Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

Got this new hair did last weekend from Princess Kennedy. So summer post-finals perfect:

Uh, something unprecedented and exciting has occurred in the land of my facial hair. I’m not sure when exactly it happened, but it did - last month I had developed what I’d argue passed as fo’ real real facial hair . It got to the point where, as I posted about prior, I could shampoo it, condition it, comb it, and trim it. Life was good. And then Halloween happened - where I had to shave it for my costume. Life was sad. But fun. This is where the unprecedented and exciting took place: After shaving, I looked noticeably different . My baby bare face was actually jarring to me. Now, this is unprecedented and exciting because this is the first time I’ve ever a.) grown facial hair and b.) shaved it and actually looked different because what I shaved was actually noticeable. It’s taken me two days now to adjust to my baby bare faced self and I’m growing it back as.fast.as.I.can. I suspect that I’m going to turn into my dad who went 20+ years without shaving until doing so and horri...

When I started this transition shindig I absolutely couldn’t wait for the day I’d develop stubble and, possibly, facial here (based on my unique genetics!). But when it finally started to happen, I was disturbed by how brittle and wiry it was in comparison to hair elsewhere. I expected it to be coarse - but it was so… dry and unmanageable . Especially on my chin. With my brother and father as facial hair role models, neither of which really do much in the self-maintenance department, I had resolved that my fate rested in either the land of coarse torture brittle. I had no idea that a solution to this predicament existed - but it does. And it goes by the name of beard oil and/or conditioner. And little beard combs! Once I made said discovery I’ve been letting these face whiskers grow! Every morning and night I rub some of this Bluebeards in: - and then use a li’l Kent beard comb. It’s kinda the most adorable thing ever: Afterwards, any little stray whiskers are cut with ...

Whether I have enough whiskage in reality or not just doesn’t matter - when I look at myself in the mirror, my self-image tells me, “Be one with the teenage side burns.” And thus, earlier tonight, for the first time ever, I’ve attempted to “carve” a facial hair style. I shaved my chinny chin and left the fuzzy sides: My fuzz is currently at 2 weeks of growth and I’m going to give it about 6-8 weeks to really gauge my progress. Fun! In other news, starting tomorrow morning I’ll be injecting every week instead of every two weeks. I chose to inject every week because it is supposed to minimise the mood swings associated with the ups and down of having a lot of T in my system right after I inject, then not very much 2 weeks later when it’s time for my next shot. This has become a pretty significant issue lately (school, stress, moods!) - so this should help.

I actually have a 5 o’ clock shadow. I’m not quite sure when it appeared as, out of sheer laziness in the personal hygiene department throughout last semester, I didn’t shave much. But in a spontaneous fit of I’m-shaggy-and-can’t-take-it-anymore!!! hysteria I ran to the barber and forked over $15 to get all hair cut dappered out. At some point the barber inquired, “Are you growing a beard?”, to which I replied, “Not intentionally. I just haven’t shaved.” Taking that as a green flag to buzz my face, next thing I knew my facial hair was gone - and stubble remained. 5 o’ clock shadow stubble ! I can’t stop admiring it. In other news, this “Sex in the Brain” class I’m in is extremely interesting. Especially the part (so far) where we’ve learned about testosterone receptors in the amygdala, the part of the brain related to things like aggression and fear. Anyway, since I’d helped the same professor for this class put together a transgender panel for another class last semester, she asked ...

Earlier today I couldn't stand my long hair tickling my neck and conveniently spotted a classic barber pole nearby. I'd never been to a barber shop before, as they have always struck me as really male-dominated venues. According to " The Art of Manliness ", the barber shop is "... a great activity to do with your father or son. Men need traditions that can help bond them together. Visiting the barbershop with your father or son is a great tradition to begin in your family. Many men have been going to the same barber all their life and have introduced their sons to the same chair and the same barber. What a great way to bond with the men in your life!" Uh. I remember going to our neighborhood barber shop with my brother and dad back when I was just a little "girl". But as I got older, the barber shop felt less and less welcoming. The thing is, when did barber shops become so "man-only"? Barbers of former times cut hair and shave...

