Jessie’s Girl and Wolsey (music/memory)

See bottom of post for pronoun disclaimer (note 1):

Jessie’s Girl has a special place in my heart. It reminds me of my husband and the time before we got together (before he was my wife, or even girlfriend). The song fit pretty squarely as part of the soundtrack of my life. This was because when I first met Wolsey and fell in love, Wolsey was dating my best friend Doug.

I met Wolsey when I was 17 years old and had just moved to Bellingham WA. I was a virgin, going to my fourth high school in 2.5 years and I had just found a group of friends to hang with. My best friends at the time was Doug  and Jay.

We had met in a geeky Dungeons and Dragons game (and this was summer of 1987 I believe). By the end of that school year (so summer of 1988) my friend had shifted from being a geek to being a stoner/punk (I didn’t, I was sort of my own thing… think older brother from Stranger Things but from a biker family but who is a geeky gamer).

The advantage of Doug and Jay shifting from geek to stoner/punk was meeting new people and one of those new people I met was a very beautiful young lady who eventually would change her name to Wolsey after we had been married for decades (original name is classified as Wolsey hates it).

Wolsey was friends with another girl named Colby and they were also in the punk scene. Colby dated Doug for awhile, and I met Wolsey a couple of times. I thought she was pretty cool, and I was attracted to her. The better part though was I felt like we could be friends.

From R to L: Rob, Colby (laying down), Doug, Wolsey. (yes there is a censor line, the photo reveals a little too much).

Fast forward through teenager drama and Doug and Colby broke up and Doug started dating Wolsey. This meant I saw Wolsey constantly and we became best friends. I introduced Wolsey to Dungeons and Dragons and while Doug and Jay would play but fuck around, Wolsey and I both enjoyed the role-play, the story telling. I learned that while Wolsey looked punk as fuck (and hippy sometimes, Wolsey would float between the two) Wolsey liked reading, stories and was super creative.

Doug and Wolsey moved into their apartment together and I was there all the time. Doug would bail on us and a lot of times it was just Wolsey, myself, with others in our social group hanging out. It was fairly soon after we started hanging out with each other like that, that I fell in love with her (him).

It really was angst with a happy ending!

However, Wolsey was dating my best friend and I absolutely would not do something like try and break in on that. Funny enough the next time I was in this type of relationship situation with another woman I went the other way and not sure that it was any better a result.

Funny enough my parents both knew Wolsey well by this point and tried to get me to pursue her (him). I told them there was no way she was interested in me, and both my parents shook their head and said that Wolsey would be perfect for me (they were right in the end… damn them 🙂 ). Although I still to this day wish I had listened to my parents and done it. I didn’t realize they were right and she had a thing for me at the time.

The first time I noticed Jessie’s Girl as a song (it had been out for awhile) was when I was sitting in Wolsey and Doug’s living room. Doug had just been an asshole to Wolsey and stomped off. Wolsey was sitting there looking annoyed and frustrated and the song started playing. That was the soundtrack of how I felt about her for a couple of years. For some reason the song kept playing that summer too, even though it had been out for a few years.

I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship though. Even with how fucked up my childhood was (or maybe because of it and what my dad did try to instill) I tried to remain the paladin, true to my word and to my friend.

The other large part I didn’t act was that I truly truly loved being Wolsey’s friend and I never felt like I was in the “friend zone”. In fact I valued our friendship above everything and didn’t want to jeopardize that.  It is why I can’t stand friend zone people and incels. The other person owes you nothing (and Wolsey absolutely owed me nothing, I was just happy to get Wolsey’s friendship).

That is how it was for nine months as my best friend (well he had sort of drifted away as being my best friend to be replaced by Wolsey) and his girlfriend lived together and I would go over and visit. As a side note, in all fairness Wolsey was interested in me, showed me several clues but I was too shy/resistant I didn’t follow up. My romantic soundtrack for that time period was Jessie’s Girl.

I do realize now as a fully mentally formed adult that the song can be problematic, but I still like it and it reminds me of when my husband Wolsey was a pretty girl dating my best friend before she (he) usurped that spot and replaced Doug as my best friend.

Disclaimer Note 1: Let me get a clarification out here, I do refer to my current husband in historical terms as my friend, partner, etc. I also refer to him as my “wife” or “girlfriend” sometimes when talking about a memory when I was younger that happened before his transition. Sometimes I do this because it gets hard tracking who is who in those stories.

