On Saturday I volunteered at a No More Homeless Pets (NMHP) fund-raiser called Canine Casino Night. I'm a sucker for homeless animals. This one, though, is the cream of the volunteering crop - like a cherry on the tree of NMHP volunteering; especially for little hormonally adolescent trans boys like myself. It's eye candy central where the entire aesthetic of the event is reminiscent of Vegas, a casino ambiance where compassionate animal-lovin' femme fatales wander while I diligently carry out my tasks.
Mmm hmm.
I mean, for serious!
It's also especially fun to watch guardians gaming with their excited pups not giving a hoot why they're out so late or what in the heck is going on. All they know is that a.) they're out with their person and b.) get to sniff a million + 1 other pup bums. It's so excellent for everyone on so many levels.
A friend of mine who came to volunteer as one of the glammed up donation garnering femme fatales invited me to go to the bathroom with her to see what her hair looked like under the bright blue bob wig she had been wearing all night (similar style wig to the one Holly, NMHP's kick ass executive director, is wearing in the photo above). Even though I didn't necessarily care how ragged her sweaty knotted up hair looked, my curiosity got the best of me and I followed her to the bathroom - the womens.
It's been some time since I've entered a public womens restroom. I felt the old surge of anxiety kick in, compounded by the fact that I look even more "male" now than I did before starting testosterone - and even prior I'd experienced oodles of "incidents". My friend sensed my obvious discomfort, so she took my hand and soothed me over via saying, "I'll vouch for you. It's fine."
The second I walked in, the four or so women doing their makeup at the sinks immediately tensed up. Conversation paused. Then my friend talked like that whole lotta somethun was nothun and I smiled, spoke back with my crackly would-you-like-fries-with-that voice. Everyone eased up, resumed applying makeup. My friend removed her wig, showed me her crazed hair, I was successfully amused - and then some women walked in.
One looked me up and down, then said, "Do you think you're in the right place?", to which I responded by walking towards the door and mumbling, "Uh, I thought so. Maybe not?". I scooted past her and out. As the door shut behind me I could hear her complaining to her friend about the guy who was just in there.
That is definitely the last time I'm entering a public womens bathroom. End of story. Case closed. Over it.
p.s. my MTF genderqueer/trans doppelganger and I kissed the other night. It's an attraction fueled in many ways by feeling secure in the fact that she genuinely understands my situation, my boundaries, my insecurities - and vice versa. She's also adorable to all hell. But, on the same token, despite that unprecedented sense of refreshing security, I'm not ready yet.
Mmm hmm.
I mean, for serious!
It's also especially fun to watch guardians gaming with their excited pups not giving a hoot why they're out so late or what in the heck is going on. All they know is that a.) they're out with their person and b.) get to sniff a million + 1 other pup bums. It's so excellent for everyone on so many levels.
A friend of mine who came to volunteer as one of the glammed up donation garnering femme fatales invited me to go to the bathroom with her to see what her hair looked like under the bright blue bob wig she had been wearing all night (similar style wig to the one Holly, NMHP's kick ass executive director, is wearing in the photo above). Even though I didn't necessarily care how ragged her sweaty knotted up hair looked, my curiosity got the best of me and I followed her to the bathroom - the womens.
It's been some time since I've entered a public womens restroom. I felt the old surge of anxiety kick in, compounded by the fact that I look even more "male" now than I did before starting testosterone - and even prior I'd experienced oodles of "incidents". My friend sensed my obvious discomfort, so she took my hand and soothed me over via saying, "I'll vouch for you. It's fine."
The second I walked in, the four or so women doing their makeup at the sinks immediately tensed up. Conversation paused. Then my friend talked like that whole lotta somethun was nothun and I smiled, spoke back with my crackly would-you-like-fries-with-that voice. Everyone eased up, resumed applying makeup. My friend removed her wig, showed me her crazed hair, I was successfully amused - and then some women walked in.
One looked me up and down, then said, "Do you think you're in the right place?", to which I responded by walking towards the door and mumbling, "Uh, I thought so. Maybe not?". I scooted past her and out. As the door shut behind me I could hear her complaining to her friend about the guy who was just in there.
That is definitely the last time I'm entering a public womens bathroom. End of story. Case closed. Over it.
p.s. my MTF genderqueer/trans doppelganger and I kissed the other night. It's an attraction fueled in many ways by feeling secure in the fact that she genuinely understands my situation, my boundaries, my insecurities - and vice versa. She's also adorable to all hell. But, on the same token, despite that unprecedented sense of refreshing security, I'm not ready yet.
Congratulations on both important steps!
ReplyDeletegenderkid: Thanks!
ReplyDeleteSo... you remember our conversation inside Del Taco, where our great friend Roldolpho said this is what he went through when he was a teenager?
ReplyDeleteMy question is... This dance like a puppet on little strings, I've been going through that ever since I was 18...what if it doesn't stop? I just want to be a real kid, not a puppet! I mean I’ve had testosterone flowing through my body for some time now so what gives? Why couldn’t the result be awesome super powers instead of puppet like behavior?
Kegg: I have no answers.
ReplyDelete