the strange delightful

I mentioned after the Unity Conference that I was really frustrated by the use of the terms "pre-op" and "post-op," and it's become so annoying to me that I wanted to take the time to explain my position as thoroughly as possible.  

As I started to write this, I realized that I was tackling two slightly different issues: the terms themselves and the fact that anyone feels entitled to ask the question in the first place. 

I might sound angrier in parts than some of you think I should or expected me to, but that anger is part of the experience and I wasn't willing to filter all of it out in writing this.  I do understand that things I will tend to interpret as rudeness are a result of people just not knowing what language to use; while it's easy for me to say "just think for a fucking second about what you're saying and it'll be obvious!" in my daily life I try as hard as I can to give people the benefit of the doubt.  It doesn't always happen, but the effort is there, at least on my end.
If I can educate people, that's great.  I'm not trying to set myself up as the ultimate authority here, so I'm happy to clarify any point or answer questions or be challenged on anything I've written in this post or said elsewhere on the subject.

Standard language disclaimer: for ease of speech, I'm probably going to stick to trans men/women throughout this post, even though I know that's not a good catchall for the spectrum of gendervariant folks.  It's not even a good catchall for me.  I hope it makes linguistic sense here, though.  I figure if I'm trying to be as clear as possible for a general audience, I should keep the language simple.

1. What Do You Mean By That?

I haven't been asked "pre-op or post-op?" very often, and there's a reason for that which I will cover in a moment.  But when I have had that question put to me, I've noticed that folks don't seem to be entirely sure what they mean when they ask it.  If you're going to ask a personal question (and remember that this is a very personal question!), at least be clear about what you're asking.  

Unfortunately, this is usually a way to "sneakily" ask a trans woman whether or not she has had a vaginoplasty.  I don't have statistics on this, of course (that would be an interesting survey), but when most people ask or answer the x-op question, they're talking about trans women's genitals. 

Of course, there are many surgeries that trans folks could choose to have or not have: facial feminization, vocal cord shaving, genital modifications (vaginoplasty, orchiectomy, metoidioplasty [with or without testicular implants], phalloplasty), breast implants, chest reconstruction, hairline reshaping, oopherectomy, hysterectomy... I'm sure I'm forgetting something.  And yes, I know that most of these are not what anyone would mean if they ask an -op question, but my point is that many trans people don't see One Great Surgery, or at least not the same one.  They may want to have several, or a different one from their trans friends, or none at all.  And any of these lines of thinking are valid. 
One woman at Unity told me that the most important procedure for her was laser treatment and electrolysis to remove facial hair; her reasoning was that breasts can be faked and grown in, and her penis wasn't on public display anyway, but the stubble was a visual cue that was most likely to get her in uncomfortable situations.  She wasn't sure if she'd ever want genital surgery, but the facial hair issue was at the front of her mind. 

The thing to keep in mind here is that pre-/post-op may mean different things to different people, and if you use the term you should be damn sure what you mean by it.  My suggestion is to scrap it altogether.

2. It's None of Your Fucking Business [and an aside on questions]

For this section, I'm going to go with the assumption that the -op question is being used as a coded way to ask for a State of the Genitals Address, which is how I've seen and heard of it being used in most cases. 
A very important reason why this question is unnecessary is this: unless you're in a position to be intimate with someone's genital region, it is none of your fucking business.  Full stop, end of story. 

Here's a great video on the subject:

You can make the argument that if you have a close enough relationship with someone, both of you might be comfortable sharing intimate details about yourselves and the topic might come up.  I'll grant that, of course; all of you reading this know me and know about the surgery I've had.  My quarrel isn't about this topic coming up among friends, although I hope you will all understand by this point that a question like "are there surgeries you've had or are considering having?" is much more tactful and acceptable than the -op question; if you ask me that, no matter who you are, I will be offended.  Even if you don't know your way around trans-respectful language, it'll offend me, because it's a question that I will read as coming from a position not just of ignorance, but of willful ignorance. 

 
If you're tempted to ask a trans person you know what their surgical status is, hold up for a second and think "why am I asking this?"  

Do you want to learn more about their experience and ask some basic questions?  
I propose that asking a question that is probably directed at the state of a person's genitals is not the best way to put them at ease and want to share personal information with you.  Would you go up to someone who you think has a penis and say "So, how big is your dick, really?  Are you circumcised?  Do you shave?  Do you dress left or right?"  Would you expect to get a truthful answer?  Would you ask someone who has visible tattoos/piercings "hey, do you have any nipple or genital piercings?"  
That second example may not be the best; that sort of questioning isn't uncommon, at least in my experience, but hopefully you can see why it's creepy and inappropriate.  Even if you want to know personal information about someone, if you take a second to think about what you're asking, it isn't difficult to understand when you're crossing a line.  I am amazed by the number of people who have jumped directly to extremely personal and intimate details when I've said it's ok to ask me questions; one year at UNC's Fall Fest, the woman from the Planned Parenthood booth next to me asked lots of Trans 101 questions and, when I said testosterone changed my breast texture, asked if she could touch them.  I'd known her for all of ten minutes.

