Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

I just can’t stop obsessing about my top surgery scheduled for August 11th . I just can’t. I’m trapped in a land of fantasy and anticipation. Every time I bicycle, I imagine how wonderful it’s going to feel to do so without a binder - to feel the wind against my skin. Swooooosh. I imagine going on hikes where I can breathe and my body can evaporate the heat. I imagine rain on my chest, going swimming, being able to go to the gym, not experiencing horrible acid reflux on a daily basis … but, most importantly, especially given the inevitable and relentless “side effects” of T? Getting my self-esteem put back together again. I know that surgery isn’t going to be a catch-all. A lot of emotional damage has come from living with such severe dysphoria for such a long ol’ time. But it’s, for sure, 87.4% closer. Which is close , if I do say so myself!

Not to beat on my own lackadaisical wah drum, but I stopped being intimate with other people for some time before I started hormone therapy in December of 2008. Since my first dabblings in nitty-gritty-ville when I was 18, I’d been be intimate, albeit uncomfortably. With each passing year living female-bodied, that “uncomfortable” escalated to “extremely uncomfortable” and then to “gah! no more! enough!”. The whole shindig became way too depressing as the sensory signals from the deep recesses of my noggin screeched louder and louder, “Disconnect! Disconnect!” It got to the point that even imagining intimacy made my stomach turn with anxiety (and still does). Just knowing that being touched made my body impossible to ignore would trigger a whole slew of mopey. Every time I met someone and tried, thinking that I could handle it, I couldn’t. What would start out as something simple would be overtaken by the neurological disconnect, and my body would just entirely shut down. I’d sub...

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...