Georgia was one of the states hit hardest by the pandemic (51K cases in a state of 11 Mil, aka 5% of everyone who lives here) largely thanks to what I would characterize as insanely poor leadership, but I did not come here to get political. Only to talk about the toll it has taken on on me - as the floor manager of a Big Box store, I have spent the last two months in the trenches as people fought for the last scrap of toilet paper, water, and for some reason flour (you all people know you can buy bread, right?)
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:
"Dear Steven,
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.
-Sho"
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.
-Former Steven
Showing posts with label Steven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steven. Show all posts
Saturday, June 13, 2020
Sunday, February 16, 2020
Steven as Shona: Call me crazy
Stir crazy that is. All I do is go to work at a big box store, eat and sleep. I'm not enriching my life in any particular way, or the world. At least when I was the Ice Cream Man, I was something.
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 14, 2020
Steven as Shona: Okay, perhaps I'm a little cursed
The trick with this "curse" is that you can't just sit around and do nothing, even under the guise that you are "making observations" about your "new life." It doesn't do much good to try that if you're not actually living any kind of life. A person still has to eat.
Shone is a wonderful person but she wanted different things out of life from me. I was career focused, getting my Masters and working in a lab. She wanted other things, leaving her not really qualified for anything I wanted to do with myself.
Being female, I can handle. Weighing over 300 Lbs is only a marginal drawback. Having to work in Global-Mart Superstore? That's where I truly feel cursed.
Okay, I don't have to work at Global-Mart, I'm not an indentured slave, but I was running out of options. I have a friend, Kenny, who manages one. I e-mailed him to let him know that my "friend" was looking for work, and he agreed to interview me.
I made sure to pay special attention to my appearance that day. I know it's only a low-paying retail job, but I needed it, and honestly, going into an interview looking the way I normally do, might put me at a disadvantage. I hadn't had much reason, opportunity or desire to learn how to be "feminine" these past few months. My hair was a little stringy and greasy, my skin pale. These are things that I'm okay with, but I know that success is largely image based, especially for women. I went to the hair dresser got my make-up done at the cosmetics counter, which was an excruciating experience. I also wore a very supportive bra and a top that highlighted my cleavage, because I felt it couldn't hurt.
Before I knew it, Kenny and I were chatting like we were just old friends - because, I suppose, that was what we are, even if he didn't know it. I told him that "Steven" had really talked him up as a good friend, relating some of our old stories (in a way that flattered him.) We were so busy laughing it barely felt like an interview. I got the job.
The job itself is menial and far below me, but such is my "curse." It's not glamorous and sometimes I worry that there is far too much pressure for such a go-nowhere position but it pays the bills, as they say, and gets me out of the house.
The women are the store have been good. I'll admit, I've never been very good with women so it was hard to bring myself to talk to them at first, but when they all started flocking toward me like they already knew me I felt very welcome. It dawned on me later that I didn't have to worry about impressing them, since sex and romance were out of the question, I could just be myself and they would accept it. Even if I don't seem like a "normal" woman, there's no reason "a" woman couldn't say or do the things that I do, like express a preference for Deep Space Nine over The Next Generation, or try to explain the nuances in recent academic studies of generational biological mutation as they relate to allergies.
The guys don't seem to have much interest in me. Every time I try to talk to them they brush me off. Even Kenny seems to keep his distance, although he's the manager, so it's not like we run into each other a lot, which sucks because I thought he and "Shona" had something of a bond based on our interview.
So that's my curse, and I'm sorry it's not as dramatic as some others. Yes, I menstruate, and yet I have broken one or two chairs, but not being able to use my mind to work has been the worst part.
Well, that any not knowing where the real Shona is. I lie up at night worrying.Having to see her face every day as a reminder... well, it's enough to make one stop using mirrors.
Except, haha, I can't, because I started wearing lipstick and now I feel like I will be shunned if I stop.
Shone is a wonderful person but she wanted different things out of life from me. I was career focused, getting my Masters and working in a lab. She wanted other things, leaving her not really qualified for anything I wanted to do with myself.
Being female, I can handle. Weighing over 300 Lbs is only a marginal drawback. Having to work in Global-Mart Superstore? That's where I truly feel cursed.
Okay, I don't have to work at Global-Mart, I'm not an indentured slave, but I was running out of options. I have a friend, Kenny, who manages one. I e-mailed him to let him know that my "friend" was looking for work, and he agreed to interview me.
I made sure to pay special attention to my appearance that day. I know it's only a low-paying retail job, but I needed it, and honestly, going into an interview looking the way I normally do, might put me at a disadvantage. I hadn't had much reason, opportunity or desire to learn how to be "feminine" these past few months. My hair was a little stringy and greasy, my skin pale. These are things that I'm okay with, but I know that success is largely image based, especially for women. I went to the hair dresser got my make-up done at the cosmetics counter, which was an excruciating experience. I also wore a very supportive bra and a top that highlighted my cleavage, because I felt it couldn't hurt.
Before I knew it, Kenny and I were chatting like we were just old friends - because, I suppose, that was what we are, even if he didn't know it. I told him that "Steven" had really talked him up as a good friend, relating some of our old stories (in a way that flattered him.) We were so busy laughing it barely felt like an interview. I got the job.
The job itself is menial and far below me, but such is my "curse." It's not glamorous and sometimes I worry that there is far too much pressure for such a go-nowhere position but it pays the bills, as they say, and gets me out of the house.
The women are the store have been good. I'll admit, I've never been very good with women so it was hard to bring myself to talk to them at first, but when they all started flocking toward me like they already knew me I felt very welcome. It dawned on me later that I didn't have to worry about impressing them, since sex and romance were out of the question, I could just be myself and they would accept it. Even if I don't seem like a "normal" woman, there's no reason "a" woman couldn't say or do the things that I do, like express a preference for Deep Space Nine over The Next Generation, or try to explain the nuances in recent academic studies of generational biological mutation as they relate to allergies.
The guys don't seem to have much interest in me. Every time I try to talk to them they brush me off. Even Kenny seems to keep his distance, although he's the manager, so it's not like we run into each other a lot, which sucks because I thought he and "Shona" had something of a bond based on our interview.
So that's my curse, and I'm sorry it's not as dramatic as some others. Yes, I menstruate, and yet I have broken one or two chairs, but not being able to use my mind to work has been the worst part.
Well, that any not knowing where the real Shona is. I lie up at night worrying.Having to see her face every day as a reminder... well, it's enough to make one stop using mirrors.
Except, haha, I can't, because I started wearing lipstick and now I feel like I will be shunned if I stop.
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Steven as Shona - Don't Call Me Cursed
Several weeks ago I transformed into a woman... semi-voluntarily. I had it all explained to me ahead of time, what was going to happen and how I should deal with it. I didn't expect it to really happen - if I did I probably would have taken Jenn's word for it and moved on, but it's true that I never would have believed any of it if it didn't happen to me. I'm living proof.
When it happened, I took as much time as I felt I could spare to get my bearings about it. Try to move through the strangeness of it all. There's the shock of finding out that magic is real, and what might that mean - which my brain filed under "things to wonder about but not expect answers." In the more immediate moment, I had pressing concerns.
As you know, Shona's body is much larger than average for a woman. When you picture men becoming women perhaps you are imagining model-pretty young things with tiny waists and large breasts, but you know very well that women come in all shapes and sizes. I myself was - am, in my normal life - a husky, bearded gentleman, so neither of us are society's definition of perfection. That doesn't mean it hasn't been a major adjustment.
I knew Shona's body very well because I dated her for years. I know her struggles as much as any partner can, and now I've started to know them much more intimately. And as time goes by I'll learn them more. To be a woman who looks this way is very different from being a woman who looks like Jenn as Paola, or some of the others I've read about (some of whom I've seen in pictures.) In some ways it's closer to being a man, but in other ways it's so very, indescribably different.
I couldn't not notice the difference between being me and being her. I couldn't help but feel the new sway of my hips as I walked around the room, the jiggle of pair of breasts if I move too suddenly, the pointed absence of a bundle of external genitals swinging between my legs. It was hard not to focus on that, but I worked to normalize it as best I could. Now, I go all day without thinking it's weird that I'm lacking my penis. I forget a pair of boobs are hanging from my chest until they knock into something. Absentmindedly, I might rub my chin and realize not only is it bare, nothing more than a few wisps have grown there in weeks.
