Making a List, Checking It Twice

Brass tacks now. I made a long list of things to accomplish in advance of Saturday's meeting. I'm getting very pumped about it, sleeping very poorly last night. My brain was racing, trying to maintain a mental to-do list. I can't afford to miss beauty sleep just now, so I wrote it all down today to allow my mind to rest.

Today, I picked up my package from Newport-News. The pink skirt was a little too large, and not at all to my liking. I will be sending it back. The cocoa denim pencil skirt, however, more than made up for it. Quite tight around the waist, just the way I like it. It's nice to wear clothes that improve your posture, making you stand up straighter. I picked out a blouse to go over my cream colored shell, so I have an outfit chosen. That's a big one crossed off the list.

I worked on my wig for about forty minutes. I'm not sure if synthetic hair gets split ends, but the evidence here says yes. The tangles stayed no matter how long I combed. My wig had more knots than a Boy Scout camp. I think it's passable now, but it will require special attention soon. My inattention to its needs is starting to show.

After I finish typing here, I am going to paint my toenails. I haven't had them polished in about eight months. Living large, huh?

Living in the Golden Age

Good fortune abounds.

• Mrs. Leslie continues her unprecedented run of genderosity. A few day ago, she handed me the new Avon catalog, asking if I'd like to look at it. Sure, I said. The way it was said made me think that she might consider ordering something for me if I wanted. I would be unable to do that for myself, as her rep is a co-worker of hers. The lipsticks look intriguing, but I'll pass this time. Nice offer, though.
• She told me today that she intends to take the kids to a movie while I'm at my meeting Saturday, her method of getting them out of my way during any last minute preparations on the road to becoming Leslie. Very sweet and thoughtful, or maybe she fancies Johnny Depp in a big hat.
• Some of you may have noticed the comment from Tina on the previous post. She is going to give me first crack at the clothing she is unloading. How cool is that? I hope to be able to go see her before the meeting at Lisa's apartment, where I have transformed before my last two meetings. I intend to run this plan by Mrs. L, rather than sneak around behind her back. I believe she will allow it to happen. A real test, though, yes? Anyway, I say it a lot, but not near enough: I have some great friends.
• I will be picking up the package at my therapist's office on the way to work Wednesday. I would've gotten it today, but we had a classic "failure to communicate" situation. I intend to make one of my two new skirts the centerpiece of Saturday's outfit. Do I seem excited? I am.

Life is good.

A Moot Point

Perhaps my readers have noticed that I expend a great deal of time and energy worrying about things that never come to fruition. I say, why bust up a good pattern?

Mrs. Leslie took my son to his event (Pinewood Derby qualifying heats), and left me at home with the girls. So, I got neither anticipated outcome. No alone time to be Leslie, no bonding with my boy. I'm okay with the latter. We're close, and he frankly didn't care much about this, though he had his best showing ever and qualified for the district competition. He expressed no interest in going to district, however, so it's not a big deal to him.

I was quite disappointed about my perceived opportunity disappearing, on the other hand. I stewed about it all day, and finally addressed the problem with my wife. She laughed, and told me I was dreaming. She said that she had never intended for the girls to go along, and they didn't go last year either. I shared that the last three months have been very difficult, as the house is never empty of others, and I don't feel safe to do my thing. She's sympathetic, but she made no offers or suggestions to rectify the problem. Just something I'll have to deal with, I guess.

As I write this, I am going ahead with my clothing exploration, figuring out what I have that might go into a new(ish) outfit. I mentioned some weeks ago the two items that my wife graciously passed on to me. I have cut the shoulder pads from the red linen jacket, and I think I will find some use for it, despite it being a bit large for me. The garish sweater, well, on the advice of Sophie, I am keeping it. I've worn it some around the house, and I like the way it feels and fits. I also like the cut of it. The design is growing on me. I'm not ready to show it to the world, but with as little as I have, I'd be a fool to dismiss something that doesn't make me upchuck. That's a low bar, but who am I kidding? Beggars can't be choosers.

Feeling Guilty

Today, I have a dilemma. A choice, really. The direction I am leaning makes me feel selfish.

My son is going to a Boy Scout event in the afternoon. Nothing all that important, but still... Mrs. L has already said that I can skip it if I want. Well, I do want to skip it, at least if it means that everyone else is leaving the house.

