It has been a long time since I was out and about in public as often as this last week. I forgot about the dozen microaggressions in each store, and the contrasting supporting smiles I get. This has been the most I have been in public with the new boobs, and the new fat transfer, for over a year and I started out feeling really good about myself… ya over the last two days that sort of ended a little harshly compared to where I started.
On Thursday we decided after work to go to Trader Joes and do a snack run for the weekend. I had a new Henley type top and felt really good. That only lasted about thirty seconds into Trader Joes when I had some old fuck look at me directly and brush across my boobs. Never apologizing and never doing anything but smirking. I have to be honest and say I was shocked at how brazen it was.
It has been awhile since I have been in that situation and honestly I just froze up. All I could do is concentrate on breathing and trying to get back with Wolsey (we had been separated) while avoiding anyone else that might brush up or touch me. The sad part was during the whole time I was angry at myself for not responding angrily at the man, especially when he would stare at me as he walked by with his wife several times in the store. Before the pandemic I would have said something to him, flipped him off or got Wolsey immediately. All I did though was just hope it went away.
By the time we got out of the store the hubby asked me what was wrong and why was I holding my hands in a weird way in front of myself. To be honest I didn’t realize I was doing that, and immediately tried to put my hands away. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him, I didn’t want him to be upset. Eventually he coaxed me into telling him and he was angry and reassuring. Angry at the asshole, reassuring to me and asked if I wanted him to go back, I told him no and that I just wanted to keep going. He completely respected me and we moved on.
We finished shopping at Winco, got some Subway and went home. The hubby was so incredibly nice to me. I am pretty fortunate that he is trans, I know a lot of cis guys were never through this experience and don’t understand (I was like that somewhat before I transitioned). He calmed me down and life was much better.
Remarkably about 14 hours later (about 8am) we had just gotten out of my brain MRI (good news, I don’t have a brain tumor!) and went to Denny’s before we had to go to other appointments. We entered Denny’s and I felt pretty good about myself, but we were seated next to what I am sure was a MAGA fuck. As we walked over I watched as he took pictures of me (I feel like I looked pretty good, I was a bit exhausted and disheveled from the MRI).
Wolsey saw this and we both looked at each other as we sat down. The guy who was less than 3 feet from us on the connected booth literally plugged his phone in the socket on the area between where Wolsey and him sat and began videoing me. The hubby immediately shifted where he sat and blocked it off mostly, and I shifted so he couldn’t get a good shot. I realize my t-shirt probably showed off my boobs pretty well (not visible below) but I looked tired, crappy and vulnerable. The hubby and I both believe that is what attracts these assholes, the vulnerability is what they can sense.
Wolsey asked if I wanted him to approach the guy. I had considered losing my shit on the guy, I considered having the hubby do it, but to be honest I was fucking tired and just wanted my breakfast. I could tell my social armor is worn down and I haven’t gotten practice with it lately, this happened before the pandemic quite a bit, but I had gotten accustomed to it (no one should have to, but it is a survival mechanism).
The funny thing was listening to the guy talk on his phone and tell people he didn’t have their money but he would next Friday… it was hilarious. In addition Wolsey didn’t confront the guy (doing as I asked) but he did make several awesomely world class snide remarks and observations about the guy loud enough the guy could hear it, but when the guy looked over at Wolsey, noticed all of his tats he evidently decided he wasn’t that offended and stopped videoing me. He did take a couple of those awkward angled photos when I came out of the bathroom but by then I was feeling a little better and I think whatever weakness he sensed was fading and he eventually stopped.
The problem I am having now (and it sucks but it is a good sign that occasionally my boobs fool men for a short time) is that I now get harassed sexually for looking feminine, and for being trans. Sometimes it is for being feminine (especially big boobs) that turns to transphobic when they make the realization
Life is still great, but sometimes it is rougher having to deal with people. Especially people in person. This is the biggest reason I have hesitated in dating (yes we are poly for those that don’t know), I am unfamiliar with how to traverse dating, let alone dating as a woman, and especially with the additional transgender subject.