Which segues into an important note on the subject of wanting to learn more about a specific person or about trans issues: this is a tricky line to walk.  I try to make it clear in several areas of my personal and professional life that I am willing to answer any question that isn't too personal or outright offensive (with the disclaimer that I will explain why something is offensive or inappropriate), because I may be the only openly trans person that some people meet, or at least the first.  I think I am generally pretty articulate about these matters and am very careful to explain that my experience in no way equals a Universal Trans Experience (which doesn't exist in the first place), and I hope that when I have these conversations I am contributing to others' understanding of me and of trans/queer issues. 
But. 
It gets very trying to explain the same basic concepts repeatedly, to be a dictionary and a teacher and a self-justifyer to people who haven't taken any time to do much deep thought or background reading before asking me questions.  It's like asking someone what it's like to be Asian, or Jewish, or disabled, or a member of any number of minority groups.  It's great to have an interest in experiences that aren't your own, and if you go looking for this information online or in a book you may get results that I would characterize as unreliable or outright hurtful, but (and I think this goes for an inquiry into any unknown area, especially from a non-minority to a minority) it's extremely important to take the time to think about the questions you're asking, how personal and appropriate they are, and whether they might involve a longer or more mentally exhausting explanation than the person you ask may want to furnish at the time. 

3. Where Does the Answer Get You?

That having been said - I get to dodge a bit of the bullet here, because as I said above, this question usually means one thing: does a particular trans woman have a penis or not? 

First off, this is a bullshit question for the reason stated above - it's not your business.  Anyone planning on getting intimate with someone else would hopefully have the tact NOT to phrase a question about that person's genitals that way, or at least the decency not to be surprised if the recipient of that question kicks them out of bed.  And their house.  And no one else has the right to know the answer to that question unless it is freely offered.  If penises don't turn you on, fine.  If you find yourself dating a woman who happens to have one, you can politely say "sorry, not my thing" and leave.  If you're so fucking homophobic that the thought that you might be attracted to someone who happens to have a penis puts you in a state of murderous rage (or at least gives you a great excuse you can tell a court), you're the scum of the earth and I want nothing to do with you.  Seriously. 

What this question does - whether the people asking it or not intend it - is cast trans people as either "legitimate," which is to say post-op, with any confusingly anomalous bits removed or augmented, or incomplete pre-op impostors, with too much or too little dick, the wrong contour of chest, etc. 

In some states, you can't legally change the sex on your driver's license unless you have whatever the state has decided is the appropriate number of surgeries, even if those are ones (such as phalloplasties) that a smaller number of people are interested in.  Trans women can be denied access to homeless shelter or rape crisis center space or, famously, "women born women-only" spaces such as the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival based on their surgical status.  Plenty of folks don't feel like trans women or men deserve or have earned the right to have their preferred name or pronoun used until they've had genital surgery and look/act as gender-conforming as possible. 

Think about how trans women are portrayed in any popular media.  They're hilarious dudes in dresses, trying to look all high-femme but failing to cover their dick-bulges or effectively pitch their voices up or shave their extra body hair or whatever.  I'm sure anyone reading this can conjure up an image of what I'm talking about.  When I came out to my grandmother, even, one of the things she said in the nasty letter she sent was along the lines of "I think of transgenderal [yes, that was the word she used] people as those ridiculous-looking men in dresses on daytime tv." 

Whether this offensive portrayal is better or worse than the relative invisibility of trans men in mainstream culture is a question I won't tackle here (mostly because I think the "my oppression is worse than your oppression" game is one in which all participants lose, every time), but it's interesting that I have nothing to offer in terms of the archetypal trans dude on tv.  I know there was a sitcom with a trans man on it several years ago (played by a cis actor, of course), but that's the only example I can think of.

No matter how a particular trans person identifies, the legitimacy of being "post-op" can be a carrot dangled above the head, a promise of more respect or realness that is otherwise denied.  And you know what?  Plenty of trans people who've had all sorts of surgeries are still assaulted, killed, fired from their jobs, and rejected by their friends and families.  It's no guarantee. 

