Photo Documentation: 2 Weeks

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 some, 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 comes VERY unnaturally to me. These are also some of the most scandalous photos of me to exist now.

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
(Click on images for larger, even less flattering versions - I'd prefer if you didn't, but the option does exist.)

Stomach (hair growth + fat redistribution):

Not noticing any change here yet in regards to body fat redistribution or more hair growth. Maybe I will get a hairy beer belly eventually! Or a soda belly, more accurately, since, well, I don't drink beer. I'm thinking my liver appreciates this, especially now that I'm kicking the shit out of it with T.

Arm (upper body muscle development):

Ooo, me strong! This is embarrassing. However, the moral of this particular image is in regards to upper body muscle development, which is an expected byproduct. None yet that I'm feeling or seeing.

Leg (hair growth + muscle development)

I swear this intense, unflattering lighting is making me look more pale than I am. Or maybe I'm just rationalizing my paleness. Anyway, I'll take a better leg photo next time, but I haven't noticed any new muscle development or hair growth around my calves or thighs.

Facial Hair/Acne/Facial Masculinizing

Very little facial hair development, but there are whiskers trying to sprout up above my lip. The acne development is intense for me - I have about 3 white heads every night. I feel like such a puberty ridden stud! Also no noticeable difference so far in regards to changes towards more facial masculinizing. My septum jewelry is crooked. That's obnoxious. I'll fix that next time.

Only a few whiskers have sprouted on my chin, but they had been plucked by the time I took this photo (plucking was painful! Whenever I'd pluck a hair before, it would just pop out. These suckers are thick and deeply embedded.) There are white heads here, of course, which are lovely, and if you look very, very close with a magnifying glass of some sort you can see those whiskers trying to crawl out above my lip. Go little guys! You can do it!

Another angle of my incredibly thick, pervy 'stach. However, this photo is actually a tad bit exciting because there IS some facial growth trying to happen. It's more apparent on the other side of my face:

... and so is the acne, which I only anticipate will get worse. Yay puberty! Seriously, though. What kind of cruel irony is it to have an increased sex drive along with an increase in acne? Fo' real!

---

Also, just for the sake of reference, from Hudson's FTM Resource Guide:

Over time, the ongoing administration of testosterone will result in the development of masculine secondary sex characteristics, as well as the cessation of menses (monthly periods).

The following masculinizing effects can be expected as a result of testosterone therapy. These effects may take several months to be noticeable, and will continue to develop over a period of years.

* Thickening of the vocal chords and deepening of the voice
* Facial hair growth (mustache and/or beard growth)
* Increased body hair growth (notably on arms, legs, chest, belly, and back)
* Increased body musculature
* Enlargement of the clitoris
* Cessation of menses (monthly periods)
* Potential hair loss at the temples and crown of the head, resulting in a more masculine hairline; possibly male-pattern baldness
* Migration of body fat to a more masculine pattern (i.e., fat moving from hips, thighs and buttocks to the abdomen area)
* Increased activity of the skin's oil glands (i.e., skin becomes more oily, which may result in acne)
* Increase in red blood cells (RBC)
* Change in cholesterol levels may occur-- the "good" cholesterol (HDL) may go down and the "bad" cholesterol (LDL) may go up.
* Scent of body odors and urine may change
* Skin may become rougher in feeling and/or appearance
* Increase in sex drive

Other changes reported by trans men
The changes listed below have been noted anecdotally by some trans men, but are not usually listed in the medical literature as masculinizing effects of testosterone therapy.

