WELLLLL

Most of the time I like being on my own. I don't have to worry that someone's going to interrupt a chain of thought, or talk to me, or get upset at me, or make me eat or go to sleep or whatever.

But sometimes I don't like being on my own.

I had a visitor over the weekend. She's fab. I saved up so I could take her out, because she treated me when I visited her in August.

Shocking how cold it is here, already. They say by the end of the week we'll be into single figures. That's living by the sea for you.

Anyhow. She makes me feel good. And also sometimes bad.

Like my hands, you know? Sometimes I look at my hands and they just don't look right; too soft and small. But other times I look at them and they look okay; a bit veiny, just enough to reassure me that they're not girly.

It's odd.

Tonight I'm feeling very alone, and it's stupid because I'm not really alone; I can call, text, webchat, and so on.. But I liked that I could reach out and cuddle someone this weekend. It was brilliant. And I love that I can hug her and lose myself in her colour.

But now, my flat's dark and quiet again and there's just me in my dressing gown and the sound of my keyboard and I want a hug.

When it's cold outside, and dark, and quiet.. I just want to hug someone I love, and have that quiet stillness-of-mind that I can't seem to get on days like this alone.

That guy + My hair = Good?

I went out with a good friend (who I have been perving on from afar for ages.. Actually I'll tell that story first..)

So I get the same bus every morning, and have for over a year - since I moved into this flat down by the harbour. Onto this bus a cutecute young guy often gets. I could tell he was queer - not sure at first if he was gay, bi/pan, or just a queer ally. But I mentioned him (because he's immensely attractive, and it's rare for me to see someone I find this attractive merely physically) to my friend at college. And she knew him!

So I added him on Facebook and we got to talking.

Anyhow, one morning recently on the bus I got my courage up and put his name into my phone and passed it to him, with the cursor on 'Number' and he actually put it in. :)

So later that week he texted me and himself, his friend (she's a love) and I all went to a gay bar (a sequence of bars ending in a gay bar to be honest) in Canterbury. God he dances like he's having sex with an air elemental! I wish I could dance. I can, in private, but I dunnoh, I just can't move in front of people.. Freaks me out. Possibly that disconnecty thing? Anyhow.

We went out again last night, and he did my hair with this gel stuff. I think it looks pretty good.

Also I keep losing weight, which is obvious when you see this picture.

Anyhow, here we are, me again. Rare, so rare, hmmm, pictures of me I like? What on earth is going on? Oh, wait, I remember - I get to be me soon! :)

The Nan.

I told my nan.

Her response, verbatim (copy-pasted from the email)

Does not bother me one little bit. All I will have to get used to saying is I have 2 grandsons. Not too sure about grandad through will tell him later.

Are we coming to you on Saturday for lunch? Not sure how we left that. Do you want me to wash the sheets for you? If so how soon did you say your friend was coming to stay?

Let me know asap. I'm home all day today - so far that's the plan anyway.

Love Nan.

My family are seriously excellent. :)

One Night can Change My Outlook

Okay, so I'm in a much better mood today.

Last night I was having a wash and someone knocked at the door.

So I scurried to get covered and answered it, and it was the (rather attractive) guy from upstairs. They're having a party, he says, you should come up. Maybe.. In a bit.. I say. He says no, no, you gotta come up. So I says that I'm naked and such but okay I'll be up in a bit.

I went and dunked my head and shampooed and started rinsing and then the door goes again.

This time I'm dripping water and I can't see (no glasses) but I recognise the girl who used to live with the guy upstairs anyway. She comes in. I scurry around protecting my modesty and female-bodiedness and drying off and saying goodnight to my sexy girl in Sheffield.

I eventually send her off with promises to be up in a little while, finish saying goodnight to my gorgeous girl via Skype (of course she has to go and tease me and get me all hot and bothered!) and head up there.

