On Two Months
Aug. 8th, 2023 04:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scrubjayspeaks[CW for frank discussions of body changes, including menstruation and libido, and extensive talk of dysphoria. I'll be putting these updates fully under cuts, as they are less general interest on the topic of gender/transness and more "what do I personally have going on with my bits these days." Niche interest and all that.]
Face
Oh, safety razor, we’re really in it now. So, I shave every morning for work now. Great, fine, not a problem. The mustache still isn’t really there, though there is a more distinct shadow of it if I don’t shave for a couple days.
Which, okay, if I don’t have to go out over the weekend? Yeah, I’m not shaving those days. I realized on a Sunday that my three-day beard growth is...not insignificant. Which isn’t exactly news. This is more a question of degree. I have a very clearly defined--I guess it would qualify as a goatee if it grew out to any real length?
It’s...well, I’m not really sure how I feel about it. I’ve been excited for the possibility of growing a proper beard someday (logistical difficulties notwithstanding). But there’s this stage one can hit with these kinds of changes, where progress feels worse than where you started. It’s not a good goatee, is the problem. It gives me that monstrous, gender failure sort of dysphoria. Maybe when I see some more obvious fat redistribution and have a clearer jaw line, the facial hair will look more “right” on my face.
Voice
I am so tired of coughing and clearing my throat and spontaneously gagging because it’s suddenly so dry. Truly, vocal chord changes and allergies are an epic villain team-up. That being said, definitely dropping a bit. Got a bit of that raspy tranny voice going for me.
As I go about my day, I’ll make little noises to myself, humming and grunting and whatnot. And now, if I’m relaxed, those sounds come rattling down in the base of my throat, deep and open. I want more of that. A podcast tipped me off to Renée Yoxon, a trans vocal coach, so I’m going to look at what they have to offer.
Body Hair
I will not count my chest hairs, because that would be unhinged. But goddamn, I think there might be a few more of them. No one in my genetic background is what I would consider a bear, but maybe I can be the first. I wouldn’t mind.
Chest
Speaking of my chest, it was not a good month for top dysphoria. I can’t wait for the promised deflation that T is supposed to provide; anything that takes a little volume out of these things will be welcome.
Summer is not kind to pre-op tboys. It’s hard as hell to wear two very aggressive sports bras, an undershirt, and a heavy-weight t-shirt, then top all of that with a synthetic cleanroom jump suit. Yes, the workspace is climate controlled, but it’s been struggling with the 110-degree weather. Oh, and I wear a mask, for just that much less oxygen intake. I’m sweaty and panting and overheating all the goddamn time. All that, and I still can’t see anything except how large my chest looks to me when I catch my reflection.
Menstruation
Oh, fuck right off. I got five days of relief after my last normal period, followed by over TWO WEEKS of spotting leading to light bleeding. Almost the whole month, just sluggishly oozing blood like the necromancers didn’t reanimate me right. Ugh. And then! Another couple days of relief, only to launch right into another “normal” period, right on time.
I just keep reminding myself that this is how it went when the PCOS started up, with extended bleeding before the whole system shut off entirely. Gods, I can only hope. I’m not even dysphoric about periods, but for fuck’s sake, this is annoying as hell.
Junk
Nothing much new to report. Libido settled down a little, partly due to the endless bleeding, which hit just the level that kills my libido during a typical period anyway.
Energy and Strength
The nap impulse has eased off somewhat. Still feel like I’m lazing about, but that’s probably more weather-related than anything.
I happily discovered that my muscles are hard when I flex. Like, holy shit, how have I never noticed this before? My ass may be flat, but you could forge swords on it. I don’t attribute this to T--not at this early stage--but the general improved relationship with my body from transitioning allowed me to notice something already there.
I desperately want my arms to catch up. How can it be that I do heavy lifting every day, but it’s my ass and thighs that have the best muscle tone? Apparently, I really took those safe lifting technique videos to heart, and my lower body and core are doing most of the work when I move equipment.
Mental
Sad and lonely. I desperately want even one transmasc friend, with a million bonus points for them being local too. I just want some guy to be some guy around. What does that even mean? I don’t know! Willing to experiment to find out, though!
Also a little anxious/paranoid. As satisfying as it is to see these changes, it also kicks off a certain fight-or-flight response in me when I’m around other people. I’ve really been struggling with spiraling thoughts about eventual rejection by friends or coworkers. We’re hitting the “how will I find another job/career when it stops being safe to work where I am” level of panic, which is, to be rational, kind of making a lot of unfounded assumptions about the future.
I hate to end this on a sour note. I’m not actually unhappy with how things are going. It just definitely felt like one of those awkward in-between kind of months. Progress that hasn’t quite arrived at the destination yet, even if the destination would only be an early way station itself.
I realized something, though, while reading someone’s post about being five years on T. I started at 37, which means the five-year anniversary will be when I’m 42. As in, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is 42. That 42. Which is something that means a lot to me. So I decided I have a goal: I want to get top surgery by that year. It doesn’t have to be that year specifically. I just want, by age 42, to have the big rebuilding steps done. (We can work on the plumbing situation after that, if need be.)
