T11: Dates and Drugs and Magic

Oh friends, the belly hairs are coming in strong.  I know some folks get that well defined ‘happy trail’ but that is clearly not happening with this bod.  My whole stomach is covered in downy black hair now.  The calf hair is making it’s way towards my knees, crotch hair is making it’s way towards my ass, and I can see little black follicles all over my thighs now, just waiting to burst forth.  The same thing is happening on my jaw and cheeks.

My voice is still getting lower, and even at it’s highest is still distinctly lower than pre-T.  I was listening to a short video on my phone that I was talking in.  Tried to match the pitch and just couldn’t.  It was actually pretty entertaining to hear myself try.

The lust has backed off a fair amount, and thank god for that.  Being a little extra horny is one thing, but being constantly ready to throw down and having no one to do it with is damn near unbearable.

Speaking of which… I was supposed to have three dates this week.  Two fell through (everyone in this town is notoriously flakey and you kinda expect it).  The third was a friend of C’s.  I had really high hopes but…  I don’t think that either of us is quite what the other is looking for.  He’s heavily into the leather/kink scene, he’s poly, and maybe a but more, um, urban I guess.  He also didn’t know beforehand that I’m trans and it almost seemed to catch him off guard even though he is also trans and queer.  He was super sweet, but I think I may be bit too tame and/or redneck for him.

He asked a lot about my most recent ex (who he is acquaintances with), the situation with my kid’s other dad (which is messy but not something I’m going to get into right now), and seemed almost critical of the fact that I haven’t come out to my family yet.  The last was particularly uncomfortable for me.  His input seemed almost condescending by that point.  Sure, I am early on in transition, and yes I am older than you were, but who the fuck cares?

That night at home I was starting another tailspin.  It was, once again, feeling like I must really suck at this whole being a tranny thing.  Maybe if I was ‘more trans’ I wouldnt have as much hesitation about talking to my folks.  What if no one I’m attracted to will be into me the more I change?  What is it going to be like when I really do just fade into the background as yet another passing dude?  What will I look like as an old man?  Is it even worth it to keep transitioning?  What in the name of all that is holy am I doing with my life?!

Oy vey.

A friend had gifted me some xanax earlier in the day.  I’ve never taken it before so they cautioned me not to consume any alcohol with it, don’t drive while I’m on it, and to start off with just half.  Okie dokie.

I could feel it working a lot sooner than I expected, within maybe 15 or 20 minutes.  And then… I was waking up.  It was 8:15 the next morning and I don’t know that I moved at all the whole night. I understand now how people can get hooked on this.  That said, I certainly intend on only using it when I am really, really struggling, not recreationally.

Yesterday I picked my son up and we had a date at the mall, with carmel corn, bubble tea, the whole shebang.  We bought a Dr. Who monopoly set half off.  Went home, had dinner, had snuggles.  It was fucking idyllic.  I love him so much.  He totally big spooned me last night and it was a-fucking-dorable.  This.  This is what the fuck I’m doing with my life.  This kid knows me, no matter what the wrapping looks like.  And this kid will love me no matter how many hairs are on my back or how few are on my head.  Well I’ll be…

The Sleeve

For all y’all who were asking…  it’s not the best photo, but this is my homage to the wild parts of Oregon that I spend my free time in.  Specifically the foothills around Mount Hood.  It has wood sorrel, wild ginger, ferns, Oregon grape, chanterelles, a morel, trilliums, a calypso orchid, huckleberries, douglas fir sprigs, western red cedar sprigs, a view of Mt. hood at sunset, a bear and its cub, and it’s all going to be capped off with a large red-tailed hawk on my shoulder/side of my neck.  Mad props to the talented and patient Chaz Vitale at Ritual Arts Tattoo and Body Piercing (ritualartspdx.com).  We’re done with almost all the line work and much of the first layer of color, so it’s not done but it’s coming along so beautifully.

