To those who hate, thank you!

I was asked to name my friends that I would call on to have a hello or a hang out.

I started blurting out names of all the hearts I adore so much.  I didn't get through them all, it took too long for me to remember names, so when my eyes started to raise to the ceiling to try to think my way out of the brain injured 'duh', he cut me off.

Only problem was, it was for the evils of law, so I was forced to divulge their names on paper.

As I wrote, I started to think about the phrase:

If you can count on one hand five good friends, then you are lucky.

 
I realized I have more people I can call friends than I have fingers on both hands.

Throughout my life, I've been a people pleaser.

What I learned by looking at this friend list, is that these are the only people I need to please.

Not necessarily so much that I need to, but these are the names of people that deserve my love.

I had to go through this list and add phone numbers and I kept it for myself so I could inform them that they've been named.

I looked at the list all day yesterday.  It was so beautiful.

It was so incredible that I could look at the people I love and know that I'm loved back.

It was comforting to hear each of their voices say, "You don't have to be sorry.  I'll fight for you in any way I can!"

It was amazing to feel that I have such a solid group of friends, that I will never have to worry about being lonely.

There was another phrase I heard today that hit home, oh so well.  It went something like this:

People who are busy pleasing everyone around them will find that they're so busy worrying about what others think of them, that they're actually the loneliest people on earth.

I get it now.

There were many years where I wasn't one of the 'cool kids'.  I felt hurt that people didn't contact me instead of me always being the person to call them to initiate a hello, or that I wasn't special enough to be invited to the outings I saw on Facebook.

I thought that if I just kept being super nice to the people that I wanted to be friends with, they'd see that I was worthy!

I was very lonely and could never find that confirmation that I was loveable.  I just wanted so badly to be loved that I spread myself very thin, leaving nothing to fill myself up.

I've stopped trying to please people.

I've realized that the only people I can please are the ones who want me to.

... bow-chicka-bow-bow hehe ...

Anyway, seeing this list in front of me, I now know where to place my energy of people pleasing.

I can now see that all the love I give will be returned in kind by these people.

I don't need to collect hearts anymore.  I'm filled.  I'm fortunate.

I also have the hen-peckers and rah-rah-trannies to thank.  If they hadn't shown me how much hatred they're capable of expressing, I may have never had to start collecting hearts from scratch again.

I want you to know, that you'll never please everyone.  You can't possibly do that.

Choose who you're going to spend your time and energy on.  We only have so much in us to give, so save it for someone who will give back and refill your supply.

Write down the people that you love, that you know you can count on to love you back.

If you can count them on one hand, you're doing very well.

If you can't, maybe now is the time to start changing what you think is a friend.

I've had to do it, and it's really not so bad.

I got so much more out of it than I ever knew I would.

i know that i deserve love, and i accept it now

So scared.

I'm so nervous my stomach can barely handle the crackers I'm still on.

no ... i'm still not able to hold real food in my gut yet ugh ...

My Boifriend is in town and has invited Papi and I to go to a swim with him today.

It's called the 'All Bodies Swim'.

This means any person of any gender and any shape is invited to go play in the water.

My worries are twofold.

One, I still haven't uncovered my mirror.  I caught myself looking in the small bathroom mirror to try to see if my brain is still torturing me with visions that don't exist.

... or so i've been told countless times ... wish i could believe it ...

I still saw the devastation of my eating disorder.  Yup.  The horror was still there.

Well, imagine being invited to an event where I'll have to bare it all!?!?

Then there's the fact that the place will be surrounded by fucking mirrors.

I'll be distressed with every move of an eye.

Then there's the second part to this first part of my social anxiety.

This part is so fucking ridiculous that I can't even believe my brain thinks this way.

However, it is my reality.  It does.

I'm afraid that people will see what I see in the mirror.

I'm afraid they will look at me and think to themselves, "Ah, I see why you think you're fat.  Right there.  That spot you have nightmares about.  I see it too."

The part that is most ridiculous about that is that the whole premise around the All Bodies Swim, is that it's a place to go where the windows will be blackened out.  It's so that every person in that pool can feel that they're in a safe place to play in the water.

My stomach is turning.

More so than it normally would.

My hands are sweating, yet cold at the same time.

The good news is, I'm going to this swim with two people who are also needing support to be there.

My Boifriend and Papi.

I didn't know that my love was feeling abashed about his scars.

He feels that they stand out like headlights on a car.

But they're such a small portion of that lovely body, that it's really not a big deal to an outside viewer.

I barely even see them anymore.

I just see my love, a little lighter on top.

It surprised me though.  I didn't know he was feeling this way.  I thought he was in bliss and couldn't wait to be topless in this world.

"No, I wanted to wait to unveil them in the summer, because maybe they'd look better by then."

Those of us who are going tonight are all folks who are uncomfortable showing something about our body.

I'm not alone.

They made this swim for a reason.

However, the other half of my angst?

I'll have to endure the dirty looks from the people who feel that I'm transphobic, or worse, a horrible human being for having feelings about my love's male transformation.

I figure I just won't wear my contact lens or glasses, then I won't be able to see very far and I can ignore they're jeers.

That'll work.

I'll let you know how green my hair gets.

it is often hard to tell just how close you are to success

Welcome back, Papi!

My love is sleeping off the Graveyard Coma right now, after his first week back to work since the surgery and antibiotic poisoning.

I was a little worried for Papi, as I wasn't so sure he was ready to go back to work after such a long illness.

However, sometimes, getting back to work is what we need.  It puts normalcy into our life again.

We're kinda like cats.  Our body physically relaxes when we have a routine.

Yeah, we all need to shake the routine up every once in a while, but we're truly creatures of habit.

Anyway, I remember all the flack my love got from the Rah-Rah-Trannies on their gossip/slander forum when news got out that my love wouldn't be quitting his current job.

Like children throwing a temper tantrum because they didn't get their way, it quickly divided my love's supporters vs. haters.

You have to be a woman to work there, and the community went into a melee about Papi transitioning to a male, but still having the privilege of keeping a woman's job.

I argued for my love until I turned blue.  Nobody really understands the relationship between my love and these sweet souls.

There are so many people who don't want to be labeled, but when given the chance, they will label someone else if it suites them.

The ring leaders of their sheep followers decided for my love that he couldn't work there if he wanted to be seen as a male.

Anyway, the whole argument that I had was not about a 'man' and his clients.

It was about Papi and the relationship that has been built between all of them.

There are some rules mi esposo must follow if he's going to keep this job.

My love is not permitted to have facial hair while working there.  He got himself a nifty little shave kit and I get to enjoy mi esposo fussing over himself in the mirror.

Kinda fun.

Kinda like my love gets to see why we femmes take so long in the bathroom.

Point is, Papi is loved by these women more than anyone really knows.

Here is an example of their gratitude for mi esposo returning to work:

This is the reason my love doesn't stop working, even through all the harsh criticism.

However, there is one part of my love's existence in this workplace that just may change his mind about the rules of the roost.