But at the time, I really stood there thinking, "This is going to take some getting used to." Having long hair is strange. Wearing clothes designed for women - and more or less fitting into them - is strange. I am currently wearing jeans that absolutely do not obscure the curve of my hips and ass and the lack of any kind of bulge between my legs. For weeks, wearing these things made me feel like I was on display. Many of Shona's tops are not understated - pinks and yellows and colors I would not choose for myself. Tops for women often come with plunging necklines or strange ruffles or other random design elements that draw attention to themselves, where I'm really more of a basic polo or checked shirt kind of guy.
All the pockets are useless. That's nuts.
My thing is, knowing Shona, and I have this weird desire to be the Shona I knew, not myself-as-woman. I'm lucky to know a bit about what she liked wearing and how she presented herself, but that doesn't mean I am able to recreate it. What do I know about makeup? What do I even know about maintaining long, silky hair? And yet when I look in the mirror and see rough skin, frizzy hair, puffy eyes, I feel like I am failing rather than doing my best to cope with an immensely strange situation. One piece at a time I am figuring out ways to bring that person back.
Some people call the Inn "cursed", and no doubt for those unlucky enough to trip into this lifestyle, that's what it is. For me, it's distinctly not. I walked in knowing there was a real possibility - if not one I necessarily believed in - that all this was real, and took a calculated risk. What did I have to lose? The worst case scenario was that my body was transformed into that of my favorite person in the world. (The possibility that things might go awry and I would become a total stranger never occurred to me either.) That I would spend nearly a year learning what it's like to live as a woman, and then have a safety net of being able to return. I'm a scientist by trade, so having that kind of data is irresistible to me.
Put it this way. You'd be surprised to learn Santa Claus exists - but you've heard of Santa Claus.
You wouldn't be surprised by my observations of course, but it's one thing to know the difference between a female body and a male one, another to live it. For days, I spent hours just walking around feeling my thighs rub together, my hips and butt swaying, going up and down stairs to feel my boobs and belly jiggle. I think constantly about how hungry or thirsty, hot or cold I am, trying to mark it in comparison to what I'm used to from my natural body. How long I go between meals or bathroom breaks, when I get tired, what it feels like to be intoxicated or drink caffeinated beverages. I noted down a nearly hourly journal of my first menstrual period two weeks ago - it was not fun but it was very informative.
If I were more of a sociologist maybe I could observe different peoples' reactions when I enter a room, but so far all I've got is "Sometimes people don't know what to look at when they see me."
For me, this isn't something to sit around and be miserable about. It's a learning opportunity.
My main problem is... it's left me all very lonely. Perhaps I would have been better off thinking Jenn was Shona. I know it would not have been better for her but I could go through life blindly not knowing the woman I love essentially disappeared from my life, and instead I have her face to remind me. There is an emptiness in my gut where it comes to her. And now that I know she really did leave, I hope to find out what became of her, to speak to her about all this.
But so far, nothing.
When it happened, I took as much time as I felt I could spare to get my bearings about it. Try to move through the strangeness of it all. There's the shock of finding out that magic is real, and what might that mean - which my brain filed under "things to wonder about but not expect answers." In the more immediate moment, I had pressing concerns.
As you know, Shona's body is much larger than average for a woman. When you picture men becoming women perhaps you are imagining model-pretty young things with tiny waists and large breasts, but you know very well that women come in all shapes and sizes. I myself was - am, in my normal life - a husky, bearded gentleman, so neither of us are society's definition of perfection. That doesn't mean it hasn't been a major adjustment.
I knew Shona's body very well because I dated her for years. I know her struggles as much as any partner can, and now I've started to know them much more intimately. And as time goes by I'll learn them more. To be a woman who looks this way is very different from being a woman who looks like Jenn as Paola, or some of the others I've read about (some of whom I've seen in pictures.) In some ways it's closer to being a man, but in other ways it's so very, indescribably different.
I couldn't not notice the difference between being me and being her. I couldn't help but feel the new sway of my hips as I walked around the room, the jiggle of pair of breasts if I move too suddenly, the pointed absence of a bundle of external genitals swinging between my legs. It was hard not to focus on that, but I worked to normalize it as best I could. Now, I go all day without thinking it's weird that I'm lacking my penis. I forget a pair of boobs are hanging from my chest until they knock into something. Absentmindedly, I might rub my chin and realize not only is it bare, nothing more than a few wisps have grown there in weeks.
But at the time, I really stood there thinking, "This is going to take some getting used to." Having long hair is strange. Wearing clothes designed for women - and more or less fitting into them - is strange. I am currently wearing jeans that absolutely do not obscure the curve of my hips and ass and the lack of any kind of bulge between my legs. For weeks, wearing these things made me feel like I was on display. Many of Shona's tops are not understated - pinks and yellows and colors I would not choose for myself. Tops for women often come with plunging necklines or strange ruffles or other random design elements that draw attention to themselves, where I'm really more of a basic polo or checked shirt kind of guy.
All the pockets are useless. That's nuts.
My thing is, knowing Shona, and I have this weird desire to be the Shona I knew, not myself-as-woman. I'm lucky to know a bit about what she liked wearing and how she presented herself, but that doesn't mean I am able to recreate it. What do I know about makeup? What do I even know about maintaining long, silky hair? And yet when I look in the mirror and see rough skin, frizzy hair, puffy eyes, I feel like I am failing rather than doing my best to cope with an immensely strange situation. One piece at a time I am figuring out ways to bring that person back.
Some people call the Inn "cursed", and no doubt for those unlucky enough to trip into this lifestyle, that's what it is. For me, it's distinctly not. I walked in knowing there was a real possibility - if not one I necessarily believed in - that all this was real, and took a calculated risk. What did I have to lose? The worst case scenario was that my body was transformed into that of my favorite person in the world. (The possibility that things might go awry and I would become a total stranger never occurred to me either.) That I would spend nearly a year learning what it's like to live as a woman, and then have a safety net of being able to return. I'm a scientist by trade, so having that kind of data is irresistible to me.
Put it this way. You'd be surprised to learn Santa Claus exists - but you've heard of Santa Claus.
You wouldn't be surprised by my observations of course, but it's one thing to know the difference between a female body and a male one, another to live it. For days, I spent hours just walking around feeling my thighs rub together, my hips and butt swaying, going up and down stairs to feel my boobs and belly jiggle. I think constantly about how hungry or thirsty, hot or cold I am, trying to mark it in comparison to what I'm used to from my natural body. How long I go between meals or bathroom breaks, when I get tired, what it feels like to be intoxicated or drink caffeinated beverages. I noted down a nearly hourly journal of my first menstrual period two weeks ago - it was not fun but it was very informative.
If I were more of a sociologist maybe I could observe different peoples' reactions when I enter a room, but so far all I've got is "Sometimes people don't know what to look at when they see me."
For me, this isn't something to sit around and be miserable about. It's a learning opportunity.
My main problem is... it's left me all very lonely. Perhaps I would have been better off thinking Jenn was Shona. I know it would not have been better for her but I could go through life blindly not knowing the woman I love essentially disappeared from my life, and instead I have her face to remind me. There is an emptiness in my gut where it comes to her. And now that I know she really did leave, I hope to find out what became of her, to speak to her about all this.
But so far, nothing.
Monday, September 16, 2019
Steven/Shona(!!): Seeing is believing
It was 3:30 in the morning on Sunday. I rolled over in bed barely awake. I want to say I felt different but in my mind I was just... groggy and tired. I raised a hand to scratch an itch on my chest, and immediately discovered - to my great displeasure - that it was extremely sensitive.
And squishy.
I would say that I "bolted" upright, but that would be a misstatement because it takes a different amount of muscle necessary to bolt upright in my old body vs. my new one and I guess my brain hadn't caught the difference, so it was more like a failed crunch. I got very disoriented and fumbled around for the lamp, then tried to slowly ease myself upright. By that time it was impossible to ignore all my wobbly bits.
It was real. All real. And all me.
I look like Shona now. I didn't quite at 3:30 AM but I was getting there. More and more mass ballooned out of my body. By that point my clothes were restricting me very badly where they weren't outright ripped. I should have anticipated that what I was wearing would not feel good if I were to transform into Shona while wearing it. I guess that's a function of not really believing it was going to happen, and not really thinking that critically about what would happen if it did. Scratch one pair of boxers (the V-neck I was wearing survived in stretched-out form, but left marks on my upper arms.)
I should have slept naked, but it was chilly at night. As you know from Jenn's descriptions, Shona is an XXXL. I'm a pretty stocky guy, I wear larges or extra-larges depending on the brand. Nothing I own would have been appropriate for a woman with such wide hips, prominent behind, belly, breasts and arms. Now I have all of those.