T10: Meh

Starting my tenth week today.  Shot day has become nearly routine now.  I look forward to it largely because of the emotional stability that the testosterone provides, and the subsequent lack of stability that creeps in as the week comes to it’s end.  I’ve begun considering bi-weekly shots or even the pellets lately.  The swing is a lot to deal with and I already come with plenty of built in anxiety.  The combo is not so cute come Friday.

I spent last night at a ladies arm wrestling competition with C and a friend of his.  We were pretty chill compared to the rest of the folks there, lounging on the sofas in the way back of the bar.  C was more present with his friend than with me, which was completely reasonable.  The two had come together and his friend was going through some really rough times.  But that good old anxiety kicked in and, after going home, I began to fixate on whether he was upset with me.  Was it the petty remark I made about my ex last week?  Was it something to do with our tattoo trade?  Does he (does everyone) not take my transition seriously, and is he resentful of that?  This began to cascade.  Suddenly, I felt like I was losing all of my friends, my small core of people.  The few I’ve let close.  How can I do this by myself?  Am I strong enough to transition, to come out to my family, without my people to hold me up?

My shot was about an hour ago.  I’m sure all will feel fine by this evening so I’m just going to breathe until then.  I acknowledge that this will likely pass.  I recognize that I have chosen my friends well and that I can trust them even when I don’t.  But fuck…  these are the times I wish I wasn’t single and transitioning.  I wish I had someone by me during the wee hours to remind me that it’s all just fine.

Anyhoo…  I realized this week that I haven’t talked much about muscle growth and the discomfort that’s come with it.  I had to stop doing P90x at some point because the inherent muscle growth on top of working out was making my body such a wreck that I was in constant pain.  Most of this was in my neck and shoulders.  I started walking around with rolled in shoulders like some beefed up Jersey Shore frat bro.  It wasn’t posturing, it was just how my body was holding itself.

My shoulders have basically outgrown my binders, so that’s been fun.  My ass has shrunk enough that all my pants now require a belt, but my calves have grown enough that most of them are now tight on the lower leg.

I’m tired.  Like, all the time.

I dunno man, this week has actually been really great on paper, but I’m fucking tired and anxious and having a rough time being halfway out and transitioning is hard.  No shit, right?  I just… dude, I just need a fucking hug.

2 Month T-versary!

I celebrated today with a 5 hour tattoo session, just filling in my sleeve.  Then I came home, had a steak, took a muscle relaxer with some maple whiskey, and now I’m ready to nod the hell off for the night.

Woo!

T9: Late nights and such

I’m glad this week is at its close.  I am a procrastinator, so I put off my taxes and some other stressful money stuff until the very last minute (yesterday) and spent all week avoiding them.  My anxiety level has been through the roof.  I have been spending all my free time outside the house in order to cope/not have to deal with shit.

Tuesday night I got drinks with C.  We didn’t stay out long, but its always nice to spend time together that isn’t part of our massage/tattoo trade.  I tried to make a concerted effort to not talk about transition or the breakup too much (he and my ex are friends from high school).  All the same we ended up discussing how very, very much I need to get laid.  He feels like that need never really goes away, but that you just become accustomed to it over time.

On Wednesday I went out with L and her buddy D.  D seems to identify as butch and a stud.  She’s also kiiiiinda chauvanist.  Doesn’t really seem to get what trans is.  She is a hot mess right now.  She and her gf broke up less than two weeks ago, and last week she made out with her roommate, who is dating her other roommate.  There is tension. There is drama.  She’s been crashing on L’s sofa for the last week and driving a rental car so her ex won’t know where she’s staying.  Damn.

So anyways, we all went out for drinks and pool.  D is bro-y as fuck, L is her usual loud self.  D kept sheing me and I still feel too awkward calling her, or anyone, on it.  I mean, I still haven’t explicitly asked for the change.  Any more, though, when I hear she or her it feels so gross and clearly doesn’t fit to the point that it seems intentional (even if it isn’t really).

