Sunday, July 19, 2020
After the wedding, Ariel and I both kind of recognized that what had happened between us was a one-off - two women in need grabbing a little piece of excitement from the best possible source. We had a single conversation loaded with nervous laughter where we both agreed to admit we had expected it a little based on all the buildup we had had, but that there wasn't more to it than that.
The idea was, we were going to go back to our normal lives. Ariel would give herself some time to move on from her relationship with Charli, and I would go back to pining over irritating men.
Then COVID happened, and suddenly we were all we had for company.
We both recognized early on the potential for danger here. We were two of each other's closest friends in the world, confidantes and emotional support at a time when everyone needed someone to fill that role. Complicating it could be a disaster.
True, I said, but in my experience, denying yourself something you want is a complication. It's simpler to give in and deal with the fallout later.
She smiled and said that's why I like you, you say stuff like that just when I need to hear it.
I added, it's more fun, too.
So began our sexual odyssey. We gave it a few weeks before confirming to Maddie what we were up to. She took it strangely, like she was disappointed in me, but understood it was my business. Eventually she adjusted, but she always maintained a weirdly conflicted attitude about it. Maybe she didn't like us becoming a faction. Maybe she was insecure about her formerly-supposedly-straight friend falling in with a girl, and her sister's ex at that. Part of me hoped it was because she wished she were in Ariel's place, but I pushed that aside and tried to appreciate the girl I had.
At times I had doubts myself. I had been pursuing men for so long it hadn't occurred to me to be with a woman in this way. I think because I felt such guilt over myself for my past relationships with women that being with men exclusively felt like my... punishment? Realizing I am bisexual as a woman was actually a hard step to take because I had to try to figure out whether I was just faking it to feel like Tyler again, or if I, Valerie, like this girl. And the answer is I do, because there is a lot to like.
I mean, she's beautiful, with tan skin and great hair and a really great fashion sense. And an incredible figure. She's funny, she's smart, she's informed. A joy to be around. She makes me feel good and - and I don't say this lightly - I feel like I can be myself around her.
After a few weeks of casual sex, we began to morph into an actual couple with the closest things you could think of to "dates" in lockdown. Movie nights, special dinners. She would light candles and read me poetry she loved (that would mostly go over my head). I would tell her long stories with no real point and make endless breakfasts. And at the same time we had all the perks of being girlfriends - long talks, fashion advice, gossip.
Sometime in May, it became a little tricky for me because I recognized I was on the verge of becoming vulnerable. I did some math and realized it had been years since I had really been in a relationship of equals. That would be Meg. At times my relationship with Kitty felt that way but it always had that element of just playing house, occupying time until we moved on to other things. This was the first time in a very, very long time I was with someone, fully and unambiguously.
It scared me. I became a little sensitive to relationship things. Wanted some space. Maybe even snapped at her once or twice.
And then something crazy happened.
We talked it out.
Without revealing that I used to be a man called Tyler who was victim of a magic Inn, I explained my past as best I could and how badly behaved I was in some past relationships, and how I was seeing similar behavior in myself again and I'd understand if she wanted to cut her losses. She told me she wanted to work with me through it, if that was what I wanted, and I broke down crying admitting, I do, I do. We kissed and made up.
I was falling in love.
So in June, when the world erupted in chaos and violence and protests about racial inequality, my Black girlfriend was insistent that I make fighting for what was right part of our relationship. And admittedly, I was a bit stuck in some of my old backward ways thinking this was all a lot, but she brought me up to speed and told me that this was her life, where she came from and what she is, and her need for me to see all of it and make her struggle part of mine.
It was one of those "Wow, I really am not Tyler anymore" things. Not that he was a racist, he just... didn't get things. The person I once was would probably never have put himself in danger even once, but it took me very little convincing.
I do feel guilty about how it all had to come about - relying on the person I am dating to explain the fine details of "systemic racism" to me, but I figure growth is a good thing by any means. And she seemed happy to help me because she wants me to be good.
It has been an overall turbulent few months, which I have summed up as quickly as I can because I don't have as much "alone time" to write in a blog anymore, but this is all to say in this crazy fucking world... I have found love. I am in love, I am loved, in ways I never expected. And yeah it's a little surprising that it's with a woman (which maybe that's still surprising that that's surprising but after everything I really saw myself with a man!) but if you know this woman you would not be surprised at all.