I timidly made my way over to the mirror, but on the way over it's not like I could pretend I was ignorant of what was going on. The flesh of my thighs rubbed together and I only needed to look down very slightly to see my new figure. When I finally made it, it wassuch a weird creature - half my face, half hers, and not in a cute "What would our baby look like" way. Her nose and eyes with my jaw and brow... grotesque. My beard was fading into my face, my hairline was moving forward and her long locks were inching out.
I turned away for the remainder. My body continued to swell. I knew how big she is, but it's very different when you're feeling it from the inside.
Fear and panic mixed with elation. As terrifying as this experience was, it was on some level what I wanted - answers, or at least leads on them. Confirmation that the world isn't totally crazy and yet it is - magic is real! In some form at least! And it's happening to me! I suspected I would feel miserable about the exact outcome later, but for the time being... wow. Wow! I have boobs! And... well, you know the rest.
In the morning, I did another v-chat with "Paola." She practically squealed with delight when she saw Shona's face - tired and not made-up, but really there - over top of my mug. She asked if I believed everything now, and I said what choice did I have?
She asked if I had any regrets about my decision. It took me a moment but I said no. I needed to do this. Yeah, it's not the most convenient form to be in, but I have a lot of good memories with this face and I was nearly moved to tears when I finally did see it again in the light of day.
It's not like I want to be a woman, but I really badly didn't want to be myself anymore either. And there's a very specific reason why, if this was going to happen, I was okay with it. It has to do with what I have since read that Jenn wrote about her time in this body.
I've known Shona since we were teenagers, and we've been together for a while. Her being this size has been part of my life for years. Maybe I never could have understood what she went through on a day to day basis like this, but I have seen her through lots of situations, including times when I needed to reassure her or comfort her. She never let her size get in the way of living her life.
And honestly, she deserves better than someone who is going to look in the mirror and say to themselves "This person is flawed. She is broken because she's so big." Jenn seems like a well-meaning person, but I don't want the person who winds up with Shona's life - if it's to be permanent or whatever - to look at it as a curse. I want them to be able to love who she is the way I always thought Shona did. That was in the back of my mind when Jenn told me about how she felt about being Shona, before I knew it was real - she was saying things I just never thought Shona would really say about herself, even in her darkest moments.
I'm not ignorant. I know her appearance doesn't meet certain societal standards, and it would habe been willfully ignorant of me to pretend a woman this size doesn't experience inconveniences and challenges than a skinnier woman.
Shona is beautiful. Jenn even agreed when she saw her Insta account that she was very pretty. And to me, it's not a "beautiful for a fat girl" kind of beauty. It's real beauty. And she exuded it inside and out. And all I want - for whatever the duration of my time as her - is to embody that. I think she deserves somebody wearing her body who can see that.
In the meantime... I guess I'll go back to Gainesville and rebuild her life for her, in case she ever does decide to come back. I hope that I can find her and speak with her and learn what she is feeling. What's become of her. Hopefully, now that I know what the Inn does, we can pick up where we left off.
More thoughts later
-Steven/Shona (Stona? Sheven?)
And squishy.
I would say that I "bolted" upright, but that would be a misstatement because it takes a different amount of muscle necessary to bolt upright in my old body vs. my new one and I guess my brain hadn't caught the difference, so it was more like a failed crunch. I got very disoriented and fumbled around for the lamp, then tried to slowly ease myself upright. By that time it was impossible to ignore all my wobbly bits.
It was real. All real. And all me.
I look like Shona now. I didn't quite at 3:30 AM but I was getting there. More and more mass ballooned out of my body. By that point my clothes were restricting me very badly where they weren't outright ripped. I should have anticipated that what I was wearing would not feel good if I were to transform into Shona while wearing it. I guess that's a function of not really believing it was going to happen, and not really thinking that critically about what would happen if it did. Scratch one pair of boxers (the V-neck I was wearing survived in stretched-out form, but left marks on my upper arms.)
I should have slept naked, but it was chilly at night. As you know from Jenn's descriptions, Shona is an XXXL. I'm a pretty stocky guy, I wear larges or extra-larges depending on the brand. Nothing I own would have been appropriate for a woman with such wide hips, prominent behind, belly, breasts and arms. Now I have all of those.
I timidly made my way over to the mirror, but on the way over it's not like I could pretend I was ignorant of what was going on. The flesh of my thighs rubbed together and I only needed to look down very slightly to see my new figure. When I finally made it, it wassuch a weird creature - half my face, half hers, and not in a cute "What would our baby look like" way. Her nose and eyes with my jaw and brow... grotesque. My beard was fading into my face, my hairline was moving forward and her long locks were inching out.
I turned away for the remainder. My body continued to swell. I knew how big she is, but it's very different when you're feeling it from the inside.
Fear and panic mixed with elation. As terrifying as this experience was, it was on some level what I wanted - answers, or at least leads on them. Confirmation that the world isn't totally crazy and yet it is - magic is real! In some form at least! And it's happening to me! I suspected I would feel miserable about the exact outcome later, but for the time being... wow. Wow! I have boobs! And... well, you know the rest.
In the morning, I did another v-chat with "Paola." She practically squealed with delight when she saw Shona's face - tired and not made-up, but really there - over top of my mug. She asked if I believed everything now, and I said what choice did I have?
She asked if I had any regrets about my decision. It took me a moment but I said no. I needed to do this. Yeah, it's not the most convenient form to be in, but I have a lot of good memories with this face and I was nearly moved to tears when I finally did see it again in the light of day.
It's not like I want to be a woman, but I really badly didn't want to be myself anymore either. And there's a very specific reason why, if this was going to happen, I was okay with it. It has to do with what I have since read that Jenn wrote about her time in this body.
I've known Shona since we were teenagers, and we've been together for a while. Her being this size has been part of my life for years. Maybe I never could have understood what she went through on a day to day basis like this, but I have seen her through lots of situations, including times when I needed to reassure her or comfort her. She never let her size get in the way of living her life.
And honestly, she deserves better than someone who is going to look in the mirror and say to themselves "This person is flawed. She is broken because she's so big." Jenn seems like a well-meaning person, but I don't want the person who winds up with Shona's life - if it's to be permanent or whatever - to look at it as a curse. I want them to be able to love who she is the way I always thought Shona did. That was in the back of my mind when Jenn told me about how she felt about being Shona, before I knew it was real - she was saying things I just never thought Shona would really say about herself, even in her darkest moments.
I'm not ignorant. I know her appearance doesn't meet certain societal standards, and it would habe been willfully ignorant of me to pretend a woman this size doesn't experience inconveniences and challenges than a skinnier woman.
Shona is beautiful. Jenn even agreed when she saw her Insta account that she was very pretty. And to me, it's not a "beautiful for a fat girl" kind of beauty. It's real beauty. And she exuded it inside and out. And all I want - for whatever the duration of my time as her - is to embody that. I think she deserves somebody wearing her body who can see that.
In the meantime... I guess I'll go back to Gainesville and rebuild her life for her, in case she ever does decide to come back. I hope that I can find her and speak with her and learn what she is feeling. What's become of her. Hopefully, now that I know what the Inn does, we can pick up where we left off.
More thoughts later
-Steven/Shona (Stona? Sheven?)
Saturday, September 14, 2019
Steven: Made it
I have been going over all the possibilities in my mind and none of it really adds up. So I have come to Maine in search of answers. I managed to avoid Dorian and have found a fairly nice spot to vacation. Since being here, I've seen sights, mingled, had some good craft beers, and played cards with the older ladies who checked in ahead of me. It's been days and I'm starting to doubt anything weird will be happening anytime soon.
I know Shona. She's a lot of things. A raconteur. A kidder. A biting wit. Incisive. Intuitive. Caring. Loyal. Friendly but guarded. A secret Trekkie. Sometimes she withholds information or her true feelings, but other times she is very outspoken. But I have never known her to lie, not to me. And if she did, it wouldn't be some crazy story about a body-swapping Inn.
Which would make it all the more diabolical if it was a lie. But to what end?
I say "Shona" told me this. I am halfway convinced that the person I was talking to - the person I made love to - was not my real girlfriend, but only after she insisted for days this was true and at the end of one of the worst days of my life.
At the beginning it was like "Okay Keet, if you want some space I can give it," And not point out how unnecessary her story was. (Keet - short for Parakeet - is my pet name for her.)