I won every game of pool that night.  Ate a burger the size of my head, and 15 min later remembered what a bad idea that is with a binder on.  We discussed getting matching striped suit jackets and starting a queer acapella group that will randomly show up and bust out crooning at queer dance nights. I’ll get all the low parts once my voice comes in.  🙂  L regaled the two queer women in the bar with stories of foot fungus on massage clients (way to go buddy).  We left for a karaoke bar once the queer bar we were at went dead.

Once there, L spotted the most attractive coupled woman in the room, pointed, and said she would dance with her by the end of the night.  She has this thing about ‘stealing’ straight guys’ girlfriends, even if only for a minute.  She may get them to dance, she may ask them to be Jasmine to her Aladdin while singing A Whole New World, or she could just straight up leave with them.  You never know.  What is certain, though, is that straight dudes fucking hate this.  The guy on Wednesday night was no exception, although he tried to play it cool for a bit.  By the time we left, though, he was ready to fight and yelling something to his girlfriend about a bulldyke (PS, L is not actually a bulldkye, he was just soooo straight that he didn’t know the difference).  D and I attempted to hasten L’s departure and we managed to all leave before punches were thrown.

We went to her place for a bit.  The ladies introduced me to tinder and we watched Harry Potter.  I left around 3am, still wired.  “Well shit, I forgot the grocery shopping today.  Might as well.”  WinCo is open 24 hrs so I went and got groceries at 3:30am, in bed by 5am Thursday morning.  I haven’t stayed out like that since my teens.  The whole evening was ridiculous but also, I think, needed.

A few more mellow drinks the next night.  I roasted a chicken, sliced it up, and brought it to the bar with me at the request of my friends.  Went home early, got to bed early, and it was divine.

Yesterday, after I picked up my son (who has fucking strep throat)  we went out to my parent’s place so I could use their tax software.  Got the taxes done, got another huge bill sorted, ordered new checks while I was at it.  All the stressful shit all at once.  I was a mess and felt like puking  nearly the whole time.  At one point, thinking I had made a mistake on my federal returns, I hit my max.  I’ve always been quick to tear up when I am angry or frustrated.  But yesterday I realized that there were no tears coming.  I was able to calmly tell my mom I was taking a break, and snuck a cigarette break while driving a couple miles away to one of my other chores for the day.  I got that done, also without vomiting or crying.

By the end of last night, though, my adulting list for the week was nearly empty.  I have the day off from work today since the kiddo is sick.  He’s feeling alright, but still possibly contagious, so we may just go fishing or something for the day since the weather is great.

Oh yeah, on the T front…  my voice is still dropping pretty quickly.  For three days my chinhas felt like there are glass slivers embedded in it, which I assume means that hairs are ready to start growing there.  The acne is mellowing a bit, thank god.  My calf hair is reproducing exponentially and the hair in my nethers is starting to creep closer to my legs.  I was sir-ed at a rural grocery store last week, only to have the person apologize on closer inspection.  It was like this great, triumphant moment for just a sec, and just as quickly it was dashed.  Ugh.  I’m ready to stop feeling so in-between.  Although, as C points out, you’re just trading that in for invisibility.

Ah well…  I’m off to make Dutch babies with the kiddo.  All the best to you each this week.

Captain’s log: Supplemental

Jesus christ, its 11:30 and again I am nowhere near sleep.  Dysphoria, transition anxiety, money anxiety, anxiety anxiety, all the goddamn anxiety.

I want to win the lottery.  No, really.  I wouldn’t have to rely on my family, or anyone, for shit and I could just come out.  To everyone.  I could pay for top surgery.  I could pay for my friends’ top surgeries.  I could afford a therapist.  Buy a house with some land.  Never have to see another soul again unless I invite them over.  Get a Maserati and soup up the Blazer.  Set a small fortune aside for my son.

I want these things gone so bad.  Tits, man…  I’ve wanted them gone since long before I was out.  I’m done with them.  So over it.  Just… fuck!  Fuck!  More than any other change, I just. want. them. gone.

