Ponytail

Unexpected HRT side-effect #5

I got my artistic creativity back.

For real.

I was bursting with creativity as a teenager. I wrote, I drew, I painted, I modeled, I designed, I composed. I would be overtaken by these ideas and was compelled to bring them into being.

...Then it went away.

This I ascribed to the usual factors: newfound work and family responsibilities that overtook my time.

Now I posit a different theory: it’s my belief that I have a female-structured brain; and that the operation of certain parts of it require a sufficient provision of estrogen. Suffice to say, by the end of the teenage years, estrogen was in rather short supply and my brain malfunctioned accordingly.

That is no longer an issue; and I find myself once again not only bursting with ideas but more importantly, utterly driven to birth them into the world. The catgirl shirt was one such project; now I’m about to complete a painting (details omitted here, as it’s mildly NSFW).

It’s good to be back!

Sleeping arrangements

Appleseed - Book 2: Prometheus Unbound by Masamune Shirow

Malapropism

Recently my singing instructor has had me practicing runs (i.e. moving up and down notes within a single sung word). It's a lot of fun, and especially welcome given that it allows me to practice while working around the lingering effects of the cold I caught six months ago.

My instructor is all about helping me understand precisely which parts of my vocal system I'm engaging at any particular time; and that end she asked me: "When you are singing this run, where do you feel it?"

"Kind of... at the back of my throat?" I answered.

"Ah, okay. So you feel it in your..." - and I saw the gears whirring - "...vulva"?

At that point our eyes met; and we both burst into laughter.

"Uvula! I meant uvula!" she yelled.

Now my instructor can't wait to share this particular mix-up with her whole family; and I get to tell people that there are apparently even more esoteric singing techniques than I was originally aware!

Dress-up

An interesting aspect of the trans experience is looking back on one’s former life, and inspecting certain signs, behaviors, interests and activities through the lens of hindsight.

In this particular instance: for many years I have enjoyed video games in which one can control the appearance of the various player characters. I have spent considerable time armoring my rogues, outfitting my Sims, and coordinating the ring attire of virtual pro-wrestlers.

It occurred to me recently that I was in some respects engaging in a kind of ersatz dress-up. Much like actual dress-up, I also now find the skills that I developed being applied in my day-to-day fashion choices: pairing tops and bottoms, socks and shoes, and so on.

I can’t even begin to untangle what aspects of a person's behavior are based on their biology and others, their social identity; but it’s fascinating, digging up these examples where - even while boxed in by the gender expectations of that time and place - I was seeking, and finding, ways to escape that jail.

Office space

My company has decided to rearrange our current layout; so I went into our location today for the purpose of conveying the contents of my current office to my new office.

Amongst other items, this includes some solid wooden shelves and a two-piece desk. These are not light items.

In the past, I've been able to move these things myself (albeit with great effort and probably minus OSHA approval); brute-forcing them onto a dolly and wheeling them to their destination.

Not this time around though! I just didn't have the strength. I was able to get some of the smaller pieces by myself, but when it came to the main part of the desk I had to rope our network engineer in for assistance.

(And he made it look so easy! At one point he had to take the weight of the whole thing while I moved and it didn't phase him in the slightest!)

It's fascinating because I don't actually feel, in any way, shape or form, weaker; but the evidence absolutely speaks for itself. As I've noted before - there's a serious danger that I will injure myself because I can't estimate my own strength properly anymore.

In addition, I ran into an older member of our organization. The last time we met I was in a dress, and he gave a sort of weird half-chuckle / smile that could be interpreted as "Good for her!" or "That's hilarious".

This time around, I said hi and he responded with "Yes, sir".

I can't tell yet whether he's just struggling to adjust or holds some actual, maladjusted views; but now I'm kind of wondering.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." - Auric Goldfinger

Guess I will wait for a third time and see what happens!

For a friend

I finally completed a painting for a friend:

This person has done so much to help me in my transition; I wanted to do something in return, and commemorate her two wonderful cat sons.