I don't know if this is the end for me at this blog. I know I have had a long-ass journey to get to a place where I feel this good all the time. There is still more to do to make me the Val I want to be. But if you don't hear from me again know that I left off on a good note.
Love and peace
Saturday, June 13, 2020
We're through the worst of it now, although unfortunately that has led the news cycle to focus on even more harrowing things, but in March and April things got way worse than I ever expected when I took this job. "Lower management at a superstore? I have an MSc from Georgia Tech." Little did I know more lives would seemingly depend on me while I'm wearing a gray polo than when I wore a lab coat.
I saw the worst in people. Frenzy, panic, frustration, abuse heaped on our underpaid and overworked employees, many of whom took this job as an after-school position because they're, you know, teens. Entitlement, ignorance, and outright flouting of the rules as time went on, as if this disease weren't taking more and more people into the hospital for two months, many of whom never came out - and a lot of whom never made it there in the first place.
I don't want to harp because we're past it now and things have moved on, but I saw awful things. I saw 15-year-old girls spat on for trying to enforce the posted limit of certain items per customer. I saw one of my brightest workers, an honors student, shoved down and nearly trampled. I've seen disadvantaged folks and seniors not being able to get things they need because - and there "ain't no rule" - the same wealthy people come back day after day to scoop up what they want. It hurt, and many days I would just go home and hold my head in my freshly-washed hands and hold back tears.
Amidst all of this, three things happened that have changed the trajectory of my life.
One was a chance encounter with an old classmate of mine from high school. Ricky West. Ricky was practically the king of the school, or at least the prince. He was an offensive first-stringer on the football team, was in homecoming and prom court, married a teen pageant queen from our school at 18. All the guys envied him. The worst part is you couldn't even really hate him because he was humble and kind, and not that dumb - no genius but not dumb.
So when I saw him in the liquor aisle of the store, still looking just like an older, more tired and potbellied version of the handsome guy from high school, I momentarily forgot myself and gave him a smile - "Heya Rick!" Oop. The moment it came out of my mouth I remembered - not Steven. And Shona didn't grow up around here.
So as expected, he looked at me sideways. "I know you?"
"Oh uh, not personally, but we have friends in common. I'm Shona. I... used to date Steven Blassie."
He scratched his chin. "Oh, uh... yeah, him." I could tell he only dimly remembered me, if at all. Saying we had "mutual friends" was a big stretch but not a total lie.
He looked rough, his hair unkempt, unshaved, and like maybe he wasn't sleeping good. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Well, I don't really drink, but uh... that whisky is looking real good."
"Tennessee's finest," I said.
"I uh... I just got laid off. Been with that company for eight years. It took them a week into the pandemic to decide I wasn't worth paying."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "You're just gonna drown your sorrows?" He looked rough, like maybe he was on his way to rock bottom.
"Don't have much of a choice. Nobody's hiring."
"Well, we happen to need some help on the loading dock - these are really tough times you know. Why don't I get you an application?"
He backed off. "Hey, I don't want any charity..."
"It's not charity," I said, "We need help. And I can't give you anything except an interview. You have to get yourself the job."
He stepped forward and went to hug me, but I backed off - "Woah, pandemic remember?"
He turned red. "Oh yeah. Sorry about that."
Well, he did get the job. And he was good at it. Nice guy, friendly, hard worker, lively conversation. And I think he always had a lot of gratitude to me for reaching out because he always made sure to talk with me, check in on me if I maybe needed help or someone to vent to. He became somebody I actively looked forward to seeing during my day, probably because it felt so good to be on friendly terms with the prince of high school, even if those days were long past.
And I was the same for him. He was working long hours and it led to a lot of disagreements with his wife, and he felt like, he's out here trying to put food on the table and why can't she just accept that? And I said that being a woman doesn't mean I understand them, and he laughed.
And then one night, after yet another stressful day, it was just him and me finishing up some receiving and paperwork, and we're talking about what we're going to do when we got home - which was not much since it was nearly 11. Then he said we might as well sleep here and I said yeah, let's make a bed out of toilet paper.
And then he kissed me.
And I didn't stop it. I didn't know how to react in the moment. It felt right even though he's married and I'm not who I look like. In that moment it felt good to be wanted by somebody, and extra good for it to be him. As Shona - being as big as I am - a lot of men don't look at me as a sex object, and the ones that do think I should feel lucky that they do, not realizing I don't want their attention or care. But this guy... he has a beautiful wife at home and we struck up a bond that felt real and... well, my head was spinning.