After I got canned, I was driving around wondering who to call, and I got to Shona in my contacts. My finger was over her name and I had this weird hesitation, and it kind of hit me - maybe her story is true. What a weird time to think about that. Maybe I was thinking it because in my own way in that moment I no longer wanted my own life
You have to understand. From the time she came back from Maine until the day she told me her story, and beyond, I really felt I was in the presence of my girlfriend. I didn't clue in that her laugh was different or her walk, or the light in her eyes. Yes, the hiking was out of character, but that's a woman's prerogative. Did she become distant? Sure, but if you knew Shona that might not be so unexpected.
There are things that make a lot more sense if the Inn is true, but I wouldn't call any of them nonsense. She expressed a lot more concern and self-consciousness over her physical appearance than the woman I know. She didn't laugh at things I swore she would find funny. And yeah maybe she seemed a little lost when discussing the past but who spends much time discussing the past with someone they've been seeing for years?
See there's always an explanation.
I have the following theories:
1) This is her kooky way of breaking up with me, and she has more capacity for Fantasy stuff than I thought
2) This is some crazy con, and the first part was to make me fall in love with her so I would be more susceptible to it.
3) It's all true, and my Shona is somewhere out there, and she left me without saying goodbye, and frankly I am owed an explanation.
4) Body-swapping is real, but this is still a con, and I am letting myself get taken for a ride. This is something I fear in the put of my stomach, but "Jenn" - if she is who she says - has put a lot of work into making herself seem genuine on this blog.
5) Shona has had a delusional break from reality, which is perhaps both the most troubling and the most likely.
I need answers and the fact that I'm willing to entertain the idea that this Inn does what it's said to do shows I am desperate. Yes, it was my idea to come. I told Shona -- Jenn -- I guess out of hopes she would come clean and that the story I was rapidly coming to believe was in fact fake news. Instead she said "If you're going, you have to become me." In the moment it seemed like a sensible plan. It was like playing chicken.
I got here and there was an unlocked suitcase full of Shona's clothes. If this works, in a few days time they will be my clothes. Think about the implications of that - you don't have to, there appears to be a full decade of writing on the subject!
And I'm walking into this willingly? That probably shows how little stock I put in the story, despite all the evidence. But hey, I'm here aren't I?
Earlier I had a Skype convo with a young girl purporting to be "Jenn." Seeing her meant nothing to me and I could not put in my brain that this was the same person who I had bid Bon Voyage to days earlier. I thought about asking her to tell me something only Jenn would know, but there are ways to prepare for that. And besides, I don't know Jenn all that well.
Maybe I didn't know Shona as well as I thought either?
Well depending how things break this weekend, I might have a year to find out.
For now,
-Steven
I know Shona. She's a lot of things. A raconteur. A kidder. A biting wit. Incisive. Intuitive. Caring. Loyal. Friendly but guarded. A secret Trekkie. Sometimes she withholds information or her true feelings, but other times she is very outspoken. But I have never known her to lie, not to me. And if she did, it wouldn't be some crazy story about a body-swapping Inn.
Which would make it all the more diabolical if it was a lie. But to what end?
I say "Shona" told me this. I am halfway convinced that the person I was talking to - the person I made love to - was not my real girlfriend, but only after she insisted for days this was true and at the end of one of the worst days of my life.
At the beginning it was like "Okay Keet, if you want some space I can give it," And not point out how unnecessary her story was. (Keet - short for Parakeet - is my pet name for her.)
After I got canned, I was driving around wondering who to call, and I got to Shona in my contacts. My finger was over her name and I had this weird hesitation, and it kind of hit me - maybe her story is true. What a weird time to think about that. Maybe I was thinking it because in my own way in that moment I no longer wanted my own life
You have to understand. From the time she came back from Maine until the day she told me her story, and beyond, I really felt I was in the presence of my girlfriend. I didn't clue in that her laugh was different or her walk, or the light in her eyes. Yes, the hiking was out of character, but that's a woman's prerogative. Did she become distant? Sure, but if you knew Shona that might not be so unexpected.
There are things that make a lot more sense if the Inn is true, but I wouldn't call any of them nonsense. She expressed a lot more concern and self-consciousness over her physical appearance than the woman I know. She didn't laugh at things I swore she would find funny. And yeah maybe she seemed a little lost when discussing the past but who spends much time discussing the past with someone they've been seeing for years?
See there's always an explanation.
I have the following theories:
1) This is her kooky way of breaking up with me, and she has more capacity for Fantasy stuff than I thought
2) This is some crazy con, and the first part was to make me fall in love with her so I would be more susceptible to it.
3) It's all true, and my Shona is somewhere out there, and she left me without saying goodbye, and frankly I am owed an explanation.
4) Body-swapping is real, but this is still a con, and I am letting myself get taken for a ride. This is something I fear in the put of my stomach, but "Jenn" - if she is who she says - has put a lot of work into making herself seem genuine on this blog.
5) Shona has had a delusional break from reality, which is perhaps both the most troubling and the most likely.
I need answers and the fact that I'm willing to entertain the idea that this Inn does what it's said to do shows I am desperate. Yes, it was my idea to come. I told Shona -- Jenn -- I guess out of hopes she would come clean and that the story I was rapidly coming to believe was in fact fake news. Instead she said "If you're going, you have to become me." In the moment it seemed like a sensible plan. It was like playing chicken.
I got here and there was an unlocked suitcase full of Shona's clothes. If this works, in a few days time they will be my clothes. Think about the implications of that - you don't have to, there appears to be a full decade of writing on the subject!
And I'm walking into this willingly? That probably shows how little stock I put in the story, despite all the evidence. But hey, I'm here aren't I?
Earlier I had a Skype convo with a young girl purporting to be "Jenn." Seeing her meant nothing to me and I could not put in my brain that this was the same person who I had bid Bon Voyage to days earlier. I thought about asking her to tell me something only Jenn would know, but there are ways to prepare for that. And besides, I don't know Jenn all that well.
Maybe I didn't know Shona as well as I thought either?
Well depending how things break this weekend, I might have a year to find out.
For now,
-Steven
Wednesday, September 04, 2019
Jenn: The Easy Way Out
When I got to the Inn the first people I encountered were my next-rooms-over neighbors: two couples, about my normal age of mid-20's. Now, one thing I have been sure to do as Shona is to clock the reactions of every person I see as I hobble around. Some gawk. Some avert their eyes. Some, usually older folks, nod courteously. And some, like these four, save their comments for after they think you're out of earshot.
And usually, they underestimate how far "earshot" is.
I've definitely learned not to take these things seriously, especially now that I knew it was not going to be permanent. As RuPaul says, what people think of me is none of my business. Don't get me wrong, it pisses me off that people think they have the right to say shit, but I was going to just let it slide as a way of owning what I had become while I still was her. In fact, I even tried to flaunt what I have through the weekend with what I wore. It was not a blazing summer heat in Old Orchard Beach this weekend, but it was temperate enough for a revealing sundress. I was probably more confident in this setting than I have been all summer.
The whole time I've been at the Inn this week, I can't stop thinking about how selfish and shallow I've been. I can't help wondering if I was motivated by some part of me that just wanted the opportunity to dump Shona's body before next summer and move on already. But I stand by the logic - if Steven was intent on barging up to the Inn willy nilly it was best if he takes a body that is not spoken for and the only one at hand is Shona's. Since I'll probably never see my real face in the mirror again, it's no problem if I have to move on, but Steven? He still has a chance.
And hey, if you're going to put yourself through the trouble, why not do it to experience something very, very different from who you started out as?
If I say "he didn't need much convincing" that probably makes it sound like he was really into the idea, but I would categorize his reaction as just, he reluctantly saw my point. When he announced he was determined to go to the Inn and find the truth for himself, it didn't occur to him that he was playing a very dangerous game. And since I am mixed up in it on a permanent basis I decided I needed to help him. So I told him to get used to the idea of bras and periods, for a start.
So the plan is for Steven to become Shona. There are advantages there: it's a body and a life he knows. We know where the body has been and who it should go back to (or rather, that nobody is "expecting" it.) And yes, he is a man who will be spending some time as a woman. I asked him to take a beat and make sure he could wrap his head around that. I think he came up against a wall in his belief. I guess getting laid off was the "life-changing moment" that allowed his disbelief to crack, the way weddings and funerals are for others. But I think there's still that doubt there. Like maybe he wouldn't agree to it if he really thought it would come true.
I honestly don't know if he's ready for what he's gotten himself into, but who ever is?
Before I arrived, I nursed a hope that my new body would be more along the lines of Shona's than anything else, if only to try to prove to myself that I could live as this person, that I wasn't just taking the easy way out. Make me some fat sweatu trucker, I deserve it. The things I have thought, and written, about my brief time as Shona proves that I could stand to grow.