4. Not "Medically Necessary" Means Probably Not Affordable Either

This was what started me down this line of thought in the first place - surgery is expensive, and it's rarely covered by insurance if you're fortunate enough to have insurance at all.  To decide that trans legitimacy should only be awarded to those who can afford to pay four- to five-digit sums out of pocket for surgery is classist in the extreme.  Some guys can get chest surgery covered if their breasts are large enough to cause back pain.  I may be able to get a hysterectomy if I can fake "severe pelvic pain," and the fact that I don't want to lie to doctors is one of the reasons I haven't investigated that too closely yet.  I haven't done research into it, but I don't know if any mtf surgeries can be covered under most insurance plans.  I do know that some states (I believe California) have a state health plan that will cover these sorts of procedures, but I don't have the details on that.  And again, not everyone can move to those states and get state jobs.  I have heard folks argue that queer or trans folks looking for more rights should just move to the states that offer them, but moving is expensive and there's no way to know if those jobs will be available. 

People take out extra student loans to get surgery.  They stage benefit concerts for themselves and their friends.  They borrow money from friends, family, partners.  Many more folks, though, do not have the resources or community to depend on for financial support.  There's no way to set the bar for trans legitimacy at $20k and expect that to be a friendly, inclusive sort of "legitimacy." 
Because the question of surgical status is so important to a lot of people, I think there's a lot more angst among trans folks who want but can't afford surgery than there would be otherwise.  We have enough problems in day-to-day life without having to worry about a huge cashsink that might not even be as important to ourselves as it seems to be to other people. 

5. The -op Opt-out

The expense is a big enough issue that it got its own subheading, but there are plenty of reasons to decide not to have surgery. 

Just like with any surgery, there are risks in having trans-related procedures done - you could lose sensation in nipples or genitals, any implant or surgical incision can become infected, you could have a horrible reaction to anesthesia or painkillers... you could die on the table.  I knew that it was possible that I would not survive my chest surgery.  Extrememly unlikely, yes, but the thought was there.  Not everyone wants to take that risk, and they sure as hell shouldn't feel like they have to in order to be accepted as the right kind of whatever sort of person they identify as.
On top of that, plenty of people, trans people especially, are nervous around medical professionals and with medical procedures in general and can't or don't want to get past that mental hurdle in order to have surgery. 

It's also just not something that every trans person feels is necessary to feel comfortable with their bodies.  If a trans woman likes her penis and doesn't feel a disconnect with it, why not just use and enjoy it?  Of course not everyone can do this (I thought I'd manage to be a dude with breasts and that didn't last long), but plenty of folks can, and it's no one else's place to tell them that they need to change their bodies just to fit into someone else's view of what a man's or woman's body is like.  If I identify as male, and I have genitals, then those must be male genitals, right?  I'm sure someone could argue that point but I will stand behind it.  I have no interest in trying to disprove someone else's identity, and the "if I am x then my parts are x parts" rule makes perfect sense to me in this situation. 

There are also people who specifically choose not to have surgery as a way of having an explicitly trans body - I knew a trans guy who adamantly did not want chest surgery because while his breasts are very small, in very tight clothing they can be visible and he wanted to have the choice of having them be more visible.  In his case it was a political decision as much as anything else.  I'm pretty sure he couldn't afford surgery and was intimidated by it, but those were secondary reasons to him.   

Ignoring the complication of a long list of potential surgical procedures, the pre-/post-op binary poses as many problems as the male/female gender binary does.  If a person knows they are happy without, or can never afford, surgery, they're not in a perpetual state of pre-surgical being.  They're opting out all together.  I've seen non-op (and "noho" for folks who eschew hormone therapy for various reasons, many of them similar) used as a self-identifier by people who have chosen not to undergo surgery/ies, and while I would be happy never to see another -op word used, I like that one.  It sidesteps the pre/post dichotomy altogether. 
I also think it's important to consider people choosing not to have surgery for whatever reason may not be saying "well, I'm going to be non-op because of these reasons" but sidesteps surgery because surgical procedures are not inherently necessary to one's identity and life as their chosen gender.  I know I've been saying this throughout this post, but I want to be clear that the nonsurgical path isn't only a valid reason because someone may have obstacles preventing them from having surgery and must make do without it. 

Did y'all see the news articles a few years back about the FDA guidelines urging all women to treat themselves as pre-pregnant when making health decisions?  These guidelines marginalize and dismiss women who either cannot or choose not to bear children.  This goes into the issue of women being given the tools to make their own reproductive choices, something I feel very passionately about but won't go into here in greater detail than to say it's the same sort of issue.  When you use language that presents one choice as if it's not a choice at all, but a given eventuality, anyone who chooses differently is left behind and left out of the language, and that's not right. 