I have to admit that I never understood why anyone would put botox or lip filler in before I transitioned. Not that I ever had a problem with it. I always felt a person should do what they want with their body as long as it made them happy, but I never understood it.
Well last month I decided I was tired of all the crinkles/wrinkles around my eyes, and that my lip wasn’t quite as full as I wanted (I wanted to wait and see how it healed for more than a year from the lip feminization surgery, which I love by the way).
So I made an appointment with La Belle Vie Cosmetic Medspa. They are the same overall facility that I got my second FFS surgery, tummy tuck and boob job (and where I will go for my thigh/butt lift after GCS). I wasn’t too sure what to expect, but I was sure that I wasn’t going to be impressed. As it turns out I was wrong.
I got to meet Anne Marie RN, who runs the medspa portion. She was incredibly kind, easy going and answered all my questions. The thing that impressed me more though was that she listened to us about trans concerns, and she questioned us about how other clinics worked. She really appeared at least to want to improve their facility (including possible electrolysis for trans patients).
I learned from her that lip fillers can last up to about a year, which was far longer than I have had other people say. I learned botox and the other various “tox” injections were much easier, less painful and most of all I learned that they do work.
The biggest thing I was impressed with though was that while there is always the normal additional options you can select, she recommended against some of them and instead recommended for under my eyes to get a blepharoplasty to have a better bang for my buck instead of just trying to use filler or botox which both might not be very effective but cost a lot more in the end.
I go in on the 26th of October to get a small dogear left over from my tummy tuck removed and I am going to talk to Dr. Mangubat about a blephoraplasty. I am pretty excited about that possibility.
The procedure itself wasn’t very painful, but immediately my lip for the filler began to swell up like Mike Tyson had punched me. Anne Marie was worried I was having a reaction and the hubby and I both had to reassure her that for whatever reason I swell up a lot, but it goes away super fast.
I also had to reassure her that I bruise easily, but it is normal. I go through this every time I go down to Phoenix to get electrolysis and that in no way is she at fault nor would either of us blame her. I have definitely had a worse reaction to electrolysis.
That being said she continued forward with injections to my forehead, around the outside of my eyes and my chin for botox, and lip filler in both lips. We didn’t touch under my eyes though because it might make my eyes sag worse (which is why I am going to speak to Dr. Mangubat about the Blephoraplasty).
By the end of it I was feeling pretty good and actually pretty surprised at how painless it actually was (needle in lip always hurts but was similar to lidocaine for my electrolysis). My face was looking beat up, and Anne Marie did explain it takes up to two weeks for the effects to be noticeable.
So the hubby and I decided to go by Old Navy to return some leggings while we were out (weirdly enough two different guys circled me while I was waiting for the hubby to try on some clothes, not to be confused by the three guys in Express a couple weeks later).
We then stopped at Aztecha for some Mexican food and then returned home where I took some photos of my lips and my face. Yep Mike Tyson did a number. What I was really surprised by was though as the swelling went down, the effect was good and I like how it looks.
I will be honest, it was expensive, and my face was beat up looking for a few days but I like the effect and to be honest I spent the first 50 years of my life avoiding spending money on what I wanted, how I looked and just for something that was for me. I think I will do this regularly though.
The next few days it all healed up pretty well. I had some bruising and swelling but nothing I would worry about.
The one thing I think that I am really happy about is that the hubby expressed some interest in maybe a bit of botox and blephoraplasty. He doesn’t express when he wants things like that very much and while I think he is fucking gorgeous, I want him to know that I want to spend as much money on whatever he wants just as much as I do mine.