The fact that he doesn't get to grow that face fuzz.

I saw a twinkling of a moment toward change when my love said, "I hate that I have to shave off my hair."

I'm grateful to Papi's boss for setting this rule.  Now my love has a nice clean face.

Regardless, I'm just glad that mi esposo made it through the first week of work.

Now this means that he will get down to some good times of DIY mania.

First item on the docket?

The gutters.

I'll be sure to have my camera ready.

i deserve to have and enjoy prosperity and affluence in my life

Ahhhh ... just breathe ...

Just a few more hours and we have renewed hope, and a new beginning.

I usually feel this way in the fall, probably because I've been wired to think that September is when a new year starts, with a new grade in school.

School was not my strong point.

I would rather skip out from school and go home to play my piano.

I did it a lot.  Sorry mum.  It's probably why I didn't graduate.

no shit sherlock ...

I was one of the worst teens to have around a school.  I was a teen alcoholic and addict, I acted out, seeking attention because I didn't have a father, and felt ignored and abandoned.

So, my piano was my salvage, and it still is.

I remember one of those years as a terrible teen, I had a dance exam and received 99%.  I was pirouetteing with joy and en pointe proud.  I couldn't wait to get home and show my mum that I had proof that I really was 'good enough'.

even though i had to wonder, why not 100%, did i pick my nose during one of the calmer moments?

The bus home from my exam was so slow!  I wanted to take over the wheel to get home faster so I could show my mum what I had accomplished!

I finally got off that stinky, 50 foot, public Cadillac and chassed up our backdoor stairs.

I only stopped for a moment to look and see if my stalker was in the bushes again.

yeah ... that's another blob/blab ...

Anyway, as I quickly went to open the door, I was halted when my mom was already standing there with papers in one hand, the other hand clenched in a fist and a face that spelled, "Look out baby, she's on a rampage!!!"

I tried to break through my mum's bad mood and give her something to be happy about.

"Mum!!!  I made 99% on my dance exam!!"

I could feel my mother's wrath when she replied, "WHAT are THESE?!?"

As my mum passed the papers to me, I realized I'd been busted for all my skipping out.

You see, I didn't know the school would really have the information about me not having a father.  I really didn't think they even cared what I did with my life.

So, my survivor instinct said, "Hey!  Why don't you write sick notes from your 'father' to the school, and you can skip out and play your piano any time you want!!"

Well, I suppose the school officials knew me too well.

was it all the trips to the office that did it?!?!

There they were.

All my notes from my 'father', telling the school that I had 'this' appointment or 'that' appointment for my fucked up knees, or that I was just plain 'sick' on that day.

My stomach turned, my head almost exploded, and my pride ran straight out the back door I had strolled in.

Caught.

I never did get a pat on the back for that 99%.

Anyway, my whole point of reflecting is, even though my mum could really only see the bad in our lives, there was a spark of the Andréa I am today.

I'm proud of myself, no matter if anyone else is.

I fuck up like every other human, but I still have joy from my accomplishments.

Even though this has been a challenging 5 years of my life, ...

the last one being utterly exhausting ...

... I'm present, and still searching for my positivity in everything that comes my way.

Here is my last entry of gratitude for the year 2011.

We're almost there.

I'm grateful that I skipped out of school and practised my piano, because my 'bad bahaviour' has made me into the musician I am today.

I'm grateful for that 99% on my high school dance exam.  I may never dance again, but I do know that if I could, I'd still be great.

I'm grateful to be able to afford a new cat tree for our monsters.  The Bastard Prince has not been this happy in a long time, and thus, it makes me happy.

I'm grateful that Papi and I both have the same desires in our lives together.

I'm grateful for My Person having come over a year ago today, and consequently helped me start my new trek for happiness.

I'm so fucking grateful to 'you', my imaginary friend, my Blogger Friends who were the first people I spoke to about Papi's male transformation, my ever increasing Trust List, my family and my chosen family for their love.

I'm even grateful to the Hen Peckers & Rah-Rah-Tranny people.  If it wasn't for them, I would have never found the strength in my voice to roar.

tomorrow ...

When the rain sets in for the winter, those voluptuous drops of water are like little shards of glass pelting my body.

Every one of them wreak havoc on my injuries, and people say, "You're limping!  Are you ok?!"

I just want to get to the Dominican Republic and stop the ouch.

Even though we can't leave until all my legal crud is cleared up and the G'ma goes to her new home in the sky, I'm feeling like I'm really going to be there 'tomorrow'!

It was pointed out to me last night, that Papi not only has to pass as a guy for his safety, but for my safety too.

That part didn't really occur to me.

I'm such a romantic idealist, that I just think we're going to move there and people will love us automatically, because we're loveable dammit!

I forget that they are a country where the people could homicidally judge us, if there's any evidence of my love having been a woman in the past.

When we were last there, we became friends with a sweet, young, single father, who was the official photographer of the resort we stayed in.

He showed us a video on his camera of the after effect of a fight.

It involved a machete and a head.

The head was in the gutter, and the machete was nowhere to be seen.

This was a fight over a girl.

They fought to the death for her, and only one head rolled.

So, if they're really going to behead someone who wanted the same girl, imagine how easy it would be for them to dismiss us from the planet.

i have even worse fears that go on in my mind, but i don't want this to get over the top serious with my mind's eye ...

My friend that reminded me that I, too, could possibly suffer at the hands of religious, homophobic people that have been brain washed.  "I'll give you 4 years," I was told, with an added, "you'll miss your queer community too much."

Yes, I will miss my 'rough around the edges friends', my Trust List and my biological and chosen family.

In terms of the Hen Peckers, I can't wait to get away from them and their Rah-Rah-Tranny cohorts.

Good fucking riddance.

I'd rather hang out with goats.

Anyway, I'm not going to get on to the 'ick' that are in our community, but rather get back on track about our haven.

Papi and I are city slickers, born and raised in Vancouver.

Some way, some how, we have to learn what it's like to be country bumpkins.

We will be building our own house, and will probably have to live in a tin roofed home for the first while.

That or a Winnebago.

At the same time, we have to learn how to live off the land.  I can see that my first 2 years are going to be an ample distraction from the fact that I'm nowhere near another queer person, other than Papi.

And the goats.

Goats are queer enough for me to talk to.

Not to mention, I've also been told, by some of my lovely Blogger Friends, that goats do make good listeners.

In my mind, I'm leaving the rain, snow, cold and Hen Peckers behind for good.

I know it's 20 months to 2 years away, but like I said, to me it feels like 'tomorrow'.

At this point, I'm not thinking about how much I'm going to miss my friends, because my romantic idealist brain keeps saying, "No worries! They'll all be coming by to visit you in those beautiful, luscious, healing, rolling hills of beauty."

... tomorrow ...

 

If you ignore it, it will go away ...

