Stalled Out

My transition has stalled again. Not chemically, thank god, but in everything but hormones I am standing still. My biggest problem is that I need to learn to dress myself again, and this time I’m super self-concious and am surrounded by people whodon’tlook like an explosion at a thrift store.

I can’t buy girlclothes. I have done it a couple times, and that seems to be all I can do. I will get something, think I like it, and then after a few weeks or even days I hate it and never want to see it again. The problem is I’m hideous, and the clothes emphasize that. I have this magic ability to pick out crap and think it is gold. So now I’m not brave enough to buy clothes anymore. I don’t know what to buy, or where. I am terrified of picking through clothes alone. I can’t take the stares anymore. I feel like such a wimp for being cowed by a few dirty looks, but it really does wear me down.  

I try to ask for help from my friends, and they always ask that same fucking question: “Well, what do you like?”


God DAMNIT when I ask for help, when I say I don’t know what to wear, I mean that I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR. Not, I don’t know what to wear out of a set of options that I have previously winnowed in accordance to my proven tastes. But literally, I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR. I don’t know if this goes with that, or if that complements my body type or makes me look even worse than I normally do. I’m not asking for the ball to be thrown back at me.

I ask, and I ask, and I ask and nobody will help me. They all just ask me what I like. You know what I like? To not look like a pathetic monster. That’s what I like. Help me find that. I don’t fucking know what I’m looking for beyond that, that’s why I’m asking.

I am such a disgusting freak. I will never pass. I am scared to work on my voice because it won’t help. I’ll just make myself sound pathetic, too.

I don’t wear my skirt much anymore, because I look disgusting in it. I don’t use the boy’s room at work, though, because I’m scared to go back. So now I’m getting really good at trying to be unnoticed in the women’s room at work.


Enormously Flattered

A blogger whose work I follow closely has nominated me for a blog award: The One Lovely Blog award.

Problem: I cannot accept this award. The rules of the award state that I have to nominate 15 other blogs as part of the accceptance. I do not follow 15 other blogs.

So, anonymous ginger gal with beautiful prose from the UK, while I deeply and humbly thank you for your high opinion of me–and seriously, even though I don’t follow many blogs, yours is easily one of my favorites– I cannot accept the cute little badge that comes with it.

But hey, if you have any other flattering awards for me to turn down, please don’t hesitate.


My employers have decided that I need to repeat training that I’ve already done twice. They have not stated a reason why. I’m not being singled out; we all have to do this. The training classes always fall on Wednesdays and Thursdays, which eats half of my weekend. Then we’re scheduled to work Monday to Friday the following week in a training creche called A Bay, which kills the entire weekend for that week.

They scheduled me to work 13 days straight, and nobody noticed until I made a stink. Now I’m getting lukewarm assurances that they’ll be able to find some days off for me somewhere…sometime. The last time this happened, they assured me that I could request days off in the vacation request system and that I’d get the half of a weekend back and then they turned around and denied my vacation time request.

This is the third time this has happened to me. Last time they offered training, I simply refused to show up at the training and I didn’t get to join the specalist team I wanted to. This time they’re not taking no for an answer.

I have to say I resent the hell out of this. I resent how they treat my time as their own, and act like throwing me a few days off, you know, whenever it’s convinenent for them, means they’re doing right by me. Like maybe I should be grateful.

Well I’m not grateful. I don’t want just any days off, don’t want the ones they can spare, if they feel like it. I want my days off. The ones I scheduled things for. I have things that really mean a hell of a lot of me scheduled on those days, and the knock-on effect of missing them will destroy my whole month. They notice at which I am informed of these schedule changes is far too short for me to re-schedule anything, and some things can’t be rescheduled.

My employers seem to think that they are entitled to any time of mine that they wish to take, not just a specifically agreed upon set of 40, but in fact all of them, to be taken at any time of their choosing. They’ll “give” me a day off, as if it was theirs to give, not mine to keep.

We did a shift bid recently, where everybody asks for the shift they want. I accepted that, for purposes of logistics, I had to ask and accept that I might not get what I wanted. But in the end, a schedule was set, and as far as I’m concerned we made an agreement: I would work a particular shift for them, and they would pay me for it. I did not agree to be permanently on call, which is what they are acting like.

If they had asked if I wanted the training, or offered me a training schedule that didn’t negatively impact my life, that would be different. If they gave me a choice, I wouldn’t mind at all.

I wasn’t given a choice. I was given notice that the month of June was being taken from me.

For the first time I am seriously considering qutting this job. I don’t know where I would go or what I would do, but this really, deeply offends me.

Hormones seem to be working again

I’m getting choked up at work over the facts of life that I live with every day. So, yeah, I guess my emotions are coming back again. Hooray! I’d rather be in pain than numb, or at least not numb in the way I was. My nipples are sore and achy, too! ^_^

I got my new health insurance card in the mail yesterday. Tomorrow I’m going to (finally) set up an endo appointment and we’ll be back on track! Maybe this time I’ll be able to feminize for more than three months at a time before something goes wrong.

Fragile days may return, but it’s a small price to pay. It’ll make power leveling harder, too, but that just makes it more hardcore.

My head feels clearer and better than it has in what feels like weeks, although I can’t know for sure since time is funny when my hormones are wrong.

My posts, I feel, are becoming disjointed. That’s because my only time to write here is the short breaks between calls at work. My home writing time is reserved for my book, unless I have something truly urgent to say. The book, by the way is coming wonderfully.

I hope to be offically back on track soon.