* The face may become more angular in appearance, with a squarer jaw.
* Increase in size of feet and/or the width/thickness of hands. Some trans men report going up in shoe size, and some report that their hands become a bit wider. This may be attributed to cartilage, muscle, or connective tissue growth.
* Increase in energy level.
* Increase in appetite.
* Slight decrease in density of the fatty breast tissue. (While this may decrease the size of the breasts somewhat in some individuals, it should be noted that T will most likely not significantly decrease breast size-- most trans men require surgery to remove breast tissue.)
* Emotional changes. Some trans men report shortness of temper or feeling lethargic/down at different stages of their T cycle (i.e., just after a shot, or a few days before their shot). Others report that T has made them feel more even-tempered and calm. It is difficult to predict what emotional changes, if any, an individual will experience while taking T. As with any new medication or substance you might introduce into your body, it is wise to observe your feelings, make note of them, and discuss them with your doctor if they concern you. Certain emotional ups and downs might be alleviated by adjusting the amount and timing of the dosage, and sometimes these ups and downs will settle down over time on testosterone.

2nd Injection + Christmas!

I spent the night at my parent's place with my friend (we'll call her "Annie". She's visiting from Michigan.) Christmas Eve, who made super delicious Indian food with my brother. We gobbled it up then we ran off to the extended family's (which was a whirlwind of oodles of relatives and their offspring running aboot). 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, were LDS when they raised my pops, and now my grandma is here giving me communist, atheist, and feminist books! Who'd a thunk? It's the best!

After visiting the extended family's we went to see these be-dazzling Christmas lights in Murray. For years this feller there has been setting up this mega elaborate Christmas light display in his yard where he also broadcasts music to 99.9 FM (you pick it up when you get within a certain radius of his house) that correlates with the light show. Very, very neat.

Finally Christmas morning rolled around. I went out for coffee with my pops and the family pup, Ganymede (one of the moons of Jupiter!), then returned home once everyone was up n' ready. Various Christmasy things ensued. My mom put corny Christmas music on, we opened presents, played Uno, ate leftovers. My parents got me this uber intense "Bulldog" megaphone, which my mom explained by saying, "Harvey Milk had one!" Ha! So cute! It will most definitely come in handy! I also got a Lifesaver Candy Book, which my brother and I receive every.single.year. It takes me about a year to eat them all though, so, I suppose that works out.

Injection Time

Eventually 1pm'ish rolled around and it was injection time. I got into my overnight bag and grabbed a syringe, an alcohol wipe to cleanse the area, my T prescription, a Band-Aid™, and headed off to the bathroom. My first injection was done by my hormone doctor who made it look much easier than it panned out to be. This second one was slotted to be my first self-injection. I was told that I could inject it into any muscle, preferably my tricep, bicep, thigh, or butt. She had injected it into my tricep and said, "Most guys who come in here are scrawny, little things. But you're a big meaty guy, so you'll be fine sticking it in your thigh!"

I chose my right thigh as the injection point because it seems to me like it would be the easiest to self-inject:


When push came to shove and I'd exposed the needle of the syringe, it suddenly looked a lot longer and more intimidating than the syringe my hormone doctor had used. My hand started to quiver. I asked my dad if he wouldn't mind coming in to the bathroom with me since this was the first time. He was also surprised by the length of the needle and joked, "That's going to go right into your bone!" This wasn't helping, not one bit. (On a side note, I was surprised that I experienced any fear with self-injection. My doctor told me that some of her clients come in to have her inject it, and they bring her coffee or something to thank her. At the time I thought, "What wimps, it's just a needle!" Low and behold...)

I tried to suck some of the Testosterone into the syringe and when nothing would budge, we suspected it may be the syringe and got another. Our luck with the second syringe wasn't much better and my dad ended up tilting the bottle of T upside down, injecting the needle upwards into it, and slowly sucking back, allowing the super thick, goopy T to sort of drip down into the syringe.

At first the syringe was FULL of air bubbles so my dad pushed the T goop back into the bottle, pushed out one big air bubble, then tried it again. This time it was pretty solid, thick, and air bubble free, so I cleansed the an area of my thigh with the alcohol wipe, pinched it, then my dad slid the needle in. It didn't hurt and went in surprisingly easy. He then slowly injected the T. Nothing went wrong. I'm thinking it will be easier for me to do it myself next time now that I know what to expect. I put a little Band-Aid™ on. Later in the evening my dad joked that the needle had, in fact, gone through my entire thigh and that the T had squirt out on to the floor. He also commented, "I think I'm part of a very small club now. I don't know of too many fathers who have injected their daughters with testosterone." Ha! True, true story.

