Papi is a thug.

Of course, when we see someone we love, we see them in a much different light than those who don't know them.

To most people, I seem like the sweetest, most innocent person around.

I've got them all fooled.

Well, there was Papi, coming back from doing something while I was patiently waiting in the car, ...

... sorry, no details because my brain isn't giving them to me ...

... and I saw what some people see.

Thug.

He's put on a few pounds in the last year, which is great!

Not that he was too thin or anything, but it means that his body on the whole is finally healing from C Difficile.

... ah for fucks sakes!!! ... i JUST spilled coffee on one of my last 'un-spilled' white tees i own ... aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!! ...

He couldn't keep anything in his gut for more than 20 minutes it seemed, but now he's keeping it in and eating like a madman!

I'm so happy that he's put on weight.

Papi, not so much.

As for me, I'm not impressed that the pain killers I've been on have given me a dose of the 'pharmaceutical poof'!

Anyway, I digress.

So, there he was coming out of the cat clients house, ...

... ooooh!  i knew if i didn't think about it, it would come!! ...

... and I saw it.

Thug.

Tattooed from knuckle to neck, hair cut of a marine and a nice dinner shirt that is at least a size too small for him.

If I didn't know him, I may look at him from a different perspective.

Instead I just giggled and realized that nobody is going to mess with him.

We were at Xmas lunch with the 97 year old, Alzheimer's afflicted G'ma, and her 98 year old, dementia stricken sister didn't recognize Papi.

They kept saying who he was.

As in 'was'.

Old school.

Old name, old pronoun etc., because it's the only way she could remember this person in front of her.

Poor old fart kept saying, "No!  That man!  I'm talking about HIM!" as she'd point at Papi again.

I'm sure she wasn't impressed that some asshole brought a thug to lunch!

Papi would never be mistaken for a female now.

When I was making his Xmas present video, I saw him before the male transformation.

These are two completely different individuals.

I love them both.

I still miss my old butch and those perfect Butch Tits every now and then, but right now, I'm just impressed that I'm married to a thug.

I love thugs.

We all know they're just soft teddy bears who would cry at the drop of a hat, don't we?

i am the perfect weight for 'me'

i'm truly a voyeur ...

Papi is my chauffeur.

As much as he gets a little ruffled at the fact that he has to periodically drive me when I can't get a 'short bus', once we're in the car, it seems to be our only quality time alone these days.

Between The Uncle, The Yank and the many visitors we've been having due to The Great DR Purge, we don't get much alone time.

Yesterday, I thought I would accompany my love to the dump.

We make a lot of trips to the dump lately, and I know what those smelly dump boys are thinking when I don't get out of the car to help.

'Princess'.

No, it's not that, it's just that I had my sparkly silver flats on.  I don't need garbage gunk on my fave summer shoes!!!

Well, it's really because I shouldn't be shucking heavy items out of the car.  My bitch of a back would protest greatly.

Anyway, on our way yesterday, I noticed mi esposo smiling as he drove.

I didn't question it.

It's not unusual to see Papi smiling when he's getting rid of a load of crap.

But then I hear him say, "I like playing with my chest hair."

There he was pulling at his little chest hairs.

He wasn't pulling them all the way out of the root, he would just pull and let go, pull and let go, ad infinitum.

He was like a little boy sitting there in his comfort of playing obsessively with a toy.

I got a moment of sitting back and merely loving who he is.

He's just mi Papi, with a few changes to his body.

He used to pull on the facial jewelry he had, but he let those go.

Now it's all about his man hair.

It also gave me a moment to take stock of my current feelings about The Great Breast Disappearance.

I'm growing more comfortable with the loss of those pillows.

Still, I miss them.

I'll never get to touch them again.  They are only a memory of the feeling of that cool nipple against my cheek and the fullness of those perfect breasts in my gentle hands.

Even though my love has told me I could touch other people's breasts, it's just not my thing.

I love Papi.

I loved his Butch Tits greatly.

I had a dream the other day that we were at some swingin' party that Papi wanted to go to, and all I could do was look at everyone and say to myself, "But I don't want to do anything with any of them.  I only want mi esposo."

I made Papi chose for me in the dream.

Fortunately, other things happened so I didn't have to get busy with anyone else and wake up all fucked up like the time I dreamed I got down with Keith Urban.

Keith Urban?!?!?!

Really?!?!?!

I mean he's handsome, a great guitar player, has a gorgeous voice and great sense of melody, but I wouldn't be into anything more than a concert from him.

Back to the hair.

He's got these little teeny weeny hairs that are so damn cute.  They're not taking over his entire chest leaving him to look like a walking carpet.

