Paradise is NOT a 'place'.

The party.

Unlike any baby shower you'll find in Canada.

Canada?  Ladies only for the most part.

Silly games to keep us entertained, refreshments with a few tame drinks.

Music on, really only for ambiance.

Baby shower in Dominican Republic?

Co-ed, rum being chugged before it's poured into the glass.

Music so loud, there's no point having a conversation.

I filmed people dancing instead.

Our Fave's Mom looked so damn beautiful.

I've never seen her look so good, because the poor thing is so damn pregnant, she doesn't have the energy to fancy herself up.

Damn she's beautiful with her hair down and those massive breasts spilling out of her Spanish style top.

I actually didn't recognize her at first!

I had a tour of their fruit trees, pigs and chickens.

We're talking at least 20 fuzzy, baby chicks too.

Holding them to give me so much love that I need right now.

They chirped in my ear, "I love you, it's really good to be alive!"

Yeah, you're not old enough to know how bad life really gets.

Oh, but you won't be saying that when it's YOUR turn to be in the pot of food they were cooking for the party last night.

I was also the tester of the food to see if it was good.

Good?!?!

Oh I can't even tell you the flavours they use here.

I was grateful to be the tester.

Papi kept disappearing.  Understandable.  His social anxiety is worse than mine.

He was supposed to be behind the camera to keep himself busy so he didn't feel uncomfortable, but people were shy in front of him.

He handed it back to me.

The 2nd time he disappeared, I went to the house to get the flash for the camera.

I saw it.

A pint of beer poured.

My heart stopped, my stomach erupted through my head and the tears were being held back with all my force.

I was supposed to go back and take pics of Our Fave's Mom opening her gifts.

No time to cry.

As soon as I was done however, I went home to find that Papi didn't drink the beer.

Not because he came to his senses, but because he was caught in the act.

His way of dealing is to relapse.

My way to deal with depression is to get so angry that my yelling actually scares away all the animals, for fear that they will be pulled into the eye of Hurricane Andréa.

Normally, they see me as all love.

I'm hurting and scared and feel so isolated, so when there were no friends to speak to by way of internet, well, I lost it.

Papi's grieving.

Today we put down Psycho Kitty.

Poor little critter has had enough.  I keep begging him to go to the angels on his own, but he's just too much of a fighter.

I've had enough of watching him suffer, not being able to even open his mouth enough to eat.

Papi's had enough of watching his little love slowly die before him.

Beyond the dying cat, there is so much exhaustion and trouble to deal with that we're at the point where we half heartedly spoke about the convenience of there being two guns for a double suicide.

This is not paradise.

Paradise is not a place.

Paradise is in your heart.

A beautiful view of the ocean does not cure a mental chemical imbalance.

i offer a sincere apology to those affected by my anger

accept it. this hurts.

My g*d I hate this time of year.

The Xmas Meltdown is nipping at my heels and I'm not even celebrating it this year!!!

I'm just grateful I haven't fallen into the processed sugar pit.

At least that way I'm not taking up residence in the Pit of Doom.

Without putting that nasty, white death into my system, all I do is periodically go have a seat in the La-Z-Boy I've set up there.

It's much better than living there, but it still hurts.

I have to admit, I'm having so many unresolved feelings come up that obviously need to be taken care of.

One thing I'm learning, is Facebook is really not a great place for me this time of year.

I'm also learning that I need to be true to myself.

I have so much difficulty being in gatherings, because I'm always afraid of not being accepted, so I tend not to go because of my social anxiety.

But here's where the irony comes in; then I sit and look at all the people who have pictures of their gatherings on Facebook and feel so unloved, because they didn't think to invite me.

It hurts to feel uninvited, but sometimes people don't invite me because I don't fit in.  Not to mention, because of my anxiety, I don't accept the invitation that often, so they don't bother anymore.

I know that in small settings, like one on one, most of the people in those pictures would love to see me, they just don't invite me to bigger groups.

Hey, you never know who is on the hate train with the Hector-Browns either.  Best to be safe and leave those two at home.

I am learning that I don't fit in with cliques.

OK.  Wait.

If I'm being honest, I haven't fit in with cliques since I was a child.  I'm not just learning that.  I'm just coming to terms with that.

I'm a good person.  I'm just not someone who follows the herd.

I say what I want to say, never intending on hurting someone, yet it always seems I've offended.

I do what I want to do, and sometimes, people don't agree with my actions.

I do things to keep ME happy, but that doesn't make everyone happy.

So, here I sit for another hollow day season and hurt.

All I've ever wanted was to be accepted.

It's time to start learning that acceptance of myself is all I've ever needed.

I need to accept that I'm a loner, not a person who follows the herd.

I need to accept that I'm never going to be that popular girl that everyone flocks to.  I'm a victim of polarity, love me or hate me.

I need to accept that I'm loved only by those who matter.

I need to accept that this time of year, my head gets filled with all kinds of bad thoughts that aren't always true.

I need to accept that even though I'm home with only Papi, and our Chanukah lights are only being lit by the two of us, that it's ok that we don't have family or friends to show us what to do.

We're making our own ritual.