This article in the Advocate about a pregnant transman has started to get some wider media attention, which has led to some interesting coverage.  
If you google for the story (I used the terms "pregnant man advocate"), you get stories with headlines like U.S. MAN CLAIMS TO BE PREGNANT and OREGON MAN SAYS HE'S PREGNANT (his word can't be trusted, it seems), and convoluted explanations such as

"According to the story, Mr. Beatie was born a woman but decided to become a transgender male and legally changed his sex to male. He had his breasts surgically removed and started bimonthly testosterone injections, but kept his vagina."

Of course, the story from the National Post that contains the brilliant quote above follows its summary of the Advocate article with commentary by an "ethicist" who gives the typical rundown of the breakdown of traditional marriage, trans people as delusional, "playing with fire," etc.  What the fuck does she care?  It's not like the kid even has to know that her dad gave birth to her unless they choose to tell her later.  The guy's in-laws didn't even know he was trans until he got pregnant, so the kid isn't going to grow up unsure of who daddy is. 
Added bonus: the image for the National Post story is a still from Junior. 

I'm a little weirded out by pregnancy in general, and there's no way I'd be willing to get pregnant in any circumstance, but I have to hand it to this guy.  He's had to put up with a lot of bullshit from his family and doctors to come this far.  It's not the first time a transguy has gotten pregnant (didn't Pat Califia or their partner go off T to have a kid?), but it's the first time I've seen national coverage of this sort of thing.  This guy seems to be a bit more "normal" than Califia, so it's a more accessible story, to be sure. 

Some guys I know from lj are meeting up with members of Tarheel Transmen at a restaurant right by where I work tomorrow, and I was invited to go along with them.  I was hesitant at first, less because of who they are and more because of who I am - shy around folks I don't know - but N knocked some sense into me and said "why wouldn't you go?"  I don't really know any trans guys right now other than a few online, so it'll be nice.

I do miss the NC FtM group.  It was completely mired in its own drama, though, and as far as I know just petered out.  Happily, the months when the group had meetings were right at the time when I needed the most support: I started going right when meetings opened up in February of '05 and stopped going around July of that year, which was both when Cole (another member) and I started dating and when he and another founding member were really butting heads and things were starting to fizzle out.  Sigh.  But that took me from some very serious questioning of my identity, whether I wanted to take T, how I could call myself a guy and not want to bind, etc. through the first month of starting on T.  It was an incredibly emotional time in my life and while it was wonderful to have N there supporting me and friends to slowly bounce ideas off of, having a group of other guys who were going through similar issues and were open to discussion was an amazing help.

I remember that, at the time, I got the feeling that the Tarheel Transmen group was more focused on... I guess traditonally masculine gender expression would be the phrase.  NC FtM was specifically gender-queer friendly, which is why I was comfortable attending, and I got the impression that TT wasn't.  I know I shouldn't let that color my thoughts about tomorrow, especially since the information was all from people who were a bit prone to drama.  But I definitely don't know what to expect from this group.  Do I "pass" enough?  I hate using that term, I really do.  At the same time, though, being around other transguys makes me very aware of my presentation.  I feel like I look like a guy, especially with my awesome chest, but I'm not very masculine.  I don't feel bad about that, but I suppose I just don't know how I come off to other people.  It can be tough to meet a lot of new people even in the best of situations, but I want to make a good impression and, let's face it, I do miss having a trans community to feel that I'm a part of.  The only time I've been in the cool kids' queer club was when I was dating Cole, and that didn't last too long. 

I know I should just chill out about this and have fun meeting the two guys I know from online in person, if nothing else.  My social anxiety is a lot better than it used to be, for the most part, but I still feel very awkward and out of place sometimes.  Hopefully I can relax and enjoy myself tomorrow. 
I wonder if any of the guys tomorrow night will be people I recognize from the old group.  That could be really awesome or incredibly awkward, depending on who it is.

Tomorrow marks a year since I had my chest surgery, and because of that I've been thinking about it a lot lately.  Having a breast-less chest felt so normal and natural that it was easy for me to get used to it, and because of that it does feel, in a way, like I've been like this for much longer than I have.  It is hard to forget how recent the procedure was, though, especially since I'm still weeding clothes out of my closet that don't fit me any more.  I had to buy some new clothes on New Year's Eve for our semi-formal dinner because I realized that all my nice clothes consisted of pants that were too big because going off of Prozac allowed me to finally lose some weight and shirts that were too big because I bought them when I was dragging some C/D-cups around. 