I want to spend a few hours figuring out what to wear to next weekend's meeting. I would like to put some things together that would be novel, something I haven't worn to previous meetings. I also need to get my face in order. I haven't dabbled much in makeup since early December, and I think I'll be a little rusty. A dry run with nothing at stake seems a wise course of action. Plus I want to figure out what I can do with the makeup brushes I bought. New ways to apply the beauty means putting in some time.

I just cannot do these things when there are others, especially kids, in the house. I have tried to work this stuff in during the predawn hours, but the occasional child appearances have made me decide that that route is a no-go. This will be my last opportunity to do these things before next Saturday.

Anyway, this seems like a terrible thing for a father to choose over his son's event. Maybe if I had something manly that required my immediate attention, but this? Does this make me a bad parent? I'm not sure, but I'm not feeling great about meeting my needs.

It's That Time Again

The Self Medicating post seems to have caused a little concern with some of you. I had not considered that it could be interpreted as taking hormones on the sly. I frequently choose titles that overstate the content of the posting, but I'm usually cognizant of the layers. Not this time! The joke was on me. Now, on to today's business...

Yes, it's everyone's favorite day, Therapy Thursday. My favorite, anyway. Not much in the way of drama to discuss today, just the way we like it.

I shared with M how my wife has been so generous of late. I showed off my necklace and bracelet from V-Day, too. M especially liked the bracelet (so do I).

We also talked about the abrupt changes going on with my support group. M has many trans clients, so she is very interested in this. I am confident that the group will come through this crisis, but it may look very different. M told me that the group has had drastic changes several times over the years, typically when a director has left. We talked about M coming to talk to the group some time this year, and about the possibility of starting up a group therapy session at her office.

I think I have made a convert of my therapist regarding epilating. I am so pleased with the lasting results I am getting. I went three weeks in December and January, and I had to look closely to really see the growth. I'll be done epilating for the summer after next Saturday's meeting, and I will miss it greatly. Yet, I don't expect the same trauma that I had last year at this juncture. I know that come next fall, I can be my preferred self once more.

My new skirts will likely arrive at M's office on Friday. Grrr! I was hoping to pick them up in conjunction with my appointment. Best laid plans, and all that...

Self Medicating

Nope, I'm not drinking myself into o'blivion. Nor am I popping pain pills, indiscriminately or otherwise. I am, however, taking steps to ward off the ill feelings that have been encroaching, and all without burdening Mrs. Leslie with my issues.

I'm taking small measures to remind myself of who I am, beneath all the extraneous hair below the neck and the lack of hair up top. Tonight, I took a half hour to bleach my arm hair. It's not as good as bare arms, but let's face it, natal women don't usually have bare arms either. Remove the color from the existing hair, and the effect is similar. Good enough for my purposes, anyway.

I also did a bit of etail therapy tonight. I placed a small order from Newport News. They are closing out their winter collection, with some real bargains. I ordered a light brown denim pencil skirt ($14) and a light pink poplin pencil skirt ($12). I had some other things in my basket, but I found my self-control as I was finalizing the order, and removed a couple items. I really have no business ordering anything, but it gives me something to look forward to, and some better options when I get dressing opportunities.

Thanks for the nice comments. I am feeling much better tonight than last night. I hope that my cure lasts me a few days.

Messing With a Good Thing

I am fighting back, but it's a meager effort. It comes out of nowhere. I am having a fine evening, nothing to complain about, when the emotions wash over and pull me out to sea.

Mrs. L is working tonight, but we had a nice dinner with another couple on her break. Good food, good company. Now it's late, I'm computing, and I suddenly just feel so alone, disconnected from the world. There's no cause and effect. It just is.

It makes me want to spill my feelings to my wife. I'm not sure that's a great course of action, maybe pushing more than I should. She's been great in 2010, and I don't want to seem that I'm taking advantage of her good graces. Besides, she'd rather hear tales of brave Ulysses, not tales of weak Leslies. She'd like to think that her husband isn't a bundle of raw emotions, waiting for a trigger. Hell, we'd all like to think that our mates are holding it together well. That's a comforting illusion. Ruining the illusion with truth? That's just cruel.

She has been incredible. We were picking out new glasses yesterday, and, in a private moment, I mentioned that I wanted something gender-neutral that would work both ways. She didn't miss a beat. She knew why and kept it in mind while passing judgment on frames. Today, I told her that my next support group meeting is a potluck, and I have been racking my brain trying to figure out the right thing to contribute. I am neither a cook nor a meal planner. She had several ideas, and I'm confident that she'll continue to make suggestions until I commit to something.

How can I ask for more? I need to lump it and push through it.