He is ok with this, as I am ok with him referring to me as his husband or boyfriend when recounting memories. It is hard with pronouns, especially when in context memories and of referring to us both as people we no longer are (myself as a boy back then and my husband as a girl back then). Just a FYI, he is ok with the pronoun use.

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Sometimes good shows up

I post a lot of stuff that is a little more negative about transition. Today however I have some beautiful stuff to talk about.

I had been out auditing an agency and when I wrapped up I drove the 45 minutes back to town. On my way back I decided I wanted a Costco hot dog, and that is what I thought about the whole time.

I got to Costco and went through my Costco hot dog purchase. The lady behind the counter was super sweet. She called me sweetie like five times and it was a good experience.

I walked back to my car with the hot dog, excited by the bad for you goodness I got to eat when I sat down (it was too packed in Costco dining area).

That is when tragedy struck me…

There was much sadness and gnashing of teeth. I was going to go back to the office and cry when I decided I could afford a second hot dog.

I went back to Costco, walked in and went to pay for another hotdog. All the ladies in Costco food were calling me sweetie, asking how my day was, etc. it helped me some

When I was getting rung up I handed my cash and I mentioned I had to come back because I dropped my hot dog. All of a sudden she stopped and pushed my money away. A second lady was shaking her head and saying “Honey, no money from you, we can give you a new one”. Then they all started yelling don’t pay for it, just take it.

The girl who sold me the original hot dog was screaming from the dishwasher area in the back to give me a free hot dog as well.

I asked them like 12 times if they were sure, they wouldn’t take any money at all. That single unasked concern for me reassured me and made me feel better than I had in days.

I can’t express the good it did for me, except I needed to share it.

Thank you Costco workers for being you!!!

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Music

I had forgotten how much I liked music.

I couldn’t honestly tell you when I stopped caring about music. When I was young I loved music, hell I used to sing in the shower (albeit not well). However, at some point I stopped. I am sure it was the depression from dysphoria and a traumatic childhood, but I couldn’t tell you when.

I wasn’t ever really good at music either. In elementary school I played the violin for a few weeks before they took back all the “loaner” instruments. Turn around five years later and I did play the bass in middle school. My parents couldn’t afford a violin (I was super poor) but there was an extra bass that the orchestra teacher had access too.

At the time I didn’t like it, I thought it was the secondary equivalent of being a wallflower, I hadn’t realized it was the same fingering as a bass guitar. That lasted a year and I was pretty good at it. Not orchestral good, but good enough I didn’t get booted out of the orchestra.

Eight years later, at the behest of my girlfriend, I auditioned for a choir. They loved my bass voice and wanted me in, but I ended up breaking up with her the next week so that never went anywhere (sadly, I do still have a pretty deep voice with my transition, that will need to be worked on probably).

Up to age 26-27 I would collect music, listen to it a lot and just enjoy it. My music taste runs from Russian Opera, to rap, country, rock, metal and folk. Pretty much I liked everything but R&B, and to be honest I like R&B now (I disliked it then for no obvious reason). Somewhere around that point I entered my depression and didn’t touch much music. I listened to a lot of audio books, podcasts, or when I listened to music I didn’t notice it.

Fast forward to age 47 (right before I turned 48 in August) and all of a sudden I love music again. I want to listen to it constantly, it triggers a lot of memories (each song almost has a theme, or memory associated with it). I also have been thinking about doing something music wise, maybe learn to play the keyboard or something. Not to be a “musician” but to just learn something new.

I am sure my transition and my depression cracking and releasing me are what caused this. I even want to go dancing with my husband, and I have NEVER wanted to dance as a boy. Not a single time, even when I went with my husband (my wife at the time) I would watch from the table when they would dance.

I think the weirdest thing is lately the memories and associations with songs (sometimes with brand new songs I have never heard before as well). My therapist once mentioned music sometimes can unlock things, and my survival trait growing up was to forget things, a habit I do even to this day.

So the music now effects me not only emotionally, but also my memories. I think I am going to start posting songs here, with a brief memory/association I have with them. It lets me work through things, remember both good and bad things, and maybe deal with all the shit I packed away for 48 years.

So there is that, you are all stuck with future posts with me and music. If its transitioned related association I will crosspost to Suddenly Straight, but otherwise it will just be here.

I am just thankful that I like music again. I think it means things are changing below the surface, not just on the skin level, and that really gives me hope.