After Annie had run off to some Christmas party and my brother and his girlfriend had frolicked off, my parents and I went out to grab some Chinese food. I LOVE GOING TO CHINESE RESTAURANTS ON CHRISTMAS. The most motley crew of people show up at Chinese restaurants on Christmas; Jews, little atheist families with transgendered children... it's the best.

Yesterday I spoke with my Grandma for a bit on the phone and out of the blue she said something about my ear lobes. "You've ruined your ear lobes! Those will never close up! It's just hawrable!", and it turned out that she wasn't bothered by them in person with the jewelry in, but, "That picture in your blog, with those big holes in your lobes. It's just awful!" My grandma has been reading my blog! She then told me that she will be excited to see me grow a beard, muttered on about my awful, hawrable ear lobes some more, then continued, "Honey, I'm just worried about your safety, especially now that you'll be going into men's locker rooms and men's restrooms and such. There are a lot of dangerous, violent men in the world, and I just want you to be safe." She then asked, "Oh, is it okay to call you honey?", to which I replied, "You can call me honey all you want, grammy. Honey bean. Honey pod. Sweetie poo. Your little nugget. Little honey nugget. Anything!" Is it just a universal, by the way, that grandma's hate stretched ear lobes more than anything?

My dad expressed the same concern, about my safety. He mentioned that it's one thing to be mistaken for a man in a woman's restroom and to have someone run off and call security, but it may be another thing altogether to be alone in a men's restroom and found out as a transgendered person. I told him that everything will be fine and that I'm living a happy, free life with a lot of love and support from the people who care about me. And also that violent, discriminatory, hateful people exist and the only way to confront that is to be out, open, and positive. Things change. Even in Utah.

Speaking of bathrooms, I did have an entertaining incident in a public women's restroom on Christmas. I scurried in and darted to one of the stalls without incident. While I was washing my hands, a woman walked in, literally stopped dead in her tracks, clutched her chest, and gasped loudly. I smiled and said, "Oh, hello!" She looked immediately calmed, but frazzled, then stumbled off into one of the stalls. This sort of thing isn't new for me, but it's possible that soon here my voice isn't going to be my saving grace anymore. Pack n' pisser, here I come!

p.s. My adorable parents got me a camera for Christmas, which I'm now using to "photo document" changes. They went out of their way to get it for me specifically to show that they support me, and so that I could document changes. I'm so lucky and spoiled. Thanks 'rents!

Sideburns!

I got my hair cut on Sunday by my co-worker, Moo, who also conveniently happens to cut hair professionally. By the time I walked in to the salon 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 men have seemingly adapted over time to have shorter hair cuts in general (and to look and smell really, really bad. I think some have just... given up.) - 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, Moo 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 about it, and eventually someone, somewhere, somehow, had enough and it would get cut off. Anyway, Moo is excited to continue cutting my hair as I transition, particularly about the potential future of facial hair. I'd only noticed those few whiskers but, once my "faux burns" were lifted up, she pointed out that there was a bit more hair under there than before - little side burn hairs!

Having ANY facial hair growth within just the first two weeks is pretty exciting to me (according to Hudson's FTM Resource Guide: 'It may take several years, for example, for a beard to fully grow in, even though the first signs of facial hair might begin on the upper lip or chin during the first few months of treatment.'). She took a picture to photo document than showed it to me - yep, more hair. And more acne, too. Wee! The photo is a little blurry, but you can kind of see some action going on there:


(ignore the distracting, gaping hole in my ear lobe)

Then she buzzed it off and got to snipping and chopping away until I became the handsome, clean cut beast that I am sitting here, typing this today. I have a date tonight, so this was done right in the nick of time!