Well, you know how you wake up and the first thing that you need to do is have that morning pee?  It's kinda like we go on autopilot and walk like zombies with a penchant for brains.  We take each bleary eyed step to the throne, and while we're sitting there contemplating what business needs to be done, ...

... or like me, you wonder who will be the one to clean the bathroom floor ...

... and our ritual is over before we know it, coupled with our eyes being a little more open.

Well, I didn't get my morning 'hello' to the all powerful can on time today.  Here's everything I did before my piddling:

• Brought The Golden up for his morning pee

• Explained to the 96 year old why my face looks like this

... because i just woke up you crazy old coot! i get to say the same thing every morning when she asks me, "what's wrong?!?!??!?" in that panicked old lady voice, while she's secretly hoping the answer is something horrible so she can either say, "that's the bunk," or, "there's always something to take the joy out of living," followed by asking about the most recent disaster every 5 minutes ...

• Called to make an appointment with the Dr. for the G'ma

• Asked the zealots at the door, "Are you here to talk about your god? Because I don't believe," followed by a slam in their face when they confirmed my suspicions

• Explained again to the old fart why she's not allowed to put her own pills in her pill box and took them away from her

... this one has been a great repeating record this week ...

• Gathered the old bird's laundry so I may do her bidding

• Brought in The Golden who's bladder was more relieved than mine

• Fed the clan

 ... minus the sleeping patient papi ...

• Yelled back up the stairs to the task master that I don't care if the wild bird seed has run out, then muttered under my breath "Fuck off!" in the loudest whisper I could

• Called HandyDart to cancel the old poop's ride to the senior center, where all the blue, white and grey haired ladies talk to each other about different stories simultaneously, because nobody can hear each other talking.

I desperately jumped onto the latrine, so I may start my morning routine.  It was at that moment that I realized what my 'rough around the edges friends' told me yesterday.

I went out for a beautiful breakfast hang out with a couple of lovely friends, not to mention awesome greasy food that I'll be paying for for a few days.  They were checking in to see how I was doing around Papi's male transformation.

Throughout our conversation, there was a common theme that was abounding: I don't take care of my needs around this.

I'm busy making sure everyone else around me is ok, but I haven't really looked at myself lately.  It hit me while the tinkling was sprinkling that they may be right.

I have been pretending that I'm just doing fine around Papi's transformation.

But honestly, I'm not.

There are some key issues that need to be taken care of around the transformation, and Papi and I got to talking about it while tears were rolling down my face.  Not to mention, snot was adamant that it would roll out at the very moment I tried to speak.

classy! didn't i mention how classy i am?

I've been trying to pretend that I've just slipped into Rah-Rah-Tranny mode and everything is fine.

The other half of the equation is that the sun is pulling it's light and warmth away from our planet.  It's during this time of the year that I am subject to what a lot of people deal with: Seasonal Affective Disorder.

It's a little more difficult since the accident, because of the added pain from the cold and the rain, but I now grasp what these two Trust List friends were trying to get me to understand.

I need support.

Papi and I are going to find someone to be a mediator to help clean this up.  We need to have everything worked out before we get to the Dominican Republic.

It will be no good if I don't have a support group and am isolated with my shit.  Mind you, I'm sure the goats will be good listeners.

However, now that I see it, I can't ignore it.

S.A.D., unresolved transformation issues, the neglect of myself.

Yeah, I took a little breather from reality for a few months there.

... denial ...

Now I'm at a door I can't slam shut.

This monster just strolls right in without my permission.

Fuck I hate it, but it's here.

Guess I can't ignore it anymore.

Introducing, The Hector-Browns

I suppose we're famous now.

The other day, a friend was with some acquaintances, who brought along another friend.

does that make sense? damn i hope so ... the friend that was brought along didn't know that my friend knew us ... god i think i've made it even more confusing ...

Well, my friend had this little gathering somehow get on to the topic of Papi and I.

It was at that point that someone who has no idea who we really are said, "Oh, you mean 'The Hector-Browns'?" with a forked tongue and a little bit of venom spewing.

I know people say when you're married that you become one, and damn.  We really are.

We are no longer independent human species.

We are one:  The Hector-Browns.

But the point is, we're fucking hated by people who have no idea about what is between the lines of our relationship and feelings toward one another.

I'm ok with this grand title.

You see, I've had pods of lesbians hating me for ridiculous rumours all over the city from the moment I came out of the closet.

It hurt at first, but I soon learned that if you want to have your creativity out in the world, people will love you and people will hate you.

It's polarity.

I actually dealt with cliques from a young age, so I'm used to it.  It doesn't mean anything to me.

Papi, however, has not.

Mind you, my love, had a stint with being hated while being an active drunk.  There was a while where my love really enjoyed getting a rise out of the uber-politically correct.

None-the-less, I really think it's pretty awesome that we are known as The Hector-Browns.

I love giving people titles.  It's easier than remembering names sometimes.

And I'm not talking about pronouns and sexual orientation.

For example: My Person, My boifriend, and now the most recent inductee: The Chef Extraordinaire.

I haven't really mentioned him yet, but damn.  Papi and I were given an amazing 5 course meal by The Chef Extraordinaire.

This was for My Boifriend's last Vancouver meal.

He's gone back to his island.

goddam off topic ... again ... where was i? o ya right ...

Anyway, what I was going to get at was that only a year ago, I was afraid of being hated by the Rah-Rah-Trannies.  This left me comatose, but I'm good now, and I'm ready for the people who may fart in our general direction as Papi and I walk down the street.

But honestly, to be given our reigning title was a huge compliment to me.

If my love and I were boring, nobody would even care.

Being disliked so strongly means we're interesting.

So, there ya go.

I'm pretty sure we're famous now.

We are The Hector-Browns.

We are one unit.

Now I will go tend to chores, in our Hector-Brown house and our Hector-Brown Fuzzy Family.

We got a whole lotta love over here.

This Game is Boring Now.

The Galloping Gazelle is plotting his revenge.

... as opposed to what i'm doing ... i'm venting ...

I thought I'd talk about the Fuzzy Family instead of the person that upset Papi.

because apparently, i share too much information ...

You see, right now The Galloping Gazelle is sitting on the La-Z-Boy growling.

... seriously ... someone wrote an email to papi saying how horribly transphobic i am ...

There was a bit of drama on the upstairs G'ma floor, and The Galloping Gazelle got nicked in the back of the leg for cornering Psycho Kitty.  You don't mess with Psycho Kitty.

... i mean really, how rude is it that someone would vent to papi about their wife?!?!  who does that?!?  that's what you have team Rah-Rah-Tranny and the Hen Peckers for!!  go talk shit about me there, fool!

So, there was much squealing and now The Bastard Prince has regained his place in the world.  You see, at the beginning of The Galloping Gazelle's visit, this is where The Bastard Prince lived:

... i suppose i'm used to people flapping their gums, and now that i'm through with being weak, i'm not taking it anymore ... funny part is, i find people's distaste in my honesty rather entertaining ...

