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 audible tone. Then a third was laying on my roomie's bed, seemingly chatting a love interest. I then got to my room, shut the door. Breathe, breathe...
When Nicole came swinging by a few minutes later to pick me up for a friend's Welcome Back to SLC Vegan Potluck Par-Tay, I texted her, "You must come upstairs. Just for a moment." Which she did. Came upstairs, knocked on my door, my roomie let her in, then she walked through the whirlwind I'd just experienced, got to my bedroom, shut the door, and all she could say was, "What the." THEN, later in the evening when I got home, everyone was gone except for the one girl who had been chatting happily, who was now on her phone in the front room crying.
Yesterday I went to the gym with my mom and she's the.worst presently about habitually calling me "Melanie", when I prefer"Mel" and will be legally changing it soon. She just does it out of habit since, well, she's been referring to me by that name for, oh, 26 years? When I reply, "Mom...", she'll go, "Oooh oops! Mel Mel Mel Mel Mel...". I got her to agree to practice calling me Mel by having a conversation with her a few weeks ago that went something like this:
Speaking of the gym, I'm currently using the women's locker room. I've never binded before (since I've wanted chest reconstruction surgery for as long as I can remember, I've avoided binding so that I don't get excessive tissue damage that could have an impact on the outcome of surgery. I'm slowly cracking here though, especially since I'm planning to have surgery within the next couple of years, so I'll start binding on and off eventually throughout the day, including the gym.) At some point I'm predicting it will become a frequent problem to use the women's locker room and will result in various "incidents" ("ahem, staff, hello, I think there's a man in the women's locker room..."), so I'm planning to potentially take a month off from the gym, then return and start using the men's locker room instead.
Which I am NOT excited about.
While I was running on the treadmill yesterday "I'm just making myself hungrier" circled through my head the entire time, over and over, on repeat. Fortunate for me I got to fill my tummy to the brim at that Welcome Back to SLC Vegan Potluck Par-Tay. Delicious soup, some kind of cheezy chick'n pasta salad shindig, cheezy garlic bread... mmmm...
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 audible tone. Then a third was laying on my roomie's bed, seemingly chatting a love interest. I then got to my room, shut the door. Breathe, breathe...
When Nicole came swinging by a few minutes later to pick me up for a friend's Welcome Back to SLC Vegan Potluck Par-Tay, I texted her, "You must come upstairs. Just for a moment." Which she did. Came upstairs, knocked on my door, my roomie let her in, then she walked through the whirlwind I'd just experienced, got to my bedroom, shut the door, and all she could say was, "What the." THEN, later in the evening when I got home, everyone was gone except for the one girl who had been chatting happily, who was now on her phone in the front room crying.
Yesterday I went to the gym with my mom and she's the.worst presently about habitually calling me "Melanie", when I prefer"Mel" and will be legally changing it soon. She just does it out of habit since, well, she's been referring to me by that name for, oh, 26 years? When I reply, "Mom...", she'll go, "Oooh oops! Mel Mel Mel Mel Mel...". I got her to agree to practice calling me Mel by having a conversation with her a few weeks ago that went something like this:
Me: So mom, now that I'm taking T I'm going to end up being perceived as a hairy dude in a bit here. So imagine we're in a creepy steak house in the middle of Wyoming one day and you call me 'Melanie'.My poor mom. Even though it's cruel and a little wrong to exploit her protective motherly instincts like that, what must be done, must be done.
Mom: Why would we be in a steak house in Wyoming?
Me: Just because.
Mom: But we wouldn't ever be in a steak house in Wyoming.
Me: Just pretend! It's hypothetical!
Mom: Okay...
Me: Okay, so imagine that a few years down the road I'm hairy and we're in that steak house in Wyoming and you call me Melanie. You'll instantly out me as trans to all the wrong people!
Mom: Oooo, I don't want that!
Me: So you need to start calling me Mel, just so you don't do that out of habit when we're in the middle of a scary, isolated town. It could happen!
Mom: Ooo, I'll practice calling you Mel! Mel Mel Mel Mel....
Speaking of the gym, I'm currently using the women's locker room. I've never binded before (since I've wanted chest reconstruction surgery for as long as I can remember, I've avoided binding so that I don't get excessive tissue damage that could have an impact on the outcome of surgery. I'm slowly cracking here though, especially since I'm planning to have surgery within the next couple of years, so I'll start binding on and off eventually throughout the day, including the gym.) At some point I'm predicting it will become a frequent problem to use the women's locker room and will result in various "incidents" ("ahem, staff, hello, I think there's a man in the women's locker room..."), so I'm planning to potentially take a month off from the gym, then return and start using the men's locker room instead.
Which I am NOT excited about.
While I was running on the treadmill yesterday "I'm just making myself hungrier" circled through my head the entire time, over and over, on repeat. Fortunate for me I got to fill my tummy to the brim at that Welcome Back to SLC Vegan Potluck Par-Tay. Delicious soup, some kind of cheezy chick'n pasta salad shindig, cheezy garlic bread... mmmm...
"in regards to the texture of testicles I've always had this impression that they're all suctiony - like, they stick to surfaces, or make "thk thk" noises if anyone were to touch them with their tongue (like sticking one's tongue to a frozen pole and peeling it off, but a minor variant of that)."
ReplyDeletethis is the greatest thing I have/will read all month. Maybe all year.
ewww balls
ReplyDeleteI resent that nickname. This week has forever changed my life. I now realize I am an adult.
ReplyDeleteHa! What would you prefer I called you? The nickname is ONLY to protect your anonymity. ;P
ReplyDeletehi mel! i just found your bloggy via your myspace. the hypothetical wyoming steak house anectodote had me lolling to the max!
ReplyDelete