I want all the stressors in my life to be gone, who am I kidding.  My kid’s dad, the tension between my ex and I, the IRS, faulty alternators, messy houses, a job that never quite pays enough, days that are never quite long enough, every right wing conservative ever, cops, every abusive narcissistic asshole ever.  And fucking capitalism.  That too.

I just want a fucking break.  I want a chance to breathe one of these days.

T8: When it rains…

This last week has been lots of stress.  I still haven’t done my taxes, the brakes on my truck crapped out, I’m getting more and more anxious about coming out to my folks, plus bills upon bills to pay on an unexpectedly small paycheck.  To top it all off, my ex decided to fuck up our parenting schedule and just generally act like a prick.  I swear he has some supervillain spidey sense for when I am at my highest anxiety level, and those are the times he goes in for the kill.

T stuff has been pretty chill this week.  My moods are still a little intense at times.  I feel less patient, quick to anger, but it also passes so much quicker.

I soooooo need to get laid.  I envy every trans dude ever who transitioned while in a relationship.  The lust has hit, but I am crap at hooking up.  I am incapable of going out to a bar with the sole intention of getting laid.  It doesn’t help that my house is a wreck right now and I wouldn’t bring anyone back here even if I could.  I just…  ungh…  really, really, really am having some needs right now.

I think the chest hairs that had started growing are gone.  I don’t know where or how, but they don’t seem to be on there any more.

Same goes for my bits.  Still a tad larger than pre-T, but there seems to have been some, ahem, shrinkage.  Maybe it’s just atrophied from lack of use.  Ha ha!

My muscle growth has stalled since I haven’t been able to work out with K in over a week.  I need to start doing things here at home on my own.  I need to buy weights.  Maybe next paycheck.

I’ve also been really tired.  I don’t know if that is from the T, from anxiety, lack of exercise, or some combination.  I feel like I could sleep for the next week, though, and still not be caught up.

I also went back to that FTM group again, this time with C.  There were more people this time, and most were younger.  The moderator was struggling to moderate the group, and some folks were saying some problematic shit without being called on it.  C is a great person to have around in times like that, because he will not hesitate to tell it like it is.  “It’s only bitching if you’re a woman,” said one person.  “That is some gender essentialist bullshit and totally unnecessary here,” says C.  Boom.  The same person was later discussing wanting to be a midwife, but felt they could no longer persue that since birth is a women’s space.  This was where I spoke up.  I reminded them that there are plenty of trans men birthing babies, especially in Portland, and plenty of trans midwives to boot.  I pointed out how much that sacred womanhood shit had alienated me during my pregnancy, even though I wasn’t identifying as trans yet.  Poor thing looked like a deer caught in the headlights.  A lot of these guys seem to think that transitioning is an excuse to do away with feminism or a recognition of queer identities, that being a man means no longer having to question the gender roles forced on us, or that becoming hyper masculine is the only “right” way to transition.  I don’t believe that.  I am still tender hearted, still a nurturer, and still a flaming homo.  I could go on but I’ll spare you.  

Other highlight of the week included going out to the hot springs with friends, replacing the brake pads and one rotor on the truck, and then having it die in the middle of the woods again yesterday.  So it’s either a shit battery or I’ve got to rebuild the alternator.  L drove the 2 hours out to the middle of nowhere to jump the truck so I could get my son home safe.  Oof.  Long week.  I’m fuckin pooped.  Til next week folks.

T7: .5 is a lot

As I mentioned last week, my dose just went up to the full .5 each week.  .3 caused a lot of changes, really fast, and I was a bit hesitant to increase the dose just yet, but fuck it.

I realized throughout Saturday and Sunday that the T hadn’t been effecting my mood too terribly much, until then.  Saturday evening I went out to Blow Pony, one of the many queer dance nights in this town of plenty.  The friend I was meeting there ended up leaving within 15 minutes.  I should probably explain that I am a classic introvert, and have pretty intense social anxiety when I am alone in crowds.  That said, she leaves and I am all of a sudden by my lonesome in a sea of hundreds of sweaty, hot queers.  Oof…  I see this couple walk by and both of them caught my lusty little eye until I realized it was my ex’s bestie and her girlfriend.