I had a split second to decide what happened next and... I had sex with him, right there on the loading dock floor.
I'm not proud of it, and it has been weighing on my conscience ever since, but in the moment I needed the release badly, both because of how overworked and stressed I was, and because I thought the opportunity would never present itself again, and because of... the second of the other two things I have yet to explain.
In March - not long after the pandemic started and Ricky was hired - I received a letter from Shona. It read in part:
It has come to my attention that for the past several months you have been inhabiting my former body and living as me. Please know that this was in no way my intended or hoped for outcome, even when I learned that the Trading Post Inn had transformed me into a new person. But I'll admit it is not the worst outcome in my eyes. I was so afraid that whoever got that body would hate it, disrespect it, resent it or harm it. and i know you would do none of those things. You had always claimed to love how I was, and I hope you are capable of bringing that same energy to the challenge of being me.
I had made my peace with the physical fact of my body since I was 14, with how it was to me and how the world treated me. But I never made peace with being me.
I felt guilty for accepting your love because I never felt the same way. I did not love you the way you loved me, but i did my best to convince myself to try. You are a good man and treated me well, and it's nobody's fault those feelings aren't there on my side. I stayed with you so long because I felt you were the best I could do, that I could never hoped to be loved more than you loved me, and never hope to find someone I loved that way too.
I am so sorry to tell you this, especially under these circumstances.
My friend Reby, who knew of the Inn's magic, and knew of my inner conflict, took it on herself to arrange the trip for me. I resent that, but I know that if she could have explained it beforehand - if I could imagine it were real - I would have agreed. This is what I want.
I will always remember you fondly.
This was accompanied by pages of directives on how best to live as her and other notes, some of which would have been very helpful months ago.
To learn, this far in, that the woman I devoted my life to, whose legacy I now proudly wore, was lying to me for years about her feelings, felt she was settling for me and never truly loved me, destroyed me. I carried that with me, privately, for weeks, trying to suppress the hurt and confusion as I navigated the high pressures of the pandemic world, until finally it exploded that night with Ricky and we both made a major mistake.
FWIW - It's completely immaterial whether the sex was any good because it was so WRONG to do, but I do have thoughts that I would like to share someday in a more appropriate venue, and maybe when I have more "data." Which may never happen, or it may.
I spent days afterward feeling completely ashamed, unable to look him in the eye, and he seemed ashamed too since it took days for us to work up the nerve to look at each other again. In his case, he let me know that he was feeling bad about it, and how he was going through so much and I said clearly, it was a mistake we both made - nothing excused it (although he desperately seemed to want to justify it by talking about issues in his marriage, which... get those sorted out yourself.) I said it would be best to just pretend it never happened and he said it would try.
"I just want my friend back," I said. He seemed to agree.
Then he muttered something about asking whether there were any "loose ends" that needed to be tied up. I did a double take at that but realized what he was saying. I had opted to take a morning-after pill the next day because being that it had happened so fast neither of us had any contraceptive handy and didn't exactly stop to ask questions in the moment (if we had, we probably would have come to our senses.)
That brings us to the last thing that happened, in April. I was notified that, due to COVID-19 causing all out-of-state travel to be cancelled, my reservation to the Inn would be refunded and I would have to re-book for a later date.
I was unsure exactly what this meant but I could feel safe in assuming that, since I was relying on going there at a certain time to recoup my body, that whenever I did end up getting there, my body would no longer be available.
Not knowing exactly how the Inn works, only having what I've read on this blog as "evidence" it seems like I have completely lost my chance to become Steven in body again. Perhaps ever. How long will it take for the Inn to find someone to transform into me? Has it already happened? Is there some kind of holding pattern for when there is less than enough people to trigger the change, or can it only stay dormant for so long before it just... randomly starts assigning bodies? I guess we'll have to watch the news out of Old Orchard Beach for that but I doubt the local Bangor CBS Affiliate covers body swapping.
Damn it. Damn it all. Honestly after Shona sent me her letter telling me she would never be herself again, it's not like I thought that was my cue to stay as her - it was still not a life I wanted to lead for myself, even if I wanted to ensure that her body was respected per her wishes. I was too hurt by what she had said about our relationship. Honestly, I hoped I could go back to being myself and abandon this body to fate, out of spite and hurt a little bit. But now... well, if I ever get back to Maine, why should I bother? Why leap into the great unknown when history has shown that I would probably just end up someplace worse, still female, probably not as free as this?