In fact I feel much better about my own stuff if I know he is comfortable expressing if and when he wants something done for himself. Also, I think now a month later I can see the effect and it is really great (I am not sure the pictures will show it clear enough):
I am really enjoying how I look and feel in my body. not just gender wise (although that is the biggest portion) but all the other parts. Now that I am 50 I feel like I can make myself comfortable.
So, you haven’t seen CoaA posts yet, have you? Well, that is because that stands for “Confessions of an Asshole” and this is my first post. Mostly it means that like other people I talk about here, I also will talk about my own failings, including when I am absolutely the asshole. Sadly that happens more often than I like to admit, especially when I was younger.
I felt the first thing I would talk about was my wedding day and the fact that my husband, who was my wife at the time, should have probably just dumped me there and then. Also, I will probably reference “my wife” because it is hard to separate who we were then. I find myself having a very hard time referencing him as him when I remember the small girl or shapely woman in the memories. He is ok that I reference him like this, just like I am ok that he references me as his husband whenever he talks about our past.
Our wedding was itself actually pretty great for what it was. The asshole part didn’t come until it was over, but it was still unacceptable, 100% unacceptable.
I had originally asked my husband to marry me when we first started dating in the summer of 1991. We lived on Alabama Street in the 1900 St apartments. I was working 2 shifts on, one shift off for weeks straight and when I asked her to marry me, she said no. I knew she wasn’t into marriage to begin with, and I suspect subconsciously I knew she was starting to pull away so I probably felt that would help things.
Fast forward two months and we had broken up, then got back together six months after that. By this time we ended up living on Kulshan Street I believe, and she surprised me by asking me to marry her. I agreed immediately.
We decided we didn’t want a big marriage, we were just going to a judge with a few friends and family and get it done. Wolsey was an atheist (just coming out of new age stuff) while I was a weird mix of buddhist and catholic, but nether of us wanted a church wedding. We also didn’t want any sort of debt, we were poor and we both knew that her father and mother weren’t going to pay for it (and even if they did we wouldn’t accept the strings with it).
So fast forward to the day of our ceremony. We celebrate (and have since renewed our vows) our wedding day on Halloween. In 1992 unfortunately Halloween fell on a Saturday (much like this year), meaning we had to have a judge marry us on a very dark, wet, and stormy Friday. I was freaking out in my head. Not because I thought marrying that beautiful girl was bad, but I thought I was bad for her, and that honestly, I didn’t deserve any of it. She calmed me down and we proceeded.
We showed up with Wolsey’s family, my mother, siblings, our friend Aaron who was the best man. We showed up at the courtroom of Judge Ross, a man with a huge handlebar mustache. He quickly and dryly started going through the ceremony, it was probably the most anticlimatic ceremony you would ever see. That is until Judge Ross stared at the papers in front of him, stopped talking as he looked up at me and looked around the room.
We all sort of looked around confused when he asked me… IN MID CEREMONY… “Are you related to John Bradley?”
My mom froze, I froze, Wolsey froze and everyone else just looked confused. This is where the judge started talking about how he had issued a warrant for my father John Bradley’s arrest. I think this time it was about my dad beating the shit out of a couple officers when he was drunk, and not paying the fines. The bailiff looked around and I know they checked outside the door as well. This took a few minutes until it was clear my dad wasn’t here. He asked a couple of times if my dad was here or if we knew where he was.
Of course we said we didn’t know where he was, but the truth was my dad was waiting downstairs in the car. We all knew he had a warrant, but none of us imagined that Judge Ross would interrupt our marriage ceremony for that, especially if my dad wasn’t there.
After some more awkwardness, he continued the ceremony and we finished it off. It was both anti-climatic and very awkward. However to me, it didn’t matter, I was married to the most beautiful person in the world, and I was happy, but also freaked out even more than my wife was now stuck with me.