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Heartbeat… TERF Fuckery

I will be honest, before my transition I was so shut down that I would see articles like this, they would make me mad on behalf of the target, but it didn’t truly bother me. Now it does.

The short story is that the lead developer’s girlfriend of Heartbeat, a game well loved by the LGBTQA community went on a TERF rampage on twitter. It turns out that the lead developer herself is also heavily TERF and they are both hateful creatures. You can read more about it here: https://www.dailydot.com/irl/heartbeat-trans-suicide-rate/

I won’t go into the whole sordid stupidity. What this post is about is my frustration at people like that and people in general (such as my previous transphobia post). I read too much around the Heartbeat drama and now I am anxious, unhappy and really debating limiting my exposure to certain subjects. This doesn’t do me any good to read this shit at 3am and definitely not be able to go back to sleep.

As a side note, I am not a lesbian (I am sure my husband is relieved to hear that) and I am attracted to both genders. While I have dabbled with boys before transition before my husband, I never had a standard relationship with one and I wasn’t sure if I would seek someone out that was male to begin with. So I assumed when I was younger that if I ever transitioned I would have been a lesbian (this is before my hubby transitioned). Although I think that identity had more to do with my dysphoria and inability to deal with my own penis situation then being actually only into women.

As for the developer and her girlfriend (lesbians), I am ok with people who don’t want to touch me because I still currently have a penis and they don’t want to touch a penis. I can separate my genitals from my personal identity, after all pretty much everyone else has already done that. All I ask is that the recognize me as a woman. Maybe not talk about me, or avoid me.

What I hate is the spiteful rage I hear, and even worse yet the quiet behind the back talking. This is why I hate this at work as well, the silent judging, the whispers at the next table, or the silence when I walk into the room.

I just feel tired all the time from attacks from religious people, then from our government, and the worst… from our own LGBTQA community. I didn’t understand when my husband said he felt tired, or when other trans people said it. I thought I did, but I had no clue. However now I do feel it, a constant picking at me by external sources. I can only imagine this must be what its like (and maybe worse) for people of color or who follow Islam. I always had empathy for that, this just makes it more. It also means I think I would step even further out (even if it endangered me) for the other minority groups.

I just don’t get why TERF’s think my existence is taking away from them. Then again I never understood minority groups who find even smaller groups to pick on, doing the same thing to those smaller and weaker groups that is done to them. I get that it is a power thing, and a way to make themselves feel better, but it isn’t something I have ever done and it is frustrating. You don’t have to date me, but why do you doubt who I am even after science, psychology and myself tell you who I am.

This has gotten me to thinking though, after reading the lesbian TERF hate from the Heartbeat dev and her girlfriend, it dawned on me that the demisexual I thought I was, may have been more of dysphoria reason then I realized. I am not sure why it came to me now, but I think I am less demisexual and my desire was impacted more by dysphoric feelings.

I like boys, girls and nonbinary (or any other combination). What is in someone’s pants doesn’t make me hesitate for a moment. I used to think I only liked people I connected with, but more and more I am thinking I was only interested in people I felt safe with. My gender has always been an issue (as has my genitals), I just hadn’t realized until more recently maybe I am pansexual with dysphoria then anything.

I realize I just mixed topics, and I will explore the sexual identity later, I just felt it kind of dovetailed with the lesbian hate for some reason and I wanted to share both.

Mostly I wanted to say I am saddened by TERF thought patterns, but in the end they are garbage and can go fuck themselves right along with the religious fundies, both are irrelevant and wrong.

FINALLY:


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Rough day (transphobia)

Yesterday was harder than normal, and represents the third day in about a week of hostile encounters. I realize this is the new normal, but I figured I would share them.

The day started with me going to Safeway to pick up some paper bowls. I was wandering the paper bowl/plate aisle when two older black guys come wandering up. As a clarification this is not the same guys who were at Safeway in my earlier post.  I knew this was going to be an issue because they had parked in front of me outside and had been talking to each other and pointing at me.

To be honest I was worried, which is something I haven’t gotten used to, as they both walked up. The smaller guy within about 3-4 feet of me. They started talking with me and started getting pushy on who I was. The biggest thing I remember was them both saying “What is up with this shit” and then hand waving at my clothes and boobs.

I sputtered for a few moments not sure what was going on and eventually figured I was going to get hurt so I went off about how they would hate losing to a girl with a bigger dick then them. By no means did I think I would win any confrontation. I am a hundred pounds lighter then I was, and a good chunk of that was muscle. My husband tends to be stronger than myself now. However, my feral childhood and parents instilled a “last great act of defiance” mode and I guess I hit it in panic.

