Here it comes.
I go with my love to an appointment today. The hysterectomy doctor.
Today may prove to be difficult. I'm going as support for Papi, but my stomach is not happy. I need something to support my stomach.
what about me?
This is just a consultation, but it signifies so much more.
Another step towards the abyss.
Another step toward losing my 'wife'.
Yesterday, we went out for brunch with a couple on my Trust List. I was amazed at how I was able to joke around about 'it'.
Mind you, it was expected of us. We were at The Elbow Room. This is a restaurant where you have to have your wits about you, as the staff are instructed to verbally abuse you in any way they see fit.
When I told the fine fag I was allergic to wheat, and could I please have hashbrowns instead of a muffin, he stated, "Well, not having your regular muff must be hard for you!"
I retorted with a sideways thumb point at Papi, "Yeah, well, this one's transgendered, so I don't get it anyway."
I couldn't believe that I joked about 'it'!
damn! who's that girl?!
Then we openly spoke with our friends and the flamboyant waiter about the whole process.
It was a rather quiet day at the diner of debasement. The lovely gentleman got to be himself a little, letting his corrupted character of the show have a well needed break.
He was very sweet. I gave him a free 'Bitch, Bitch, Bitch' cd :)
Papi forgot that I'm sensitive about the mutilation of that beautiful body I love, and did the 'whoosh' action that kills me so much. There was a quick reminder and then an apology.
All in all though, I was surprised at myself. I am getting stronger.
Maybe my Trust List friends are right.
Maybe I am stronger than I think.
Well, here we go ...
I must eat and leave with my love.
I hope my food stays put.