I do worry that in talking about this surgery so much (which perhaps is a drawback to having this blog be focused primarily on it and related topics), I'll feed in to the idea that the defining moment for all transpeople is THE SURGERY.  Primarily I think this revolves around genital surgery, especially for mtfs, but I still don't want to give off the idea that top surgery is what "made me a man" or something like that. 
It's tough; this certainly has been a huge milestone for me.  Not having breasts allows me to feel less paranoid using the bathroom I'm comfortable in, buy clothes that fit and look good on me, and go swimming wearing just some shorts.  I can take my shirt off during sex and be ok with someone touching my chest.  I'm not tempted to slice the damn things off myself.  But at the same time, this hasn't changed my identity at all, or made me think "ok, now I'm a man."  I'm not less or more of a guy than I was before (I don't think I'll ever say I'm a man... I know it's just semantics but that label doesn't work for me), but I'm a hell of a lot more comfortable.  I just don't want my discussion of it to feed into the idea that it's necessary for everyone, or this huge defining moment in terms of my trans identity.  Maybe it is, for some people.  For me it was just a way to feel more comfortable in the identity I already had.

Hopefully tomorrow I can have N snap some photos of me as a follow-up.  I at least need to reproduce the ridiculous "tough-guy" pose a year later. 

When I realized this day was coming up, I thought maybe I'd do something to celebrate but that idea never went anywhere.  I think I'm glad, though.  This is a pretty personal thing and I don't need a party to remind everyone "hey, remember how I had those giant boobs and now I don't anymore?"  I can just hold the knowledge in my mind and wear a nice, slim-fitting shirt tomorrow.  That'll work just fine. 

That and taking silly pictures. 

Mentally, I've had enough going on lately that I really should be writing in this more.  But, as tends to happen with serious stuff I need to work through, I think "oh yeah, I'll get to that today" and it doesn't happen. 

It's coming up on a year since I had my surgery (ten months right about now).  In a way it's difficult to remember having breasts at all, but at the same time I've started to realize lately that I don't have a very accurate picture of what I look like.  I look in the mirror a lot, and a lot of that seems to be because I'm having a hard time realizing that the guy looking back is me.  There are a lot of times when I'm thinking about doing something and suddenly realize that the image of myself I'm using is Mo circa 2001 or so, when I had long hair and didn't look like a boy at all.  I don't know why this is - I'm not regretting any part of my transition - but it's very startling.  Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror out of the corner of my eye and don't know who it is for a moment, or I wake up and feel like I look completely different than I did the day before.  I know the hormones are always changing something, but it's not like I have any huge changes from one week to the next at this point in time, other than more facial hair (which I approve of). 

I do worry a bit, though, that I'm becoming disconnected from my body.  I'm not sure exactly what's going on, but it is odd not to have a good feel for what it's like.  It's becoming a bit weirder for me to navigate my genitals, which sucks.  I didn't think I'd have a problem with my breasts when I started my transition, and that obviously changed; I don't want to have a huge personal crisis about not having a dick, because I can't go out and have Dr. Reardon glue one on for me.  Phalloplasties are not an option for me; I don't like the results.  Maybe I'd get a metoidioplasty (without the neuticles!) at some point, but I'm not ready to think about surgery yet.  My doctor wants me to have a hysterectomy at some point as well, so it's a lot of surgical mess to consider.  I still have a hard time watching surgery on House because it reminds me of going under. 
I bought a pack and pee device that hasn't come yet, and that will at least help with the restrooms, plus I can finally start packing if it's comfortable.  I haven't found a packy harness that I like, and I'm not willing to give up boxers just to pack. 

My sex drive is still pitiful; no matter how much I talk about it with my partner and am assured that it's not a huge problem, I'm still miserable about it.  I'm terrified that this is permanent and I feel like less of a functioning person.  Sure, I know in my rational brain that it's ok to have a low sex drive, that it doesn't mean I'm secretly not attracted to my partner or any of the nonsense I'm coming up with.  But it still makes me uncomfortable.   My doctor ran a blood panel to make sure I'm not converting extra T to estrogen or anything, but that's not it.  She said "you know, it's all right if both people in the relationship are ok with it.  There's no rule that says you have to have sex all the time."  But I'm not happy with it, so I'm just torturing myself.
Don't get me wrong - when it happens, it's great.  I can have an orgasm just fine, it's ok to touch my chest (well, sometimes my nipples freak out and are oversensitive), and I enjoy myself.  I just feel nervous about initiating sex, or I think "hey, sex sounds fun" but don't actually bring it up.  It's creepy and weird and I don't like how I handle it. 
And yes, sometimes it's odd to be a dude having vaginal penetrative sex.  Sometimes I can work my brain around it, and occasionally there's a corner of my brain that spends the entire time picturing good old '01 mo with her breasts bouncing around everywhere.  Gah. 

I feel like I need to write a postsecret card that says

Even though

             my partner says my low sex drive is ok

I'm       afraid
                         that I'm ruining

                                           everything.