Surprisingly both guys just stopped and watched me. They then looked at each other, nodded and walked away. I don’t by any means think I may have intimidated them, but I do think I made the cost of any more harassment not worth it to them and I will take it.

I couldn’t figure out why they approached me though, until my husband brought up he thought that they might believe I was a pro. That they were seeing if maybe I was for hire. It sort of makes sense, I know there are chasers out there and I saw my husband get propositioned a few times (and heard about it even more) before he transitioned. It makes a little more sense, and wit that knowledge I think next time I will handle it different.

Even so, that wasn’t the thing that bothered me most that day, that was still coming up.

I got to work and a couple hours later I was talking with a couple of my lady coworkers. It was confirmed by one of them that there is a large selection of women who won’t use the restroom if I am in there. I am fairly sure they are the same ones that don’t respond if I say hi, or walk away.

To be honest I am not surprised. It is fairly common that I will be sitting in a stall and a lady will come in, stop and turn around even though there are other open stalls. This happens even faster if I am standing at the sink putting makeup on, or washing my face. A large portion of women will step in, look at me directly and just turn around and leave. I have even said hi when they come in, they just stare at me and walk away without saying anything.

I know that is weird because most women who don’t run from me won’t stop talking to me in the bathroom (which also freaks out my socialized as a boy self… but I am getting past that).

I have seen it in other places such as the lunchroom where a group of women will start whispering when I come in the room. I figure it is something about me, or my clothing. It is worse though when I step into a room and a bunch of women stop talking and they all just watch me get into the fridge and get my lunch. I think the silence is worse.

None of this is new, the being accosted is something I am starting to expect outside. However, the work situation bothers me a lot. I don’t like it when people I am around are uncomfortable about me, or actively hate what I am (there are a couple that do that).

The one good thing about my coworker confirming that, is it confirmed I wasn’t crazy or misreading people. At least I know I am seeing clearly and that is important to me.

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2 encounters in one day – Main Street Gas and Grocery

It turns out that my day didn’t end with my Safeway Encounter, but rather was a long continuation as I stopped at People’s Park to eat a yogurt and then went to the Main Street Gas and Grocery to get some lotto tickets for my husband (it is right across the street from People’s Park).

Sitting at People’s Park and taking a picture

I have been to the store a few times, and there is a gentleman who is always there. He is always polite to me, but I can’t tell if its in a weird way (almost an “interested” look, but I am too new to this to know for sure). However it was the closest place to Safeway to get a lotto ticket (Safeway couldn’t sell any).

I went in there, pulled cash from the machine and walked up to the counter behind an old and very drunk hispanic man who kept telling everyone that he didn’t want Trump to send him away.

I am waiting there and he turns and notices me and says “wow you are tall beautiful”… obviously super drunk. Don’t get me wrong, flattering and all but I still don’t pass and I knew he was drunk. He obviously caught up to that a few moments later.

His face screws up in a question… “are you a man or woman?” He has that drunk voice, as he sways a bit. I smile but was a bit more uncomfortable and was all of a sudden a little more wary. The man is half my size so he isn’t a threat, but I was still a little wary.

I say “I am a woman, it cost a lot of money to become one.” The gentleman who works/owns the store smiles when I say that and nods, and is already starting to tell the drunk to leave me alone.

The drunk seemed confused and started talking when the store guy starts yelling for him to leave the woman alone. The fact he referenced me as a woman without blinking made me feel good. Meanwhile the drunk takes a few moments as he takes my hand. He leans forward and drunkenly says

“Don’t let anyone say you aren’t beautiful.”

I have seen that kind of shifting in opinions of drunks, and it wasn’t unexpected. I was partially happy to get the compliment but I wanted to get out of there before things went awry. As I left the store guy walked up to the homeless guy yelling at him to leave the woman alone and buzzing a taser threateningly. The old guy left, I left.

I talked with my hubby I found out a man had been stabbed in the parking lot and died there at 1pm the previous Thursday (one week exactly before).

https://www-1.thenewstribune.com/news/local/crime/article234797627.html

 

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2 encounters in one day – The Safeway Incident

Today was a strange set of encounters, two of them to be exact. Both put me in uncomfortable situation and both of course involved being transgendered. I was wearing my blue striped dress and was out auditing one of the agencies and things were fine until I went to the local Safeway (in a bad area of town).