So... am I Shona forever?
I honestly don't know. I feel lost.
Monday, June 01, 2020
I'd like to tell you that I've been using the fact that I look like a pretty well-preserved white woman to make a difference, putting myself between cops and protesters when I know shit is about to go down, but I haven't, and I hope like hell that it means I haven't lost touch with who I really am. It's doubly concerning because I've been calling "Junah" and Jenn (and her ersatz family) to make sure that they're staying safe and feeling kind of proud that the conversations with the former feel really authentic. He's not an older lady playing at being a young black man, or incensed that he's now more of a potential target in a way that he doesn't "deserve" because of how he started out. He's not totally familiar with the nuances, but he gets it.
And maybe it's a measure of how much I've become this white woman that I'm more scared of the virus right now. Between people not traveling and the airlines and airport doing what they can to enforce six-foot spaces, it could be a lot worse, but I do get people every day who are mad that I'm wearing a mask and cough or breathe heavy at you when they want to make some sort of point. I've had several co-workers and friends come down with it - including one person I don't know very well who has died - and have had that swab stuck up my nose a couple of times. Going out into a crowd, all that stuff going on... I get that for some people like J.T., who have mostly been staying in for the past couple of months, this seems like not just a welcome but a righteous opportunity to hit the streets, but I can't help but think of the virus as the most dangerous part.
And to twist the knife just a little more... Pete had found someone I could become. 36, African-American, female, she'd fallen into a good thing over the winter and was willing to say goodbye to her old life. I haven't talked about it - or anything - on here because I didn't want to jinx it, but it was a chance to become a little more myself, maybe even start a family, except that the Inn being closed messed all that up and a part of me looks at the news and is glad that I don't have that to worry about.
Sorry for dumping all this, but if this blog isn't for the times when we don't know who we are, then what is it for?
Sunday, May 31, 2020
The coffee shop has been kept open for grab-and-go and mobile orders, but business is way down, which means shifts are way down, which means sitting on my butt at home like everyone else. You would think this gave me time to write, but living in an apartment with two other girls doesn't give me a ton of private time to collect my thoughts. I've started this post five times in the last month.
Indulge me for a sec while I go back to the Pre-Pandemic world to explain what things are like now.
The last thing that happened was on February 29. That was the day of Meg's wedding. To say I had mixed feelings about the situation would be putting it lightly. I'm not still in love with her or anything but I can hardly look at her without feeling a really complicated sense of loss, disappointment, resentment and guilt over how things ended between us and never resumed. I've accepted the situation but the feelings stubbornly wouldn't clear. I've been open about them, and she understands, and she wants my friendship, and I wanted hers. So, she said, her wedding wouldn't be complete without me there.
Besides, I thought. Things had fizzled with Rafe, maybe I would meet a guy.
Because I had just had my breast-reduction surgery, I needed a new dress that fit my body better. Most of what I liked from before can be taken in, but I'm definitely enough of a woman now that I will take an opportunity to buy something new and frilly when it pleases me. I brought Ariel along for advice because of the girls, she's the one whose fashion sense I most admire - kind of edgy, kind of modern, but also tuned into classic beauty looks. And I know she would never just tell me what I wanted to hear.
Ariel and I have bonded in a way I didn't with Maddie, who is a sweetheart, or Charli, who was cool. It's definitely because her coming out as bi and having her first female relationship with Charli reminded me, ironically, of transforming into a woman and starting to have relationships with men. In the past, I have told her about my past with Meg, and so she understood how this could be complicated for me, admiring that I was really dedicated to supporting my friend - as long as I wasn't there to start shit. I laughed that I wasn't there to start it, but if need be, I was always ready to finish it.
Somewhere in all this, I asked if Ariel would maybe want to come, since being alone would probably be a good way to do something stupid. I didn't even know how to broach that topic with Meg, but as luck would have it there was a last minute cancellation at the singles table, so as long as she didn't mind being "Frank Leoni" for the night, she was welcome.
We drove up to Vermont and checked into the hotel. I texted Meg to say "I hope this is better than the last time I stayed at a hotel in New England..." and she responded, "Haha, well, it could have been a lot worse." Looking down at myself, I thought yeah, I guess so. (Still hate being short though.)