It really is swell having someone who's really excited about and supportive of my transition cutting my hair. It's also fun because she can notice and point things out that I wouldn't immediately notice otherwise. For example, she pointed out in some kind of foreign hair cut lingo that I didn't entirely comprehend that, essentially, my hair felt different and that the hair over my ear was easier to cut. I think she said more than that (something about men and women's hair in general), but, like I said, it was in some kind of incomprehensible hair cut jabble.

In other news, I was reminded over the weekend by a friend of mines experience just how much dust Proposition 8 has kicked up and how the discrimination perpetuated by certain other religions, primarily the LDS church, has such a negative impact on so many individuals and their families. Ever since Proposition 8 it seems as though a lot of LDS people have banded together and are feeling even more defensive than ever about the nonsensical discrimination espoused by their church. With my friend, it started with her brother telling her that an atheist can't celebrate Christmas and then led into emotionally abusing her for being a homosexual, telling her he didn't want his children "exposed" to that or to have it brought into his home, that he's disappointed in her, that she's selfish, that she wouldn't ever see her family again in the afterlife due to her lifestyle, that he doesn't want to give her a present because she's not "celebrating christ's birth", so on and so forth.

It was awful to see how much this was tearing her up - that no matter how loving, sharing, giving, and blatantly kind and ethical she is, there's this underlying discrimination and irrational hostility towards her by someone so close, charged by the belief that it's her fault, her choice, and, therefore, that kind of treatment is justified. It's hard to imagine the damage this kind of dynamic has caused for so many people and their families - how many individual's self-esteems have been ripped apart. Or how it must feel to be that LDS person, being told that this individual they love is sinful and wrong. It becomes clear how bad it is just by how many GLBT homeless youth there are in Utah, or how our GLBT suicide rates are some of the highest in the nation. It's so unfortunate, unnecessary, and sad. But it will get better. The LDS church was one of the worst when it came to discriminating against interracial marriage and relationships, but, as the world progresses around them, they're eventually forced into socially evolving with the tide.

As someone who was raised in an atheist family, I was always taught that Christmas was a holiday about family, or about the people you love, or about whatever you want it to be, depending on your circumstances. About loving one another, giving and receiving to demonstrate that, and, with my family, spending time together watching crap like A Christmas Story. My extended family, most of which are atheist, even go caroling because it makes people smile (some people, anyway. I'd dim my lights and hide). Even Richard Dawkins, one of the more famous atheists, once said

”...[Christmas] has long since ceased to be a religious festival. I participate for family reasons, with a reluctance that owes more to aesthetics than atheistics… So divorced has Christmas become from religion that I find no necessity to bother with euphemisms such as ‘happy holiday season.’ Understanding full well that the phrase retains zero religious significance, I unhesitatingly wish everyone a Merry Christmas.”

It's tragic that some people are so conflicted, so filled with the hate pounded into their heads, that they let that fester and translate into abusing loved ones and end up missing out on what could have been.

Anyway, ahem, back on track. End scene. My next injection day is December 25th. How convenient! My dad is going to help me with the injection, seeing as it's going to be my first self-injection and he's well versed in giving the family kitty's their shots. Poor family kitties.

War has been declared

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, dirty 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.

My mind is rooting for the Testosterone, feeling like it's been stuck in this prepubescent baby fat body for a gazillion years and now it's finally, finally melting away and growing up. My mind exclaims, "I'm becoming a big boy! An adult, finally!". Meanwhile, as of this morning, my body is rooting for Estrogen and has decided to start shedding the lining of my uterus, which also ALWAYS comes with corresponding stomach aches and cramps. Grr.

On a very exciting note, I noticed something while my mind oogled the change in body fat, even facially. I have THREE NEW WHISKERS! Oh yeah, baby! 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 masculine beard! I will pet it when I ponder.