Well, it didn't work out that way. And I knew it from the second I got here, if the luggage I found was any indication...
Last night, I felt my flesh start to tingle, even more intensely than ever before, maybe because I was shrinking, shrinking down. Shona's clothes seemed to expand around me but in reality, all my extra fat and flab was condensing inward until it disappeared, leaving a tight, feminine frame.
For better or worse, I'm so skinny I can see my ribs. I have hips, and a waist again. I have petite breasts and a thin neck and skinny legs. I have what you might call an ideal female body. Except... it's only fourteen years old.
Meet Paola Vasquez, a Puerto Rican girl from Queens, who had come to Maine with her parents, younger sister and boyfriend. One couple from the next rooms over became "my parents" (they did not switch genders) and the other, well... the girl became "my" boyfriend, a high school football player, and her boyfriend is wearing pigtails and attending the fifth grade.
Obviously, after the change, there was a lot of talk about what to do next, and being that several of us are "dependent" now, there was a pressing need to get back to Queens and get established in these new lives.
It's... going to be an interesting year, I think, and if I remember the ninth grade well enough Paola won't be missing too much this year that she can't make up later. I might not blog about it too much just because I don't want to give too much info away about the teenage girl whose life I am living. I've already given a fake name here, so don't try Googling it.
Besides, I might be too busy with schoolwork.
Steven, I hope you find what you are looking for.
Best,
-Jenn/Paola
And usually, they underestimate how far "earshot" is.
I've definitely learned not to take these things seriously, especially now that I knew it was not going to be permanent. As RuPaul says, what people think of me is none of my business. Don't get me wrong, it pisses me off that people think they have the right to say shit, but I was going to just let it slide as a way of owning what I had become while I still was her. In fact, I even tried to flaunt what I have through the weekend with what I wore. It was not a blazing summer heat in Old Orchard Beach this weekend, but it was temperate enough for a revealing sundress. I was probably more confident in this setting than I have been all summer.
The whole time I've been at the Inn this week, I can't stop thinking about how selfish and shallow I've been. I can't help wondering if I was motivated by some part of me that just wanted the opportunity to dump Shona's body before next summer and move on already. But I stand by the logic - if Steven was intent on barging up to the Inn willy nilly it was best if he takes a body that is not spoken for and the only one at hand is Shona's. Since I'll probably never see my real face in the mirror again, it's no problem if I have to move on, but Steven? He still has a chance.
And hey, if you're going to put yourself through the trouble, why not do it to experience something very, very different from who you started out as?
If I say "he didn't need much convincing" that probably makes it sound like he was really into the idea, but I would categorize his reaction as just, he reluctantly saw my point. When he announced he was determined to go to the Inn and find the truth for himself, it didn't occur to him that he was playing a very dangerous game. And since I am mixed up in it on a permanent basis I decided I needed to help him. So I told him to get used to the idea of bras and periods, for a start.
So the plan is for Steven to become Shona. There are advantages there: it's a body and a life he knows. We know where the body has been and who it should go back to (or rather, that nobody is "expecting" it.) And yes, he is a man who will be spending some time as a woman. I asked him to take a beat and make sure he could wrap his head around that. I think he came up against a wall in his belief. I guess getting laid off was the "life-changing moment" that allowed his disbelief to crack, the way weddings and funerals are for others. But I think there's still that doubt there. Like maybe he wouldn't agree to it if he really thought it would come true.
I honestly don't know if he's ready for what he's gotten himself into, but who ever is?
Before I arrived, I nursed a hope that my new body would be more along the lines of Shona's than anything else, if only to try to prove to myself that I could live as this person, that I wasn't just taking the easy way out. Make me some fat sweatu trucker, I deserve it. The things I have thought, and written, about my brief time as Shona proves that I could stand to grow.
Well, it didn't work out that way. And I knew it from the second I got here, if the luggage I found was any indication...
Last night, I felt my flesh start to tingle, even more intensely than ever before, maybe because I was shrinking, shrinking down. Shona's clothes seemed to expand around me but in reality, all my extra fat and flab was condensing inward until it disappeared, leaving a tight, feminine frame.
For better or worse, I'm so skinny I can see my ribs. I have hips, and a waist again. I have petite breasts and a thin neck and skinny legs. I have what you might call an ideal female body. Except... it's only fourteen years old.
Meet Paola Vasquez, a Puerto Rican girl from Queens, who had come to Maine with her parents, younger sister and boyfriend. One couple from the next rooms over became "my parents" (they did not switch genders) and the other, well... the girl became "my" boyfriend, a high school football player, and her boyfriend is wearing pigtails and attending the fifth grade.
Obviously, after the change, there was a lot of talk about what to do next, and being that several of us are "dependent" now, there was a pressing need to get back to Queens and get established in these new lives.
It's... going to be an interesting year, I think, and if I remember the ninth grade well enough Paola won't be missing too much this year that she can't make up later. I might not blog about it too much just because I don't want to give too much info away about the teenage girl whose life I am living. I've already given a fake name here, so don't try Googling it.
Besides, I might be too busy with schoolwork.
Steven, I hope you find what you are looking for.
Best,
-Jenn/Paola
Monday, September 02, 2019
Jenn: Back to the Inn Part 3
Don't look at me, it wasn't my idea. I just went along with it.
It began about a month ago. Steven and I had been out a few times and I hadn't found any major flaws other than he just didn't inspire much passion in me. He was kind and thoughtful and caring and funny and I wanted to like him.
I decided to have sex with him after our third outing. As anyone who recalls my fling with Pete knows, sex is something of a big deal for me because I need it in my life and yet I have a lot of barriers. With David I had built trust with (which I had thought was strong.) With Pete I had someone I liked but due to knowing April's appearance was not his own I was hesitant and in the end it did not last.
I am obviously feeling very different since then - about myself "my" body, my world. I let Steven in as much because it was simple and convenient for me, because, feeling as negatively as I do about being in Shona's body (and again, more on that later) I didn't feel like I had much choice. It was him or permanent celibacy.
Another factor, which also makes me sick to think of but is definitely part of it, was feeling like he "deserved" it. I try not to do it as a "reward" for men's (or anyone's) behavior but out of true mutual desire. That desire wasn't really burning for me, but I wanted him to be happy because I felt for the guy, being left with no answers as to why, undeservedly. I was in a position to make this man happy in a way few others could. He deserves better than me as Shona, and honestly better than the real Shona has treated him, but I'm all he had.
It didn't stop me from crying though.
It wasn't very romantic. On our third or fourth date I basically sat there thinking to myself "If this guy doesn't do anything to screw it up I might as well have sex with him tonight." And I tried to be excited for that (because yay sex!) But also stay out of my head and not look for minute reasons why not.
As usual he was good, inoffensive company so at the end of the evening I invited myself up and of course he was willing.
It was good. I want to stress that. It felt good to be kissed, to be touched, to be paid attention to. I liked it. I just found it hard to stop thinking about my physical appearance negatively and to feel sexy. It felt very detached for me by the end, which I didn't like.
And of course, he was making love to another woman.
I cried. We did it a half dozen times in two weeks and I cried almost every time, mostly quietly to myself. I wasn't even sure what I was crying over specifically, I just knew I had plenty of reasons.
Eventually he noticed and asked - because, you know, he's sensitive and concerned. I started by trying to lie and say I had no idea but the part of me that wants to be truthful blurted out between sobs, "I'm not who you think I am!"
He tried to reassure me and say of course I was, that he knew me inside and out and he knew me enough to know he truly loves me. I told him he wasn't getting it and he never would.
He said to try.
So I did. I blurted out about how I appeared to him to be Shona Nash but really I was a different person and my real name is Jenn. That when Shona took her trip to Maine she was transformed into a different person - I don't know who - and left me to be transformed into her, and I was trying to cope with "all of this" as best I could, but it was "a big change" and I was still getting used to it, and I just wanted to feel normal (and sexy) again, but it wasn't working, and I feel so bad for being a fake and a liar. And I felt like he deserved better than a fake Shona.
He, um... I don't think he got it. He said whatever the problem really was we could work through it, but there was no need to push him away. I cried some more, having given it my best shot. I just told him to think about it, that someday soon I might say something the real Shona never would and to keep all of this in mind. He just kind of laughed it off but I hoped he would remember.
Then last week he came to me and said he wanted to talk.
He had just been let go from his job. He was working as a culinary scientist for a local ice cream company - I had to stifle a laugh at that, the Big Girl dating the Ice Cream man, but it wasn't funny. He felt he had helped build the company over five years and was frustrated that they had dropped him. He had spent a night just driving around town, wanting to call me... but something stopped him. And he thought back to what I had said about not being the real Shona, and he was giving it more and more thought.