Face
Oh, safety razor, we’re really in it now. So, I shave every morning for work now. Great, fine, not a problem. The mustache still isn’t really there, though there is a more distinct shadow of it if I don’t shave for a couple days.
Which, okay, if I don’t have to go out over the weekend? Yeah, I’m not shaving those days. I realized on a Sunday that my three-day beard growth is...not insignificant. Which isn’t exactly news. This is more a question of degree. I have a very clearly defined--I guess it would qualify as a goatee if it grew out to any real length?
It’s...well, I’m not really sure how I feel about it. I’ve been excited for the possibility of growing a proper beard someday (logistical difficulties notwithstanding). But there’s this stage one can hit with these kinds of changes, where progress feels worse than where you started. It’s not a good goatee, is the problem. It gives me that monstrous, gender failure sort of dysphoria. Maybe when I see some more obvious fat redistribution and have a clearer jaw line, the facial hair will look more “right” on my face.
Voice
I am so tired of coughing and clearing my throat and spontaneously gagging because it’s suddenly so dry. Truly, vocal chord changes and allergies are an epic villain team-up. That being said, definitely dropping a bit. Got a bit of that raspy tranny voice going for me.
As I go about my day, I’ll make little noises to myself, humming and grunting and whatnot. And now, if I’m relaxed, those sounds come rattling down in the base of my throat, deep and open. I want more of that. A podcast tipped me off to Renée Yoxon, a trans vocal coach, so I’m going to look at what they have to offer.
Body Hair
I will not count my chest hairs, because that would be unhinged. But goddamn, I think there might be a few more of them. No one in my genetic background is what I would consider a bear, but maybe I can be the first. I wouldn’t mind.
Chest
Speaking of my chest, it was not a good month for top dysphoria. I can’t wait for the promised deflation that T is supposed to provide; anything that takes a little volume out of these things will be welcome.
Summer is not kind to pre-op tboys. It’s hard as hell to wear two very aggressive sports bras, an undershirt, and a heavy-weight t-shirt, then top all of that with a synthetic cleanroom jump suit. Yes, the workspace is climate controlled, but it’s been struggling with the 110-degree weather. Oh, and I wear a mask, for just that much less oxygen intake. I’m sweaty and panting and overheating all the goddamn time. All that, and I still can’t see anything except how large my chest looks to me when I catch my reflection.
Menstruation
Oh, fuck right off. I got five days of relief after my last normal period, followed by over TWO WEEKS of spotting leading to light bleeding. Almost the whole month, just sluggishly oozing blood like the necromancers didn’t reanimate me right. Ugh. And then! Another couple days of relief, only to launch right into another “normal” period, right on time.
I just keep reminding myself that this is how it went when the PCOS started up, with extended bleeding before the whole system shut off entirely. Gods, I can only hope. I’m not even dysphoric about periods, but for fuck’s sake, this is annoying as hell.
Junk
Nothing much new to report. Libido settled down a little, partly due to the endless bleeding, which hit just the level that kills my libido during a typical period anyway.
Energy and Strength
The nap impulse has eased off somewhat. Still feel like I’m lazing about, but that’s probably more weather-related than anything.
I happily discovered that my muscles are hard when I flex. Like, holy shit, how have I never noticed this before? My ass may be flat, but you could forge swords on it. I don’t attribute this to T--not at this early stage--but the general improved relationship with my body from transitioning allowed me to notice something already there.
I desperately want my arms to catch up. How can it be that I do heavy lifting every day, but it’s my ass and thighs that have the best muscle tone? Apparently, I really took those safe lifting technique videos to heart, and my lower body and core are doing most of the work when I move equipment.
Mental
Sad and lonely. I desperately want even one transmasc friend, with a million bonus points for them being local too. I just want some guy to be some guy around. What does that even mean? I don’t know! Willing to experiment to find out, though!
Also a little anxious/paranoid. As satisfying as it is to see these changes, it also kicks off a certain fight-or-flight response in me when I’m around other people. I’ve really been struggling with spiraling thoughts about eventual rejection by friends or coworkers. We’re hitting the “how will I find another job/career when it stops being safe to work where I am” level of panic, which is, to be rational, kind of making a lot of unfounded assumptions about the future.
I hate to end this on a sour note. I’m not actually unhappy with how things are going. It just definitely felt like one of those awkward in-between kind of months. Progress that hasn’t quite arrived at the destination yet, even if the destination would only be an early way station itself.
I realized something, though, while reading someone’s post about being five years on T. I started at 37, which means the five-year anniversary will be when I’m 42. As in, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is 42. That 42. Which is something that means a lot to me. So I decided I have a goal: I want to get top surgery by that year. It doesn’t have to be that year specifically. I just want, by age 42, to have the big rebuilding steps done. (We can work on the plumbing situation after that, if need be.)