I meet a bunch of guys, two of whom are quite attractive (the birthday boy, and the guy from upstairs) and a load of nice girls. I feel out of place, but enjoy the fact that they're playing ancient Eminem albums to which (thanks to my little brother) I know most of the words and tune. After a little while, I feel more like a member than that-weird-guy-from-downstairs. I have a good time. I chat to some of the guys. I have the girl from up there dancing pressed against me. I wonder what she thinks of my packer, and if she'd think it was real if she didn't already know. We headfuck the guy a little, by telling him about my 'willy'. He thinks I've had an operation, but also thinks that that would be fast. I make him come into the empty room and feel it. It's quite sexy to have another man put his hand down your trousers. He still thinks I've had an operation, at first, but I tell him it's silicone. He looks relieved. I feel greatly amused.

At one point, most of us blokes were standing in the kitchen (cooler in there) and drinking, and talking about weights and age and booze and such. I am the oldest person there, but only by a year. It's unimportant. The guy from upstairs is topless and I want to pull him against me and enjoy a cuddle, but I don't want him to look like a queer in front of his mates (though it was a very, very homoerotic party, there was a lot of humping bums and slapping and groins-in-other-guys-who-have-sat-downs-faces). He sidles up to me a little at one point, looks up from under his hair with that ridiculously hot half-smile, and says "You're passing."

I feel fucking amazing, because I know I am, but also because this guy knows how much of a big deal it is. I feel joyful in this kind of company. And despite having had half of a very drunken threesome with him and his (now ex) girl, he still treats me as a bloke and never messes pronouns up. Amusingly, she does still mess pronouns up. You'd think it'd be the other way around!

But anyway;

I passed.

Completely.

Apart from my age.

There was one guy who thought I was sixteen.

But he didn't think I was trans, or a butch dyke, or a 'girl' in any way shape or form.

I now believe people who tell me my voice is androgynous. Thanks for trying to give me that confidence, guys, you have no idea how much more I'll trust you now that I know you were right.

It was fucking amazing for my ego! I feel amazing. :)

Can't wait for my provisional so I have ID!

And it's the thirteenth today - only sixteen days (maximum) until my psych appointment.

I'm finally cheering up, I'm feeling mostly positive.

I also feel depressed as fuck when I think that I'm probably not going to get treatment for a while, but I've made the decision to buy some for myself for Christmas if it's still not sorted through the NHS, and it helps me ignore that big black cloud that's telling me to go to bed and not get back up.

Ohnoes

I went to the barbers.

As usual he didn't listen - people who cut my hair never do! - and now I think I look a prat.

Nevermind. Surely someone I know can teach me how to make this look okay..

Off down the beach with my sister in a little while. Then tonight I have a mate coming over, and he's pretty stylish, so mebbe he can help..

Update: Here's a picture.

Return!

I should post something, about my holiday.

The problem is, spending time with her was SO GOOD. Waking up next to her was SO RIGHT. That now, I feel empty, lonely, and depressed. Not exactly flooded with words for this screen to regurgitate at me.

I have new binders - they're from Underworks and they're 997s. They're really awesome - I can't believe how much flatter they make me. I feel great in them.

I'm sort of dreading returning to work. I wonder how many stupid questions I'll get asked.

I had a bad day yesterday in the market.

I'm a bit bum, basically.

When I've cheered up, I'll post pics and a proper account of my fun.

Priiiiide

I made this friend a whiiile back. It's a twisty-turny and unbelievable story. But I might explain it someday. A series of coincidences, basically. And disturbing similarities.. Anyhow I (half-jokingly) suggested this friend came down to go to Thanet Pride with me.. And.. They did! But gosh as soon as I saw her step off the train..

Fabulous dykey person, came to pride with me, delicious, delicious.

And a wonderous friend called Elton also came.

And my very very good friend Becky came.

Photos here.

There were many cute girls.

I overheated a lot.

I perved.

I drank too much.

I found Lee ridiculously attractive and couldn't resist.

Update

So my doc just called.

She said that it is the local Psychiatric Trust which I need to see, that I should be getting an appointment through the mail, and that they will need to check I 'fit the criteria' and do the referring..