Well, The Bastard Prince has regained his strength and is sitting on his favourite pedestal, staring down this poor, humiliated, four-legged soul.  "Fuck with us, eh? {yeah he's a canadian cat} You think so?  My homeboy has my ass up there.  You think he's taken a round out of you?  Wait for my turn."

... it sucks, because papi thought he had a friend ...

So, the balance is shifting in this dog vs. cat phase.  I keep trying to remind The Galloping Gazelle that this one is just as scary as the one upstairs.  Cats are bitches man!!!

... well, not anymore.  apparently, my feelings about losing my butch are not as important as his feelings about my article ... oh! and if i want support, they have a group that meets once a year at Gender Odyssey. yeah. you read that right ... once a year ...

Every once in a while, The Galloping Gazelle will come down off the La-Z-Boy and bark, but he quickly retreats when he sees this:

... all i know is, the reaction that this person had, and the insensitive manner in which he expressed these feelings are the exact thing i was afraid of ... but not anymore ... every time i'm pushed to be silenced, i'll work harder to find another person who needs my support ...

I feel like we're changing dogs one at a time to live in harmony with cats.  By the time The World's Loudest Snorer went home, the cats were a non-issue, with an occasional 'to be wary of' moment.

... i'd love to bitch more about this, but i have music to compose ...

One thing I can ask is, if cats 'n dogs can live together in harmony, why can't we?  It's an old story that rears it's ugly head every time one person thinks differently than the next.

... thanx for listening to my rant ... i'm off to go fill my life with love now ... one harmonic note at a time ...

I hope you spend your day focusing on the good in your world, because that's my only mission today.

Thank you.

Well, it looks like Papi isn't the only one poking sticks in the hornets' nest.

My article got some opinions flowing.

Some were supportive, and some were loathing my very existence. 

It's good, because it also helps me to see more of how my actions and words may affect people.

Lord knows I've learned a lot through this process, and some of the ways I felt in the beginning are not the same as how I feel now.

I've had to make a few enemies during my lessons, but the flip side is, my real friends have gracefully pointed me in the correct direction with only a few loving words.

There's always going to be someone who doesn't agree with us, because that's the law of nature.

If someone were to just jump right into my sea of words without starting from the beginning, it would be like jumping into a stream that's making it's way toward a vast body of water.

Turbulent.

Rocky.

I'm pretty sure it would ruffle anyone's feathers.

None-the-less, there was one comment that I really had to listen to and think about.

One person spoke about how using 'Tranny' is demeaning, as if I was using it the way people use, "That's so gay," as a way to make something sound distasteful.

Well, I can see why someone who is only jumping in mid-stream would find this offensive.

While I do have feelings for anyone I've irked ...

not my intention, but knew it would happen ...

... these folks really don't know that calling my love a Tranny Terrorist or referring to the overly zealous folks who are more than supportive of their fellow trans people is not coming from a derogatory place.

Papi and I talked about it and we both realize that the Rah-Rah people don't get me and I could never get them.

We have different opinions.  We will never make good bedfellows that's for sure.

However, our opinions are both merited.

My spouse is a transgender person.  It's not degrading, it's the truth.

When my fellow fags, dykes, or queers speak about each other using these 'descriptives', they use the word in an identifying way.

A way that is no where near the use of "That's so gay!" that is used in a demeaning manner.

It's a shortened version of the word transgender, and it doesn't apply to only to one gender or another as someone pointed out in their comment.

My spouse is a tranny.  I'm pretty sure that because I'm married to a transgender person, I can shorten the word can't I?

However, I do see how the 'Rah-Rah Tranny' label would offend.

As much as I've seen an opinion in favour of this by a trans man, I will now be dropping the Tranny word.

Oh don't worry!  I will still be using 'Rah-Rah', because I still see people on the sidelines waving their pom-poms without one hair turning grey from the stress of it all.

But as for the good ol' tranny word on it's own?  I can't see myself lengthening 'transgender' every time I refer to mi esposo.

So, I say thank you for your opinions.  Every one of them had something to learn from.

Stale Mate.

i thought i'd let you know that a blog has allowed me a guest blog on their site.  I hope you can make it over to check it out :) ... and now, on with the show.

Some people have opinions.

I say some, because that is with the exception of people who only think what they're told to think, and consequently, follow the herd.

None-the-less, it's important for people to think freely and question what they hear.

My love and I have had a lot of opinions thrown our way, and some really hurt.

Then there's others that really hit a place that makes us think about our own actions and opinions.  Some have really swayed my thinking to see another side, and I like that.  It means I'm growing.

I shared some of these opinions that my friends have shared with me, and sometimes it hurts Papi.

Sometimes, my friends feel the need to be the sentinel.  I really appreciate this support.  It means a lot to me that someone would protect me.  It proves I'm loved, even though I know it already.

Anyway, when I shared one with my love this time around, it really made an impact on mi esposo, who felt very defensive.

That's when this conversation came up.

My love says, "Do they ever think about how I've supported you in your difficulty with this?  They don't know how I feel.  I feel like ever since this whole thing started, it's been all about you."

excuse me? gimme a moment to pick up my jaw ...

Papi and I went back and forth: "You just started hormones without my knowledge!"  Volley:  "You cried for weeks on end and it hurt to see you that way!"  Counter: "You started the procedure before I'd even had time to process it!" etc. etc. etc.

i don't need to tell 'you', my imaginary friend ... you've been here the whole time listening.

Well, we really don't have many things that we actually 'argue' about, but this became one of a few disagreements that I can count on one hand.

There was finger pointing from my love, there was 'talk to the hand' from me, and there was absolutely no way either of us was going to back down on this one.

We finally agreed to disagree and take 50/50 on the whole thing.  It showed just how far we've both come in this.

When I say both, I really mean it.

This is not a venture for one person when you're a partnership.  This truly is about two people in a marriage.

Some of the passionately political people would never ever look at my side and see that I have any say in the matter what-so-ever. 

as if i really don't matter? oh i matter bitches!

Others in my camp feel that my love should never have gone through with this procedure, stripping me of my gay title after marrying a 'woman'!

This is where the **ahem** 'conversation' turned to the topic of support.

I confirmed, "When this all first started out, you had all the Rah-Rah-Tranny people shouting 'Good on ya!' and what did I have?  Squat.  I had to fight to find people to talk to, but you had happiness right from the beginning."

My love and I spoke about this, and I realized that we have actually met in the middle when Papi said, "Well, all the people who used to comment on Facebook have sorta vanished."

Where I have had to add one heart at a time to my list of support, Papi lost one person at a time, because my love is free thinking and doesn't do what anyone else says he should do.

My love started out strong, and myself?  I was weak.

I'm gaining strength, while Papi is having rude awakenings of false friendships, which is promoting an air of discord in my love.

In the beginning, I would never have imagined a middle ground between us.  At the time, I felt like there was a fence dividing us as we walked our path.

Well, the fence is gone and we have both looked on each others side.

But I still had one more thing to say, "Ok ... so maybe it's been both of us that it's been about, but I think it's a little more like 50.5 on your part."