Well, it hasn't been 1 year yet - technically. It will be 1 year on December 11th. Close enough! Onwards. 1 Year on Testosterone Cypionate, 100mg every 2 weeks (Click on images for larger so-detailed-it-hurts versions)

First it's manscaping. And now it's my first shave. I went through my usual routine: 1. Apply shaving cream 2. Shave (only going over the same spots twice, max!) 3. Rinse 4. Pat dry 5. Apply soothing shave lotion And, this time, an additional component: 6. Notice blood above lip! I was aghast. I got a little piece of toilet paper and stuck it on the bloody spot. I didn't know what else to do and took a tip from the movies. I thought I had this shaving thing down. I've shaved before hormone therapy, but these new facial hair arrivals are something I haven't encountered before. Kids Health relates to their puberty-ridden audience who are coming across these coarse, foreign whiskers for the first time with: You looked different this morning. While brushing your teeth, you gazed into the mirror and there it was — hair sprouting all over your face. It's definitely cool, but you're not quite sure whether you want to grow that big bushy bear...

Just a few months ago the idea of sticking a needle into my thigh every 2 weeks wasn't, in the slightest, an enticing one. I went from whimpering and  asking friends and family to do it for me  to becoming the no needle fearin' boy I am today! I just finished today's injection. I look forward to every other Thursday like it's a trans Christmas, when I get to inject again and experience my body and mind connect more and more every.single.day. It's wonderful. When preparing, I wipe the injection point on my thigh with a little alcohol wipe. I remember my first injection on December 11th when I wiped my hairless, soft thigh. Today? It's harder, and a twirl of wet hairs are left behind after wiping the area. Gross, I know. But great. I'm still on the same prescription that I started out on - 100mg of Testosterone Cypionate every 2 weeks, injection via a 25g syringe into any muscle. Right after injecting I looked in the mirror to enthusiastically examine m...

A few weeks ago my grandpa called and invited me to play on the extended family softball team. I've felt a little nervous in regards to writing about extended family, but I'm going to convey my perceptions and feelings as clearly as I can, while respecting anonymity! I've mentioned my cute little ol' grandparents here a few times - about how they're both refreshingly supportive of me, especially given the generational barriers between us. My cousins n' aunts n' uncles n' whatnot have also been good, in general, when it comes to being friendly and respectful towards me and my partners. I don't get to interact with them all too often and when I do it's usually maybe a few times a year around the holidays. They interact with one another a great deal, however - presumably due to having more in common (most are married, have children, etc.) All n' all, I feel super uber fortunate to have the support and acceptance that I DO have. It's es...

No More Homeless Pets had their 14th annual Strut Your Mutt fundraiser Saturday. Essentially the event is a pup-oriented festival after a mass horde of proud guardians and their dogs walk around the park together. When I opted to volunteer last year, I got there right at 5am with my friend, Gine. 5 flippin' a.m. We spent the 4 hours until 9 a.m. filling up swimmy tubs and pup waters. It was a lot of water. Once the actual strutting commenced, I was delegated the responsibility to lug numerous jugs of water along the route via a heavy wooden wagon contraption. Mission: Keep dog water bowls along route filled with water. Okay, sounded simple enough. As I'd lug it along, thirsty dogs would descend around the wagon and corral it into a corner where I'd sweat and grumble trying to pull it along. I'd eventually give up as dogs climbed all over the wagon, knocking jugs over and drinking.drinking.drinking. Tails wagging. Slobber and panting galore. The water wagon h...

Prior to starting testosterone I could never look at myself unclothed, in a swimming outfit, in tank tops, or even in shorts. Not that I'd ever considered myself unattractive - just entirely disconnected. I felt soft. Hairless. Prepubescent. Seeing as I'm attracted to soft and hairless feminine individuals, I could look at myself and, on some level, could appreciate it, even though it wasn't me . And, admittedly, the longer the testosterone reshapes my appearance, the less attractive I become to myself. There's a little bit of irony in that. The less attractive I become to myself - the more acne-ridden, square-headed, pot-bellied, muscular, and hairy - the more confident I become. Connected . Relieved. Hopeful. The me I'd known since the world of whoa-puberty-you're-going-the-wrong-way! kicked in NEVER wanted to wear shorts, for example. Yet, now that there's hair growing all over the place below my knee AND above my knee, I can't resist wearing t...

