I shaved this past weekend. Not a full shave yet, but still a shave to the point where I was dragging blades across my tender face. I really wasn’t planning to shave this soon into my transition (I’ve only been on testosterone for 6 weeks), but I didn’t have a choice, really. I was chatting with a coworker this past Friday and she happened to mention that she could see my mustache. At first, I thought it was pretty cool as it meant my T was definitely working! Yet then I thought back to the people I had conversations with earlier in the day (my boss, her boss, and others) and realized that I was mortified…what if they has seen my mustache too?! I then decided that the dark hair just had to go. Keep reading
Be “warned”—for better or for worse, this is one of my more jocular posts. I’ve been having a minor dilemma lately. About what, you ask? See the title of this post: eyebrows. Seemingly random, I know. But let me explain. Most people have these little patches of hairs above their eyes, and they’re considered a pretty mundane, normal, and necessary thing. I’ve always been a bit obsessive about my eyebrows, plucking here and there until I deemed no hair was out of place. They were never something I thought about in relation to transitioning, and once I decided to start transitioning, I started to try to butch them up a bit. You know, so they didn’t look quite like this anymore:
It wasn’t until my mom made a comment about my eyebrows a few months ago that I realized I probably needed to pay some attention to them during my transition. When I first came out to her with my decision to transition, I remember her clearly exclaiming over the phone, “But you have girl eyebrows!” I laughed and shook my head, surprised that that was what first popped into her head. As if I would look in the mirror, realize that I have “girl eyebrows” and think, “oh my god, I can’t transition now!” I figured that I would just let them grow into a less groomed, more manly state, and if the current shape of my eyebrows is one of my bigger transition-related concerns, then my transition will be a piece of cake. Keep reading
I love this image. I found it on a blog post that talks about ridding Facebook of homophobia (you can check out that cause here—I’m not affiliated with it in any way though). As simple as it is, it rung oh so true to me—kind of like a “duh!” moment—and probably does for all of the other LGBTQ folks out there. If only those who are homophobic and transphobic (and all other LGBTQ-phobics) could understand that, regardless of one’s sexual orientation or gender identity, we’re still people, perhaps this country and this world would be a nicer place. I don’t agree with bigots’ hate-speech (to put it lightly), but I still consider them human beings and would treat them accordingly. Is being treated as a person so much to ask for? (Clearly, yes.)
I’ve been gone for way too long, I know (well, for my liking anyway). I had full intentions to post at the end of last week about how coming out at work went, but obviously, I didn’t. I think work caught up with me, and then I wasn’t feeling too well, so it kind of fell by the wayside. Anyway, as the title of this post suggests, coming out went as smoothly as could be. Check out my video for updates on how my coworkers reacted to the news and my first month on T.
(The first 7 seconds are weird and I don’t know how to fix it…but it’s good after that)
It’s almost time for the coming out at work, and I’m getting more nervous by the hour, even though the first unveiling isn’t until tomorrow and the second on Thursday. Still, the more I think about it, the more I just want to throw up. I won’t be at the meeting on Wednesday since those staff are not really my direct coworkers, but I will be at the meeting on Thursday, and that’s the one I’m more nervous about. Not only do I have to see their faces when they hear the news, and deal with any possible responses or reactions, but I have to work with them and interact with them on a daily basis. So if this doesn’t go over well, it would suck. A lot. I have this crazy habit of working myself up in a tizzy before situations like this and envisioning how deadly awful they’ll be, but the reality is never even close. I’m sure breaking the news to my coworkers won’t be anything like what I’ve made it out to be in my head, but still, I’m scared. At least I know that I have the full support of the three people in the office who rank above me, which at times does considerably ease my anxiety. Keep reading