Moratorium

I think I may have some breathing room.  I didn't know if my love taking a break from the testosterone would help, but it's possible that it did.  It seems to be the root of my angst.

I did feel there was a lighter beat in my heart yesterday.  The only problem is that I binged on cookies and tarts because I wasn't being preoccupied with crying and distracted by demons.  It may also have been that I let go of some control as well.

I have absolutely no control over my love's decision for male transformation, and I was controlling every bite of food that went into my mouth as a coping mechanism.  I wasn't starving myself.  I don't allow the eating disorder to take hold of me in that way anymore, but I was definitely controlling my food intake with precision.

Well, yesterday I suppose I let go of some of the control when it felt like I had a small part to play in asking my love to back the train up to help me get on board.  It was either that, or it was the teenager sitting terrifyingly alone in the station and the only way she could cope was to binge and fill herself up so that she didn't feel so empty.

The only problem is that the teenager is not allowed to purge or rebound into limiting caloric intake to make up for it anymore.  She just has to deal with the bloat and clean herself out with fresh living food.  Today she gets purifying vegetables to let her body have a break from the crud that's floating in her system.  I hope she enjoyed herself because the cookie coma is over.  But I know she did.  The face of ecstasy while eating the butter tarts confirmed this elation.

So now it's 'tomorrow' and the scouring begins.  I felt like crap when I woke up today.  I'll feel like a sack of trash all day today, because I didn't just binge on cookies and tarts, I binged on the allergy foods that take a good few days to get out of my system and a good week to leave my skin.

My face will have the verifying evidence of my wheat and sugar orgy for a week.  Let's hope there's no tears for a few days.  It would be brutal to wake up with not only swollen eyes and a pale face, but also to add to the monster in the mirror, it will have little red hives all over and a good few zits to accompany them.

Nice, eh?

The picture I've just painted for 'you', my imaginary friend, is either making you giggle, or relate.  Or possibly both if you've healed enough to laugh at yourself over it.  Either way, right now it makes me cringe because I know the depth of where this face came from.  This is the price I pay for holding in the control and then letting it go with an expulsion of fury.

So here I am, with the possibility of a moratorium.  Until my love gets a hysterectomy, the 't' is not going into Papi's beautiful, already perfect body.  I was able to take pictures of my love while Papi's hair cutting was going on and blissfully enjoy the view.

When Papi is doing 'the army crew cut', it's done naked with clippers in hand.  There's a lot that my love does naked.  It's just something Papi does and something I love my soul mate for.  Even if it makes me uncomfortable when it's done in front of a wide open window for the neighbours to see.

Yes, very uncomfortable for me.

But I took pictures of this beautiful body that I have a little more time with.  The gorgeous breasts that will be mine without 'man hair' on them for a little longer.  The picture perfect face that will remain soft for a few more indeterminable months.

Mine.  For now.  A small moratorium and a beautiful present to me throughout this horrid time of year that I despise.  It's my love's gift to me during this difficult healing journey.

I am loved.