Another thing I've been experiencing is a massive, ridiculous sex drive increase. It started getting bad about 3 days ago. This difference is obvious because I went from the person I knew who thought about sex or felt like "doing it" very rarely, to 3 days ago where thoughts about sex have almost literally consumed about 90% of my mind and my body is making it very clear that it's ready to go-go-go. Women I wouldn't otherwise be attracted to are suddenly becoming uber hot. When someone even remotely attractive talks about 72% of the time I'm thinking about what they'd look like doing dirty things. I almost want to just lay there and cry it's so relentless. I won't actually just lay there and cry about it, but I will go dig a hole somewhere to hide in so that I don't end up making stupid sexual decisions. And, of course, even typing the word "hole" makes me-- okay, done with this paragraph. Moving on.

So, at work, I received an email yesterday 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 (the one who bought me my bicycle testicles - we'll call her Moo) who had been selected for it and asked her if she'd accepted. Moo 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!

Shaving: Research

This is embarrassing. My co-worker, P-Diddy, 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 w/ grain"... no facial hair yet, but, there ain't no thang wrong with being prepared!

Hudson's Guide: All About Shaving

Teenage angst, mom abuse, and a fear of suction

When I got home last night it felt like walking into the Twilight Zone - but, some kind of backwards, pink, glittery variant with pop music. Nowhere I've lived - my apartment, my home, my little dark den - has ever even remotely resembled what I witnessed. It was a whirlwind of teenage girls and teenage girl things - chatter, articles of clothing strewn about, hair products, makeup things, hair flipping, giggling, ohmygawd's. My roommate (we'll call her Carrie) 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." (She had asked me some time ago if I wouldn't mind if her sister and some friends stayed at our apartment for a couple of nights when coming through town. I told her it was a-okay!) I had to step over the girl things with my bicycle to get to the kitchen where I propped it and replied, "Don't feel rude!", which she shouldn't, even though I was experiencing some kind of bizarre emotional state similar to a cat frantically purring when they're scared in some completely unfamiliar environment.

Then, while slinking to my room, I saw two teenage girls in the bathroom - one doing her makeup, the other brushing her hair, speaking in some high-pitched barely audible teenage girl tone. Then a third teenage girl was laying on Carrie's bed, seemingly chatting with some boy, smiling and giggling, flipping her hair around. 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. Trust me." Which she did. Came upstairs, knocked on my door, Carrie 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 fuck." THEN, later in the evening when I got home, everyone was gone except for the one girl who had been flipping her hair and chatting happily, who was now on her phone in the front room crying. Oh the world of teenage girls. Finally, finally, I've been exposed to it directly, in the blissful safe world of my own home, of all places. Woo hoo!

Yesterday I went to the gym with my mom and she's the.worst about habitually calling me "Melanie", when I've been preferring "Mel" for years and will be legally changing it soon. She just does it out of habit and when I reply, "Mom...", she'll go, "Oooh oops! Mel Mel Mel Mel Mel..." and repeat it out loud over and over. However, the only way I got her to agree to practice calling me Mel was 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 appearing to be a big fat hairy dude in a bit here. So imagine we're in a creepy steak house in the middle of Wyoming one day and you keep calling me 'Melanie'.
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 big fat and hairy and we're in that steak house in Wyoming surrounded by tobacco spitting ignernt's and you keep calling me Melanie. You'll instantly out me as a tranny to all the wrong people and I'll get tranny bashed!
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. Like in Village of the Damned, or something. It could happen!
Mom: Ooo, I'll practice calling you Mel! Mel Mel Mel Mel....

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. 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.