As a gift to us after the wedding, Wolsey’s parents took us to dinner at the Top of the Tower in Bellingham. For Bellingham it is considered one of the nicest restaurants in the county. My stress level was incredibly high at the moment, and when we stepped into the building that the restaurant was in, caught the elevator to the top of the building, and got out, I was fairly overwhelmed. I had never been to the dining side of a four-star restaurant. Not as a customer (I had worked as a dishwasher/prep cook at the Marina restaurant a couple years before, but never sat in a booth). Below are Wolsey’s parents Clark and Debbie.
To be honest, as someone who had been homeless with his family for years, and for many years before and after that we were evicted constantly, with our food mostly provided by food stamps, the whole aura of the restaurant was too much. I don’t think I talked too much as we sat down to have dinner.
To be honest I had fully disassociated at this point. At the time I never knew that people didn’t get out of body feelings when they were stressed, my life had been full of violence, alcoholism, homelessness and poverty. I thought it was normal. That happened here.
I don’t recall most of what we talked about over that dinner. I do however remember getting a check from Wolsey’s parents for $500. It was far more money than we had at the $4.25 an hour or so we made, also something we immediately used to pay bills.
We were sitting there and I do remember one clear thing. I got a black coffee placed in front of me, a small container of sugar, and a small ramekin filled with what I thought was whipped cream. I hesitated and was confused about why we got whipped cream with our coffee. At home we had milk and instant coffee, I had never heard of this… maybe it was a dessert coffee you get at the beginning of a meal?
Wolsey noticed my hesitation and squeezed my leg under the table. I don’t know if it was purely for reassurance of if she was trying to indicate what the whipped cream was for. That is when I saw her father watching me intently, he then reached over to his coffee, took a spoonful of what I thought was whipped cream, and put it in his coffee, thereby lightening it.
I noticed that Wolsey’s mother Debbie hesitated and looked confused when she saw Clark put what turned out to be creamer in his coffee. She asked him why did he use creamer, he NEVER uses creamer, he just sort of waved her off and said he wanted some tonight. She looked pretty confused.
I immediately followed suit and noticed he gave me the slightest nod of the head and a subtle smile as I used it. I was a little astonished that it was cream. I had never seen cream for coffee like this. I later found out that Wolsey’s dad doesn’t use creamer (and I remember something about it sometimes gives him migraines even). That is when we both realized Wolsey’s dad did that just to show me what it was, without embarressing me. There are a lot of issues (a whole lot) I have with that man, but I have to say I really appreciated that.
The meal itself I assume was good, but like most times when I am disassociated I don’t remember the exact details. Wolsey’s mom didn’t notice at all, but I think Clark did.
To be honest, the rest of this story is embarrassing for me, but I deserve to be embarrassed by it. I don’t remember 100% of the details as I don’t think I ever really came back to myself that night. That disassociation or weird emotional space however IS NOT AN EXCUSE, it is just so you can understand me a little better.
We eventually got back to our new apartment on Bennett street. By this time Wolsey was feeling sick, her nose had started running and she was feeling ill. I think for the first couple of minutes I tried reassuring her a little, but it was too little for what I should have done, and far too short of a time I gave her my attention.
Instead of being fully supportive like any real human would have done, I was frustrated and vented about our wedding night being destroyed because she got sick. I was one hundred percent inappropriate, and while the details are scattered for me, I know I yelled at her and became even more frustrated that we couldn’t be intimate on our wedding night. Yes, I had fully become that privileged guy with “expectations”.
I was an absolute shithead about it. I do remember bits of her crying, and of me just getting angrier. I had a lot of rage, most of it I suspect was from other things that I constantly buried. None of it was because of anything she had done. For whatever asshole and monstrous reason inside me though, I let that rage and anger out and I know I yelled at her, made her cry, I was unreasonable on every level (I have never hit my spouse, but I pretty much was abusive in every other way that night). Most of the detail of this part of the night is gone for me, I don’t think I ever remembered specifically my lashing out, but I do remember bits as if I was in a detached dream.
