You see, this blog of mine is supposed to be about me.
It's called: Andréa's Healing Journey.
However, it seems that the majority of my posts are about the Tranny Terrorist, or the DIY phenomenon I occasionally experience.
Yeah, sometimes I hijack this blog and actually make it about me, sneaking in a little bit of wining about my bitch of a back, or ghosts.
Well, the point is, it's still much more entertaining to talk about mi esposo and the amusement he brings.
I'm getting my article published on Thursday, and the paper didn't want a picture of only the actual writer.
They want Papi in there too.
Because it's alllllllll about Papi.
And that's ok.
Takes a bit of the heat off me.
Anyway, we got these pics done and the sweet photographer we met yesterday will choose the best one.
Hopefully, she won't choose one of me that looks like I'm in trauma.
Or worse, choose one of me that looks like a beaming, braces infused, bucktooth grin that only a mother could love.
I tend to do these things with my mouth:
nobody said the brace face was going to be sexy ...
So, we'll see which one makes it into Xtra on Thursday.
After our photos were done, we didn't celebrate.
Papi drove me around the city, and changed all his I.D.
You see, my love received a birth certificate that has been changed to a male gender.
It has been quite the process for Papi. All his ID has to be changed; driver's license, SIN card, medical, you name it.
However, there is one that I'm not happy about: Our marriage license.
It now says I'm married to a man, and I begin my first step to becoming an invisible queer.
I can't really accept that part yet, and I'm still grasping with all my strength to the butch I married.
I don't want my marriage license to be ambushed, so I did something slightly wrong.
I kept our old marriage certificate, and we told the lady at the counter that we lost it in the sewage flood.
Right now, it's sitting beside the sexy picture of the butch I married.
Pretty much looks like I'm starting a shrine to remember my dearly departed butch.
is that so bad?!?!
It's right there in my composing room, so I get to see it every day as my eyes wander around the room, listening to my musical mind about what note, sound or feeling I need to find to portray the essence of a film.
I keep my love frozen in time to keep me company.
one day at a time.