The Gender Tourist

So for about a week  have been sporting this temporary body art on my right forearm: and I have been exuberant that I am literally wearing the words of my heart on my sleeve so to speak. I was proud to show it off at Ventura PRIDE, and around the hotel, and everywhere else I went. I got a few comments on it and a few even said they liked it enough to get one themselves. I believe the sentiment, I really do; and I have felt like I am living up to it - or was, until today. So at work, around my homo-and-transphobic, sexist, bigoted, and otherwise abusive boss, I have covered it for the past 3 days with long sleeves (which felt like a cop-out in the first place as I talk about being brave and bold and all). But today I washed my hands and forgot to put my sleeves back down before going back into the office. "That's a mighty interesting choice of words for your tat, there" he said. I was of course shocked by my error and the inquisitive statement. I had to think f

The chemical stench assaults her nose and makes her head dizzy. It burns her eyes - The crimson flows into the cotton and drips like the blood of her spirit into the wastebasket; it stains her fingers with each wipe. She does not cry chemical tears though, these tears are real; as one color of her youthful spirit's hopeful abandon disappears from these fingertips. Tomorrow she goes to work in the world of non-believers; in the world of hate and judgement born of ignorance. But Allie IS real - she is still here but must hide to survive, to earn her living, to maintain her medical access. It's no small sacrifice to shed this appropriately symbolic 'blood' off her fingernails to exist stealthily another day, concealed within business casual and false bravado. It's a bigger sacrifice of spirit though. The tears have dried on the outside at least; Her inner strength is fierce, and real.

So a short time ago I went to my first PRIDE festival and had a great time. It was so wonderful to be out, among friends, and at an event that celebrates (among a multitude of other goodness) the spirit of who I have been learning to be proud of. Then as a matter of fortunate timing and newly acquired brevity on my part, I ventured to my second PRIDE festival in my own hometown, and again it was amazing. I met some people, hung out with friends, and secretly hoped I was outing myself to at least one coworker and possibly meeting that disclosure at work head on if it was to be my fate. Now, almost on a lark I am here preparing to attend Ventura PRIDE 2017 in my favorite R+R destination. I am so excited. I plan to "own it" today; rocking a short denim skirt and beautiful lace top, while stomping around in my most absolutely favorite suede knee boots. I cant wait to meet who I will meet, dance (if I am able lol) and basically let my true self shine like the freakin

I awoke from a tormented dream this morning; In the dream I was taking a trip a long way from home and rushed through packing my bags. Then suddenly at the airport I realized that I hadn't packed any underwear. At first I was really upset upon realizing that I would have none of my favorite underthings and then I assuaged my distress with the realization that I could simply go shopping once I was at the destination and who doesn't love to go shopping, right? I still felt the aftereffects upon waking though, sort of a sense of uneasiness as is often the case after a nightmare. On reflection I don't think this dream was actually about clothing at all: I've had this question rattling around in my head lately - "What's the difference between simply being a crossdresser and being transgender?" I think I have been revisiting this question in my head because I intend to go for HRT sometime soon and I expect it will require some sort of clinical affirmation

I've been enjoying a somewhat break from the cyclical anxiety that I go through, most likely because work stress has almost been absent from my life for the past few weeks. I woke up this morning to the exception; an intense feeling of dread and thoughts racing in my head, again mostly centered around what I expect (or not knowing what to expect) upon my return to work after FMLA. I couldn't get out of bed for about an hour which is unusual for me; (That hasn't happened for a very very long time). I have an "as needed" prescription I could take but it tends to make me drowsy later in the day and I feel like there's just too much to get done, which is also fueling the growing sense of panic. Instead I am employing my strategy of doing the things I can control, chores, self care, (and blogging) to achieve little victories that make me feel better. With each baby step while the morning progresses, The anxiety and breathless feeling gets a little better. Her

I haven't had much time to write lately because I've been taking care of my wife following a major orthopedic surgery. For the past 3 weeks I have been preparing our home, at the hospital, and then staying home to help her during recovery. One of the things I've learned is that filling this caregiver role is a lot of work! I didn't expect it to be as physically taxing as it has been. I'm fairly exhausted and literally needed to get another epidural injection of my own to be able to do it - but as she gets better and has fewer needs, I am getting a little more rested too. And the absolute best news is that her procedure was successful and she is recovering nicely. I could not have hoped for better than that. The on-topic reason I am writing this blog entry however is that there has been a silver lining on a more personal level. I have spent the past 22 days living almost exclusively as Allie throughout the experience. It has been a joy to present myself as she, c