We changed into our dresses. I was wearing a form-fitting black dress that accentuates my curves in a way I never got to when I had the giant boobs. I was stunned to find I really looked like I had a body. Ariel wore a light blue one that set well against her brown skin, and reminded me that my body is nothing compared to some other peoples.
Ari did my hair. She reflected on how she used to do her cousins' hair, and would be jealous, because they were white and their hair was so easy, and it took her years to not want it to go straight down like Michelle Obama's.
The wedding was tasteful and modern, with lots of quirky touches that I would expect from Meg, which goes right along with having the wedding on Leap Day anyway.
At the Reception, I was seated next to this guy Henry, a friend of Justin's. He was tall, with piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw. Very striking. He was good conversation, since like me he has lived in a lot of different places in the country.
Early in the night, the DJ announced a "Kissing Game" called "Show Them How It's Done" where couples go up to the bride and groom and kiss for them to prompt them to kiss - it's one of those things they do instead of clinking glasses because venues don't want you to do that anymore. It was cute seeing young couples kiss each other sheepishly, while the old couples full-on made out. After a few drinks, I was wanting to get in on the action.
"Hey Henry... feel like going up there?"
He stammered, "Uh... sure!"
I must have really intimidated the poor guy because he only barely gave me a faint peck. When we got back to the table, Ariel rolled her eyes.
Naturally, because it was her wedding day, I didn't get to spend much one-on-one time with Meg, but it was great to see her - bittersweet, but she looked beautiful and joyous, and even Justin cleaned up really nice. I mostly saw her on the dance floor, because as she was fond of telling me, since her knee was healed up, she had years of living to make up for. Which is all well and good but it hasn't taught her a thing because she dances even worse than I do.
When the dancing started, Henry was hard to drag out on the floor and moved stiffly, but was fun. Really, we were having a nice time and I was glad to have someone to forget my troubles with, but he had an early flight and left, giving me his number. I wasn't sure if I saw it going anywhere though..
Once that was over with, I was determined to keep having a good time, and so was Ari. We kicked off our heels and danced up a storm, pausing only for more drinks, photos, and to stuff ourselves all over again at the late night table. As the night went on, we got a little less shy about touching each other, holding each other, twerking on each other (well, she did the twerking, I did... some other awkward white girl move.) I got swept up in the moment and I didn't care.
More and more drinks were consumed and we got tired of indulging guys who wanted to cut in. We probably took it a little too far and made a spectacle of ourselves. It's not like we fell to the floor or anything, but our hands were all over each other, our eyes locked. Maybe it was just the liquor and the setting, but I was feeling things, things that I haven't felt in a very long time - not merely attraction, or interest in another person, but real hunger for them. Lust. Fire.
Eventually I just whispered in her ear "Hotel." And she nodded. We were already all over each other in the cab, tongues flecking in and out of each others' mouths, hands furiously finding breasts and hips and legs. I didn't have time to think how strange or different it all was, how unexpected - I was caught up in the moment, and I badly wanted to be.
We fumbled only a moment on the bed as we had to help each other out of our dresses, but as soon as we were it was the quickest acceleration I have felt in a very long time. We explored each other's naked bodies - which I was too excited to feel insecure about my still un-faded scars, and luckily the tenderness in my breasts was subsiding, because she really seemed to relish playing with them.
"I'm sorry they're not big anymore..." I muttered self-effacingly.
"Honey, they're perfect," Ari said to me. Then added, "And they're still bigger than mine."
It was... different, passionate, energetic. It was exciting to know we could go at a pace that women are comfortable with and not worry about the man's needs. After a bit, she said to me, "I brought something... just in case. I didn't think it would be you though."
"Show me," I said.
She went to her duffel and pulled it out. It was a... shall we say, wearable appendage. I welcomed it, let her use it on me for a while, before I decided it was my turn.
Do you know how gratifying it is to have a woman say in the throes of passion "Wow, you really know how to use that thing!" And know she means it?
It was a little clumsy, and honestly, I'm not entirely sure I liked using it better than being on the other side, but it was an amazing, exciting night that left me abuzz. We fell into each other's arms.
Then in the morning we just kind of looked at each other in shock. The spell had somewhat worn off and I was really just embarrassed, although I couldn't explain to her why. She said she was starting to feel guilty about using me for a rebound after Charli left, and maybe taking advantage of my feelings at the wedding. I told her I had a part to play too, but my frustration was with myself. After all this time getting used to the idea of dating and making love to men - and actively enjoying it - why did sleeping with a woman feel like a failure, even thought it was an amazing night?
