Cellulitis

A newfound pain: addendum

Not that this is in any way, shape or form a surprise but... sheer tights are fragile. Like, super fragile. You so much as even look at them the wrong way and a run spontaneously appears!

This makes lace look positively durable in comparison...

Spironolactone

A friendly PSA:

If you take Spironolactone in tablet form and your doctor and / or the instructions indicate it should be taken with food, TAKE IT WITH FOOD.

Studies strongly indicate that absorption of the drug is significantly higher when accompanied by food.

(This message brought to you by me, a girl that completely ignored the giant instructions on my pill bottles and took her Spiro on an empty stomach for months on end.)

Signs I was obviously trans and I’m a f***ing idiot for not realizing it sooner #1

This is something I beat myself up a lot about: I knew, at age twelve, that I was different. At twenty-two, I was actively trying to bust out of the gender box. For a variety of reasons however, I kept it sealed for another fifteen years; an act for which I am deeply remorseful.

Hopefully I can diffuse my regrets - if even only a little - by noting, tongue-in-cheek, all the obvious signposts that I blew past on my way to the city of Obviously Not-Cisville.

To that end:

Somewhere around 2008-ish, I spent a lot of time in a particularly dark corner of the Internet; a site that has been aptly described as the “Mos Eisley Cantina of the online world”. A place that, paradoxically, was filled with the most socially malfeasant individuals, yet accepted all.

There was a board that had originally been dedicated to the subject of cross-dressing; but for obvious reasons was now home to a thriving transgender community. Equally understandably, a major topic of conversation was achieving certain transition goals - e.g. modifying one’s physical appearance - without professional medical guidance.

(Bluntly - DIY’ing hormones. I’m no going to judge anyone that goes this route; although there are legitimate safety concerns to be aware of.)

Anyhow, this is all a long-winded way of explaining why, when sorting through some backup files recently, I stumbled across three guides I had presciently saved from those days. In order: “Cute Boy Aesthetics; “How To Achieve ‘Trap-Mode’ Aesthetics”; and “How To Girl”.

But me? Pshhh! Totally not trans! 🙄

Another night terror

I had another terror episode last night. As with the previous episode, it was quite absurd in nature. I am mixed on whether this signifies a dearth of creativity on the anxiety-driven part of my brain, or that it is now entering some kind of postmodern phase.

Initially I dreamt that I was in my bed; and that it was nighttime, but there was just enough light to cast shadows. These shadows were sufficiently menacing (and there was a distinct impression that they were trying to resolve into the shape of people) that it became imperative that I extinguish all sources of light.

Enter into this scenario: an aquarium-themed night light (the same one that had kept my daughter company during her infant days). Not only was this thing on full brightness, but it had cunningly placed itself on my wife’s side of the bed - just out of reach.

That’s when my brain pressed the Adrenaline Dump button and I screamed awake.

Here’s the part that confuses me: I wasn’t terrified by the possibility that the night light would bring these Shadow People into being; I was terrified of the night light itself. Now how the hell does that work, brain?!

It’s bad enough I have these episodes. Could they at least be something genuinely scary?

A newfound pain

...Ruining a perfectly good item of clothing by accidentally sticking your thumb through the lacy part. I’ve done this twice now! Girl clothes are awesome; but definitely more delicate than I’m used to...

Bruises

Last night I got hit with the flashback stick, and spent most of what should have ostensibly been time in bed as time sleeping on the floor instead.

As a double whammy, I feel like both of my thighs are now bruised on the outside. This does not please me; not least of which because retreating to the floor has been a more common occurrence of late and that's bad enough without adding extra layers of physical discomfort on top of it...

Gardasil

During my last check-up, I got my first shot of the Gardasil HPV vaccine. The administering nurse did mention at the time that it would sting; and I say that she lied, it is only in the sense that the sensation was closer to what I would describe as a tremendously uncomfortable burning.

(I've accidentally achieved a similar effect when injecting my estradiol, by giving the alcohol I swab my skin with insufficient time to evaporate before inserting the needle.)

