Sunday, April 23, 2006

This Body

This body of mine... I seem to get on better with it at times, worse at other times. After my show, I seemed to embrace my body more. Being half naked in front of an audience brought me some peace. But now summer weather makes it hotter under all of my layers. And I watch the ease with which boys navigate the heat...

A friend of ours visited for the weekend -- an adorable gay man we've known for years -- and he felt comfortable enough with us to roam our apartment in his briefs and T-shirt (as he should have). But out of the corner of my eye I saw his chest -- that there were not five layers between his chest and his T-shirt -- and there was something in his shorts that I did not have. What's the big deal? All bodies are different after all. But I look at my body and it's not the right one. Everrything is so complicated! I have all these frickin layers I have to wear, and I don't have the right parts down there, and I have a sex drive and I want to have sex, but then it's such a production -- am I strapped in, is the harness on, is the dildo in place -- I mean how spontaneous is that, really? I look down and see this body and all the time I spend exercising it, and doing yoga, and eating right, and IT'S NOT FAIR. And yeah, poor me, wah-wah, what's the point of complaining. If I hadn't had this body, I probably never would have met E. in the first place, so I should be grateful.

But it also makes me feel like a failure.

(I need to work on my attitude.)


It's like a monster that rears its head all of a sudden. I have been jealouos before, in small doses, and always aware that I am being irrational. But it is heightened now, severe, and comes in flashes. All of a sudden I think of E. with someone else, anyone else, our sweet gay-boy friend, and it's as if the floor has dropped out. In the end, it's about fear -- fearing the loss of her from my life -- and it's completely irrational. I see it, know it, and wonder why I'm being so retarded, and yet it brings tears to my eyes. In the end, the fear of infidelity is the fear of loss. The fear that she will no longer love me, will no longer want me, will someday leave me. These are fears I had like little pebbles in my shoe before, and now they are small, sporadic boulders. Can T really do that?

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Shoot Quickly

No, I don't mean THAT. I mean the quicker and more decisively I stick the needle in my leg, the more painless the shot is.

Porn Addiction

I ran into a buddy of mine last week, and jokingly I mentioned my porn addiction. His reply: "Thank you for saying that!" as he put his arm on my shoulder and hung his head in... shame? Embarrassment? As a fellow feminist, I can see why he might be reluctant to admit his preoccupation with porn, but as an amateur sexologist, I urge an end to the shame!

In truth, there is a much longer article on pornography that I would like to write, but in the time I have right now, let me just say a few things about the addiction so others might realize that they are not alone:

The worst part about it is that it is like an addiction, in that I often need my "fix." And as someone who watched porn sporadically before the T, my porn habits have changed a bit: I used to watch almost exclusively gay male porn, and I now watch as much if not more straight porn. (As I will get into later, though, I think this has more to do with how the scenes are staged and performed, than it does with their actual sexual orientation; also, it is to be noted that there is so much "anal" straight porn available these days, I have to wonder about the closeted nature of the "straight" men watching these videos.) And along with the porn -- for it is not an end in itself -- is the desire/need/obligation to masturbate multiple times per day, sometimes as many as four, sometimes as few as one.

Can I just say, I have a renewed sense of sympathy for teenage boys who are discovering their sexuality for the first time. At least this is my second time, and I'm adult enough to understand what is happening, and hopeful that eventually it will reach a plateau and jerking-off once a day will be enough.

But for those who watch porn, like me, and have discovered the free movie clips sites (it's like finding free cigarettes), there's a lot of unusual fetishes out there, but I would argue that the most important thing in porn, just like in movies, is the sense that these are not actors but people, and that we are watching them do something for the first time, not for the hundredth. And along with that, that they are enjoying what they are doing (various and sundry sexual acts), and not merely getting paid to do it.

I could go on. Perhaps later.

I think porn can be used as a sexual tool, but should be avoided as an addiction. I don't know how my new T-influenced sexuality would respond to softporn -- I'll have to do some research...

Tuesday, April 18, 2006


I'm fuzzy-faced and may need to start trimming soon. I have a new muscle on either side just above my pelvis bone -- an "oblique," maybe? I have no idea, but I like it. However, my overriding emotion at the moment is one of frustration and I have no idea if my feelings are justified or not, so I need to go ponder them, write about them, etc. I'm also due for my shot today.

I'm considering whether to reduce my dose to 3/4mL instead of 1 mL. I haven't decided.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Week 9

I got my shot last week at the clinic -- I wanted to make sure I was doing everything right. The nurse advised me that if I do it faster, it'll hurt less. I massaged it afterwards, and later that night put a heating pad on it. I wasn't that sore this week. Maybe I'm getting used to them.