Fortunate for me I've somehow miraculously blundered along through this existence of mine without ever coming across a penis or jiggling salty stinky hairy balls in person. Photos, yes. Movies, yes. Covered by someone's pants or underoo's, yes. But in person, out in the open, hanging there? No. It's so bad, for example, that 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). I brought this up with some friends of mine who have balls or who have touched balls with their tongues and, as it turns out, apparently they aren't sticky and wet and suctiony. Anyway, I suspect this will change once I enter that locker room. I'm going to look like the most uncomfortable, ball/penis avoiding, homophobic "male" to ever exist. "Ew, excuse me." "Oh, gross, excuse me." "Oh god, what's that smell, ew, god, gross, excuse me, coming through."



Oh, and 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...

Ravenous hunger and new unisex bathroom!

I'm SO RAVENOUS. After that horrifying 6am incident yesterday morning, everything just continued to roll downhill from there. During lunch with a co-worker, she ordered 1 slice of pizza and I got 2 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 quicke-mart 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.

SO, 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 day. In fact, I'm munching on banana chips while writing this.

In other news, my parents have been adorably supportive. My mom has gone with me to see my hormone doctor both times, and has been researching and asking a lot of questions. And the other day my dad told me, with the most serious of serious faces, "Mel, there's only one way I can accept this." "And that is...?" "If, once you grow facial hair, you grow out a goatee like mine." Not being a big fan of goatees, I instantly reacted, "Oh, no! There's no way!", to which he replied, "Mel, like I said. It's the only way I can accept this. It's all I ask. And, in addition to that, once you grow out said goatee and we look as much alike as possible, you hold my hand and skip around the store with me."

I agreed to his terms.

So today will be the first day I'll use the now-unisex-used-to-be-for-"males"-only bathroom near my office. All week I've been auto-piloting to the women's restroom, but not today! I shan't! The new sign for it came on Monday and they put it up, and "Fred" from the HR department enthusiastically exclaimed, "The unisex bathroom sign is here!"

We got a sign that looks like this:


Is that me on the far right? I don't believe so. I mean, I do bicycle to work, but I don't bicycle into the bathroom.


This one would be a bit more accurate and I'm positive that everyone at our company would just love it (it says: "**It does not matter if you have a vagina, penis, or other, ALL bathrooms should be accessible to ALL people." and "**SHOULD be Accessible to Differently-Abled People."):



But, this sign, by far, is one I can relate to the best. Wee!!!!


Note: As cute as it is, my co-worker, we'll call her P-Diddy, got a big fat vegan chocolate cake to share with everyone. I've already eaten two slices. Damn her! Damn her straight to p-diddy hell!

Work, puberty, and bicycle ballz

My work has been exceptionally supportive so far in regards to my decision to physically transition. Prior to actually starting T I thought something deep and profound along the lines of, "Hmm... at some point here my voice is going to crack and those sacks of fats dangling from my sternum will be no's mo' and I'll be all hairy whatnot and girls may have a problem with this as I go in and out of the women's restroom... especially seeing as I currently have problems enough with that and I should probably mention it to HR in the event my hyper-conservative boss doesn't react too well or whatever other factors kick in I'm not predicting just yet and yada yada, so on and so forth..."

SO, based on this profound logic, I decided to informally meet with an LGBT-friendly feller in our HR department (lucky!) about it, we'll call him "Fred". 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-o-action. He enthusiastically proposed the first step: Make the one-person bathroom on the 1st floor gender-neutral. He ordered the sign immediately. Second step: Bring in a friend of mine, we'll call her Jay, who works for the Pride Center and who does diversity training in regards to LGBT issues all over the state.

That following week Fred, Jay, and I all met in his office. Jay brought three packets full of info, including stuff in regards to Fortune 500 companies and other large companies that have "gender identity" and "sexual orientation" in their non-discrimination policies and about how the Human Rights Campaign publishes brochures and publicly recognizes and praises companies who pride themselves on being tolerant and diverse. Fred brought up that our company recently set in motion something they're calling a "diversity initiative" and that, for Utah, my transitioning will be their "first tangible exercise in professional tolerance." In regards to my more conservative-leaning boss (He's LDS, has a blog where he posts about being pro-Proposition 8 and about how our country is crumbling into the reigns of the horrors of socialism due to Obama becoming President), we'll call him Susan, it was decided that Fred would meet with him one-on-one, and, if Susan felt comfortable with it, the three of us could meet.