I'm also vaguely afraid that I'm starting to get depressed again, but I think it's probably just my job being very stressful right now.  It's a scary thought, though.

Even though my name change was official just over a year and a half ago, I still run into problems associated with my birth name as if it's a particularly persistent trail of toilet paper clinging to my shoe.  Nothing horrible, I suppose, but it makes things much more awkward from time to time.  I haven't made a dentist appointment in about two years, both because I don't have dental coverage on my current (otherwise wonderful) health insurance and because all my dental records are under the old name.  I know it won't really be a big deal to call and say "hey, it's under this name, and can you make that change in your system?" but it's stopped me from calling for quite a while.  My car's registration is the only official document I haven't changed over, and while I don't really worry about cops harassing me, there's a small chance that someone would decide to make a fuss if I get pulled over and the name on my license doesn't match up with the one on my registration.  That one's a bit far-fetched, I know, but I started thinking about it recently.

I had two instances of this sort of awkwardness today: I was calling the IT help desk at my old university, since I still have access to my student email but forgot my password and need to have it reset.  The guy on the phone said "sir" when he took me off hold, and when I gave him my last name he paused for a moment and said "Thomas?"  I suppose that was the only male first name for my uncommon last name.  I knew the moment was coming, since I graduated two years before I made the change legal, but it was frustrating to have to give him my birth name.  I just said something like "I had it changed but the university doesn't know that" but I wonder if he was confused.  I'm not really worried about it, especially since I didn't go in on purpose, but that's the sort of encounter I dread having to negotiate in person.  If nothing else, I hate having people, especially anyone I'm close to, know my birth name. 

The aversion to that name isn't about hiding my past; hopefully it's pretty clear that I'm very open about being trans.  I've answered perfect strangers' questions with almost no hesitation, but I won't disclose that one piece of information.  It was very important to me to have a name that I'd chosen for myself, and there were times in my pre-tranny days when I struggled to get everyone on board with it.  The first moment of disclosure I can think of was when my partner and I met my then-roommate Heather, her co-worker John who we were also friends with, and another co-worker whose name I've since forgotten.  We got to the restaurant and John, who I know was just being formal/polite, introduced me to the other woman using my birth name.  I didn't even know he knew it and was completely unprepared for the situation.
There was another situation about two years ago when my partner and I were eating at the Cheesecake Factory.  I ordered a drink so the server carded me, and as she was giving me the bill she addressed me by name.  Sadly, the name she used was the one on my ID, and at first I had no idea how she knew it.  My surprised and panic were apparently very clear on my face, because she asked if that was the wrong name to use and was really nice about it.  Getting my new ID was almost on par with starting T, honestly.  It cut down on a lot of name-related hassles.

The other event was at my physical today.  I dread those much less than I used to, especially since my doctor is much happier with me now that I'm losing some weight and turning more fat to muscle.  I actually feel pretty fit lately; I still have more weight to lose, certainly, but it's wonderful to see progress.  My arms have actual muscles now and I poke at them constantly because it's such a novelty. 
All that aside, my doctor is tempted to send me to a "urological gynecologist" because of a possible mild bladder problem, but she's never referred a trans patient to her before and isn't sure how she'd react to me as a patient.  It's weird enough that I have to get pap smears every year*, but to go to any sort of gynecologist is another layer of strangeness for me.  We're going to see what the results of my urine culture are first; it could be a mild infection or something that's easy for my GP/endo to work out on her own.  But if not, I get to brave a stranger's office and possibly educate her before she can do any work on me.
In reality I suppose this is potential awkwardness vs. actual, but it's the sort of thing I never would have thought I'd have to worry about if you'd asked me five years ago. 

*As a side, note, though, at least I'm willing to go and get the pap done at all.  I know that a good number of transguys are so severely dissociated from their genitalia that even the idea of someone poking at their cervix gives them a panic attack.  It's especially important to get examined when you're on T, because everything gradually atrophies and has more of a potential for problems.  This is why I should get a hysterectomy at some point, but I figure I'll finish healing up from one surgery before I start thinking too much about another one. 

There's no better way to be reminded of how vastly different other people's perceptions of me can be than to go to a party.  I managed to have a friend (who's moving to the other side of the country at the end of the month, which sucks) tell me for the second or third time how when she first met me in the spring she just thought I was a really nice and cute guy - right on the heels of two of my friends, both of which saw me at the beach last weekend and know better anyway, fucking up my pronouns. 

I know no one does this sort of thing intentionally, but it really does manage to take the wind out of my sails pretty quickly. 