I haven’t talked much about my ex, R, on here, but we split up maybe two or three weeks before I started T.  He still doesnt know, or at least I don’t mean for him to.  The breakup was messy.  The whole relationship was.  I love him deeply, still, but we both have pretty intense trauma/abuse histories, both had some low moments together, and then he up and left one night, screaming at me from down the street that he was never speaking to me again.  He still hasn’t.

I tried talking to him while we were together about how I really didn’t identify as a woman, how I wanted top surgery, etc.  He is also trans and was the first partner, the first person really, that I ever thought I could talk to and have them get it.  Instead, he seemed uninterested with the topic.  I think in some way he needed to own trans in our relationship.  He often “forgot” and called me ‘pretty’ despite the fact that he knew how disgusting that word made me feel.  Twice, while we were fucking, I let him know that I really wasn’t into him messing with my chest right then and his response was, “I’m not doing it for you, it’s for me.”

So anyways, his best friend walked past with her girlfriend, the one R stayed with after he left.  My mind went alight with just about every emotion all at once.  Grief (still), anger, discomfort, impudence…  I felt both cornered and heated as fuck, so I left.

It stuck with me though, and Sunday was absolute hell.  I was pissed about every damn thing imaginable and unfortunately Sundays are a work day for me.  I don’t even remember what I did that night.  Maybe I went to the bar?  I seriously don’t know, I just remember that I hated everything.

Oh yeah, this may have been what I did Sunday night.

By Tuesday, I had mellowed out a fair bit and went to an FTM peer support group here in town for the first time.  It was awesome to meet with folks ranging in age from 15 or so on up into their 60s or maybe 70s.  Guys from all different walks, each transitioning in their own way.   Some of us went out for drinks after.  It was so normalizing to be out, in the world, discussing transition with people you weren’t having to explain it all to.  With folks who weren’t scandalized by conversation about trans dick.  Folks to whom you are neither novelty or curiosity.

Wednesday I hung out with my coworker/friend L.  We drank beers, ate steak, and eventually she got drunk enough for me to decide to go home (I wondered if she was maybe trying to, ahem, get me to stay over.  Who knows, my radar is glitchy).  She is loud (uniquely, wildly so), usually completely inappropriate, not in the least ‘PC,’ and yet she is one of the only people I hang out with right now who really just treats me like one of the guys.  I never asked her to use male pronouns but she does anyways whenever we’re not at work.  She just doesn’t use pronouns for me at all at work and I am both amazed and grateful.  She refers to me as ‘this guy.’  Notices and compliments my muscle growth.  I was showing her a pic of 20 year old, very femmey me and she cursed me for, in her words, “being hotter than me as a chick and a dude.”

Yeah, that happened.

Its really fucking nice to have a friend, however crazy, that seems to really see you and who says all the right things.

As far as body changes, my stache is still filling in.  There is a new patch of thick, dark hair growing on the back of my calves.  The acne continues.  My BO has gone fucking wild.  If I thought I couldn’t skip showers a couple weeks ago, it is even less of an option now.  I smell… like a man.  Best way to describe it.  The skunky bite seems to have gone and it is nothing but overwhelmingly masculine smelling now.  Its not too bad an aroma when it isn’t full strength or when it’s cut with deodorant.  But damn.  Damn.  My bits have stopped doing anything exciting, and it almost seems smaller this week.  My libido, however, is starting to rear it’s impatient little head.  Just in time for short shorts weather.  Fuck, i need to get laid.  That is a terrible, horrible, tasteless way to put it.  I should be ashamed, and yet…  My muscle growth has done little, but given that I skipped two workouts this week and have been eating like a teenage boy it’s no real surprise.  My ass and hips are still shrinking. And my chest, just a bit.  Woo hoo!

I do believe that’s all I’ve got for now.  Have a great week kids.   Here’s to me not roiding out again this weekend!  🙂