I also saw my parents for the first time since I started the shots. Not a word was said on either side about it. No one mentioned that I have chin hairs and my voice is deeper. Ahh, the safety of denial. But that's okay, because it was nice to see them and have it be just about us spending time together, not about my squeaky voice. Interestingly enough, I talked to my mom a few days later and she asked me what I was using to make myself "flat" because she knows I "don't want to look like a girl" but she was worried I was maybe "damaging the tissue." It was actually quite sweet. I replied that I'm careful and use a surgical binder -- a certain fallacy here, since it still might not be great for my breast tissue -- and she replied that there might be a certain (large-breasted) family member who could use one of those. I thought that was hilarious.

I have to say, my mom, though not accepting, has been pretty great so far. And I have to admit, aside from E., my mom is probably the other big love affair of my life. I love her a lot, and I fear losing her love. But she's my mom, and by now, maybe I should acknowledge that my mom will never stop loving me no matter what I throw at her. Even if she can't stand being around me, she'll still love me. She can't not.

Moving on: I've been craving hamburgers and beer. And I want to eat what I want to eat when I want to eat it! I'm getting a bit annoyed at my low-carb lifestyle. But. I like the way it makes me look and feel. So. Tough decision. Instant Gratification versus Timeless Vanity.

Still having a bit of a porn obsession. Straight porn, which usually appalls me, has been a bit less appalling lately. Hmph. And E. and I have been having more sex, which I think is a direct result of both of us feeling happier, and more content. I'm thrilled. Also, my clitoris is bigger, and I like to think that I now have a very, very tiny penis. All women do, really. And all men have giant clits. And everyone in between has in-betweens.

I'm trying to decide between an electric razor and a regular one for my chin hairs. But I think I might need to trim some of these soon.

I've been told I should write more personal stuff. Now that the initial excitement 0f the T is wearing off, it's time to maybe to write about life, instead of just hormonal fluctuations. But on the other hand, I have to ask myself what the purpose of this blog is? I started it to keep people abreast of my T-ransformations, and to keep a record of them for myself and other transmen.

Also, in response to a transman who asked me for a picture of myself: Though the T has changed some of my muscle definition, I am not all of a sudden "ripped." I am still me, but subtle changes in my musculature have taken place, and E. has been the one to notice them most. And of course, the weight training and yoga have probably been the biggest causes of that.

Monday, April 03, 2006

8 Weeks

I get my fifth shot tomorrow. And I see my parents that afternoon. It's gonna be a crazy day.

My show went amazingly well. I think I put important theater in the world, both about relationships, and about gender. I'm proud of myself and my team.

I had a friend write to me and tell me to write personal anecdotes, too, not just about hormone side-effects, so here you go, R.:

I'm having recurrent, troublesome thoughts. On Saturday night I went out drinking with some friends after my show, and as usually happens, talk inevitably circles around to sex. And I'm glad it does; people don't talk about sex enough, and they should, and comfortably, so it will stop being so taboo. Anyway, as someone who is sexual (and not heterosexual), sex with men has made much more sense since I understood myself to be a transman. However, I have never willingly had sex with a man, and I would like to at some point in my life. E. knows this, and in fact, has said it would be okay with her (our rule is only that we must always talk about these things as they arise, preferably before any action has been taken). The other sexual experience I would like to have with a man (besides, as I just said, to be a top to some gay-man's bottom), is to know what it would be like to have a penis, to masturbate with it, to know what it would feel like in my hand if it were mine. I'd like to have a guy friend, who I trusted, with whom I could explore, whose penis I could touch, from softness to hardness, to see how it worked, how it felt. Maybe this would be frustrating -- to have this experience and then to go home and not have one -- but I want to know.

So here we are, Saturday night in a bar with two-dollar beers, and one friend, C., begins to pimp off her good friend onto me: "He'd let you fuck him in the ass." I was flattered. My other friend -- bless her heart, offered up her own boyfriend, who is also a good friend of mine, not for sex (cause we're both tops), but for my edification and experience. I'm leaving for the summer, and I realized to myself, "Wow, that would be in the next two months, if we did that..."

Okay, next morning, early, E. leaves for D.C. I'm tired, dehydrated, and have lost an hour on daylight savings time. I have this dream: E. comes home and tells me, as casually as she tells me what she had for lunch, that she had sex with a couple. In the dream I try so hard not to freak out, but I'm freaking out. Then she tells me that she shouldn't have told me, and she leaves. And I'm still freaking out.