We sing 'Happy Hanukkah' to the tune of 'Happy Birthday' and do our silly Chanukah dance that we somehow made up on the spot.

Not to be confused with The Happy Papi Dance.

It's nowhere near what we're 'supposed' to do.

But then that's our journey together.

We never do what we're 'supposed' to do.

I suppose that's going to have to be OK.

i accept myself completely

anger management

I think I really do need anger management.  They say that depression is only anger turned inward.

That would make sense in this case.

The foreshadowing of the next three months here in the frigid, teeming weather in Vancouver hit me when my back went into spasm upon leaving the Dominican Republic.  Unfortunately, carrying my bag definitely wasn't a smart idea.

The anger hit when I realized that can no longer use my medicinal cannabis once we got home.

To us, in this hemisphere of the orb for we, who have 1st world knowledge, this will sound crazy, but I have to get back on pills, or the Dominican Republic won't let me live in their country.

They'd prefer I take morphine for the pain.  Seriously!!

I can't have the natural pain killers in my blood stream, as they will test my blood upon entry as a landed immigrant, so it's back to mother fucking pills.

Once more, they'll destroy my stomach and rob me of energy and happiness.  Hence, I got a little bit pissy in anticipation of taking them.

So much so, that as we were leaving the Dominican Republic, I had to relieve the angst by joking with the custom's officer about my bitchy attitude, and matching malicious face.

In Spanish, I told him I'm tired, hot, and added in, "La perra," the bitch.

He smirked, then looked at Papi as if to say, "Oh, you poor, poor soul."

However, to be honest, it was not just because my bitch of a back was biting at me, it was also because I didn't want to go home to deal with people who trigger my social anxiety, preventing me from leaving my home.

This one moment of returning home was just an appetizer of what's to come for the next three months.

There I went, the Limping Lesbian, to the washroom.  I sat on a toilet and sobbed, hoping nobody would come in to hear me.

I especially didn't want anyone to come in because I started talking to myself, begging to nobody in particular, "Please!  I don't want to go home!"

After a while, my ass got a little numb sitting there, so I decided to return to Papi.

Upon leaving the washroom, I saw the rows of Dominican rum that whispered very seductively to me, "You could have some pain and stress relief, right over here!"

Oh, sure I could, but then I'd be dealing with pain of another level, so I cried some more.

There I was, amongst all the happy travelers, in tears.

I pouted and gave people the stink eye when they'd stare at my state, and for a moment, was grateful that I actually had those miserable pills in our bags.  I took those, plus the anti-anxiety pills Papi stuffed down my yack.

I know I'm not alone in these feelings.  Vancouver is heading into it's depressive state, where a lot of us tend to be affected by it.  S.A.D. is real, and in Vancouver, it's in abundance.

My challenge for the next 3 months will be to stay positive while having horrid chemicals roaming through my blood, poisoning my mind and destroying my stomach.

Positive.  Stay positive.  Don't fall into the Pit of Doom, please!  Let's not have any Hurricane Andréa sightings, for the love of god!!!

I'm pretty sure right now would be a really good time to get on to my food plan 100%.

I brought Dominican chocolate home, but perhaps, this is going to be for giving away.  It's necessary to keep my body physically well, to keep my mind emotionally stable.

I really need to do this, because unlike some fortunate others who don't have a chemical imbalance, I need to work very hard to be happy.

I'm going to put a massive calendar on the wall to cross off the days until we leave, and know that eating very well every day is for a specific reason, not just a flippant 'diet'.

I need to get serious about my physical and mental health.

Not to mention, there's a third part of this equation; spiritual.  I'm pretty sure that thinking about stuffing my gun down potential predators' throats is not spiritual.

I could have better thoughts roaming through my brain.

i choose nourishing and healthy foods

check mate, papi!

"Why would you do this to me?!?!"

"Because you wave your penis at me all the time."

Papi just doesn't understand the depth of my P.T.S.D.

It may look like I am laughing when he leaves that plastic one eyed monster lurking beneath items, but it's a laugh of fear.

I am one of 'those' who laughs nervously.

If I'm laughing too much, chances are I'm on edge.

When I first meet people they just think I'm always happy.

Nope.

I'm scared shitless of strangers.

People are capable of a lot of damage to one another.

They scare me.

As people get to know me, they see that I'm really quite mellow and shy.  I just overcompensate amongst newbies.

So, yeah, when those Plastic Penes are coming at me, mi esposo just doesn't understand that I'm actually quivering from flashbacks of past predators.

My way of making light and protecting myself is to make it seem like it's funny.

I deal with a lot of life's challenges through humour.

If I don't laugh, I'll cry.

If I cry, I have snot running down my face and my eyes swell, making it look like I've been in the ring with Mike Tyson for a moment.

That's just not sexy.

So, the torment I endure from my love's penis antics is less than pleasing, even if I do trust him.

I'm constantly saying, "Why do you do this to me?!?!"

Yesterday was Papi's turn to shudder in terror.

We all have our fears.  Anyone who says they don't is lying.

Papi has severe social anxiety, whereas I'm perfectly comfortable in the limelight.