Oh it all started again where the bartering came and my love said it was more like 60/40 on my part.

It was sorta funny by this point.  Our laughs began and the silliness had reached a stale mate.

We truly are both in this together.  It is 50/50.

Then as Papi was starting his shift, I received a text: "I feel like I need to start a blog!!"

Oh boy.

And you think I air my laundry a bit too much?  You'd really get to see what TMI means if this ever happened.

I guess I asked for it.

"You have to understand that all the things you post in your blog will be seen by the politically correct.  You're not politically correct.  It's kinda like you're being a racist."

These genuine utters stung, bringing on an anaphylactic crying session.  To know that Papi and all the other transgender people, Rah-Rah Tranny folks, Tranny lovers etc. would think that I'm that evil, and that my expressing a cacophony of antipathy could hurt another, stopped me from being able to show my face, even to my love.

My love continued, "I don't see why you don't read more about this so that you're informed." 

like tiny little soldiers we all fall in line ...

I had to be honest with my love, "I really have trouble reading online to better my life.  I have files of links on my computer for things I need to read about from the music industry, how to market better, and learn more for my music production.  I don't even read those, and those are things that are part of learning more for my music.  So, if I haven't even read these things, then I won't get to reading up on transgender issues and how to be politically correct."

No.

I don't read online and learn. 

i didn't ask for this to be my life ...

The only things I like to read are stories that take me so far from reality that I can't come back.

dragons, wizards and magic ... just like magic, sometimes i wish they could wave a wand and poof! i'd disappear ... never again to harm another ...

I cried tears thinking of all the people who have read my instantaneous feelings of the moment.  My fledgling ramblings of how I perceive the transgender world.

My political incorrectness that harms others, when really it stems from ignorance and fear.

Yes.

Same damn thing as racism.

So.

I'm evil.

The very thing that I fear in other people, that is what I am.

I will ask more questions so that I may learn to be what everyone I've bruised wishes I would be.

It won't bring back the haters that have already made their minds up about how hideous I am.  But I can learn from this, so that I may not damage another living being.

It was never my intention.

I'm aching thinking that another person would be injured I through my words.

The lashing of Papi's tongue has put me down to the dog's mat.  I'll just curl up here for a while and lick my wounds.

One thing that changed last night.  As the tears fell so hard that i felt it coming from my toes, reaching through every vein, strangling my throat until they finally reached my eyes to fall, Papi finally held me.

I haven't been able to lie upon my love's chest since the top surgery.

It used to be my favourite place.

It used to be how we'd end the day.

It used to allow me to hear my love's heart beat and feel that it was beating for me.

I haven't felt that in months.

However, because of the tears that were so obviously painful in hearing the truth about how hideous I could be, mi esposo finally gave me back my chest.

Definitely not as cushiony as it used to be.

Not the butch's breast that I could lie upon for support.

Flat.

Barren.

Yet still that heart beat could be heard.

And so could the echos of my love's prior verbal beatings.

It was Papi's truth.

Never meant to hurt, but only to be heard.

And so, I see how I've hurt another.

Clique.

My performance went great!

thank you coffee

Only problem with my voice was the lower part of my register.  If that's all the fever took, I'm cool with it.  For now that is.

I'll be keeping the chatting in the ice box at work today.  Gotta make sure my voice is up to snuff for the next 2 shows Friday and Saturday.

It was just wonderful to see so many people last night and receive so much love.

My Person was there.  I told her I was going to the Gender Odyssey and asked if I could catch a ride.

Again I was one upped.  "Sure!  There's even room for you to stay with us if you want!"  This sounds like a great idea, considering the fact that it's right near the conference.

I had asked The Yank if I could stay there, but it may make more sense for me to be somewhere I don't need to take a cab to.

When My Person asked if it was just me who would be attending, I confirmed that it was, only to hear My Person squeal like a teenager with joy!  She took my hands and we were having a moment of bonding and allegiance to the femme club.

She told me about all the different kinds of people we will experience in our workshops.  She told me there would be Rah-Rah-Trannies, there would be Tranny Chasers, and that there would be tranny haters that will make me look like I'm carrying the pom-poms for the Rah-Rah-Tranny cheering foundation.

I told her I just want to find more love and acceptance, and perhaps more allies.  She told me that even she is still at odds.

She told me that there is really nothing wrong with living in both worlds.  Take one hat off and put another hat on.

Sometimes, she's seen as straight, sometimes she's seen as queer.

I just hate the straight part.  I'm so angry that I get thrown into the closet against my will.

When Papi and I go into public, I'll just be the normal straight girl that I fought so hard to leave behind all those years ago.

Then there's the Trans Clique.  There's a very large clique in the transgender community who support each other.  Which is needed.

However, when Papi told me I need to start hanging out with the Trans Clique, I felt uncomfortable.

I don't just accompany femmes just because we're femmes.  I convene with femmes who touch my heart and fill me with strength.

I pal up with straight people who are the sweet souls whom I've loved since before I came out of the closet, and more that I've encountered along my journey of life.

I get together with trans people whom I've watched go through the changes and loved them along the way.

I buddy up with butches that I adore, who have hearts bigger than most people, even though they look so tough on the outside.

There isn't just a clique of people I consort with.  I don't want to hang out with the Trans Clique just because Papi is trans.

I collect my hearts one by one.  I connect with souls who are like minded, sensitive and intuitive in our hearts, and keep them as a prize I've won.

So when Papi told me I need to support mi esposo by hanging out with the Trans Clique, I got very uncomfortable indeed.

Cliques scare the fuck out of me.

They have done damage to me like no other humans on the planet.

Time and time again, they attack the weakest chicken in the coop.  They segregate and plan their attack behind my back, "Ok, so don't talk to Andréa anymore."  They just whisper into one another's ear as they cast their death stare toward me.

Over and over they gang up on one individual and oust them with no effort.  They laugh as a group, pointing from the balcony as I meekly walk away from the home they stole from me.

Repeatedly, they find a way to ostracize one individual to make themselves feel power.  They confirm my fears, and add to the torment of my social anxiety.

Dearest Papi, don't bring me into a place that could take away all the strength I've worked 8 months to build.

I'm still at a point where I am the weak hen who could be pecked to death.

Gravity

Well, it was a good few days of smiles and strength.

On this journey, you never know when the demons are going to come out to play.

They gave me a visit last night.  Through every tear, they stole my breath.

Papi had to keep reminding me to breathe.

It probably didn't help that my back had seized again.

when will this fucking injury be over and done?!?!

My love needed to express some feelings, and it just didn't sit well with me.

no shit ... my, what lovely swollen eyes you have this morning

Before The Great Breast Disappearance, mi esposo kept asking, "You're going to be able to take care of me, right?"

I really took this as being the caretaker.  I really didn't know Papi needed someone to be strong.

