Sleeping Arrangements: Addendum 2

More good things

Last night, for the fourth time in as many weeks, I was able to provide a compassionate ear for someone that desperately needed to be heard.

Now more than ever, the world needs kindness; and I’m so glad that I was able to make my own small contribution in this regard.

Bras are tricky!

I have one traditional strappy, claspy bra; and everything else is a padded bralette (effectively a comfy, casual running bra).

The reason I have only the one strappy bra right now is because the aforesaid straps keep falling down; and the reason the straps keep falling down is because my band is too tight. The band is too tight as, generally speaking, women with A-cup breasts rarely have a 40″ chest.

Unfortunately for me, I am an outlier in that - unlike many women - I spent a number of years accumulating visceral fat in my torso under the influence of testosterone (contributing to its unusual size); and then decided to instigate a second puberty late in life (and hence, I have two girls that are still in their initial growth phase and will be for quite some time).

(I’m not an expert, but I think most women take a more direct route when it comes to puberty.)

It’s not the end of the world by any stretch; and with time, my proportions will fall more into line with female standards (even if I’m never going to have, say, an overly girlish skeletal structure)! As with so many other transition-related matters however; the challenge is in the wait.

In the meantime, I’m just gonna keep fixing my straps throughout the day!

Recital

Eight weeks ago I had my first singing recital. As I have previously documented, I have been working uphill against the effects of a past cold; which have interfered heavily in my ability to sing. I then proceeding to catch yet another cold, which incited a flare-up of symptoms.

On the other side - I am, factually-speaking, a baritone; trying to sing like an alto. It's challenging in the extreme.

Every day of the week, any time the opportunity has presented itself, I've been practicing. I didn't feel confident per se; but I was a lot better of for doing so than where I started.

I was singing a version of "You Are My Sunshine", which is a song I learned from my spouse and one that holds great personal significance. There are three verses; the last of which contains a particularly high note. This had been the focus of much of my practice.

We arrived, my spouse and I, at the venue - a local church. My instructor was there to meet me, along with two teenage students - one obviously rather shy; the other bubbly. We did some warm-up exercises in a side room and wished each other good luck.

the student body of my music school is mostly kids; and so the recital was a fairly low-stakes affair - lots of beginners, stumbling along as best as they could. The audience of friends and family members were all very polite, and applauded each performer in turn.

Shy Girl acquitted herself well. Bubbly Girl rendered "Hallelujah"; spectacularly so. And then it was my turn.

There is anecdotal evidence suggesting that many MtF individuals experience issues processing their emotions; and that HRT resolves this problem.

This was certainly the case for me. An interesting offshoot of this is, in my prior life, I suffered little to no anxiety when it came to public speaking. The idea of stage fright was foreign to me.

I have spoken previously about a coming-out presentation I gave at my workplace. I did not mention how incredibly and uncharacteristically nervous I was at the time.

Likewise, I found my heart racing as I stepped onto the stage. I tried to slow my breathing, to no avail. My instructor began cued me in on the piano; and I began to sing. The first verse went well; the second was okay. The third, I hit the high note; but silently cursed as I forgot to breathe and effectively ran out of air moving into the next line.

The audience stared back, and there was a pause; and then they very politely clapped. It felt performative.

I returned to my seat, and tried desperately to hold back tears as the last few performers finished out their own pieces. The recital ended; we talked to my instructor for a few moments, and one of the staff told me "You did great!" on the way out.

We went home. I immediately went to the bedroom, closed the door, and sat in the void between the wall and bed that serves as my nest of safety. Despite my better judgement, I looked up the show's live stream and fast-forwarded to my song.

It was heartbreaking. My barrelled torso and broad shoulders were bursting out of my flower-pattern dress; my feet were planted far too firmly apart. I could hear the chest resonance in my voice and worst of all, the high note was wildly off-key.

I didn't see Lauren. I saw Lawrence.