Now that I think about it, though, it seems like most of the people who still have pronoun problems are guys.  In fact, they may all be.  I won't count my grandmother in this, but the only members of my social circle I can think of right now who consistantly have pronoun or similar issues are men. 
Weird.  Maybe when I'm less exhausted (it's 2:30 am and I've been up since 7:30NST this morning) I'll be able to examine that fact, but now it's just an interesting and depressing bit of trivia.

Overall, it wasn't a bad evening at all.  More than anything else, I'm angry that I still have a very difficult time correcting people.  I guess I feel like if they can't tell, then I'm not doing a good job/passing well enough/other bullshit I know isn't true and I "deserve" to have the wrong language used for me.  I'm still very hesitant about asserting myself in most situations, especially ones like this where I have no idea if some of the people at the party even knew I was trans at all.  I'm not ashamed of it but it's not always the sort of thing I want to get into at someone else's social event. 

Why am I blogging this instead of trying to sleep?

I went to the beach with a large group of friends last week, which marked the first time I've gone swimming in public in just a pair of swim trunks.  My partner and I went in our apartment's pool a few times before we moved out in May, and I didn't wear a top then, but it was at night and no one else was around.  This was on a public beach in the middle of the day, and I was happy to realize that it didn't feel odd at all.  There wasn't even a feeling of excitement - it was just normal, as if I'd always gone swimming that way.  That sense of normality in turn made me excited, if that makes sense, especially when I realized that the last time I just wore a swimsuit on its own was at least ten years ago.  For a long time I would wear board shorts over a "normal" women's suit, and the last few times I went swimming before surgery I was just wearing a t-shirt over the top. 
That was one of the things I was paranoid about when I went to a family reunion five weeks after starting t (and before coming out to my parents); I knew they would think it was odd for me to swim in shorts and a t-shirt.  I've had a lifetime of being uncomfortable about my body, but I never covered up quite that much and they had to know something was wrong (this suspicion was later confirmed when my dad asked me to take a walk with him on the beach, got me along, and basically badgered me until I outed myself to him.  Not his finest hour, and not mine either for a) caving and b) not letting my parents know until after I'd started hormone therapy).

Like an idiot, I went armed with a camera but didn't take any shots of myself.  I'm really feeling the need to take photos of myself, but I feel like it's a bit of a vain and silly thing to do.  But my chest is healed!  I've lost a little bit of weight!  I want to document my transition for posterity!  I do actually feel pretty good-looking lately, and I guess there's nothing wrong with wanting to have pictures of myself.  My half-sleeve is finally done, so I need to show it off as well as soon as the last peely bits come off.
I guess I'm so used to being uncomfortable with myself and avoiding photos and being half-naked in public that it feels odd to be so excited about these things.  I mean, I still need to lose a good bit of weight, but now that the process has started I feel better about it (most of the time).  My clothes still need some work but I'm slowly trying to buy things that aren't huge and baggy on me and look a bit nicer than what I've had in the past.

I do still complain about customers using female pronouns for me, but new customers who don't remember pre-t me tend to get it much more than before.  I feel like I've noticed this a lot just in the past week, which leads me to believe that I might just feel more confident after parading around topless at the beach or something.  I had a wonderful encounter with a regular this week; she used to say to her dog "look, it's your girlfriend!" and stuff like that.  After she saw the article and mentioned it to me, though, she's started changing the language she uses for me and yesterday she came in and told Luke to go see "uncle ranyart."  It was really sweet and made my day.
There are a lot of regulars who are middle-aged lesbians, and I think they almost all read me as a butch lesbian.  I can understand that, especially since this is a town where a lot of twenty-something dykes dress a lot like me, but it is a bit frustrating at times.  I will admit that I'd rather be read as a queer woman than a straight man, though.  Despite me not being feminine at all, at least for a woman, I have enough non-manly habits that I'm pretty sure I won't be pegged as a straight guy by most people who spend any time with me. 

There's a banner ad next to the "compose" box with a picture of Ira Glass in it, and it's really distracting.  I've noticed it before, but he's really hot.  I wish I had an excuse to wear suits every day (I have a bit of a suit-and-tie fixation, especially if pinstripes are involved), but in this part of the country I'd be hot and miserable most of the time.  But still... suits.  If I could have sex with a suit, I would.  Don't ask me how that would work, because I have no idea.

Maybe someone could make a pinstriped sex toy? 

I made it into the local paper this week (I'm the guy pictured, for anyone who stumbles upon this and doesn't know me personally).  I'm not the focus of the story, so very little of my 45-minute interview made it into the paper, but I'm at least happy with what was printed. 

