Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

Now that I have this spiffy camera I have the ability to take a series of incredibly unflattering pictures of my transition. Despite the reality that this won't, in the slightest, ever aid in my getting a date, it will at least be interesting to actually have these changes documented, in the most brutally honest lighting possible. I'll post photos every 2 weeks, after every injection. Keep in mind, I'm not a photo snapping sort of person, so this is extremely unnatural for me. These are also some of the most scandalous photos of me in existence. Note: Since these are all only 2 weeks into taking T, there aren't any significant changes I've noticed aside from body odor, sweating more, feeling like I'm starving to death all of the time, increased sex drive, acne development, having much greasier hair, and a few facial whiskers trying to pop up here and there. 2 Weeks on Testosterone Cypionate, 100mg every 2 weeks Stomach (hair growth + fat redistribution)

I spent the night at my parent's place on Christmas Eve. My friend, Anika, made super delicious Indian food with my brother. We all gobbled it up before dashing off to the extended family party. My grandma ended up giving me a massive pile of really interesting, progressive books. She had some in a box already and also let me pick some from her shelf. She gave me The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, Ain't Nobody's Business: The Absurdity of Consensual Crimes , The Subjection of Women by John Stuart Mill, The Humanist Alternative , Middlesex , one about the history of conservative thought, a slew of feminist books... she also gave me a book of poetry from an older woman named Ethal who she wants me to meet soon after reading it. Apparently this woman is about 88 years old, lives in Salt Lake City, and is "the most radical woman" my grandmother has ever known. I'm excited to read it and to meet this Ethal! And to think, my grandma and grandpa were raised LDS

A cute friend cut my hair on Sunday. By the time I walked in to the salon where she works professionally I felt like a shaggy, desperate wolf creature thing that would wake up in pillow puddles of grease. I'm starting to understand why it might be that testosterone dominant (e.g. cisgender men) individuals have seemingly adapted over time to have shorter hair cuts in general - is it a social norm, or is it the grease? Or both? By the end of one day without putting any product into my hair I can run my hand through it and it will stick up like a little Mohawk. When I used to be able to shower once a week, now I HAVE to shower once a day, and it takes a tremendous amount of effort to resist washing my hair. Fortunate for me, my friend has taken it upon herself to schedule my hair cutting appointments. I've never been the type to keep up on hair cuts. Basically, I'd get a hair cut somehow, then time would go by as I'd get hairier and more shaggy, I'd start to grumble

Today feels like the first day my body realized a fierce and mighty war is afoot. For years my mind has been sitting in the corner mumbling and grumbling while my body is out in the spot light, living it up. But now, the playing field has changed. Estrogen is charging, testosterone is gaining in strength. Little do they know that, right at the cusp, right when they meet in the middle and think that one is going to slaughter the other, I'm going to descend from the sky wearing a bright yellow cape over a glistening leotard tightly cinching a mighty cod piece, holding a sparkling wand and dawning a full, thick beard - and then, I shall mediate. I will tell them to stop quivering with rage, to shake hands, hug, and to agree to disagree. In just this small amount of time I've noticed a gradual, but swift, change in my body fat. On a very exciting note, I noticed something while my mind oogled the change in body fat, even facially. I have THREE NEW WHISKERS! I have one new one on

This is embarrassing. My co-worker caught me reading about how to shave. I was taking notes and everything. "apply warm, wet towel to face for 3 min", "apply shave gel", "shave with grain"... no facial hair yet, but, there ain't no thang wrong with being prepared! Hudson's Guide: All About Shaving

When I got home last night it felt like I'd entered the Twilight Zone. A backwards, pink, and glittery version with pop music. It was a whirlwind of teenagers and stereotypically teenage girl things - chatter, articles of clothing strewn about, hair products, makeup things, hair flipping, giggling, ohmygawd's. My roommate was sitting in the middle of it all in the front room, sunk into the futon with her laptop. She looked up at me and said, "I feel rude." And then I remembered: She had asked me some time ago if I wouldn't mind if her sister and some friends stay at our apartment for a couple of nights as they passed through town. I told her it was a-okay! I had to step over the objects and things with my bicycle to get to the kitchen where I propped it and replied, "Don't feel rude!". Then, while slinking to my room, I saw two teenagers in the bathroom - one doing her makeup, the other brushing her hair, speaking in some high-pitched barely au

I'm SO RAVENOUS. After that horrifying 6am incident yesterday morning, everything just continued to roll downhill. During lunch with a co-worker, she ordered one slice of pizza and I got two slices (sidenote: Este's pizza has the BEST vegan pizza, and my cute non-vegan co-worker ordered vegan!). While eating and conversing with one another, I felt something wet near my nostril. I got a tissue and dabbed at it a bit to discovered that yes, in fact, I had a popped pimple on my face. And so it begins. Then, an hour after lunch, I felt ravenous again and in this desperate state of mind found myself away from work and at a little shop around the corner. I wandered in, grabbed a bag of Salt n' Vinegar chips, purchased them in this wild, frazzled state, then had devoured them by the time I got back to work. After work, I got to the store as quickly as I could to stockpile on bananas, banana chips (I like bananas) oranges, trail mix, kale... things I can munch on throughout the

My work has been exceptionally supportive so far in regards to my decision to physically transition. I decided to informally meet with an LGBQT-friendly individual in our HR department (lucky!) about it. I told him about what was going to happen, that it would be gradual, but that I anticipated some potential problems and that, by bringing it up now, maybe we could come up with some kind of problem-prevention-plan. He enthusiastically proposed the first step: Make the one-person bathroom on the first floor gender-neutral. He ordered the sign immediately. Second step: Bring in a Jude, my friend who works for the Pride Center and who does diversity training in regards to LGBQT issues all over the state. That following week the three of us met in his office. Jude brought three information packets, including information in regards to Fortune 500 companies and other large companies that have "gender identity" and "sexual orientation" in their non-discrimination policie

A few months ago I finally decided that I should see a counselor. For as long as I can remember I've been entirely physiologically disconnected from how my body started to develop throughout my teens. It's a silly and super simplified analogy, but it's like I hit puberty and suddenly a third arm started to grow from my torso and two extra eye balls grew into my head - meanwhile, my brain is mapped for two arms and two eyeballs. No matter what I do mentally to adjust to that third arm or those two extra eyeballs, my brain just won't get over feeling like it's all foreign and agonizing and doesn't belong. So, back to reality and away from my silly and simplified sci-fi analogy - with my body, it's been that way for as long as I can remember. Consciously and socially, my body is awesome. But, on some subconscious level, it has always felt very foreign. Over time, this has been taking a huge toll on my self-esteem, on my ability to have intimate relationships,