It was a strange detachment though. I was so angry, but it was an anger that seemed like it was outside of me. One that I knew I should bury, put out or hide it away, but I just shrugged and I didn’t do anything to really control it except I eventually told her off, slammed the door, and left the apartment. I ended up going to Bear’s, the local arcade with my friends. I don’t really know if they ever knew what happened, all I did was tell them she was sick.
Yep, that is the asshole in me, out at an arcade playing video games with my friends while my sick wife cried to herself in our bedroom on my wedding night. I feel vaguely guilty that I can’t remember more details to show truly what kind of asshole I was, but this is the best I can give you.
I am eternally shamed by that night. There are no excuses for it. I just wanted to talk about my wedding night, and I don’t feel I should ever leave out negative things about myself. I definitely won’t ever forgive myself for how I behaved on my wedding night.
I thought I would give a brief update of everything. I think it might be a lot of things so I will try and separate them out and address them in small paragraphs.
1. Home Hunting: Things are going pretty well. We put an offer on the good condo I mentioned in the prior post. It started at 80k. After we looked at it, it went down to 75k a few days later. After talking a bit, the wife and I decided to put an offer in for 70k plus they cover closing costs. The owner accepted after asking for 15 more days for bank approval and we pay two months of HoA fees instead of one. Considering they agreed to $2,500 more in closing costs for $257 more in HoA we were ok with that. The snag in all of this is that the condo is a short sale. So now Chase bank will take 2-3 months to decide if they will take it or if they will counter-offer. W really likes the home so I am willing to pay the list price. In the end even list price the condo, with HoA and taxes will be the same price as our current apartment, so if it works out its a win win.
2. Job: My new job is working out fairly well. The people are nice, and very patient. My only issues lie mostly in the fact that I have never been an “accountant” before so tossing me on the hardest fund as basically their full time analyst, plus giving me two other funds and two outside agency oversite is a little overwhelming. While my experience as an auditor and tax accountant has actually added a whole ton of things I bring to the accounting, I still have to dust off accounting techniques that were in school about 7 years ago. Two months down, I will know more in four months how I feel about accounting as opposed to auditing. Both have positives and negatives, we will see where the chips lie then.
3. Family: Things are doing ok, while it looks like my dad has lung cancer, it isn’t confirmed until his next appointment in January. I am going to do the best I can to avoid worrying about things. The wife is under a lot of stress with school, I feel like I haven’t seen her in months, and with the new job and new possible living situation my stress has probably made it hard for her to feel like I have been around.
4. Hobbies: I haven’t felt like doing much video game/web wise. I do have a ton of LP’s that I had wrapped up early that are scheduled and coming out fairly regularly. But strangely I really haven’t been playing much. I have been digging around the idea of drawing/writing again. I think I will start doing that, even if my content is usually fairly “adult” in nature. I want to get one group game going again, maybe that will get me out of this funk. I am thinking though it wont be a real space game, I am considering a google plus hangout game. I keep most of my stuff online anyways, and there are a lot more people available to play if I do it online.
5. Online: Finally my online habits are in the air. Currently I post a lot on Google Plus, and W and I have tumblr accounts (right now it just mirrors here). We have talked about shutting down most of our websites and using tumblr, but my problem is the lack of format capability with tumblr. So next week or so I have to figure out if I want to use tumblr sites or continue to use my domains. While originally I was considering tumblr only, I think I may keep a couple of domains open just so I can keep gaming campaigns going (and just have them repost to tumblr).
I am rambling now, so I will let you all go. I want to try and post more. I will post up W and I’s tumblrs in the next few posts.
One of the items about my wife and I’s relationship change is the possibility of children with another partner (from me, not her). I do not want children at all. I am turning 41 soon and I don’t want to be 60 or older going to my child’s graduation. My wife’s health and family pressures right now wouldn’t handle a child to the mix. Since this is an actual worry if I hooked up with someone else I felt I have a responsibility to ensure there are no accidents. So after talking for awhile I decided my most logical option is to get fixed.