"I don't know what to do," he said. "If you're really not Shona, and she left me, I want to know why. A hole has opened up in my heart that I need filled but I think I'm never going to understand fully, unless..."
My eyes widened. He couldn't possibly be saying it...
"Unless I do this. It's possible, right? If it's real, then I'll know for sure."
"Steven, you can't--" I said, "I can't let you do that to yourself! If you go to the Inn there is a *high probability* you never get to be yourself again. It's too risky and I would never deliberately put someone in that situation."
"Shona... Jenn... if I've lost you, and my job, I don't know what I have left. If everything you told me is true, I need to know, and the only way I can ever know is to do it myself. I can't stop thinking about it."
"It's too unpredictable," I said, "Too much can go wrong. Believe me, Murphy's Law lives at the Inn."
"I know where it is, I'm going with or without your blessing."
"Whatever you're looking for, it's not in Maine."
"It's not in Gainesville either," he huffed.
"Okay, okay, don't be hasty," I said, "Maybe there are some controls we can put on this."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the Inn closes down in September. After the last block of reservations, I think the people who stayed there last, their bodies get left in some kind of limbo. So if you stay there last, there's a chance you can come back in the spring and reclaim your true body."
Steven looked at me again like I was nuts - like the details only made it sound more fake.
"And maybe it would be for the best if you knew exactly who you were becoming. The Inn can be very random and I wouldn't want you to get too messed up."
"What are you suggesting?" He asked suspiciously.
"Well," I said, my face turning beet red as I broached the topic, "There really only is one option..."
It began about a month ago. Steven and I had been out a few times and I hadn't found any major flaws other than he just didn't inspire much passion in me. He was kind and thoughtful and caring and funny and I wanted to like him.
I decided to have sex with him after our third outing. As anyone who recalls my fling with Pete knows, sex is something of a big deal for me because I need it in my life and yet I have a lot of barriers. With David I had built trust with (which I had thought was strong.) With Pete I had someone I liked but due to knowing April's appearance was not his own I was hesitant and in the end it did not last.
I am obviously feeling very different since then - about myself "my" body, my world. I let Steven in as much because it was simple and convenient for me, because, feeling as negatively as I do about being in Shona's body (and again, more on that later) I didn't feel like I had much choice. It was him or permanent celibacy.
Another factor, which also makes me sick to think of but is definitely part of it, was feeling like he "deserved" it. I try not to do it as a "reward" for men's (or anyone's) behavior but out of true mutual desire. That desire wasn't really burning for me, but I wanted him to be happy because I felt for the guy, being left with no answers as to why, undeservedly. I was in a position to make this man happy in a way few others could. He deserves better than me as Shona, and honestly better than the real Shona has treated him, but I'm all he had.
It didn't stop me from crying though.
It wasn't very romantic. On our third or fourth date I basically sat there thinking to myself "If this guy doesn't do anything to screw it up I might as well have sex with him tonight." And I tried to be excited for that (because yay sex!) But also stay out of my head and not look for minute reasons why not.
As usual he was good, inoffensive company so at the end of the evening I invited myself up and of course he was willing.
It was good. I want to stress that. It felt good to be kissed, to be touched, to be paid attention to. I liked it. I just found it hard to stop thinking about my physical appearance negatively and to feel sexy. It felt very detached for me by the end, which I didn't like.
And of course, he was making love to another woman.
I cried. We did it a half dozen times in two weeks and I cried almost every time, mostly quietly to myself. I wasn't even sure what I was crying over specifically, I just knew I had plenty of reasons.
Eventually he noticed and asked - because, you know, he's sensitive and concerned. I started by trying to lie and say I had no idea but the part of me that wants to be truthful blurted out between sobs, "I'm not who you think I am!"
He tried to reassure me and say of course I was, that he knew me inside and out and he knew me enough to know he truly loves me. I told him he wasn't getting it and he never would.
He said to try.
So I did. I blurted out about how I appeared to him to be Shona Nash but really I was a different person and my real name is Jenn. That when Shona took her trip to Maine she was transformed into a different person - I don't know who - and left me to be transformed into her, and I was trying to cope with "all of this" as best I could, but it was "a big change" and I was still getting used to it, and I just wanted to feel normal (and sexy) again, but it wasn't working, and I feel so bad for being a fake and a liar. And I felt like he deserved better than a fake Shona.
He, um... I don't think he got it. He said whatever the problem really was we could work through it, but there was no need to push him away. I cried some more, having given it my best shot. I just told him to think about it, that someday soon I might say something the real Shona never would and to keep all of this in mind. He just kind of laughed it off but I hoped he would remember.
Then last week he came to me and said he wanted to talk.
He had just been let go from his job. He was working as a culinary scientist for a local ice cream company - I had to stifle a laugh at that, the Big Girl dating the Ice Cream man, but it wasn't funny. He felt he had helped build the company over five years and was frustrated that they had dropped him. He had spent a night just driving around town, wanting to call me... but something stopped him. And he thought back to what I had said about not being the real Shona, and he was giving it more and more thought.
"I don't know what to do," he said. "If you're really not Shona, and she left me, I want to know why. A hole has opened up in my heart that I need filled but I think I'm never going to understand fully, unless..."
My eyes widened. He couldn't possibly be saying it...
"Unless I do this. It's possible, right? If it's real, then I'll know for sure."
"Steven, you can't--" I said, "I can't let you do that to yourself! If you go to the Inn there is a *high probability* you never get to be yourself again. It's too risky and I would never deliberately put someone in that situation."
"Shona... Jenn... if I've lost you, and my job, I don't know what I have left. If everything you told me is true, I need to know, and the only way I can ever know is to do it myself. I can't stop thinking about it."
"It's too unpredictable," I said, "Too much can go wrong. Believe me, Murphy's Law lives at the Inn."
"I know where it is, I'm going with or without your blessing."
"Whatever you're looking for, it's not in Maine."
"It's not in Gainesville either," he huffed.
"Okay, okay, don't be hasty," I said, "Maybe there are some controls we can put on this."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the Inn closes down in September. After the last block of reservations, I think the people who stayed there last, their bodies get left in some kind of limbo. So if you stay there last, there's a chance you can come back in the spring and reclaim your true body."
Steven looked at me again like I was nuts - like the details only made it sound more fake.
"And maybe it would be for the best if you knew exactly who you were becoming. The Inn can be very random and I wouldn't want you to get too messed up."
"What are you suggesting?" He asked suspiciously.
"Well," I said, my face turning beet red as I broached the topic, "There really only is one option..."
Monday, August 19, 2019
Jenn/Shona: The Mystery of Shona
I have been Shona Nash for over two months 1now. I have cried as her, sweat as her, bled as her. Once or twice I've smiled, laughed, even danced as her. I still don't really know who she is, or was.
From the way people who know her act around me, she seems like she was fun, intelligent, and had a biting sense of humor they were borderline afraid of. On balance it seems like she had a good life, and she knew it. But I can only draw the conclusion that there's a reason she didn't want to live it anymore.
In my head it seems obvious. I mean hello. Take everything that's hard about being a woman and multiple it by 100 when you're this size. The world isn't built for you, people on the street look at you like a freak. I ballooned up literally overnight so of course I was not going to handle it well, not right at first. Did Shona ever get used to it?
I have become damn near obsessed with figuring this woman out. On her social media she seems more comfortable in her skin than I could ever hope to be, with lengthy rants on body positivity under her pics, mant of which do show considerable skin (rolls and all.) She seemed proud to be Shona. Why run from it? Deep down was it an act? Did something better come along? I'm dying to know but I may never.
In that spirit I decided to keep trying with Steven. If he was good enough for her perhaps there was something to that. But I wanted to try on my terms. Physical limitations be damned I wanted to hike some of the trails here. New York was fun but nothing compares to the true outdoors. I invited him alog.
Steven was a little confused but game. So we packed some backpacks with plenty of water and granola and took a hike. It was exhausting. My feet throbbed, my body was rashy with sweat and chafing. My god, next time, remind me to pick up some anto-chafe stick for my... everything.
Steven complained, probably just tryong to make a joke of it. Normally in that situation I'd tell him to man up but I was right there with him. But I didn't voice my own complaints since I was the one who spurred this. My role was to urge us on, to make sure it became an enjoyable day at all costs.