Just some teeny tiny little whisps of hair that poke out in the sweetest, most innocent way.

He likes to play with his chest hair.

I like to watch.

i am becoming better every day

Ass welts.

So, apparently I needed to sleep.

It's not often that I sleep until 1:30 in the afternoon.

Without waking up.

Wow.

I feel like a normal person or something.  This is what people talk about with having a 'great sleep', right?

I did it without pain killers or sleep aids.

Could have something to do with the mere 2 hours I received the night before.

All I can say is, how the hell am I going to catch up today?!?!

Don't think I am.

I'm supposed to go to a tea party tonight.

At first glance, this could sound a bit tame to you, however, my 'rough around the edges friends' are nothing even close to boring.

I would say, the evening would start with the niceties of good hugs and all kinds of tea to choose from as we sit by the fire.

Quite quickly, I could see the evening moving in to naked women.

It usually does.

... butch tits and femme ass extravaganza!!! 

I usually partake.

I remember not too long after my accident, I was at the Sweet Georgia House and everyone stripped down to their scivvies to run through the sprinklers at the public park across the street.

I'm sure the neighbours are used to this kind of nude ridiculousness.

Anyway, my sweet friend and Papi picked up my nakedness and carried me through the sprinkler so that I could play just like everyone else.

I squealed with delight as my skin was pelted with ice cold water, and felt light and impish with my entire weight being carried by Papi and my friend.

I may have been unable to do it myself, but I did it.

With the help of my 'rough around the edges friends'.

Well, tonight they call it a tea party with just a few of us, but I know there will be debauchery.

You can't have them in one room without it.

It's why I love them so much.

I wonder how many ass welts will be witnessed by my eyes tonight?

I wonder if it will be my ass?

I'm feeling a little under the weather.  I'll have to pick it up a notch if I want to get to the tea party.

Anyway, hopefully these vitamins I'm cramming down my throat for 'breakfast' at 2:30 in the afternoon will do the trick.

I'll also have to do my hair.

Because it's all about my hair.

I hope your Saturday is as super duper special as mine has the potential to be.

Oh, and how lucky am I?  I have my very own chauffeur to drop me off and pick me up!

Papi isn't coming.  He's not feeling up to the challenge.

One day, when I'm all grown up, I too will have my very own driver's license.

i can manifest and attract what i want in my life ...

Butch Tits.

Tranny.

I thought I'd say it again just to piss 'them' off.  If I'm going to be bitchy from insomnia, then the rest of you must suffer with me.

Besides, how could I live up to my shit disturber title, if I didn't poke the hornets nest on a daily basis?

One thing I thought about last night until the sun came up this morning, was why I got on those little pharmaceutical puff pills in the first place.  It was to stop the pain and help me sleep.

Well, tough titties.

I'm still going to search for a way to get through the night.

Oh, and speaking of titties, another thing I thought about last night, was how much I miss them.

I grieve them.

I miss just rolling over in bed and having a palm full of pillowy, plush puppies to paw.

I feel like there's something missing from my life now.

I realized, they're never coming back.

If I want to feel those soft familiar friends, I'll have to play with my own.

However, they're not as fun.

I suppose I could take up Papi's offer and play with other women's mammillas, but they still aren't the breasts I married.

It's those breasts I want.

As I listened to Papi snore away the night, I cursed him.  Not for permanently taking away my funbags, but for sleeping better than me and not doing his evening chore of putting Psycho Kitty upstairs.

I was exhausted enough, that I merely laid and listened to the Tom Cat Operetta till the wee hours of morning.

And no, that has nothing to do with boobs, but I thought I'd throw that in there because I'm mother fucking tired and bitchy.

Back to boobs.

Every Wednesday, I volunteer for Queer Arts Festival for 4 hours.

4 hours of sorting papers that have been thrown into boxes for years upon end of neglect gets a little monotonous, so I look around at the walls of the office.

Basically, I get do this in a gallery of photos taken by S.D Holman.

Butch Tits.

Everywhere.

Some I recognize, ...

... not from personal experience ...

... some that look like they'd be days of funbag fondling, others that are pert enough to cut glass.

But Butch Tits everywhere.

It saddens me.

I sit in my composing room and create music, while staring at the only pic I have of my love exposed in all his prior butch glory.

With Butch Tits.

This is one of the hard parts of this transformation.

I know there's a few, but most of it has calmed.  I suppose with any loss, there's a certain amount that will never really go away.

I guess I'm no different.

Butch Tits.

I miss them terribly.

i release all fear ...