I cried for an hour; big, heaving, sobs. And then I called my friend and talked to her for a while. It helped; but the damage was done.

There was a singing lesson scheduled the following week, with a very nice substitute. I explained that I wasn't able to sing, and played the piano instead. She was kind. Afterwards I spoke with the school's owner, and asked him to take down the recording of the show.

I'm glad that I participated in the recital. I am. I put myself out there for all the world to see, despite the overwhelming terror of doing so. I might not be the singer I want to be, and I might not pass to the extent I wish I did; but no-one can doubt my courage.

There is a positive coda in all of this. When I did chance to reconnect with my instructor again, she had a message to convey from bubbly girl. She wanted to ask the "Sunshine Girl" where she had found her beautiful dress.

Periscope tail

Our kitten likes to play a game where she runs away and then slowly sneaks up on the person she ran away from. I struggled at first to tell this apart from regular skittishness until my wife pointed out the difference - when we're playing, her tail sticks up like a periscope.

It's so cute - she'll go flying down the hallway but with happy tail! Then there will be some meowing, and the sneaking begins...

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!

️ Seventeen years, with many more to come! ❤️

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO MY WIFE! SEVENTEEN YEARS MARRIED AND COUNTING!!!

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.

I am absolutely astonished that someone else knows this song; let alone in the year 2024!

(That bass line! The audacity to rhyme ‘empire’ with ‘vampire’ in a mock-Transylvanian accent! Absolutely spectacular on all fronts; 10/10, no notes!)

Song of the day is Bloodsucker by Paralyzed age teehee

I'm looking through the notes; and predictably, there are a small number of posters acting as if the introduction of a canonically female Custodian character heralds the end of civilization as we know it.

Others have responded in-depth to their arguments regarding established lore (and the marketing decisions that precipitated said lore); so I will forgo doing the same.

Rather, I would like to focus on this particular sentiment:

"Retroactively changing lore is a surefire way to alienate long-term members of the fandom."

I'm a very long-term member of the fandom. I grew up near Games Workshop's headquarters, and made regular trips to their stores at the height of the Rogue Trader era. I have Jes Goodwin's signature on my Games Day program; and my artwork has been published in White Dwarf.

I'm not going anywhere.

For one thing: this is a storm in a teacup. There is no actual retcon here; for there was no prior prohibition on female Custodians. What we are witnessing is the exploration of a hitherto undocumented narrative space.

(Firstborn vs. Primaris Space Marines? Now that's a retcon!)

For another: it did not take long to determine that the handful of posters leading the charge against canonically female Custodes are also Americans with conservative-aligned views.

As you might imagine, it took some years for Games Workshop - a niche British company - to penetrate the US market. It is certainly not impossible that some of these people might own a cherished copy of the Rogue Trader Compendium; statistically, however, the odds are not in their favor.

I therefore question their qualifications for speaking on behalf of long-term members of the fandom.

It has also been my observation, interacting with American conservatives, they they frequently presume that their views are indicative of the majority.

(One could infer this not to be the case, given that Games Workshop opted to introduce a female Custodian in the first place; which is precisely why these same posters are quick to hand-wave this choice as pandering to the unsavory mob du jour (in this particular instance, 'gentrified lore tourists'.))

To end as I began: these posters are a vocal minority; but they must cast themselves as heroes, staying the hands of giants, less they perceive themselves as madmen, tilting at the windmills of progress.

Per Games Workshop:

You will not be missed.

YESSSSSS. UPFRONT CONFIRMATION

Ah, the Custodes superiority continues

Joe

Once a week, I meet with my guitar instructor; and will usually arrive as he's finishing up with the previous student. The latter happens to be an incredibly sweet, cheerful, older fellow by the name of Joe; and I always enjoy our little interactions.

Today, Joe addressed me as "Young miss"; and while the accuracy of this statement might be disputed on both the first point (I wish I was still young!) and the second (in as much as I'm married), the sentiment was nonetheless greatly appreciated, and a highlight of my day!