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 my chin, one on the left side of my face, and one on the right side of my face. Finally, I have my long-awaited, mighty, valiant beard. I will pet it when I ponder. But not really.
I received an email yesterday at work that read, "You've been randomly selected to participate in a game at the Christmas party on Friday. There will be prizes." Random my ass, and that day is today. I looked over the select list of "random" participants and instantly became very cynical about what this "christmas party" will entail. Will they make us dress up like elves? Will they dunk us in water or do some other embarrassing-for-everyone's-amusement thing, then give us prizes to help us feel better about losing our dignity? Before accepting the "random invite", I talked to another co-worker of mine who had been selected for it and asked her if she'd accepted. She replied, "Well, see, I saw that you were on it, and I figured, no matter how bad it got, we'd at least be in it together." Gah! Guilt tactic! Solidarity! So I accepted. I'm a sucker.
Note: I went to my first transgender support meeting yesterday. It was really refreshing to hear stories from everyone and to share my own - to have this environment where we can really relate to one another, inspire each other, and understand in ways a lot of people can't. Yet, I was reminded about the unfortunate reality that we do live in one of the most conservative states in the nation and that most don't have the kind of support and tolerance that I've been very, very lucky to have so far.
Update: The work party wasn't as bad as my cynical mind had anticipated it would be. We were assigned to teams, given large paper cut-outs of some other employees, bags of knick-knacks (cotton balls, frilly things, glitter, fuzzy stuff...), and told to dress them up. My team mate and I got Visa gift cards. Boo ya!
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 my chin, one on the left side of my face, and one on the right side of my face. Finally, I have my long-awaited, mighty, valiant beard. I will pet it when I ponder. But not really.
I received an email yesterday at work that read, "You've been randomly selected to participate in a game at the Christmas party on Friday. There will be prizes." Random my ass, and that day is today. I looked over the select list of "random" participants and instantly became very cynical about what this "christmas party" will entail. Will they make us dress up like elves? Will they dunk us in water or do some other embarrassing-for-everyone's-amusement thing, then give us prizes to help us feel better about losing our dignity? Before accepting the "random invite", I talked to another co-worker of mine who had been selected for it and asked her if she'd accepted. She replied, "Well, see, I saw that you were on it, and I figured, no matter how bad it got, we'd at least be in it together." Gah! Guilt tactic! Solidarity! So I accepted. I'm a sucker.
Note: I went to my first transgender support meeting yesterday. It was really refreshing to hear stories from everyone and to share my own - to have this environment where we can really relate to one another, inspire each other, and understand in ways a lot of people can't. Yet, I was reminded about the unfortunate reality that we do live in one of the most conservative states in the nation and that most don't have the kind of support and tolerance that I've been very, very lucky to have so far.
Update: The work party wasn't as bad as my cynical mind had anticipated it would be. We were assigned to teams, given large paper cut-outs of some other employees, bags of knick-knacks (cotton balls, frilly things, glitter, fuzzy stuff...), and told to dress them up. My team mate and I got Visa gift cards. Boo ya!
bwahahaha hole.
ReplyDeleteBeware rouge throat hairs. The beard equivalent of a hermit, they'll stake their claim south of the jaw line, around what is soon to become your adam's apple...
ReplyDeleteWait.
Do FtM's have adam's apples?
Scoff, you're so immature, Kiesha!
ReplyDeleteKammorrema, I think it could potentially happen if an FTM got to start hormone therapy at a MUCH younger age, but I'm just entirely guessing on that. To my knowledge, hormone therapy won't cause any height/bone changes for an adult who's already gone through teenage puberty - which also means that the bones and cartilage of the voicebox won't enlarge and become visible as a bony "adam's apple."
ReplyDeleteSince my rouge throat hair (I noticed two, actually) are all I have, I must embrace them at the moment, and enthusiastically encourage their growth. ;]