We settled in a secluded area to rest and est and got to talking, which for me meant very delicately feeling him out and trying not to sound like we just met. I know the "curse" is supposed to... well, I'm not even sure but I was counting on it to avoid raising suspicion but I didn't want to invite any questions either way.
I wonder, the longer I drag this out, if he'll find it weird that I forgot where he works, or how many siblings he has, or what his favorite band is.
He asked me why the sudden health kick. I said it wasn't a kick, this is what I'm interested in going forward. I haven't decided what to do, if it's disrespectful go start going hard in the gym and try to make Shona's body something it wasn't (and may not realistically ever be) or if I should just accept that this is me now and make do. In either case, the hiking isn't a weight loss thing, it's just something I enjoy. It's harder and more problematic for me now but I don't want the Inn to take that away from me.
I wasn't sure how to tell him that though. I guess when you're big, people think it defines you and everything must be in service to weight loss. I'm guilty of that too.
Did Shona leave her life because she hated being fat? Or was it something else? Maybe I'll never know. I thought of asking Steven, coyly if possible, if I ever mentioned anything like that but... honestly, if I were her, that's the last person I would tell. She went to the Inn without him and as nice as he she doesn't seem to be missing him.
A shame. He's nice, he deserves better.
From the way people who know her act around me, she seems like she was fun, intelligent, and had a biting sense of humor they were borderline afraid of. On balance it seems like she had a good life, and she knew it. But I can only draw the conclusion that there's a reason she didn't want to live it anymore.
In my head it seems obvious. I mean hello. Take everything that's hard about being a woman and multiple it by 100 when you're this size. The world isn't built for you, people on the street look at you like a freak. I ballooned up literally overnight so of course I was not going to handle it well, not right at first. Did Shona ever get used to it?
I have become damn near obsessed with figuring this woman out. On her social media she seems more comfortable in her skin than I could ever hope to be, with lengthy rants on body positivity under her pics, mant of which do show considerable skin (rolls and all.) She seemed proud to be Shona. Why run from it? Deep down was it an act? Did something better come along? I'm dying to know but I may never.
In that spirit I decided to keep trying with Steven. If he was good enough for her perhaps there was something to that. But I wanted to try on my terms. Physical limitations be damned I wanted to hike some of the trails here. New York was fun but nothing compares to the true outdoors. I invited him alog.
Steven was a little confused but game. So we packed some backpacks with plenty of water and granola and took a hike. It was exhausting. My feet throbbed, my body was rashy with sweat and chafing. My god, next time, remind me to pick up some anto-chafe stick for my... everything.
Steven complained, probably just tryong to make a joke of it. Normally in that situation I'd tell him to man up but I was right there with him. But I didn't voice my own complaints since I was the one who spurred this. My role was to urge us on, to make sure it became an enjoyable day at all costs.
We settled in a secluded area to rest and est and got to talking, which for me meant very delicately feeling him out and trying not to sound like we just met. I know the "curse" is supposed to... well, I'm not even sure but I was counting on it to avoid raising suspicion but I didn't want to invite any questions either way.
I wonder, the longer I drag this out, if he'll find it weird that I forgot where he works, or how many siblings he has, or what his favorite band is.
He asked me why the sudden health kick. I said it wasn't a kick, this is what I'm interested in going forward. I haven't decided what to do, if it's disrespectful go start going hard in the gym and try to make Shona's body something it wasn't (and may not realistically ever be) or if I should just accept that this is me now and make do. In either case, the hiking isn't a weight loss thing, it's just something I enjoy. It's harder and more problematic for me now but I don't want the Inn to take that away from me.
I wasn't sure how to tell him that though. I guess when you're big, people think it defines you and everything must be in service to weight loss. I'm guilty of that too.
Did Shona leave her life because she hated being fat? Or was it something else? Maybe I'll never know. I thought of asking Steven, coyly if possible, if I ever mentioned anything like that but... honestly, if I were her, that's the last person I would tell. She went to the Inn without him and as nice as he she doesn't seem to be missing him.
A shame. He's nice, he deserves better.
Sunday, August 04, 2019
Jenn/Shona: Trying
After several days of putting it off, I decided to meet with Steven. It almost seemed unfair to be holding him back this way, even if from my perspective he's a total stranger who only thinks he has a right to my time.
As that last paragraph should tell you, I was and am still extremely bitter about (gestures around wildly) all this, up to and including being told "this stranger thinks you're his girlfriend."
My thing is, I so badly want to live my life, my way. But that's so not possible. The life I lived as Jenn - oh God we're getting to the point where Jenn is a past-tense person aren't we? - no longer exists. The man who took my life made some terrible choices, besmirched my name, and will live out his days being punished for it. As me. My stomach turns at this.
Steven won me over, or wore me down you could say, by showing a lot of respect and concern for me during this time. Yes, he was texting constantly, giving me updates on his life and asking how I was, but he really seemed to care, and when I indicated I wasn't feeling up to engaging with him, he demonstrated that he respected my privacy and reminded me he would be available instantly if I felt I needed someone.
Well damn! Steven, why did you have to be so good?
I do need someone. I hate to feel like I'm using him as some kind of emotional crutch here but a lot has been put on my plate lately and sympathetic ears have been hard to come by.
So I agreed to meet him for ice cream. Now, I still haven't gotten over my self-consciousness of my appearance to where being seen enjoying a double scoop on a hot day doesn't feel a little embarrassing - like, "look at the fat chick going to down on that sundae" - but I really am trying to lean into this "fuck the haters" thing and be body-positive. I might have some trouble with it behind closed doors but out in public, it's their problem and their opinions aren't worth hearing.
Besides, more of America looks like me than like Chrissy Teigen.
With some reservations I agreed to meet him. I had a hard time figuring out my exact wording, how to set up a date that wasn't quite a date, where I could basically say "Hey, this is to determine if I want to actually have you as my boyfriend." I thought about breaking his heart. I didn't want to do that without at least meeting him. I owed him that.
We went. I was more nervous than I thought I would be, since I haven't had a real first date in years. I wore some of Shona's nicer clothes and even pit on makeup - but I was a little out of practice and Shona's face is quite different from what I'm used to so the result was not quite up to my standards, or what I'd seen from Shona's social media. I suspected Steven wouldn't notice though.
The weirdest part was as much as I wanted him to like me, I realized that was almost an afterthought and what I was really nervous about was whether I would like him. On the one hand I built him up in my head as a really exceptional guy and how much of a relief that would be after all I've been through, and on the other I was afraid of liking him too much and feeling like I had to stay with him, feeling like I couldn't bring myself to let him down, trying to let him into my life while he is convinced I am actually a totally different woman. It would be so much easier if he just... sucked.
The reality was somewhere between. His face was very kind, very plain, round with a beard. Two years ago, when I was me and in a very different headspace than today, I would have swiped past him on Tinder with hardly a thought. He seemed very mild and meek. Physically I didn't think he took overly good care of himself. Everything about him seemed to me to be the kind of person who would be with someone like Shona, and maybe, based on her Instagram feed where she's having fun and living out loud, lucky to be with her.
If it had truly been our first date, and I was me, he might have been too intimidated to do anything and been poor company. As it was it was clear he was at ease with Shona. I liked that. There were moments where it felt like he took our setup for granted - overly physical, some tellingly obnoxious remarks I guess I was expected to find amusing and a lot of the conversation was anecdotes about people and tings I guess I was supposed to know or care about, which was boring for me - but mostly he was quite nice. I had to remind myself there was a reason he wasn't working too hard to impress me, and that from his perspective the relationship is established and lived in. He sure did act like it.
I paid him a kiss at the end of the night and told him candidly that I was at a crossroads, and that might mean putting "us" on hold. That it wasn't personal really - all it was was about me - and I owed it to him to be straight up.
He accepted that without question. That annoyed me. I actually kind of wanted him to fight back.
It all left me more uncertain than when I went in. I had hopes he would fall one way or the other - jerk or saint - but as with most things in life it wasn't so clear cut. If I was with him he might actually be the nicest person I've ever dated, but niceness isn't everything.
Do I feel like I deserve better than what I've been given? Maybe. But is it realistic to throw away a potentially good thing?
I just don't know.
-Jenn/Shona
As that last paragraph should tell you, I was and am still extremely bitter about (gestures around wildly) all this, up to and including being told "this stranger thinks you're his girlfriend."
My thing is, I so badly want to live my life, my way. But that's so not possible. The life I lived as Jenn - oh God we're getting to the point where Jenn is a past-tense person aren't we? - no longer exists. The man who took my life made some terrible choices, besmirched my name, and will live out his days being punished for it. As me. My stomach turns at this.