Thoughts

I've always thought I didn't care what people thought, but it seems like the further I get from the 'nest' of my caring, unbiased family where a girl is treated the same as a boy, the more I realise that I care what they think when it affects how they treat me. I must transition to be treated correctly, for people to expect the correct things of me; sometimes I wonder if by doing this I'm perpetuating the lie of gender, but it's driving me mad, this casual sexism on both sides, girls want to talk about babies, guys want to talk about football. It's all a lie, yet, it is true that I am a fighter, a protector, a builder of technical things, not a carer, a nester, a builder of relationships.

Fitness

So my goal at the moment is fitness (and trying to decide who to ask to witness my deed poll) as podge and bingo wings, pre-T, are generally in the wrong places for a podgy bloke.

Yesterday my friend Becky was talking about 'bingo wings' which is a term I've never heard before but is HILARIOUS and apt. I happen to have a lovely pair of wibbly wings, which are not a very masculine feature imo! I do have biceps, but that layer of wibbling on the bottom of my upper arm ruins them.

Over the last five months I've been working out (off and on) on basic exercises, but now it is time to not only bring them up a step, but also concentrate a bit on my arms.

I already do some of these exercises, but I will be stepping those up and doing all of these every day except Friday, which is gonna be my rest and play MMOs until I pass out day. :)

First, I'll be wearing my wrist weights the whole time I am at home (except computer use as they make typing impossible - too bulky) and using them doubled-up (total 6kg) as weights for lifting.
Exercises:
- Lifting from the elbow, 15 reps, twice
- Lifting from the shoulder, 15 reps, twice
- The above two lifts, but twisted, 10 reps, twice (each, the twisting is designed to exercise those muscles that enable the twisting)
- Push-aways, 15 reps, twice
- Sit-backs, 15 reps, twice
- Dips, 5 reps increasing over time based on easiness to 10 reps, twice

I can't really afford to change my diet from the small amount of cheap crap I eat to an average-sized amount of good quality food, but considering I seem to be losing weight anyway, albeit very slowly, I think simply stepping up the amount of exercise I do will work.

Fuss and Results?

So I haven't posted in ages, sorry.
The doctor just asked some questions, and said he doesn't know much about it and would make enquiries and get the secretary to call me.

My boyfriend freaked out completely.
But then he got over it a bit.
Now I'm just to try not to mention it too much.
Oh, and he doesn't find me sexy as he keeps thinking of me as a man. But that's kind of a positive thing.

Gots to head to work.
See you all later.

OH! I learned to STP without bits of plastic or prosthetics.

Bluhh?!

Today. I am angry.
I am stressed.
I want to destroy.

And it makes me think about things. It reminds me that I used to write, and create and then destroy and it would help. I used to draw and sculpt and then tear and smash it all away, remove it all, all that emotion spilled out onto screen or paper or into clay and then destroyed, purifying, cleansing. Now I just stew, I lost my creativity when I escaped from her.
And people yell, they yell. I don't want to share but sometimes they find something while I'm doing it and then I have to smash it quick and they get upset. It's my heart, my soul, I can tear it and stamp and burn all I want, I don't want you to have that power over me. Get away from my heart, get out of me.

Why do I obsess so much over that concept?

I'm thinking about showers a lot lately, how they feel and the colours of the sound and temperature. I want to draw them but I can't because no-one would understand it. Nothing I draw means anything to anyone but me so I can't share but I want to share something I want to give joy to strangers as a gift in the shadow of a cool tree or the way a word tastes but I can't do that, can I? It's all just a crazy combination of things that people don't understand or think is in my head but it's not. Things taste and smell and feel in ways no one mentions and it's so much data that I could burst!

Why am I writing this here? I dunnoh really, just thought I'd post and maybe one day I'll look back and this irrational reaction to life will be gone.
Maybe I'm angry and sad and excited and terrified for a reason.
Not just college finishing next week.
Maybe it's all linked to gender.

I want to tell you, world, to just shut the fuck up to wake up to look around and think and smile and tell the trees you love them! Dance in the dark and sing while you work and suck your teeth and fuck like it's your first time and last time on this earth. Love with every tiny part of yourself, give it all away, ask for nothing, plan for the worst, expect the best, and alwayalways be yourself.

I will be myself outside, not just inside.

I will be treated as me.

I will.

I