Bending the Rules

Something I did last summer, and have begun again this year, is a bit of a departure from the "agreement."

I am continuing to do some epilating! I started doing the backs of my hands and the area between the second and third knuckles a couple months ago. I found this very satisfying. I have long, thin hands, that look fairly feminine when denuded. I don't see any reason to stop that. In addition, I am epilating the top of my Hobbit feet, my ankles, and about halfway to my knees. I believe that at Starbuck's this is called a half-calf.

Truly, this exercise is minimalist. It is for my gratification only, as it will make no difference in what I might wear in the heat of summer. Maybe it's a little bit of rebellion against the empire, as well.

I'm feeling a bit better after unburdening myself on the blog last night. Thanks for the kind comments about the blog, and the support with my marital issues. Y'all are the best.

Blogiversary and Lethargy

Today marks three years of sharing my anxieties and successes here in Blogistan. The last year is surely the weakest content-wise, and I shan't offer up any links for incredible reading. I will say that if you haven't read anything from the 2008 or 2009 archives, just pick something and see how well I wrote when I was inspired. Night and day, people.

I've been trying to get motivated to write for a few days now. I am having an all-encompassing sadness shrouding everything. I fall into depression briefly each day, but it isn't sticking at this point, thankfully. My leg hair is becoming quite visible to me, and looking at it makes me wanna curl up in the fetal position, so I'm trying not to look at it. Gonna be a long summer...

I have been thinking about something that Renee once wrote on her Transsexual Ferox blog. I don't know if the thought originated with her, but that's where I got it. She wrote that one person cannot be both your shelter and your storm. I have come to realize (and probably the last to see it) that Mrs. Leslie cannot be my primary source of comfort at the same time that she is my antagonist. This isn't working. Truly, the same can be said for her. My gender issues grate on her. Maybe she has stopped coming to me for comfort now, which would explain the emotional distance that I continue to experience. Me, I just want her to hold me at the moment, and make me feel like I can get through this stuff.

She knows that I will go back to the epilation well again all too soon for her, so perhaps the distance will be maintained. If so, I may find myself epilating sooner than she expects.

So, there's my happy blogiversary post. A joyous occasion, no?

Glammed Gams

Really, really nice meeting on Saturday. Much like the January meeting, we had a short bit of business, then a round table discussion. This one centered on issues of identity and becoming comfortable with one's self, and how that is Job One, before you go looking for a relationship.

We had one newbie, and two that were there for the second time, more than a year removed from their first visit. Having fresh voices and hungry ears at the table seem to be the key to a frank, respectful conversation. There were great, sincere questions asked by the new and old guard, and thoughtful answers in response.

The thing about me is that I am not advancing in my transition, as so many others are. I am constantly greeting new faces and saying goodbye to the older ones. I'm pedaling a stationary bike, while others come and go. Okay, that's not entirely accurate. My presentation is becoming easier and more natural. That's hardly advancement on the transition front, but it is progress. I am more at home as Leslie, slipping out of my male mannerisms quickly. I like that. I pack more quality time into my meetings that way. Little time is wasted unmaling myself.

I was very pleased with my presentation this time, and thank heaven Sylvia brought her camera. I meant to bring mine and forgot it in my headlong rush for the door. The makeup is getting easier for me, and more polished at the same time. It helps that my hands no longer shake when applying my makeup. I'm no longer dealing with a huge adrenaline surge while I'm dressing, so the hand is much steadier.

I want to share a closeup of my shoes. I adore these. From Payless, of course, made by Dexter (the shoe company, not the crusading serial killer with a heart of gold). They are a little narrow for me, so they squish my toes, but I am working hard to stretch them out with my feet. Note that there is a bit of a platform on these shoes. I missed that detail when I ordered them. Gawd knows I don't need an extra half inch of height added, but there ya go. I can live with it.

I wanted to post the leg shot, additionally, because they won't look like this again for a long while. I did my final epilation of the season last Thursday, and the hair is already making a comeback. I typically epilate twice a week, so the hair I see on my legs right now wouldn't bug me normally. It would be gone in another day or two. Today, I look and recognize that it will only get longer. I'm hoping to be able to wear a skirt with black opaque tights next month, but it will be slacks or jeans after that. My epilator is going into hibernation for the summer.

The mental impact of this is just beginning to hit me now, as the joy from the meeting wanes. Nothing serious yet, but I'm expecting the worst. For now, I'll just try to savor the memory of Saturday.

I'm Just Sayin'...

I don't like to rush my writing, but it's late, and I'm prepping for Saturday's meeting, but I do want to say some things. We'll see how it goes...

Thanks to all for the comments on the previous post. I asked for an intervention, and most of you took it to heart. Excellent! I truly need to get some tough love. If you all could come around and slap the back of my head in conjunction with your advice next time, I might make some progress. But watch out for hugs, I have very long arms.

I am tempering my depression lately by buying stuff online. Moments ago, I ordered more underwear from Soma. Five panties and a camisole, right at thirty bucks. I just got underwear from them in January. How much is enough? Am I going to keep shoveling shoes and lingerie into the hole in my heart? It does make me feel better to have pretty things, but that's an incredibly superficial thing to say. I'm not proud.

I have purchased three pairs of shoes from Payless so far this year. I have crossed that boundary that Petra wrote about recently. She said that after one reaches ten pairs of heels, one loses all sense of limits. It sounded true when I read it, and I promptly proved it to myself. I now look once or twice a week to see if anything grabs my fancy. Self-control be damned.

