better. I even slept well last night without having to guzzle Nyquil. A very good sign, as the sleep is the first thing to go, and often the last to return.

I am enjoying my epilator. Well, perhaps enjoy is too strong a word. I like the results. I'm slowly making headway, as my legs are quite long and the hair is fully testosterized. I've had four lengthy sessions now, and switched to the higher speed tonight. I can take it. The lower legs, while there are still scattered hairs, feel quite smooth to the touch. No stubble! Much more pain to endure on the thighs, and much thicker hair.

I'm still epilating on the sly, not wanting to start a ruckus. The next time she asks me if I'm still shaving my legs, I'll be able to honestly answer that I haven't since my meeting. Lies of omission, a specialty of the house. Nah, I'll tell her the truth. No use turning over a new leaf if you just let it die on the vine.

My Brain Hurts

Tonight finds me sick. It's been sneaking up on me since Wednesday. I've been laying about most of the day, dozing a little. Right now, I'm a nose-blowin', soup-eatin', lozenge-suckin', mucus-spittin' (and oh, so sexy *arowr*) curmudgeoness.

I know who to blame for this. I caught this from Amy, who brought it in here when she wrote this. She went around touching everything, and you know how bad the closed ventilation system is in the blogosphere. Somebody comes on board with a cold, everyone's going to get it. At least Caroline was considerate enough to keep her hands clean while she hung out here. God knows, I don't want a norovirus. I want to keep my soup down, dammit.

Oh, no. I just realized that I'm doing the same thing. Okay, I want everyone to wipe down your cache with rubbing alcohol or a disinfectant, take some vitamin C, and don't eat any cookies off your hard drive. So sorry! Haaaaackk! Ptui.

What Keeps Me Going

What a lonely life most of us lead. That seems obvious, I guess, but like so many things, I'm slow on the uptake. I'll use myself as an example (naturally). I crave solitude. I live in a house with three kids, three dogs, three cats, and a wife. I only get to be myself when I am alone. Yet, that's not when I feel lonely. The loneliness comes when I desperately want to connect with my wife, but know that I must shut off a part of myself to do it. In a room full of friends who don't know my secret, the nearness of people I love is tainted by the necessity of being less than my whole self.

And so, the other life looms large. The time I spend alone at the computer in the wee hours of the morning are the least lonely part of my day. Aside from the freedom and comradery of my support group meetings each month, this is the entirety of Leslie's world. What a world it is.

Of course, blogging is a huge part of this, both writing and reading. The real magic, though, is in the private correspondence. I can share so much more with my penpals than I can put on a public blog. I commiserate offline with several of my favorite bloggers, but also of late, some non-bloggers have sought me out. They felt a kinship with me after reading of my issues, and I'm getting a great deal out of our shared experience. Sad to say, there are others out there having the same problems with their spouses that I am. I love that I can offer advice or handholding from my little nook. This is how I give back, one on one, to the community that has gotten me through the last two years. It's not much, but if someone reaches out to me, I want to take the time to share and console. This is what keeps me going.

The loneliness of my everyday life falls away when I am reading the latest exploits of my friends and composing responses. I will very likely never meet any of these folks in person, but I hope that I'm making their lives brighter. They surely do that for me.

A New Perspective

I'm feeling much more serene than I was this time last week. There were a couple comments on my last entries that hit home. One was from Caroline, who said, "If there is love there should be dialogue." The other was contributed anonymously from the wife of a transgendered woman. In part, she said, "Treat her as you would want to be treated if it were her who was doing the transitioning." Yes, the Golden Rule.

While not a Christian, this is a tenet I think about frequently. I like to think that I live by it for the most part. But seeing those words relating to whatever scorn I was heaping on my wife...well, it was an eye opener. My shrink has said many times that my wife and I are both incapable of seeing the other's position. Today, I am seeing my wife in a new light.

I'm feeling more forgiving of her. It makes me want to slow down and have a true conversation about our inner truths, and the externalization of mine. I'm finding that I understand the loss she has experienced, the fear of further loss. I'm not at all certain that I can mitigate that feeling in her, but being upfront about what's in my heart couldn't hurt.

I'm still not sure how I'll introduce the topic. I don't know if I can maintain my calm if she gets snippy or argumentative. Yet, I know deep down that I owe her more than I've given. She deserves a full accounting.

A Kinder, Gentler Post

Hello again. Not sure how to top that for controversy, so I'll not try.

I was very glad to have a therapy appointment today. It was probably the most emotional session I've had since my first couple of months with M, my therapist. Still didn't cry, but I felt like it would've been appropriate. I just don't cry easily. Demonstrating the depth of my emotions would be much easier if I cried, but barring that, I'm left with my fondness for large words and complex sentence structures. Not the same.

At today's session, we talked a lot about the seeming hopelessness of my situation. We discussed at some length the co-dependent nature of my marriage. I feel enormously selfish for wanting a life that scares the dickens out of my spouse. With me as principal breadwinner, she feels stuck. With our near bankrupt status, I feel stuck. We have little choice but to stay together and try to get along.

When I demonize the missus here, I am doing it to let off steam. My fondest wish, aside from being female, is to be able to carry on with my wife. We have so much in common, and one big thing stands in the way of a healthy relationship: my gender identity. She is the only woman I've ever been with. We share three kids. I don't want to leave, but I often wonder if I will have to. I don't think the status quo is going to satisfy my troubled mind. I'm not sure how long I can deny my alter ego. I do believe that my fear of conflict and my drive to feminize will ultimately be the death of my marriage. My fault for needing to change? Her fault for needing sameness? Maybe a little of both, but mostly two adults growing in different directions despite their probable best interests.