Steven won me over, or wore me down you could say, by showing a lot of respect and concern for me during this time. Yes, he was texting constantly, giving me updates on his life and asking how I was, but he really seemed to care, and when I indicated I wasn't feeling up to engaging with him, he demonstrated that he respected my privacy and reminded me he would be available instantly if I felt I needed someone.
Well damn! Steven, why did you have to be so good?
I do need someone. I hate to feel like I'm using him as some kind of emotional crutch here but a lot has been put on my plate lately and sympathetic ears have been hard to come by.
So I agreed to meet him for ice cream. Now, I still haven't gotten over my self-consciousness of my appearance to where being seen enjoying a double scoop on a hot day doesn't feel a little embarrassing - like, "look at the fat chick going to down on that sundae" - but I really am trying to lean into this "fuck the haters" thing and be body-positive. I might have some trouble with it behind closed doors but out in public, it's their problem and their opinions aren't worth hearing.
Besides, more of America looks like me than like Chrissy Teigen.
With some reservations I agreed to meet him. I had a hard time figuring out my exact wording, how to set up a date that wasn't quite a date, where I could basically say "Hey, this is to determine if I want to actually have you as my boyfriend." I thought about breaking his heart. I didn't want to do that without at least meeting him. I owed him that.
We went. I was more nervous than I thought I would be, since I haven't had a real first date in years. I wore some of Shona's nicer clothes and even pit on makeup - but I was a little out of practice and Shona's face is quite different from what I'm used to so the result was not quite up to my standards, or what I'd seen from Shona's social media. I suspected Steven wouldn't notice though.
The weirdest part was as much as I wanted him to like me, I realized that was almost an afterthought and what I was really nervous about was whether I would like him. On the one hand I built him up in my head as a really exceptional guy and how much of a relief that would be after all I've been through, and on the other I was afraid of liking him too much and feeling like I had to stay with him, feeling like I couldn't bring myself to let him down, trying to let him into my life while he is convinced I am actually a totally different woman. It would be so much easier if he just... sucked.
The reality was somewhere between. His face was very kind, very plain, round with a beard. Two years ago, when I was me and in a very different headspace than today, I would have swiped past him on Tinder with hardly a thought. He seemed very mild and meek. Physically I didn't think he took overly good care of himself. Everything about him seemed to me to be the kind of person who would be with someone like Shona, and maybe, based on her Instagram feed where she's having fun and living out loud, lucky to be with her.
If it had truly been our first date, and I was me, he might have been too intimidated to do anything and been poor company. As it was it was clear he was at ease with Shona. I liked that. There were moments where it felt like he took our setup for granted - overly physical, some tellingly obnoxious remarks I guess I was expected to find amusing and a lot of the conversation was anecdotes about people and tings I guess I was supposed to know or care about, which was boring for me - but mostly he was quite nice. I had to remind myself there was a reason he wasn't working too hard to impress me, and that from his perspective the relationship is established and lived in. He sure did act like it.
I paid him a kiss at the end of the night and told him candidly that I was at a crossroads, and that might mean putting "us" on hold. That it wasn't personal really - all it was was about me - and I owed it to him to be straight up.
He accepted that without question. That annoyed me. I actually kind of wanted him to fight back.
It all left me more uncertain than when I went in. I had hopes he would fall one way or the other - jerk or saint - but as with most things in life it wasn't so clear cut. If I was with him he might actually be the nicest person I've ever dated, but niceness isn't everything.
Do I feel like I deserve better than what I've been given? Maybe. But is it realistic to throw away a potentially good thing?
I just don't know.
-Jenn/Shona
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Jenn/Shona: How To Be Fat
Not to harp on it or anything but... I'm fat. Borderline obese, in medical terms. I can't seem to forget about it, so why try letting you?
I say that word to myself every day, you know. As a way of trying to own it and get okay with it. The way people tap dance around the obviousness of it all.. curvy, plus-sized, "bigger" "full figured"... it's all just a nice way of saying "fat." But "fat" is a fact. I might as well admit it. Reclaim the word... somehow.
I'm trying to be okay with it but so far it's been very hard. I can't get over the change. It feels too different form how I started. Going from being Jenn to being Zack was in someways easier. I'm very aware of the space I take up, of the reactions from strangers that I pass on the street. Of how I look if I try to eat anything. If it's bad food, "Ugh, she just can't help herself!" If I try to eat a salad, "Bless her heart, she's trying!" Damn it all.
Shona left behind an interesting example to follow. On her Instagram she is a very pretty woman - great at make-up, keeps her hair well-styled, with this very confident, "Give No Fucks" image. she dresses stylishly in a way that highlights her body rather than trying to downplay it. On the woman in the Insta feed, I think it looks good, and "good for her" for looking so pretty. When I try it on myself, I feel like a fake. I feel like I don't know how to be "that" person. Not yet. I aspire to it for sure, but it's frustrating trying to get there, outwardly and inwardly. To learn the ins and outs of dressing and styling yourself when you're a fat girl. To feel good about yourself. To feel like you deserve to look good.
Steven has texted me. A lot. I have kept him at arm's length. I don't like being "bequeathed" someone's old boyfriend. I took my time getting back to Gainesville and didn't let him know when I arrived. He didn't take the hint and is happy to "give me space" but won't stop checking in or updating me on the minutiae of his life. I suppose it fits... we're supposed to be a couple. I can see why someone would want to be with this guy, but I am so far from being "there" it's more of a nuisance than anything.
I guess I can't completely bring myself to cut the cord. I look at myself in the mirror and think, if this is "it" for me, where am I going to find someone who wants me, who I think I deserve? I know that's just an awful thought, but I guess I've been brainwashed and I can't quit it.
It wouldn't feel right to pursue anything with this guy, and yet I feel like he's, well... a bird in the hand.
On the plus side... it's beautiful here. Georgia is very scenic and there's lots of hiking trails. I only wish I felt fit enough to spend much time on them, so that's another thing that weighs on me... so to speak.
I bought a new camera, since I got the photography bug from Zack. It makes me a little homesick for Colorado, but it's nice in its own way. I'll probably never be home again.
Excuse me while I cry a minute...
-Jenn/Shona
I say that word to myself every day, you know. As a way of trying to own it and get okay with it. The way people tap dance around the obviousness of it all.. curvy, plus-sized, "bigger" "full figured"... it's all just a nice way of saying "fat." But "fat" is a fact. I might as well admit it. Reclaim the word... somehow.
I'm trying to be okay with it but so far it's been very hard. I can't get over the change. It feels too different form how I started. Going from being Jenn to being Zack was in someways easier. I'm very aware of the space I take up, of the reactions from strangers that I pass on the street. Of how I look if I try to eat anything. If it's bad food, "Ugh, she just can't help herself!" If I try to eat a salad, "Bless her heart, she's trying!" Damn it all.
Shona left behind an interesting example to follow. On her Instagram she is a very pretty woman - great at make-up, keeps her hair well-styled, with this very confident, "Give No Fucks" image. she dresses stylishly in a way that highlights her body rather than trying to downplay it. On the woman in the Insta feed, I think it looks good, and "good for her" for looking so pretty. When I try it on myself, I feel like a fake. I feel like I don't know how to be "that" person. Not yet. I aspire to it for sure, but it's frustrating trying to get there, outwardly and inwardly. To learn the ins and outs of dressing and styling yourself when you're a fat girl. To feel good about yourself. To feel like you deserve to look good.
Steven has texted me. A lot. I have kept him at arm's length. I don't like being "bequeathed" someone's old boyfriend. I took my time getting back to Gainesville and didn't let him know when I arrived. He didn't take the hint and is happy to "give me space" but won't stop checking in or updating me on the minutiae of his life. I suppose it fits... we're supposed to be a couple. I can see why someone would want to be with this guy, but I am so far from being "there" it's more of a nuisance than anything.
I guess I can't completely bring myself to cut the cord. I look at myself in the mirror and think, if this is "it" for me, where am I going to find someone who wants me, who I think I deserve? I know that's just an awful thought, but I guess I've been brainwashed and I can't quit it.
It wouldn't feel right to pursue anything with this guy, and yet I feel like he's, well... a bird in the hand.
On the plus side... it's beautiful here. Georgia is very scenic and there's lots of hiking trails. I only wish I felt fit enough to spend much time on them, so that's another thing that weighs on me... so to speak.
I bought a new camera, since I got the photography bug from Zack. It makes me a little homesick for Colorado, but it's nice in its own way. I'll probably never be home again.
Excuse me while I cry a minute...
-Jenn/Shona
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