True story: When I picked up my recent order at Payless, an older lady was running the place by herself. She started by telling me where the men's shoes were when I entered. I told her that I was there to pick up my order. I told her the name and she went to the back. Normally, the clerk removes the shoes from the shipping box, inspects the shoes for damage, and packs the shoe boxes in a bag for easy carrying. This woman handed me the open, but unprocessed, box. She told me, "You can try those on to see if they fit, er, oh, those are women's shoes. Do want to check to make sure that's what she ordered?" It was hard to tell, but I believe that she had no clue that the shoes were for me. The younger clerks have had no such illusions, but have been very professional, and I never felt embarrassed. This encounter was very strange for me, and probably for her, once she thought about it for a time. I confirmed that the shoes were the correct order, and I clumsily carried the bulky box out under my arm. Ah, well, that won't stop me from ordering again.

I will have more to write after my meeting, and with luck, I'll have a pic or two. I'm chuffed about the outfit that I have assembled to go with my new favorite heels. I have acquired some good concealer that I have been wearing in daily boy life this week under my eyes. I have also done the most radical shaping of my eyebrows ever. It still passes muster in guy world, I think, but it's quite dramatic by my meager standards. I hope it all comes together well on Saturday.

Meet the New List, Same as the Old List

I have long contended that a sane person will eventually recognize futility, and stop banging their head against a wall. By this definition, I believe myself to be insane.

I mentioned to Mrs. Leslie that I had a therapy session scheduled. Soon thereafter, we were lying in bed, and she complained that she never has time to talk to her husband. This is code for "We need to air out some things before your appointment." We opted to skip it at that time, thinking sleep was a better option for us both. When I awoke Tuesday, she had prepared a list for me. Lucky me...

Stop me if you've heard this before, and if you've spent any time around this blog, you've heard this. The complaints never evolve. She had five points.

The most important point was regarding my "wearing women's undergarments in our marital bed at night." It's true, I have stopped caring in the absence of affection and begun to wear panties in bed. It's not like we were going to do anything torrid anyway. Her big beef was a night when I also wore a camisole to bed. She figured it out when she awoke, and was silently enraged for days (she tells me now). What if the kids saw? How does this fit in with you being a man for me? Why do you keep pushing the line?

I also got the old saw about not compromising on the bare legs. I continue to argue that someone who wants to be bare all year round is compromising when limiting it to four or so months. She sees it as unilaterally doing whatever I want to do.

She calls me non-communicative. 'Nuff said.

I'm so tired of this game. My therapist, M, called us cyclic today. Can't argue with that assessment. I don't know how to stop, how to turn off the need to be accepted and desired by this infuriating woman that I've spent thirty years with. I know intellectually that this battle is hopeless, but I continue with the effort. I feel like the Black Knight: "It's merely a flesh wound." Someone needs to schedule an intervention. We can get M to send out invites.

Going Through the Motions

I deeply appreciate all the comments. I feel myself retreating into a dark place today, and I kinda wish that I had a therapy session this week.

We met for dinner for St. V's Day. Plenty of talk, just none about us. I didn't feel that it was the right day to start a fight (and I think it will be a fight). I wound up getting her a book of a humorous nature. I miss the girl that used to laugh easily, both at my "witticisms" and the weirdness of the world. I don't entertain her much anymore, and she seems rather bitter most of the time. Humph, join the club.

No Randy Newman tix for me. And some of you can quit slagging the man! He is an American treasure, a great songwriter and arranger. I would love to see him live. Instead, I received a few dark chocolates, new trousers, and a white shirt with a tiny gray floral pattern. Nice, really, but not in any sense heartfelt.

I felt that both of us were going through the motions. After dinner, we shared a brief peck before I went back to work. That has been the extent of affection for the last six weeks or so, and even that is infrequent. I am certain that she is not up to something extracurricular (not her style, and no time for it anyway). She just isn't feeling the love any more than I am.

I will try to curb my fears in the next few days and start a conversation about our status as a couple. It needs to be aired out, as many of you suggested. I just don't think I will like the answers I get.

The Sky is Falling

I'm not sure that I should be writing this. I have a tendency to overblow (is that a word?) things on occasion, and then feel foolish after. With that in mind, read with a grain of salt.

I have come to the conclusion that sex is being withheld. Now, at the peril of offering too much information, I will share. Since I harvested my big crop of leg hair last fall, we have had relations twice (I think). I am certain of once, and give the benefit of doubt on the other. We were at a swanky company party Saturday night, she was looking great and I told her so, more than once. I pawed at her legs a few times as well. I tastefully decided against humping said legs, though.

In any event, upon arriving home, she went to sleep within minutes, without even an acknowledgment of the electricity at the party. This has been occurring far too frequently, and my spidey-sense is tingling, along with other body parts.

Now why would this be happening? A silent protest about my legs is my only logical guess. She has not voiced anything on the subject, and in fact has her legs against mine most every night. She complains about icy knees and feet, but not hairlessness. I am confident that she has decided to shut me off until I return to proper manhood. This conclusion is upsetting me greatly.

If she is indeed withholding to make a statement of disapproval, I could handle that. I just want to be told, so that I might adjust my thinking and stop wasting time and energy toward pursuing marital relations. Not being told brings out the passive-aggressive jackass in me. This makes me want to continue epilating just to spite her. This is causing me to daydream a bit about living elsewhere, though not seriously (yet). Last night I slept in a camisole, and I'm positive that she noticed. I feel like being in her face with the presentation, to show how it could be if I was unconcerned about her feelings, if I did what I wanted (as she has often insisted is the case).

I hate feeling this way, especially on Valentine's Day. I have bought nothing but a card at this point. I fear that she is gonna do something big, like tickets to see Randy Newman in a couple weeks. I am not feeling the love right now, and I don't want to have to go through the motions.

So, Doctor Love prescribes a big grain of salt. I hope y'all have a delightful Valentine's Day with your beloved, and I hope I am proven to be an alarmist Chicken Little once again.