What was interesting to me, though, was the actual interview with the reporter.  I got in touch with Meiling through my boss, who's very outspoken and involved in local small business issues and has been interviewed by her before.  She was very friendly, but it was pretty clear that she didn't know a lot about trans issues by her questions.  It was a good reminder of how clueless most people are about what I see as very basic issues.  There were the basic questions, asking about what sort of drugs/surgeries I've had, how long I've "felt this way," etc.  I was doing my best to point out that there's no one trans narrative and explain where my story branches off from what a lot of people consider the "classic" transition process. 

As the reporter was asking questions, she kept referring to a sheet of notes so she wouldn't forget to ask anything.  I was zoning out while answering and noticed that one or two questions down from where were was a "what did your name used to be?" question and I hoped she'd skip it.  But no, of course she went right to that one.  I make an effort in pretty much all areas of my life to be willing to answer any question people ask me about my transition - the Tranny 101 spiel gets old after a while, but I may be the only person that some curious people ever get to ask questions of, so I try my best to be as open as possible.  That particular question, however, is not one I'm willing to answer, and I think she was very surprised when I flat-out refused to tell her.  I explained why, of course, and I think she was all right with it, but she even asked if I'd just tell her off the record so she could know.
This is exactly what I don't want people knowing!  It's difficult enough to get people who knew me pre-T to use the correct pronouns for me; I hate to think about those people who know my birth name to put that name to me when they think about me.  I don't want anyone else knowing that name and putting it with my face. 

I did say something earlier in the interview about how so many people ask questions about surgery (especially bottom surgery), and how it makes me feel like they put this huge value on it - like you're not a "real" man or woman until you've changed as many physical traits as possible.  I really should have cut in at this point and talked about how insisting on bringing up the past name makes me (and probably others as well) feel like I haven't quite escaped that part of my past, or like the person asking thinks of that as my Real Name and wants to know it to have a complete view of me.  I'm sure that for many people it's simple curiosity, but this encounter reminded me of how most people don't have a concept of how painful or frustrating these tiny details can be.

I also talked to her about restrooms and how scary they can be for people who don't feel safe or comfortable in gendered public restrooms.  Again, she'd never heard of this (and very interestedly told me so); I wish that the article had been long or differently-focused enough that she could have talked about these details that most cisgendered people miss. 
Even if most of this didn't make it into the paper, though, it was good to educate another person.  It does get tiring at times, but I'll still step up to talk to people who genuinely want to learn something.

As an awesome aside: this Saturday (the 16th) marks my second anniversary on T.  I want to have a party or something, but a) I'll be in Asheville that weekend and b) our house isn't put together enough to have anyone over yet.  I may go out and get coffee/drinks/dessert with people if some friends are available, though.  Maybe I shouldn't make this into a holiday of sorts in my own honor, but it's pretty awesome and I want to celebrate. 

I always joke about man-hugs, where you have to slap the other guy on the back while hugging, but there's a more casual form of Manly Intimacy that I haven't had much experience with at this point.  It's the sort of contact you get when someone you maybe don't know too well calls you "buddy" and squeezes your shoulder or upper arm during a conversation. 

Maybe there's a name for that, but I don't know it.  I think of interactions like that and it feels very masculine to me; guys either don't do that to women they don't know or they do it and are extremely creepy.  I definitely had guys do that sort of thing to me on occasion and it always creeped me out.

Today, though, I experienced it from a completely different perspective, and it was interesting to note how the same basic behavior (man I don't know very well touching me) turned into something fairly positive, or at least pretty affirming of my ability to pass.  And I was in a Lowe's on top of that - pretty much everyone there is manlier than I am. 

My partner and I bought a house about two months ago, and we initially thought we would put in hardwood flooring ourselves on the ground floor but quickly realized that it was far more than we're capable of doing.  Painting has been fine, and we ripped up the carpet ourselves to save a few hundred bucks, but the actual installation probably would have defeated us.  So I was on a mission today to pick up the wood and take it to our place so it could hang out for a few days and acclimate to the temperature and humidity in our house. 

I got sent back to the flooring area where a very nice man named Ron helped me out, but it took a while for him to find all the molding we needed so I got a huge cart and loaded up the plank flooring while he did that.  He was very helpful and I think felt a bit sorry for me, since it's taken a long time for us to be contacted by the installers every time they're supposed to call us, and by the end of my hour with him he kept saying "my friend" and slapping me on the back/shoulder when he walked by.  It was disconcerting at first, but I realized that I was managing to pass as a Normal Guy and he was just being friendly and manly and smacking on my shoulder. 

It was a very small part of my day, and perhaps not note-worthy, but it's the first time a stranger has done this sort of thing to me, so it was pretty awesome.  It made my frustratingly long trip to the store more bearable, at least.