The very next day Susan, Fred, and I all met. It went well, but it was definitely interesting and a "culture shock". While I was trying to reiterate that I was the mostly concerned with my boss "setting a tone" for the rest of our team, and wanting to know that if something did happen that was malicious or hateful he wouldn't condone, support, or exacerbate it - he was most focused with if I wanted to "be treated like a guy or not". Here's an example of our conversation:

Boss: "So do you want us to start treating you like a guy?"
Me: "Oh, um, just treat me like you do now?"
Boss: "Hmm. Let me put it this way. K, so you know how us guys get together, slap each other on the backs, wrestle, talk about things we wouldn't talk about 'round girls? Know what I mean? Do you want to be treated like a guy?"
Me: "Oh... no... just, treat me like you do currently. Like me. That doesn't have to change, even though I anticipate it will as my appearance changes. But, that's entirely up to you. I don't care either way, as long as it's not malicious or hateful."
Boss: "Uh huh. K, so let me put it this way. So you know how a bunch of us guys get around the fussball table and we're talkin' like guys, saying guy things, slapping each other's shoulders? If a girl shows up, it's not like we're going to slap her on her shoulder or say the things we do. It's not like we're worried that we're harassing each other."
Me: "Oh, well, I don't play fussball with you guys now. I won't start playing fussball, I don't think. But, you don't have to worry about me being offended or that I'd feel harassed, as long as you're not being malicious or hateful."
Boss: "Uh huh. Okay, so let me put it this way. So, girls are raised one way, guys are raised another. Guys and girls act differently. Like, if I ask a guy to do something, it's like 'Josh, get this done.', but with a girl, it's like, 'Linda, would you mind fitting this into your schedule as soon as possible? Thank you.'..."

And so it went. Back and forth. I think it went well. I'm not worried about having any problems. But, yes, bit of a culture shock going on there. ;]

My co-workers have been exceptionally supportive. They got together and bought me a pair of balls to dangle from my bicycle seat:





So wonderful. They sway left and right when I peddle. I was told that flesh colored was the first choice but they were sold out: Biker Ballz. A couple of them also took me out to lunch on the 11th to celebrate "Injection Day". Aww!

In more immediately recent news, this morning was an... interesting and pathetic experience. Like clockwork, I wake up every morning no matter what at approximately 8am irrelevant to when I went to bed the night prior. The only exception to this is if I'm sick or I haven't had much sleep at all for numerous days, then I don't feel hungry until around noon or later. This is the me I've known for many, many years. Then this morning happened. Around 6am I wake up with this awful something that feels like heart burn, stomach pain... I tried to fall back asleep, but the pain kept me awake. So I got up, half-asleep, and wandered to the kitchen. I poured a bowl of cereal, poured in some soy milk, and stood there eating it in the dark. I tossed the bowl into the sink and, low and behold, began to instantly feel phenomenally better. I wandered back into my room to be greeted with some gross toffees on my book shelf (I don't even like toffee), then laid in my bed, unwrapping the pieces of toffee and placing them in my mouth, chewing them as I fell back to sleep. Oh glory. So, so proud of myself. This greasy-hungry-puberty thing is buu-shit!

Note: On November 25th I received an incredibly supportive email from my friend, Jay the trainer:

"You are such a smart ass, which is why I’m going to tranny bash you. Tranny bashing is the act of victimizing a person physically, sexually, or verbally because they are transgender. SO, I’m going to push you down and beat you up while yelling hateful things at you.

Ummm….I'm meeting with Fred Tuesday December 9. One thing we may discuss is how to create a safe working environment for you."

Ha!