The line art for the cats came together fairly quickly; but then I found myself stumped for months on end as to how to effectively transfer it to the canvas. (Ideally I would have projected it on to the surface and traced over the top; but that would require, you know, a projector of some kind.)

To complicate matters - the lines were inked with a fine point marker; but the canvas would not absorb the ink and the ink would not dry. It was in incredibly frustrating experience, constantly finding new smears and smudges. Next time I will try a permanent marker instead.

(That being said: I fully recognize that much of the issue comes down, as always, to my belligerent insistence on mixing mediums that simply don't belong together. This kind of canvas is really designed more for acrylic and oil paints; I'm the lunatic trying to apply ink and watercolor.

A year in review: 2021 edition

Tracking my transition progress!

There have been lots of big developments this year: I returned to the office as Lauren (the last and biggest social hurdle); began trauma therapy; attended CONvergence in Minneapolis; started my journey as singer, piano player, and guitarist; and gained new friends.

For what was in many respects Pandemic Year: Redux, it’s been a productive time. (Although the way 2022 is shaping up...)

Classic cars

My young friend, currently showing me his new car in Need For Speed:

Him: “Check out my Nissan!”

Me: “That’s a Fairlady Z, right?”

Him: “It’s - yeah, it’s a 240ZG. Damn, you really know your classic cars!”

Me:

Well woman

A few week’s ago I had an annual check-up; the first in two decades. (Hooray for America’s dysfunctional healthcare system!) I wasn’t particularly concerned ahead of time; but then I received an automated reminder from my provider that had the appointment listed as a “Well Woman Exam”. This lead me down a bit of a rabbit hole as to exactly what that entailed; and then I proceeded to freak the fuck out. Even now, I’m not entirely sure what the problem was - there was definitely some anxiety centered on the more intimate aspects of this kind of exam; but having spent a significant amount in analogous settings (e.g. laser hair removal), I didn’t think this was the issue. (There’s also the matter of my PTSD cranking up in some medical settings; but again, there doesn’t seem to be a particular rhyme or reason as to why and when that fires off... or doesn’t.) A friend suggested that perhaps the issue stemmed from having to speak to my provider, openly and honestly, about my transgender status. My provider is a very nice fellow, and has a fantastic bedside manner (something of a rarity in the US); but even so, transitioning is in many respects a form of magic, and pulling back the curtain on how the trick is performed is not fun. When the actual day rolled around, my heart was racing; and I had to apologize repeatedly to the nurse practitioner for my ridiculous pulse. Thankfully everybody was very understanding; and my provider made the necessary conversations about as straightforward and easy as they could be. (It actually turned out that between various changes in recommended screening guidelines and where I am in my transition, that there’s basically nothing to screen for for the next five years or so; so no poking or prodding there.) I did elect to get caught up on some immunizations while I was there; including getting the HPV vaccine (which is now recommended for everyone, up to the age of forty-five). The administering nurse was perfectly nice; but her technique was slow and methodical (not what you want when getting needled); and the HPV vaccine in particular stung something fierce (which I guess is a known issue with whatever they put in it). In the end, everything worked out okay; but I worry that there will be more of this sort of thing in the near future - I’m out, and as far as the majority of big ticket items are concerned, transitioned; but I feel far from confident in my newfound place in the world as a woman or my ability to pass, and it’s going to be quite some time until that changes.

The spackle technique looks great! The pattern scales perfectly; and the cross-hatching of the brush strokes reminds me of modern digital camouflage (and by extension, suggests that the Kroot received their cold-weather gear from their Tau allies).

This definitely seems like the direction to go in; and I'm very excited to see the finished result! 🙂

Work in progress shot of my first four Kroot.

Using Farstalkers as Carnivores simply because they have cloaks - my Tau are going to have snow bases, so the Kroot will match, and there is a limit to the amount of genetic cold weather resistance you can inherit by eating dire-lemmings, ice-ferrets and Valhallans.

Not at all happy with the snow camo pattern I botched onto these guys tho... Might have to go back to the drawing board.