Number 47

TMI (rated R)

Proceed with caution.

If you're squeamish, stop now - you've been warned.

If you're still reading, it's your own fault.

I'm not kidding.

I'm serious.



Today, I had my ass lasered. For real.

It makes sense, actually, when you think about; but it does require you to be aware of some facts that are not yet in evidence. The first of these is that I, a trans woman, am hoping to have what is euphemistically referred to as "bottom surgery" sometime in the near future. More technically, it is called vaginoplasty. Briefly, it is the removal of testicles and the fashioning of a vagina using the skin of the penis and scrotum. Ta-da!

The second important consideration is this. Would you want a hairy vagina? Now, when I pose that question, I am not discussing pubic hair. Some of us girls want our love mounds  to be baby butt smooth, while others prefer the untamed, Amazon jungle look. Are you a landing strip kind of chick?  On Valentine's Day, do you sculpt a heart and dye everything pink? Does the carpet match the drapes? It's all good. You do you.

No, when I mention the hairy vagina, I'm talking about the inside. You know - the actual vagina, and not the vulva or labia on the outside. That's not a very comfortable or healthy aesthetic to consider. And, as I said above, during vaginoplasty, the new vagina is created using the wonderfully hairy skin of a person's pubic area. Sooooooooooo, what does any surgery seeking transwoman (like myself) do to prevent such a thing? We have our secret gardens denuded, that's what!

Not dissimilar to a napalm attack in the Vietnam War, when US war planes would leave the Vietnamese jungle totally barren, My hair removal tech goes down, er... focuses her laser on my palace of pleasure and sends all those pesky hairs to pubic hair heaven. Sounds like fun, huh?

Actually, my person was wonderful. She made me feel incredibly comfortable in a potentially embarrassing situation. Of course, it wasn't her first rodeo, as she has had other transgender clients. (Not to mention the large number of permanent Brazilians she has done)(The procedure - not the people). The feeling itself is that of a pin prick. And by administering a little bit of lidocaine to the affected area beforehand, the pain is quite manageable. The biggest challenge, by far, is getting used to the idea, conceptually. You know, the inevitable thought of "You wanna do what, where?!"

I survived, but I swear, you can't make this sh*t up. Until next time.

Number 46

Today I Am Woke

For many, many years I was a kind, thoughtful, empathetic heterosexual, white, American male. I didn't feel oppression or fear for myself, but I understood that it existed. I did my best to be an ally for my family and friends of different sexes, races, faiths, and sexualities. Perhaps I wasn't as vocal as I could have been, but I think I did a pretty good job. I'll give myself a B+.

Over the past two years, my transition from male to female has had many anxious and uncomfortable moments as I have learned to navigate my world as a trans woman. In retrospect, those were mostly times of self-induced stress instead of actually being in an environment where there was hostility directed at me.

Today, for the first time ever, I am afraid of my country's leadership, and it is very frightening. The ass in charge (I'm sorry - my fear and anger have shredded a base level of respect that I usually try to maintain), finally got his trans ban in place. Is he coming for me next? I don't know, and even if the answer is "probably not", this sonofabitch is so unhinged, can anyone reliably assure me he won't?

Now I am the first one to admit that I was never inclined to enlist in the US military, and at age 53, I think that any ship in that direction sailed a long time ago; so the whole thing is just a moot point, right? No. That whole 'good ally' thing I wrote about above has been turned on its head.

In a world where violence against women is a real thing, it's one thing to ensure that female friends and acquaintances get home safely, but it's a whole other thing to be the one who's afraid. Or to be indignant and angry (as a good Christian should), when a mosque or synagogue is desecrated. Or to be worried for the safety of gay folks when I see a sign that says "All F*** must die!" Today, I am scared and angry for myself. And this fear is qualitatively different than the fear a good ally feels for others. How dare this country's leaders make me feel this way.

As I reflect back on my life, it is undeniable that I have lived a live of privilege. It's hard to deny the many doors that were open to me as that heterosexual, white, American, male. But now I'm a trans woman and I think that I have surrendered some of my privilege. The fear I feel today is real. But it's also true that this fear is the same fear that every woman,  minority, or any other LGBT person has personally felt at different times. Today, I am scared. Today I am woke.

Number 45

Potpourri

I’ve had a lot of little ideas running around my head. Here they are.

surreality

For most of my life things have been about other people. I’ve had no major illness’s or surgeries, but my sister had major surgery for scoliosis. My brother’s the one that learned to fly a helicopter, not me. My friends in high school went to Yale, Harvard, and the Naval Academy. My friends from college became professional musicians, lawyers, and professors. I watched Rebecca be pregnant twice, and I got to watch her die once. In other words, big important things happened to other people , not me. Now, however, I am the one undergoing a significant life change, and it’s a little weird. A person new to celebrity often comments about how strange it is when they first begin to get noticed in public. I’m not a celebrity, but there are many new experiences a person has while transitioning, and I find myself oftentimes thinking, “wow. this is all happening to me” (and not someone else). Getting used to that is a bit unsettling.

bras 

Back in the day, when all I thought I was just a wannabe, secret crossdresser. I would very occasionally underdress. That is when a trans person will wear the undergarments of the other sex. It felt so sneaky wearing a bra that no one else knew about. (Under a t-shirt, regular shirt, thick sweater and a coat, how could they?) Of course the feeling of wearing it felt so particular, I found myself wondering if women ever got so used to wearing bras that they kind of forgot about having them on. I now know that the answer is “yes”. I’ve also learned that an ill-fighting or uncomfortable bra sucks, and that being able to take it off at the end of the day is a wonderful feeling. But, yes, I do forget about it; and the thrilling wish I used to have about being able to wear one all the time has become a somewhat hum-drum reality.

Imposter syndrome (I.S.)

I.S. is a feeling trans people often have where they feel like they’re only pretending to be a different gender, as opposed to feeling legitimate. This entry is a bit of a fake, because it’s not just something for me to explain away in a single paragraph. It’s a more or less constant thought/worry. But I found myself thinking the other day that I feel much more authentic than I did two months, six months, a year ago, etc. I’ve got a long journey yet, but I’m no longer just starting out, and that feels good.

Donald Trump cheats at golf

I suppose it will shock at least 0 people to learn that I loathe our current president with a deep and abiding passion. Rick Reilly has written a new book, The Commander in Cheat, which lays bare in horrific (and jaw dropping) detail every way that golf is a microcosm of his overall awfulness. The shameless lying, self-aggrandizing behavior, cheating, bullying, sexism, racism, and all around, unrepentant, boorishness of this man defies explanation. That he is president of our country is a national travesty.