May 10th marked 151 Days since I began my transition with Testosterone Cypionate. I'm on the same dosage that I began with - 100mg every 2 weeks . It's been way too frickin' long since I've had the opportunity to take unflattering brightly lit photos of myself. Since I moved, I have one little dim bulb in my bathroom (this will be remedied at some point in the near future), so I wasn't quite sure where to take photos that wouldn't necessitate a big blast of obnoxious flash action. So I borrowed Gina's bathroom, which worked well enough! 'ish. It's something. Moving right along... 151 Days on Testosterone Cypionate, 100mg every 2 weeks:

Gadz, it's been an entire week since my last post. This month has been hectic with all the unemployment/moving shenanigans afoot. Not to mention my Internet access has been unreliable and brief when I have it. I'm also due for another awkward photo documentation, which will have to wait until I find my camera battery and get that sucker recharged. Soon, soon! I have some pretty dapper whisker growth going on that I'm excited to show off in all its action-packed scattered and subtle glory. It's actually visible (gasp)! So visible that I tried.tried.tried to hold on to it for as long as I could muster but HAD to shave when I just couldn't take it anymore. I was a trooper and held out for a bit there so I could photo document - but like I said, I haven't been able to find my camera battery amongst the scatter of cardboard boxes and piles o' crap to put on freecycle/donate/free box. It's really a wonder how much one accumulates living somewhere. I re...

I figured it was about time to do another pained and unflattering photo documentation. This cursed camera my parents gave me for Christmas. So yesterday, March 10th, marked 90 Days on Testosterone Cypionate . I also did a voice check, which I'll upload and post tomorrow. 90 Days 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): Getting some hardcore belly action where my body fat is most definitely redistributing. Ho ho ho. In addition, it's getting a tad bit hairier, which is demonstrated more clearly in the belly action shot below. Ooooh yeah, there we go. Look at therm li'l hairs! Still not enough to satisfy my cute Russian female friend, but getting there. One day. Eventually. Putt putt putt. Leg (hair growth + muscle development) A bit hairier. No difference in muscle tone that I'...

I saw Watchmen last Friday with a valiant nerd posse and I was entirely blown away. I'd read the comic book some time ago and recalled that it was an incredibly raw and realistic alternate United States where deconstructed super heroes emerged around the 1940s. As Hilary Goldstein put it in 2005: "No comic book has been the subject of more essays and serious literary discussion than Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' Watchmen. It has been named one of the 100 greatest novels of the past century by Time Magazine. Released 20 years ago, the 12-issue maxi-series was a groundbreaking achievement for comics. Written "for adults," Watchmen opened the doors for thought-provoking and intelligent comics in the mainstream. Two decades after its arrival, there is still no greater comic book." Being a fan of the comic with the political undertones, heroes, anti-heroes, a giant blue pecker, street-fighting lesbians and pirates... I was anxious about how Hollywood would...

I've cracked and asked a friend of mine who just recently graduated from massage college to, well, massage my rapidly-increasing-bone-and-muscle-density ligaments-and-tendons-are-pissed-off back tonight. I keep obsessing over how relieving and blissful it's going to be. Wooo... About half a year ago this same friend called me up and asked if she could give me a "practice massage" while she was still enlisted in school. To me, 'massage' translated to: lay there, essentially nude under a sheet, vulnerable and exposed - and for someone who's uncomfortable with their body, that has never sounded enticing. Still, for the first time I actually felt receptive to such an offer. For one, she's a really sweet and respectful person; and two, she needed to practice! And what better practice than a horribly uncomfortable trans individual who has never had an actual massage before in his life? A few days later I scooted over to her place. She had a massage ...

I'm sick! Still! I've had sickly symptoms for a little over a week now. What the madness! I have a hard time falling asleep at night, then I'm horribly lethargic all day. I've been feeling a bit apathetic in general and the muscles in my upper back are really tight and sore. And phlegm city is pounding away, hardcore; which I'm sure my co-workers love listening to. I'm thinking that the symptoms are just residual from the cold I had last week. And the loss of my precious lava lamp. And the fact that my body has its hands full going through a substantial amount of change. I'm really looking forward to my next appointment with my hormone doctor to see where my levels are at and how my gooey inside pieces are handling the T. Last week I was out and aboot with my parents when my mom and dad started having a discourse about Mel n' the gym. See, for some time now I've been going every other day with my ma. We go into the womens locker room together ...

Not too long ago all women were feminine, wanted to wear dresses, cook dinner for their husbands, and have babies. Nowadays, some women like to wear pants, some don't like cooking at all, some have no desire to procreate, some cut their hair short. Women didn't change. Culture did. (Intrinsically, I mean, as diverse individuals with a whole range of interests and modes of expression.) And, when culture allows it, a lot of diversity and variation come peeping through the grimy cracks. If we took women of today and plopped them into the 40s, it would be all kinds of gender horrifying chaos. People would be calling them mentally ill, transsexuals, cross-dressers, gender rebels, on and on. Panic in the disco! It's interesting to me, wondering how it is that I'm identifying as a person who's ' transgender ' or ' genderqueer ' and how these terms are only the most applicable because of the culture we're all living in. A byproduct of the ti...