Transitioning

A few months ago I finally decided that I should start seeing a counselor in order to primarily focus on what to do about being a frickin' tranny. 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 3rd arm started to grow from my torso and two extra eye balls grew into my head - meanwhile, my brain is mapped for 2 arms and 2 eyeballs. No matter what I do mentally to adjust to that 3rd arm or those 2 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. Sacks of fat dangling from my sternum, no dick where there's supposed to be one. Rationally, my body is awesome. But, physiologically, it's foreign and bizarre. Over time, this has been taking a huge toll on my self-esteem, on my ability to have intimate relationships, to even look at myself in the mirror.

So, I cracked. I got over my nonsensical pride issues and went in to start seeing a counselor. Through this, I ended up deciding that I've exhausted my mental mechanisms and have decided to start taking Testosterone in order to get my body to a place where my mind can "connect" with it. And, I developed an awesome "transitioning plan" for myself that seems incredibly realistic, and something that can really work... and won't require taking T forever. Here's the dealio. I want to take it just long enough that I feel like I've achieved an "equilibrium" of sorts with my physiology, then transition to more natural methods for the rest of my life. Top surgery, no hysterectomy or ovary removal. I'm excited. I think it can work.

To my knowledge, most FTMs I've heard of take T forever, despite the health risks that vary for each individual. Some guys end up having to stop taking it later on due to liver damage or whatever else. It's advised that within the first 3-5 years you should have a hysterectomy and oophorectomy, otherwise the ovaries, theoretically, could develop similar symptoms as those seen in polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) (And PCOS has been linked to increased risk of endometrial hyperplasia, and thus endometrial cancer, as well as ovarian cancer.) Then, if an individual has these surgeries, taking T becomes more essential - otherwise the body goes into a menopausal state and can't produce estrogen or testosterone on its own, which can then lead to bone problems.

Since I'm this super drug-free nut and just can't stand the thought of hurting my poor body more than I have to, deciding to take T wasn't a decision I made lightly. It's this battle between my mental health and my physical health... but, here's my plan. My devious, just-might-work plan.

I'll take T for about 4 years, depending, and have chest reconstructive surgery within the next 2 years. At that point through taking T I'll have some secondary sex characteristics. For example, thickening of the vocal cords and deepening of the voice, facial hair growth, increased body hair growth, increased body musculature, cessation of menses, migration of body fat, increased sex drive, etc. Some of these will be irreversible. At this point I could stop taking T, then adopt other methods to help out with the factors that are reversible. I could continue working out, placing emphasis on certain "feminine" areas to keep my body as straight as possible. I could take a number of pills that will more naturally affect my physique, like perhaps a body fat reducer called Hydroxycut, B Complex pills, magnesium, zinc, multivitamins, flax seed oil, CLA, ZMA, etc. I'll figger it out. I think this could work.

For me, this doesn't have much to do with gender, or how anyone perceives my gender. Still, in regards to gender since it comes up, I don't identify as a "woman" now, or a "man", and never will. I think the gender binary thing is silly and those aren't the only gender options that exist. We have a lot of options!

I feel much more comfortable with genderqueer. It's great. It seems like a lot of FTMs who transition are stuck in that binary (just to clarify, I don't have any problems with someone identifying as male or female, or consider it inferior in any way. I just enjoy the acknowledgment of other options and gender identities), so when they transition, there's only one way to do it and I just don't believe that - that I HAVE to follow these steps, that I HAVE to take T forever, because I'm not a "real man" without it. There has to be another way. More options. More ways to transition ... to bridge that disconnect.

It's not my body's fault that my mind doesn't relate to it. They went down opposite paths and I'm going to help them meet in the middle. And shake hands. And hug. With as little risk as possible. I like my plan so far.

ps: my first T injection was on the 11th. I just had my prescription filled that will last me for the next 6 months - 100mg of Testosterone Cypionate every 2 weeks, injection via a 25g syringe into any muscle. So far I've noticed increased activity in my oil glands. I have to shower more often. Boo.