I was far from fierce during the week of my love's top surgery.  I was a mess in fetal position.  I couldn't even communicate to my love how hard it was, so I just continued to clean the hotel room, replace ginger ale, prepare snacks, administer drugs, fluff and arrange the pillows and drain the tubes that needed to be monitored.

I kept busy so my mind wouldn't be.

However, Papi needed someone there to be the one to be strong, but my love chose the wrong person, and also chose the wrong wording around 'taking care'.

I am feeling like a failure.  I am feeling like the wife that let down the other half of the relationship.  I am feeling embarrassed.

i am feeling like vanishing

I honestly tried with every inch of my being to be there for mi esposo.  I worked very hard at 'taking care' of my love.  Yet, there had to be time for me as well.

I learned a long time ago that I need to be there for myself just as much as other people.

Being a people pleaser, I had to learn the hard way that you can only do so much for others, then you have to save some time and space for yourself.

Nobody's going to do it for you.

So when all was taken care of for my love, I would ask, "Is there anything else you need, baby?"

My love would look at me with those dopey eyes and just squeak out, "No."

I took that as: it's my time to think.

We all know what happens when I think to much.  Demons ring my doorbell.  I usually answer, because it's a knee jerk reaction.

Tears would fall, I would record my feelings into the video camera and be true to my emotions.

Unfortunately, there was no where else to go in Fort Lauderdale where I felt safe to be a mess.

So, the hotel balcony and bathroom would be my solitude to cry, but being such a small space, it wasn't hidden from Papi.  I exposed my pain to mi esposo.

I didn't know Papi would simmer in those emotions, until the pot would begin to burn.

Communication happened and I crumbled with the weight of words.

It didn't help that the physical pain was searing through me.  Sometimes, when we have bodily pain, the mind will follow suit.

FALL IN SOLDIERS!!

So there I was.  Revisiting every piece of the pain from the Pit of Doom in that hotel room.

How can two people who are so joined in spirit have opposing feelings about the same experience?

Papi has no way of understanding how much pain I'm in, and I am utterly incapable of being the Rah-Rah-Tranny my love so needs in a wife.

We are on opposite ends of the pendulum, but I suppose even a pendulum has to swing both ways until gravity allows it to pause in the middle.

This is where my love and I will finally meet.

It's been 7 months of a journey.  Not a very long time in the scope of things.  We have a long way to go until gravity is our friend.

Tranny Lovers Anonymous

Sometimes, words can be misconstrued.

When writing from mind to page, we can mean one thing and someone else will take it as another.

Dear Papi thought I was harmed by the most recent Tranny Terrorist antics, as did an anonymous follower or two.

i'm a drama queen ... you'll have to get used to it

If you're new to my blog, I want you to know that when I'm speaking of the Tranny Terrorist, it usually means that at some point, Papi has made me laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Yes.

This is fucking hard.

But no.

I'm not being harmed by Papi or by my love's silliness.

Mi esposo's playfulness is one of the reasons I'm still here.

I've learned a long time ago that I can heal with humour.  Papi knows this about both of us.  Our relationship is filled is laughs 'after the fact'.

i just want the 'after the fact' time to come soon ...

I am not being harmed by Papi.  Honestly, I'm being harmed by myself.

It is I who has the feelings of pain, and the only one responsible for these feelings is me.

Transgenderism is all over the world.

I sometimes put my anger into these feelings and talk about gender transformation as a fad.  This is really just a way for me to rationalize.

In Vancouver, it seems we are losing all our butches to the male transformation phenomenon.

However, this is because we're a little more forward than other places in the world.

How many straight people look at a dyke and say, "Is that a chick or a dude?"

it's a human being fuckwad.

How many people in other countries are feeling like they're born the wrong gender?

A hell of a lot.

In other countries, you'll be killed for being transgendered.  In Vancouver, you'll just have to deal with adverse emotions from your family and your partners.

hey that's me!

I love butches.

I am attracted to masculine women.

So here I am.  Married to the world's most perfect butch who ...

i found out through denial

... is going through male transformation.

I am a closet Rah-Rah-Tranny who's desperately hiding behind that door.  My knuckles are white from holding it closed, while my love is trying to open from the other side.

This is more painful than I could ever tell you.

Despite my pain, the only one responsible for these emotions is me.  I could leave any time I want to.  That would be easier, yes, but I'd miss out on living my life with a wonderful spouse that is my soul mate and very best friend.

except when i'm being ignored because papi's texting like a maniac ... it's all about me dammit!

I'm still in this marriage because I love the person who's going through the male transformation.

These tears won't kill me, so know that I'm safe, albeit I'm fucking pissed that this is my new reality.

This moment of strength was brought to you by a nice cup of dominican coffee ... stay tuned for more episodes of sifting through the pain.

Hello new day ...

You know when you wake yourself up snoring?  It's always that quick honk and then you're thrown into consciousness.

I get to watch Papi do this frequently.  It's pretty funny.

I love the shocked look on my love's face and that gaze of, "What the fuck just happened here!?!?!?"

My love is getting better.  More coherent.  More energetic.

Papi's eyes are focusing better now that mi esposo's blood is getting used to the pills that are being administered.

another snort

This is good for both of us.  My love feels stronger and I get to have moments of support.

I was a real mess yesterday.  I think that was the worst of it.  Either that or it will just come in waves.

Yesterday I feared that the demons were pulling me into the Pit of Doom for an extended holiday.  I had visions of crying for 6 weeks like I did when Papi first dropped the male transformation bomb on me.

However, today is a new day.  I'll look for some strength today.  I'll need to pull it out of the nooks that it's hiding in.

It's the only way to combat the demons with their sharp talons around my heart.

I was able to chat on Facebook with a couple of Trust List friends, and one who had some reminders for me.  One of them is that I'm not in a familiar environment and that it could be adding to the anxiety.

I think we all know how well I adapt to change.

I'm like a fucking cat.  But unlike The Bastard Prince, I'm not about to go pee on the bed to show my disdain.

no ... i'll just cry perpetually ... it's way more classy

I'm just grateful Papi had enough zip so that we both were able to have emotional support.  We both got to talk about our side of the pain.

My love is also having adverse feelings, because most of the people Papi knows has a wife/partner/lover who is a Rah-Rah-Tranny and is thrilled to have their person go through with this.

I just can't understand the way these people think, because I'm so far on the other side of the pendulum.

Papi wishes I could be that person, so that my love would feel excitement and joy in the room.  I can imagine how it feels to be living in a perpetual funeral, because I've been living in it myself since November.

i'm so sorry my love ... i'm just so fucking sorry

None-the-less, we had a good hour of processing before my love started to drift off to Never Never Land in a Vicodin haze.

snort ...

Between my chats online and my chat with Papi, I woke up feeling a tiny bit less teary eyed.  I can still feel the pain in my chest as it inches it's way to my eyes to expose itself to the world.  I'm holding it back as much as possible.

The last thing I need is to fall into another depression.

I've got too much to work on with all the shows coming up to be fucking around in the Pit of Doom.

Hello day.