Me in the dress three months ago

As I exited Safeway, I noticed in front of me an older lady walking to her car. Behind her was a small man (I believe was homeless) following after her, with a second  homeless man watching from the other side of the entryway into the store. It bothered me, something seemed off.

Just seeing how the man was approaching made me wonder and I stopped walking in the middle of the parking lot and just watched the lady to make sure she got to her car when the small black guy yelled at her a question I couldn’t make out. I am fairly sure it was asking for change, but the fact she hurried quicker meant she wasn’t interested.

So I stood there and settled on the balls of my feet (in my little black Uggs) and I just watched him. I wanted to make sure nothing happened. I was very aware of the second man to my left and slightly behind me about 20 feet. I didn’t say anything, just watched in case I need to intervene.

That is when the guy to my left and behind me loudly yelled, “6’1 or 6’2?” I knew immediately he was talking to me, but that he was actually warning his buddy I was watching. I spun on my left, keeping the small guy in site and smiled at the man with the questions.

At this time the smaller man who was accosting the woman also stopped, he turned to watch me and seemed to have forgotten the lady. She immediately took advantage and got in her car and left. Meanwhile I just smiled at the guy and yelled back “6’2”. I think he was surprised I responded to him and didn’t scuttle away.

The gentleman who yelled the question

He stood back, cocked his head and then yelled, “Where’s your husband?” I yelled back “A few blocks away, will bring him lunch when I am done here” and I motioned to him and his friend. I think he was a little shocked at my response because he pulled on his medical facemask over his nose (the man had awful teeth).

It was during this time that the little guy just faded away, I saw him moving for a moment and then he was gone in between the cars. I noticed the guy asking the question nod to me and say, “good enough for me”. He then leaned over the railing and avoided responding to me anymore.

I am more than willing to say something to someone if another person might be in danger, but if its just me I am happy with leaving. That is when I got into the car and drive off.

That would have made the day interesting, but it doesn’t even include what happened at People’s Park

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Things I forgot

You would think that I would remember my childhood all the time, the violence (not on us by parents, but surrounding us), the alcoholism, the homelessness, but evidently I forget huge chunks for years at a time and am surprised when my PTSD pops things back up.

We went to the movies to see Rambo Last Blood. Yes it is horrible, outdated and I will probably see another one if Stallone does it. It just is a tradition. However, I did have something happened that was jarring.

It was during the first half of the movie. Stallone was beating up a man, he broke the man’s collar bone and started twisting it out of his skin. It was ultraviolent but not more violent then a lot of what I watch. However, I found myself curled up into a ball in my theater seat, hiding under my leather jacket trying to catch my breath. Evidently it gave me a huge anxiety/panic attack.

That is when I remembered once when I was 10-11 or so and we were out at my dad’s friends in Granite Falls. My parents had run to the store, and a couple of the guys there were working over another man in a room very seriously. You could hear the beating in the room I was in next door, the whimpering, crying and growling/grunting from the people.

When they were done, one of them came out and asked if I could keep an eye on the man in the other room, so I got up, went in and sat on a chair while the two men who beat the person in this room left to have cigarettes.

First, let me be clear I never felt I was in danger. I never was threatened, harmed or anything up until a couple years after this when some of the same people attacked my family (they owed my dad money and thought they would be better off removing us instead of paying, but that is a different story).

Also, when my parents got back to the house my dad lost his shit on the two guys. He didn’t want me seeing that or being around that. My parents were open about everything they did. I had even saw cocaine deals happen regularly involving kilos of cocaine, but the violence on someone in front of me really upset my parents, so we didn’t go back out there for a few weeks after that.

I can’t say I remember everything clearly. I have always had a hard time remembering specific details, but I remember feeling bad for the person there. Also I know he wasn’t killed or anything (at least then) because I saw him a few months later and he acted like nothing had happened.

However, this left me in the theater panting, and panicking for a short time. It passed and I told the hubby about it. I figured it was one of many stories I have told him about my childhood. He was surprised and had never heard this story. I guess it turns out and  I was evidently wrong. I hadn’t realized how much of my life I haven’t even told him.

I am sure this came up partially because of my transition. I am having to rethink who I am, what I am and where I go. I am also seeing a therapist fairly regularly, and they are having me start to delve into things. Finally I think the thing that triggered me was Rambo wearing his green army jacket. It reminded me so much of growing up where I was surrounded by my dad’s friends and associates who all wore army gear, things like that green army jacket.

