Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Tyler/Valerie: The Big Day is Coming Up Fast and I've Got To Take it Slow

This post is coming to you from the couch, where I have spent the last two days.

I may have mentioned something about Valerie's body - despite its certain virtues - not necessarily being the most nimble, when Josh was chasing me around with a squirt gun, but I guess I felt the need to exert myself as if I was still a relatively athletic male. Hence why I regularly run full-sprint for the bus even if it means sending the big balloony jugs under my top flying every which way.

Well, sometimes uneven pavement happens and you fall and twist your ankle. (This is entirely not the fault of my breasts, but if I have to live with them day in and day out you are going to hear about them as often as I see fit... I'm sure you don't mind.)

So for the rest of the week, I'm stationary... which sucks since we have a cake-tasting and the third and final dress-fitting and some other stuff.

When I was put on rest, I felt a huge pang of stress over all this, but it's actually kind of nice to surrender that responsibility. I delegated the non-dress-related stuff to Josh, since it's more his wedding than mine and there are limits to what Val can do from Boston as Anna. But I still feel crummy since I was really getting into a groove with this wedding-planning stuff, and now I'm just knocked flat on my ass. I took a pain killer yesterday and spent the entire day groggy and barely-conscious. I'm not going to repeat that.

On the plus side, feeling gross, grimy and groggy has helped tamp down my libido, which I noted last time was starting to flare up inconveniently. And having Josh, with his big teddy bear eyes waiting on me hand and foot (more than usual) is just more than I can stand right now.

Compared to this time last year, when I was Judith... man, it's night and day. I used to get migraines as her, which would leave me really out of it, and I remember Kit telling me that it was all in my head and not as bad as I was making it seem, and that if I was really concerned I should see a doctor or change my diet.

I didn't think changing my diet would have much of an effect (we didn't know the cause and I didn't feel the urge to start stabbing in the dark) and I didn't want to put Judith on a course of treatment if she felt comfortable just leaving well enough alone... but that didn't mean I didn't hurt and suffer and need a little comfort and compassion. Hell, you would think as a woman she would have some idea that other women have trouble expressing that kind of chronic pain to others and having it believed... but anyway. At this time, we weren't even attempting to make it work, we were just glorified roommates.

Obviously a busted ankle (which is obviously swollen and bruised) is different from the hard-to-express pain of a migraine, but having someone that supportive and caring is... different.

It's been hard to put myself in this vulnerable position, to rely on a man. Coupled with suppressing my own personality, it really makes me feel like I'm not "myself" anymore, or at least that all my transformations have evolved me into someone distinct from the original Tyler Blake I started out as. And it's weird and a bit painful to realize that perhaps my most functional relationship of my entire life - including, sadly, the one with Meghan (I loved her but Lordy we were dysfunctional) is the one where I am patently not "me."

But there is one thing about me that will never change. Josh just left me a cup of tea before going to bed, and I said "Thank you kindly."

He smirked, "I've been meaning to ask... you've been slipping into a weird southern accent a lot lately. Where'd that come from?"

"Flatbush," I said with a wink.

He leaned in and kissed me. "Well, it's cute."

"So're you," I said back with a sigh.


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