Okay, so I wake up, call E. right away, tell her about my dream, and she says what she always says: "Dream-me and real-me are not the same." I know, I know, but I'm shaken anyway.

(Yyes, yes, clearly, my intoxicated conversation is related to my dream.)

Anyway, I begin to think why would it bother me so much? Is it the sex? Am I possessive of her affections? Why should I feel so threatened? Is it the casual nature in which she told me? Is it that it's so out of character for E., and that in itself was frightening? Did I think I was losing her? As I thought about this for the next two days, both in terms of the dream, and in terms of what would happen if it were real life, I found that thinking about it made me feel such a visceral sensation, it's hard to describe: like being punched in the solar-plexes, like having all the air sucked instantaniously out of my lungs, like a pain in my soul; it's completely frightening.

In the dream, I think that telling me in such a casual way, and that it came out of the blue and is out of character for E. is indicative that I might be losing her, and so the fear and panic are justified. But I think that if E. ever did want to be intimate with another person, and it didn't mean our relationship was having problems, then I want to be the kind of person who would be okay with that. Am I? And if not, how do I become that person?

I want my love to be pure; I want it to be about giving, not about needing. And yes, love is one thing, and relationships are another. But I still want to be the kind of person who can say, "Yes, go do what you need to do, and I will be here waiting when you get back." She has no desire to do these things now, but I'm troubled that I might not be okay with that. That's not who I want to be.

And, clearly, this is also related to my wanting to have sex with a man someday, and being worried that it might put my relationship in danger, even though E. and I have already talked about it. I think because my love for her is the closest thing to my love for God, and so it's the most beautiful physical manifestation of love that I am able to experience on this planet, in this body, in this life so far, the thought of losing it scares the shit out of me. But like with my transition, the thought of not being true to myself also scares me, and I never want to have to choose between the two.

Anyway, after talking to E. on the phone -- she's still in D.C. -- I feel better. She had ideas about the dream that I hadn't thought of, and just to hear her voice was to feel less crazy about it all. And we'll have to talk about it more, but her concern with exploring a man's body (to find out what my own might have been like) is whether or not I'd be okay afterwards. (I've not had the best experiences with men in the past.) She loves me that much. How could I ever worry that she would stop loving me or that she'd leave me? But I do. Such is my childhood, such is the nature of our entertainment and media culture that 99% of movies are about falling in love, or about break-ups, but rarely about a love that endures.

And also, such is how much of the world views God -- as a being who takes away love and punishes -- and so it's how we see each other in our relationships. But I don't believe that about God. God is my best friend and loves me no matter what. And my love with E. is similar in that I love her no matter what. And so can I not believe that she loves me no matter what? Can I not move past the scars of my childhood?

There is another aspect to sex, though, which creates a double-standard, worth mentioning. When I think of what it would be like to have casual sex with a woman, I think it is about giving something to them, a sense that they are special, that they deserve to be treated well, that they should believe themselves to be sexy, and also, I never let them touch me. Not at all. It took E. two months to gain access to my body. It's who I am. I am never physically vulnerable in that way. But when I think of E. having sex with another, I think of her being vulnerable to someone else. That's hard for me to stomach. If she's not vulnerable to the other person, the idea seems dramatically less upsetting. I think that's interesting to ponder, and how vulnerability is integral to relationships.

Now when I think of casual sex with a man, I think of a few things: I think I would like to be a top, and penetrate a man that way, at least once in my life; I also think about being in a bar, pinning a guy up against the wall, shoving my hand down his pants, and jerking him off. Why? I'm not sure. It might be the power of it. (No kissing, mind you.) And I also wonder, once in a while, what it would be like to give a man oral sex. This thought feels dangerous, like maybe it would be traumatic for me to do that. Maybe I would hate it. Maybe I would throw up. But there's power in it as well. And I also wish I had a penis so that I could really feel what it's like to get fellatio. I also watch a lot of gay porn, so I might be influenced by that to some degree.

Okay, that was a lot to talk about at once, and clearly there are many complications and tangents that I've left out.


Saturday, April 01, 2006

A Good Quote

My therapist asks me sometimes, "What's the big deal? What if they (my family and others) do call you 'she' instead of 'he'?" It's hard to answer that sometimes. I feel the anser in my gut, my brain can't always formulate the words. I found some words:

"What did a slave know that we didn't? To give yourself a name is power. They will try to give you a name and tell you who you are and try to make you into something else, and that is slavery. And to say, I Am This-- that was freedom." (Colson Whitehead, Apex Hides the Hurt)