Purge.

The Papirazzi is on full force today.

A very sweet reporter we met the other day just so happens to be doing an article on transgender people in the work force, and asked if my love would like to be interviewed.

Papi has been trying to get a date fixed with her to have this dialogue, but their schedules didn't really work out to do so.

This morning, however, I woke up to hearing my love on the phone with the reporter, answering questions about being transgendered from up to down and all around.

Papi said, "I don't know how personal you want to get about this, but other things happen, like the clit getting bigger."

I giggled while I prepared my Dominican Republic Coffee.

yes ... still some left ... almost out though ... maybe if i tap my heels 3 times, 'there's no place like home'

Then Papi yells out, "Hun, do you think it's gotten bigger than 5 centimeters?"

Oh great.

Don't drag me into this!

"It's bigger."

Papi chuffed to the reporter, "No, it's not.  Don't listen to her.  She has issues with it."

They started to talk about a penis, and my love said, "They don't make one that is like the real thing, so forget it, and besides, my wife would leave me."

ok. so we've got that down. phew.

Papi doing the interview made me proud.  Not that I wasn't already.

In the same realm that I've walked along side my love through this male transformation, Papi has also had to stand beside me in my conflict.

This also means defying the haters.  Those beings who have read about themselves here in my blog and decided to despise me for my honesty, instead of proving me wrong.

Those who bury under the blanket of protection of political ideals, then judge me for my openness about my strife.

Those who say to their followers, "Ok, so now we don't speak to Andréa anymore."

And those who heed the demands who can't think for themselves.

Haters.

I looked to Papi's Facebook page, and under the 'things that inspire me' shout out, I found: My Wife.

For my love to blatantly propel the repugnance of those who resent me, by saying I am an inspiration, made all the pain float away.

For all the support I felt I was needing to give to the person going through male transformation, there is also a balance in our world of love.  The need to support the partner.

My love does this.

Then proceeds to wave the 5 Foot Clitoris at me, "It is not that big."

I answer, "It's huge."

"No it's not."

"It's huge," I repeated.  Then true to any debate in marriage, this mundane back and forth colloquy went on for a good 2 minutes.

"Are you ok with me having my picture in the paper?"

you have to ask a performing extrovert this?

"Of course!  Why wouldn't I be?!"

"Because if people who don't know see it, then they will know your spouse is going through a male transformation."

"That's ok.  It'll weed 'em out faster."

Truly.

Purge.