For over a year, I had been having these thoughts, that maybe I'm not 100% straight, ever since I met Maddie, but I pushed them aside as just surface thoughts, residual inklings of who I was and misplaced appreciation for other women. But what I felt that night sure as hell was real, at least for the moment.
We decided it looked like an awkward one-time-only thing, that we could forgive ourselves and move on. Given that we were roommates now, it might be for the best if we don't pursue. I was both relieved and disappointed - relieved because I was not sure I was up to dating women again, and disappointed because I really like Ariel, especially now, and was starting to feel like maybe we would actually be good together.
And then... in the midst of trying to put that behind us and get through all of it and live our lives... Covid hit New York City. Hard. And suddenly we were locked in together.
I'll tell you more about that later.
Love and kisses,
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
I've been thinking I maybe should write something about the whole stay-at-home thing for the last month and a half, but it's been hard to get started. It seems like I've got nothing but time now, but that's not the case.
As you might guess, I'm unemployed right now. I'm technically "furloughed", which I guess means I've got a job waiting for me when the restaurant is back up to something closer to capacity, but that's not any kind of given itself. To the extent that is still operating, it's because Ashlyn and Moira are working in the kitchen and making deliveries themselves without drawing a salary. There ain't enough seats to have a bartender and two waitresses working I'd they open up at half capacity, so it'shard to put to much hope in that.
So I've been home, and on the one hand, Little Moira loves that. We have a great time playing together, and reading. She's only three, so she can't read yet, but she's got a lot of her favorites memorized, which is kind of amazing itself. Momma Kamen and my folks say that neither of us were that into books at that age, but we were never locked down or anything like that. It kind of males me worried that there's some of the man who knocked me up in her, but nobody who knows thinks it works that way.
She misses her cousins, though, and her friends from the park, and it's hard to explain to her that we can only talk to them on the laptop, especially since Momma Kamen still goes to work, if not for quote so many shifts. It seems backward to me, because she's in her fifties and probably had more that makes her vulnerable than I do, but the MBTA obviously can't just let me take her job. It means she does all the errands before and after work, so there's really not much reason for me to go out at all.
And I'm lucky in that way, I guess. Karla is calling to check in on her mother fairly often, and her kids are sad about not being able to see their grandmother, plus all the drama that comes with their fathers in a time like this. My own folks are keeping in touch a little more often, but the question of going to stay with them is something we kind of dance around. There aren't any cases in their town, and someone coming from the big city to visit would be an issue.
And I guess I'm lucky, in a way, that I've accepted this as my life. Hotels aren't opening in Maine until June at least, and there are some people who probably thought they were getting their lives back this weekend.
Anyway, just wanted anyone I haven't been keeping in touch with off the blog to know I'm okay.
Monday, February 24, 2020
Around New Years Eve we found ourselves having an obligatory "What are we?" Conversation. Are we exclusive? No, but neither of us is seeing anyone else. Do we go out on dates? I said it would be acceptable but he said it was outside his comfort zone (to put it mildly.) In my head I had echoes of someone or other saying "Why buy the cow..." even though I didn't even grow up as a woman. I had to field awkward dating questions from Valerie's mother over the holidays, and deflected by saying I was out there, and that's all. It deepened the already sour feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I spend time with that family.
In January I decided, kinda unilaterally, to downplay my thing with Rafe. Call it a Resolution if you must. It had been a few months of great sex with someone who wasn't interested in more. Why not look again?
Instead, online I found the usual collection of way-too-self-absorbed boy-men in suits who think all women are impressed by a decent suit and a nice car (in this city? Please.)
It was a lot like last year's round of boredom-inducing matchups, only this time I actually had sex with a few of them. None of them had much potential for long term, but I wanted the experience. Whereas before I avoided sex because I didn't want to feel used, now I embrace it because I wanted to do the using.
I think I have screwed myself up because I can only bring myself to sleep with a guy if I dislike him now. I know I should respect my body enough not to just let anyone have it, but I also respect it enough to give it things that will feel good, at least for the night. But if I think I have feelings for a guy? I dare not complicate it with sex.
Besides, I was worried they wouldn't want me soon. At the end of January I did something I have been dreaming about for years... having my breast reduction surgery.