Let's see if I can make it through today's grieving without tears.

We all know crying makes you look fat and ugly.

The video of this experience is definitely proof of this.

Oh gawd.  Do I really want to show the world how bad I can look?

Poof! Just like that!

It's all over.

The Countdown has ended.

Papi's sleeping now, and it's very eerie.  My love is twitching and whimpering, breathing hard and sometimes puffing.

It's not mi esposo's usual sleep pattern.

But then again, it's not every day that Papi goes under the knife.  Not to mention, sleeps partially sitting up.

You know when a dog runs in it's sleep?  It makes those noises that sound like a partial cry.  I always look at it like they're chasing and barking at rabbits.

This is similar, only it does sound like more of a cry.

I think I even heard 'no' a couple of times.

Poor thing.

It was an agonizing time waiting for them to allow me to see Papi.  I'm not sure why they don't let loved ones be the first face patients see.  I'm pretty sure my love would have wanted it to be me, but Papi got the nurse who helped my love to a pseudo La-Z-Boy chair.

Anyway, I digress.  Back to the wait.

I just kept thinking, "This can't really be happening."  It was too surreal.  There were waves of nausea coupled with moments of distress.

It was just a bit too much at times.

Papi was telling me about all the F-Ms that were there the day before, along with their Rah-Rah-Tranny spouses/partners/lovers.  My love told me how happy they all were.

yeah?  well, they all haven't met THIS femme yet.

Today there was an F-M waiting for their person to come out.  He smiled at me with an excited stare of, "Isn't this a great moment?!?  Isn't it exciting?!?!"

I smirked not wanting to be rude.  It's the most I could pull out of my ass, so as to not look like I was going to cry.  I'm sure I came across as an aloof bitch.

whatever.

My love kept asking me if I was ok.

was i 'ok'?

My stomach kept turning, and the flooding of emotions kept pulling me in an undertow like the ocean we have a beautiful view of from our hotel.

breathe ...

When I finally was cleared to see Papi, the first thing I did was giggle.  The face of my love waking up has nothing on the 'post-op face'.

This was a gem of an expression.

It really broke the spell of doom for me.

Papi seemed so fragile.  I've never seen my love like this.  I wanted to hold mi esposo, but there was an obvious look of pain that stopped me.

All I could do was hold a finger.

I held that digit with all my love, caring and adoration.

I kept looking at my love's much smaller chest area.

they're gone ... they're really gone ... breathe ...

Now the care taking was coming into play.  The nurse had to show me how to drain the tubes from my love.

I just about tossed my cookies.

breathe ... 

There was blood to deal with, and I'm not so good with that kind of stuff, but I keep checking every 2 hours like I'm supposed to and get ready for the job.

I lovingly help Papi with sips of ginger-ale and chicken broth.

I made it through and I'm still here with my most of my sanity.

This didn't kill me.  My mind isn't completely blown yet.

The science experiment of life continues ...

Dear Facebook Stalker:

It's so beautiful here in the land of lush.

It's always brutal to get through the rude stares of people in the airport.  It always seems that this is where the coddled people of the world come out.

what? you've never seen a tranny before? close your fucking mouth ... and yes that IS the stink eye death stare i'm giving you.

It's such a strange experience being in a building with people from all over the world and such different places in life.

We drove to Seattle, where one of the sweetest, most generous friends from the Trust List gave us a ride to the airport.  She seemed to think that we could just show up a half hour before the flight and we'd be fine.

Damn good thing Papi and I are anxiety ridden.  We made sure we got a move on, and damn!  That check out point is where all your time goes.

not sure why the lady chose ME to give the pat down and swiping of hands to look for bomb material ... nobody else got the special attention ... maybe she thought i was cute

We flew from Seattle over the clouds to Newark ...

i always wanna call it norwalk 

... and when we got to our first hotel, it was full.  We were directed next door.  They had a room for us at the lovely Sheraton circa 1980.

While waiting to check in, who's the entertainment on the tv?  Chaz Bono.

Yup.

I may be on vacation, but I'm still forced to face my tranny issues.

Apparently, his wife had a hard time dealing with this as well.  I'm finding the only femmes who don't, are either a Tranny Chaser or Rah-Rah Tranny.

Anyway, Chaz's wife started drinking again to deal with the pain.  I'm so grateful that I chose THIS route to walk my way to healing.

One strange thing that I've really noticed about the Dominican Republic, is the interest the men here have for Papi.  They look at my love with lust that I have never seen by any of the gawking critters that look at mi esposo with that stare of 'wtf'?

Honestly though, I can't tell who they're more leering towards; the tranny or the blonde.  Don't come on to me.  Go ahead and stare, but dammit, keep your paws and words to yourself.

Seriously though, a couple of times, I really felt like telling some of these men to back off my butch!  So strange how they feel this animalism towards Papi, but honestly?  I'd rather have that than the homophobia we experienced in the airport.

Here's where it gets fucked up for me though.

Papi has a Facebook admirer.

The first Tranny Chaser.

Oh fuck ya.

Here it comes.

Seriously you bitches.  You might be lovin' the Papi cuteness, but you so much as lay a hand on my love, and all that anger that I'm feeling about my love morphing from that beautiful butch I married into the tranny I don't know, will be served on a platter of pain.

Trust me.

I'm not normally a jealous person, I mean really, I can't make anyone love me and if Papi falls out of love with me, I would have to accept it.  But if you Tranny Chasers think you'll be able to move on in because you like what you see, you'll painfully witness everything I've been through for the past 5 months.

YOU don't get to move on in after all i've gone through to fight for my love.

I hated seeing this jealous side of me come out.

Papi?  "I kinda liked it.  I've never seen you jealous.  It's good to know you'd fight for me."

maybe i should be wearing the secret Tranny Lover t-shirt

Yes my love.  I adore you more than the awesome local Dominican coffee I'll be experiencing tomorrow morning.

You're all mine, with cream and sugar.

The Silence of the Lambs

She said, "It's not that we didn't notice you disappeared, it's just that we wanted to give you your space.  I wouldn't want to taint you with the pain I felt when I had to go through it, because maybe your experience was different."

maybe i'm a rah-rah-tranny and you're afraid i would judge you adversely?

My response started my tears, "But I needed to know you were there.  I needed to hear that I'm not horrible for the feelings I have."

Like a big sister who had walked my path before, I heard, "We're taught NOT to speak about it.  We're taught that the person transitioning needs support.  We're taught that we need to be the strong one, because we're not supposed to be hurt by this."

My fire grew deeper, "I will not be silenced."

No, I will not stay dormant while my love changes into the person I didn't marry.  I will be there when another person feels there is nobody to talk to.

I will scream from the mountains, "This fucking hurts like hell!"

You Rah-Rah-Trannies will have another thing coming if you think that you're the only ones that get to be heard.

My time has come.

All of those that feel that I should be the supportive wife, the person who just 'takes' it with a smile, the quiet mouse who must grieve in silence, lest I hurt the transgendered person's feelings will not win.