I did some research afterwards to see if there was an explanation as to why the vaccine had developed this reputation; the manufacturer indicated that the discomfort was the result of "Virus-like particles" in the vaccine content (which strikes me as a cop-out if ever there was one).

Today was my second shot; and playing a hunch, asked my nurse to try injecting the vaccine slowly. This was hardly a scientific test, but she kindly agreed and the injection experience was definitely more tolerable.

I am most certainly not medically trained; but I was instructed by my endocrinologist's office to administer my own estradiol and progesterone shots as slowly as possible. (My takeaway was that injecting a sizeable amount of fluid into a muscle at high speed causes unnecessary trauma to the surrounding tissue.)

Conversely, I've noticed that vaccine administration is usually done extremely quickly - I assume in part because the amount of fluid injected is much smaller; and also to minimize the length of the procedure. (You really don't want the patient to get restless and move while the needle is still inserted...)

It appears the Gardasil vaccine might utilize a larger amount of fluid; and a thicker medium, also. These things being true, I can see how rapidly injecting the stuff could be a lot more unpleasant versus most other vaccines.

So: if you're getting the shot for yourself, or for your loved ones - maybe ask the administrator to go slowly?

Dresses

Each year my company celebrates Christmas with an all-employee dinner. I greatly enjoy socializing with my colleagues, but I’ve always found these events a bit overwhelming and have tried to dodge them where ever possible.

Not this year however! I am out, and very much planned to celebrate in style... Which, of course, did not happen (what with there being a very disruptive killer virus on the loose and all).

All the same, I bought myself a delightful Christmas dress - I was particularly smitten with the lacy sleeves. So imagine my confusion when it arrived, and instead of getting the dress on the left:

...I received the one on the right (sans sleeves).

Two months later, I realize that these are in fact two entirely different dresses and that I had mistakenly ordered the second one on the insane assumption that the brand only carried the one sangria-colored number.

I... am not a smart girl.

Delightfully, they still had the original dress in stock (and only in my size to boot); so I have one winging it’s way to me now!

Dancing

I did not dance in in my past life. At various points I was cajoled into the act, which resulted in a display lacking any kind of gracefulness or aesthetic pleasure.

I played a lot of Dance Dance Revolution, which I love dearly but resembles actual dancing in much the same way that Jazzercise resembles actual jazz.

Post-HRT, I found myself spontaneously dancing; while enjoyable for me however, I doubt the end result was particularly enjoyable for anyone else.

Recently my spouse has made a point of impromptu slow-dancing with me. This is not a new thing per se; but they have very sagely opted to start taking the lead.

That’s how I found myself this afternoon, hand in hers, eyes closed. It was then that I experienced what I can only describe as a profound moment of rightness, and I was so overcome that I burst into tears and was rendered speechless.

I can’t stop thinking about it. For one, singular moment, I didn’t feel like a work in progress; or an imposter; or a woman with an asterisk over her gender. I felt like a girl; the girl I always had been and will be.

I look forward to more moments like this!

Thanks to @cronnissar for tagging me in!

Eggs: Poached when in a breakfast sandwich / over Eggs Benedict; white omelette with Swiss cheese if I’m being good; fried¹ if I’m not.

Steak: My sympathies to the well-done folks (a preference frequently born of poverty); but medium-rare is objectively the right way to go.

Milk: For drinking, almond milk (preferentially with honey, over ice). Skimmed milk for everything else².

Alcohol: Oban 14, chilled³.

Warm drink: So, so much coffee. So much. (Although green tea is also good!)

¹ The closest US equivalent would be ‘over hard’; although Americans like to smash the yolks and / or move the eggs off of heat before the edges are crisp.

² I know that full-fat milk is considered superior in taste; but I was raised on skimmed, and reacclimatizing my taste buds is, alas, not a priority.

³ Do not mistake my choice as proof of a sophisticated palate; Oban is in a drinking polycule with Bailey’s and Jose Cuervo.