So about two months ago I set up an appointment with Group Health to get fixed. It would require an initial appointment with the surgeon, then the actual date of the surgery. Of course, contrary to what people say about American healthcare, I had to wait almost two months to see someone. Eventually I was able to see my doctor, for sake of this journal let’s call her Doctor S.
The wife and I both went to this appointment (her feedback for this and opinion matter just as much as mine). We sat with Doctor S for about twenty minutes. Doctor S seemed unsure about giving me the procedure, especially since I don’t have kids. She kept pushing the fact that I might want children later. I in turn pushed back that I am almost 41 years old and I am happy not having kids. I haven’t felt any regret about children at all. Finally the wife convinced the Doctor to stop pushing for no-vasectomy. She did this by explaining to the doctor that the wife couldn’t afford to get accidently pregnant due to her medical condition. It is partially true, a hormone fluctuation like that could be devastating to the wife, of course she left out the part that she has been fixed since she was 22.
Once the doctor agreed to do the procedure, they set me up for the actual operation. It was three and a half weeks later (which was last Thursday). I have been a little stressed about this for several reasons, mostly the idea of a knife and my testicles doesn’t go well for me.
The day of the procedure I found I had put the wrong time of the appointment down. The wife and I ended up at the Group Health facility at 9am only to discover my appointment was at 2:30pm. I had already taken the valium (and was a little loopy). The office was nice, prescribed me a second valium for when I came back in and we went home. I should note here the wife was awesome. She drove me there and back and she hates driving. I felt so bad that she had done that.
We got the script, and waited around until Torie showed up (she was going to come over after the original procedure to be there for us). She ended up being here before the actual procedure and she agreed to take us down (the wife hates driving and after taking a second valium I was way too loopy).
We drove down and I was brought in fairly quickly. There was a medical assistant that I will name J. J took me back into my room. She was probably the most unfriendly of all MA’s I have met before. She really didn’t have much small talk and sort of ignored me. She had me climb on the table while Doc S came in the room. J disappeared for most of the procedure.
Now, they said there would be just mild discomfort. You know what…. THEY LIED!!!!. S gave me the lidocaine and I suspect she didn’t wait long enough. There wasn’t any actual pain as if she was cutting me open, but she ranked my balls harder then I have never had happen before. I thought I was going to cry. I could feel her cauterizing the tubes (it was a bizarre pressure, not actual pain, but the longer she kept the cauterizing on the more it was uncomfortable).
By the time she ended the procedure on my left testicle, I was really wondering if this was a mistake. She began on the right testicle, and there was very very little discomfort. This is why I suspect she didn’t wait long enough on the first testicle. The second one was mildly uncomfortable, but nothing bad.
S wrapped up. I watched as she took the tubing from inside my testicle and put it in sample jars. I hadn’t realized that the vas deferens (see wiki link here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vas_deferens) looks like rice a roni. It was strange, and just underlines how our bodies are machinery. I guess they keep the vas deferens to prove that they actually did it. I suppose its to protect them against lawsuits if they grow back.
S smiled at me (she had been warmer during the procedure then during our first visit) and said that J would be in to help clean me up. Mainly all of the iodine that had been used had coated my crotch (there was actually very little blood). So S left and J came in. All J did was toss some towels at me and drop off my script. She then rushed me out of the procedure room (I only had about a minute to try and wipe myself down).
I then limped my way out the procedure room, by myself to my waiting wife and Torie. The wife was wondering why the hell the nurse/MA hadn’t escorted me out as I was having trouble walking.
They then got me home (after a quick Dairy Queen stop) and I have spent the rest of the weekend moving around slowly. I am feeling fairly good and I have no regret for this procedure. I just wish that the medical group was more compassionate.
At least within the next couple of months, if something unexpected happens, I won’t have to worry about pregnancy (just STI’s).