Having boobs of any kind is great about 10% of the time. Times when you want the attention they bring. Times when you are wearing something flattering but not uncomfortable. Times when you are literally naked, on top or below (or in front of) someone and feeling them bounce up and down and against your ribcage in response to something very pleasurable. The rest of the time they are a frightful inconvenience, and when they are 8% of your overall body weight (I did the math!) they are a literal pain.
I had made up my mind months ago and went through a battery of consultations and examinations. Recieving healthcare as a woman in this country is not overall simple of convenient but my doctor - a man - acknowledged that on my frame, these breasts are too much by a lot.
Before the surgery, I texted both Kevin and Rafe, the men in my life who I had kept at arms length of weeks or months. Kevin wished me well, Rafe didn't respond right away. I also texted my sister and Meg, and of course Maddie and Ariel knew - who has taken Charli's old room and made a really good late night talking partner since both of us are effectively single.
Before they put me under, the Doctor said something to the effect of "Just think, when you wake up, you'll have a whole new different body." I probably laughed way too hard, involuntarily, and confused him.
Then they wheeled me in, put me under, and that was that.
Afterward, as I woke up, in my groggy state, my first thought was to grab for them. I think I thought I was back to the Inn because Maddie recalled me babbling about "Am I me? Am I me?" Before long, I came to and had a chance to examine.
It was amazing. The scars are barely noticeable. They're still pretty big actually, but much, much smaller than before. I might actually be able to shop in regular places for tops and bras. Wear sundresses. Jog. See my feet. They're reshaped into perfectly symmetrical orbs. Almost too perfect. It bugs me how I've lost a certain natural appearance. I don't want people to think I have fake boobz (I did get a lot of "are those real?" questions from creepy guys online, but mostly people assume rightly that at this size, you wouldn't pay to put those on your chest.)
Part of me was excited - I looked great. I felt free. Part of me was sad, as I worried I might be - I had lost something that had come to be a part of me, as frustrating and inconvenient and painful as they could be. Never in all my years of wandering as Tyler or drifting from life to life via the Inn had I felt so attached to anything, let alone body parts I wasn't even born with. I worried about not being appreciative of the body I had inherited, but Cynthia has told me this was a dream of hers too.
It's like being a new me (something I'm real familiar with) with the losses and gains that implies, but I get to keep being me, which is exciting.
Once I got back into street clothes, Maddie and Ariel were gobsmacked. It was so different and yet it looked so rigbt. They were very supportive and very complimentary. They got me a card and pampered me while I recuperated.
Rafe eventually did text me back, saying that he was happy for me, in a weirdly brief manner. But that's him.
One other reason for the timing... Meg's wedding is coming up. And I wanted it all out of the way so I could wear a nice dress and feel good about myself because the only person I ever really loved is getting married and I need to be there to support her.
If it ain't too obvious to say, I really do feel a weight off my shoulders. I had been hemming and hawing so long, and now it's done and I don't regret it.
I'm a happy gal.
Sunday, February 16, 2020
I am not a social butterfly by nature and being Shona has not changed that. She has friends but they never really got along with me, so as long as I am wearing her life they are somewhat persona non grata. Thst leaves my work acquaintances. Most of the girls... maybe they don't see me as one of their own because, well, it could be a lot of things. I never learned how to break the ice with females and just being one hasn't made it easier. Most of the women who work with me are older, younger, or moms. We don't share the same worldview or interests... the ones whose lives most closely resemble mine are the ex pep squadders in cosmetics and I don't have much common ground with them besides our biological gender. Similarly, none of the guys know what to make of me because they see me as a woman, but not as a potential sex partner, so I'm just nothing. I can't even be "one of the guys" because I was never that to begin with - I had to google who was in the Superbowl when I found myself invited to the work Superbowl party.
I went just because what else was I going to do on a random Sunday night? I did find it fun, and wound up talking to Kenny more than anyone. Kenny didn't know Shona well, but he did know me. So it's been interesting getting to know him all over again from this angle.
He confided to me, later, he had a crush on one of the makeup girls, Allie. I counseled maybe he should look elsewhere - Allie is model thin and kind of dumb and if I'm being honest, self absorbed. I guess I'm forgetting what kind of effect a nice pair of breasts and a thin waist can have on a certain type of man. He's hoping I can do something to get that set up, but that would require me to strike up a relationship of my own with her, which seems intimidating and pointless.
Still, he's a friend and he deserves happiness. I'd like to help. I just wish he would look somewhere else for it.