The Fanstastic Ms. Fox

Another interesting side effects of wild hormonal shifts from the female to the male (adimttedly right after one huge stressor, and right before another) is a change in appetite. I have no idea where I am putting all this food, or how it is that I feel "full" but not "stuffed." None at all.

In totally unrelated news, my pants seem to be getting tighter.

At least the weight seems to be getting added to the right places. Getting chubby less skinny doesn't feel as threatening when, unlike before, it confirms that you are what you say you are.

My ears = pierced.

More specifically, after taking the fine suggestions of several people, I went with Rowan to the Sacred Heart outlet on Nelson. There I saw Stephanie who took excellent care in picking out where exactly to poke me. She labeled first, I double-checked, and Rowan, who was wearing corrective lenses unlike yours truly, triple-checked. I think they look good, but if you want to see for yourself...

Very pleased.

This adds an appropriate connection to home that should be a nice thing to have with me, or in/though me, in Ottawa.



Now, this is a gendered rite of passage and reflects on what my Uncle spoke to me about when he drove to Vancouver to meet for dinner.

His big question was, "What about the loyal opposition? Do you have people that care about you, that love you, but who are also willing to caution you against doing something potentially foolish and/or tell me that I'm full of shit?"

I think so. You know who you are. But it's an important question for everyone, so I'm writing it down.

He filled this role well insofar as he tossed me a query that I've been rolling round in my head since - and it applies to so very many things.

"To me, the word 'passing' brings to mind Blacks in America. How important is this to you? How or when is your emotional integrety directly or indirectly dependent on either a mirror or the impression of others? Do you have to 'fool' people to get by?"

I... feel, that part of the issue is that I've seen some lives disrupted, shattered and/or ended by the shit that accompanies transition, and yet, outside of my mind/body psychic turmoil, and serious questions about how to integrate this into my dating life, I've been okay so far, but often due to circumstances that most people don't have, and which I have come to without planning or effort. So I find myself between I-hope-that-doesn't-happen-to-me and why-am-I-so-lucky-in-regards-to-this. A mix of fear and survivor guilt.

Passing comes into this. Not exactly sure how.