I'm hurting.

I'm terrified.

I'm grieving.

I'm losing my sweet butch I married.

No, this I can promise you; I will not be silenced.

I received another email last night from a sweet soul who saw me on that day that lasted an eternity.  She wrote, "I've never seen you looking so fragile and so sad before.  I just want to know if you're ok."

I wrote back in honesty that I was not ok.  I'm hurting, and that day was an awful day to live.

Another one that may be added to the Trust List.  They just keep coming.

Maybe it's because I need the support now that the countdown has arrived.  Maybe my energy is pulling those toward me because this will be a difficult time.  Maybe I need them.

Maybe I pushed everyone away for those 6 weeks.  Maybe they were my first steps to laying down and commencing the wanting of death.

Maybe now I'm learning to ask for help.

maybe?

All I know is, I thought the hardest part was over.  I thought that acceptance would be the biggest hurdle.

Oh no, it is not.

I'm counting the days until the symbol of my love's femininity has been torn from me.

Papi is starting to get Helium Voice.  The voice that all F-Ms get when the hormones start to transform them into more of a male being.

I've told mi esposo how much I hate that voice.  It's coming and my love is excited.

I'm doing my best just to ignore it.

It's hard however, when Papi is jumping up and down like a child on X-Mas morning, "Can you hear it?!  It's coming!  You have to admit it's coming!!"

No my love, I don't have to admit it.

I have to deal with it.

Chapter Four: Sexy Sauna Party

My hands shook when I saw the face of the person who was signing us in to the party.

Remember my nightmare of rape by the person in our community?

It was her.

She is the sweetest person, yet all I could see was her face turning into the demon that raped me in my dream.  It was a flashback that kept happening over and over.

I let Papi take care of all the speaking while I stared and handed over the money.

here ... take all of it ... please don't hurt me

My love knew exactly what was going on with me.  Mi esposo knew the moment we saw this butch that I was going to have troubles.

My legs barely carried me down the stairs and the first wave of hugs began when we entered, breathing in the heavy air and trying to act 'normal'.

not sure why you're hugging me ... when i asked for your support, you never even so much as returned my email ...

I gave a half-hearted hug.  Enough that she would know that there was now a wall between us.

I then received hugs from my Trust List people.  I took that hug of support like I was a child hanging on to their mother's leg for dear life.

clingy ... don't be clingy ... nobody likes it

Papi and I did our best to just be calm amongst the naked bodies everywhere.

It was a private party that happened every year.  Naked women everywhere, the birthday women getting lap dances and breasts being flaunted in their faces while sex-pots sang Happy Birthday, kinksters getting their asses welted by the birthday women's toys of infliction. 

Yes, it is the birthday women who GIVE the spankings at this party.

There were exhibitionists having sex in the semi-private rooms, there were people making out in all corners and I was just standing there with my bathing suit on.

When I'm feeling overwhelmed by stress, I can't show my body.  I feel the need to hide.  My little red bikini doesn't hide much, but it was enough to keep me feeling somewhat protected.

you people don't get all of me yet ... you abandoned me for 5 months ... 

Papi and I were in our own world.  We went into the sauna that was filled with people, but somehow we were alone.  My head laid on Papi's lap.  Those hands caressed my body where ever they could reach.

Sweat was dripping and mi esposo had enough of the hot, "I can't take it anymore, can we get out of the heat?"

I did it for my love, but also because of fear.  I could have stayed there, but I wasn't staying alone.  What if a Rah-Rah-Tranny attacked me with words spewing judgement?

My love and I took a stall and laid together.  The tears began in my eyes.  Here, in this place, there were breasts everywhere, yet soon my love would have none.

This moment of security with Papi however, turned into a beautiful moment of expressing our physical love of one another.  I was pleased in more ways than one, and there really existed nobody but us.

We laid together for quite some time, but when we decided to go, we were halted by one of the birthday women.  My newest member of my Trust List.

So, I lied.

We have Chapter 5.

Chapter Two: It Gets Better?

Papi's having troubles with memory.  I'm starting to get a little nervous.  My love is repeating the same questions and losing track of time.  I really believe it's the hormones, and when I shared this with mi esposo, what do I get?

"Oh, thank you for reminding me!  It's Saturday!  I have to take my hormones." 

ah for fucks sakes

Papi continued sarcastically, "And I'm sure you know that already, because you'll do something that requires you to come along right while I'm doing it.  But you've come a long way.  Do you want to do this for me now?"

"NO!!!!!!"

"Ok! Ok!  I just thought that since you're doing so well ...  Most girlfriends would do this for us."

excuse me?

"Fuck you and I'm not your girlfriend, I'm your wife, so the rules are different!"

Papi proceeds to prepare them right in front of me and I squirm with nausea, "Do you have to do it right there though?!?"

"Well, this is where I do it.  But if you want me to, I'll do it somewhere else."

"No, just go ahead.  I'm busy here doing something else."

typing and frantically trying to keep my heart from exploding from anxiety

Papi prodded, "Well, if you want I'll do it somewhere else."

"Just stop talking and do it and don't ruin this moment."

Mi esposo was confused, "This moment?"

"Yeah.  I'm doing ok, so just stop talking about it and do it."

Now all I hear is sarcastic, mocking, Tranny Terrorist mutterings of, 'well, i was just trying to be sensitive to your needs.  sheesh don't have to be so mean about it.'

"Just shut the fuck up and do it already!!!"

"I'm already done."

"Oh.  Ok."

i guess i am doing better?

My love came and sat down by me and said, "You look really tired."

"Yeah, it's because I've been crying all morning."

"Oh sweety, about me?"

"Yeah."

I told Papi about my visit, about the expansion of the Trust List and how my newly added person had gone through this before as well.  Then my love got nervous.

"So she didn't last through the relationships either?"  Tears welled in Papi's eyes, "I'm so afraid that you're going to leave me.  The odds aren't good for me.  Most people don't make it through."

My tears joined Papi's, "I am having a hard time because I'm STAYING.  It would be easier if I just left.  But I can't.  I love you so much that I'd do anything for you." 

including suffering this mounting pain ... i do this for love ...

Papi asked, "Is this coming up because of the top surgery?"

"Yes.  6 weeks isn't very far away and I have to somehow get over this so I can help you."

my trust list person and i both agree that whatever energy is around the healing of scars, this too will be absorbed by the tissues ...

Adamantly, Papi stated, "No you don't.  You can have whatever emotions you need around this.  Thank you for staying with me.  Thank you for loving me enough to be here."

We got ready for the Sexy Sauna Party, and my stomach just kept turning in anticipation of running into a Rah-Rah-Tranny.

feel the fear and do it anyway ...

En route, we had to drive through skid row to get to the sauna.  As we travel, we take in the sights of people less fortunate than us.  Those who aren't lucky enough to have gotten out of their addiction.  Those who may die in these streets.

One man stuck out among the crowd ... and so begins Chapter 3.