It has been a couple of days now, I can start sleeping again, but I do feel like a wuss. Nothing bad had directly happened to me. I had seen ultra violence in real life more than a few times before I went into that room. I guess maybe this means the therapy and self review is starting to unlock some of my shit I locked away. Maybe I can start working on it now.

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Some good news

I got my blood test results back. I have some good news and some ok news.

Good news: my testosterone is “LESS THAN 10 ng/dL” and the range is 0-74ng/dL. So at least we know my testicles haven’t mysteriously grown back 🤣.

The test is to ensure the male hormone has dropped off thus allowing feminine hormones to work their magic. This is first time my testosterone hasn’t decided to make a comeback and I find it encouraging.

Another bit of good news is my progesterone numbers (prolactin test): 15.5 ng/mL and the range is 2.5-19 ng/mL. That is excellent news as this is the hormone that developed breast growth.

Finally I got my estrogen results via paper only (for some reason it isn’t on my electronic documents). 98 pg/mL and the standard range is 30-500.

This is an upward trend (my last result was less than 20), but not where we want it (300+ is the target score, there is another test that goes up to 700 and on that one we want 400+, not sure the difference though between the two scoring systems).

I will admit I was really disappointed by this. However Dr Fields is awesome, he said we will take this progress and up my dosage to 8mg of estradiol per day (I was taking 6 as of yesterday and only 4 when I had the horrible doctor) so I feel like we are moving.

I will go get another test in November and cross my fingers.

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General Update and Cheek News

I have been quiet lately, not that new things haven’t happened, just that I am exhausted. However, wanted to get out some of the basics while I had some moments.

The last couple of weeks have been especially bad with insomnia and nightmares, mostly me not being able to protect people I currently care about, or who passed away already. This results in me getting up somewhere between 00:30 and 0300 for several days, unless I crash every five or six days which case I sleep until 4pm (which is later than normal for me). This leaves me grumpy and tired. Fortunately my husband is pretty forgiving.

I did get to meet a nice transgender lady while I was at work. I was actually on lunch at Thea’s park and I am sitting in my car throwing peanuts out for the crows and seagulls. I see this lady pull up beside me. My first thought was wondering if she was a trans lady. I glanced at her, she glanced at me and a few minutes later she motioned for me to roll down my window as she asked me if I was trans.

That is when I met Hazel, a nice lady who is a local and has been doing this a couple years longer than myself. She seemed nice, we chatted and exchanged instagram accounts. It was nice meeting someone like myself. It is funny, I have met a lot more trans guys than gals. This is primarily because for 5 of the last 6 years we were focused on hubby’s transition so it was guys who came out of the woodwork (especially about accidentally gay and the website). It as just nice to meet someone like me.

Yesterday we went down to Portland to check on my cheek with Dr. Ley. The trip down was actually pretty cool. I live to just spend time with my husband. I realize a lot of people hate traveling with others, but 3 hours each direction with my hubby is enjoyable to me, especially since I don’t drive so much anymore.

We got there and there was a bit of a kerfuffle finding the office. Met a nice trans girl named Libby and we helped guide her to Dr. Ley’s office as well. I walked in with Dr. Ley and she didn’t even recognize me from my surgery four months ago. The facial changes she made, plus the hormones, new hair color/style and my long skirt gave her a blank stare at me for a few moments.

I intentionally didn’t choose my best most recent image, the recent image is my “average”.

She was nice and realized who I was soon enough after I started talking. After telling her some of my concerns she reached into my mouth where I noticed the real thingand I saw her visibly hesitate when she felt the “serrated edge” feeling the cheek had on the inside. She apologized for any pain as she crushed up whatever was sharp feeling.

She admitted she had never felt something like that before (my body heals weird). She was worried at first that part of the cheek was exposed inside my mouth but relaxed when she realized it was fine. She ended up clearing me and saying my cheek was healing well with no problems, that was a relief.

We then stopped at the Bantam Tavern, just a couple of blocks down where I had fish and chips and a couple of Whiskey Punches to celebrate. We then came home and I got to spend more time with the most important person in the world.

There is my favorite thing in the world.

Of course I am back up at 3am this morning, but I feel a bit better as I fell asleep earlier. I just wanted to get this written down (I have already forgotten the dream I wanted to talk about, all I remember was me desperately searching for a large oxygen tank in a garage that had slipped under all the carport racks). So here it is. Hopefully more will be coming. 🙂

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