One of my journey's of late has been to explore my Jewish heritage and Judaism.  I feel that my family keeping it a secret for so long is not honouring my ancestors struggles when they escaped the holocaust and fled to Canada.

I have had a great instinctual pull toward Judaism my whole life, but I didn't know why.

When I learned the reason for this connection, I searched for my people and I've been welcomed by an extremely positive Reformed Judaism community.

In fact, they're so inclusive, that even though I've only been attending the Sabbath every Saturday since this past spring, they've decided to give me a Farewell Blessing Ceremony.

It blows my mind that I could be included into this kind of love.

Anyway, my point is, they created this opportunity to send us off, and asked if I wanted to invite friends to be there to add to the awesome positive energy that will be bestowed upon us.

I didn't really tell Papi about it, because I know him too well.

If I had've told him, he would have put on his big boy whitey tighties and said, "Oh, HELL NO!!!!!"

Hence, I went ahead and did it anyway.

Now he's going to have attention.

Hehehehehe.

Sometimes, our marriage seems a bit like a back and forth game of 'got'cha!'

Your move, Papi.

And now, I'm off to go snorkeling to go find The Hotel Shark.

i enjoy my affluence and share it appropriately

Aping the apes.

A wedding with guns!  Well, the groom had a knife, but the rest of them had guns.

I felt so much for Papi, as it was a difficult social time in the 'man zone'.  He's still learning how to fit in with the bio-males.

He relates more to the women, and sometimes, the man on the arm of a woman will react a little adversely, confusing my love's 'relating' with more than friendly chatter.

My love expressed his feelings about his strife and all I could come up with was, "I think you should just ape them.  Whatever they do, you do."

He had good practise with the suffering addict at our reception table.  That poor soul was so hammered, he just kept giving mi esposo fist bumps along with the occasional, "Dude!  Right?!"

Sometimes, for no reason at all.  He'd just come out of his stupor to join in the conversation for a moment and agree with whatever was being presented at the time.

None-the-less, he was a great practice person for Papi.

My love looked so handsome.  I was proud to be on his arm.

Especially, when the typical 'mean girls' in the parking lot didn't like the fact that my dress was hugging and exposing every curve of my healthy figure.

Oh, how I had my booty out proud yesterday.

I suppose those catty girls didn't like it, and when they were being the usual 'point and gossip bitches', my love silenced them with an aggressive, "Knock it off," in Papi's way of meaning business.

I couldn't be bothered to look and see if they adhered to his warning.  All I cared about was that my love was proud of how I looked as well.

I'm getting more accepting with being seen as the straight couple.  At least we're donned in tattoos, and don't look like the 'normal', conservative couples that were looking toward us with curiosity.

It will definitely make life easier in the Dominican Republic.

On our last visit, I was accosted by homophobic bible thumpers who told me if I prayed, their god would take away my being gay.

It took everything I had not to fight with them.  I know that this will be my biggest challenge when we're there.  The religious zealots are everywhere.

Even at the wedding last night, I had a very difficult time, when before we ate, they gave a prayer for food.

They asked us to stand and bow our heads.  I cringed, sarcastically sighed and rolled my eyes at their 'oh heavenly father' thanks for food.

I would rather thank The Chef Extraordinaire for their hard work.

I seriously just found my ability to understand my own spirituality over the past couple of years.

The accident woke an aspect of my belief system, but when faced with the crap I had to grow up with, I get a rather repugnant taste in my mouth.  Not to mention the little grunts of 'oh for fucks sakes' will sneak out when I'm not paying attention to my mouth.

My love will give me the eye of 'don't be a bad one, honey', coupled with a nudge, that will nip my discourse in the bud.

So, I stood.  I bowed.  I behaved.  Still, I cussed them all in my mind, while concealing it with a smile.  I find it quite offensive that anyone would force another person of a different belief to pray to their god.

That's another reason I'm grateful to have found such connection with Judaism.  Their belief is that you don't actually say 'god's' name.

That's perfectly fine by me.  I'm happy when I don't have to follow the rules of my upbringing.

I remember being knocked upside the head for saying the usual teen phrase of, "Oh my god!" with that valley girl drawl we would all have.

"Don't you use the lords name in vain," I would hear as my head took a whoopin'.

Anyway, I survived their prayers to zombie Jesus and ate their amazing meal, appreciating every bite with my own gratitude for food, and the enjoyment of sharing a beautiful day with two people who allowed Papi and I to hear wedding vows all over again.

I found us nodding our head to some of the words during the service.

For better or for worse, in sickness and in health.

Love is all you need.

i feel fulfilled and joyful

Putting my fears to bed.

It's amazing how much fun I had last night.

All those fears?

Useless.

Had washes of stomach pains from anxiety right up until I got in the hot tub.

Yeah.

It was a swimming event.

But I don't swim.

I float.

Anyway, the hot tub with great friends made it quite easy for me to ignore the haters, and they just ignored me.

Even Papi loosened up when he saw others with the exact same scars.  It was like we just fell into a magic pool filled with confidence and love.

My Boifriend and the sweetest M-F sillier than me, pushed myself and 4 fun loving strangers around in a floaty canoe!

I went down the kiddy slide!

I hung from a rope about a foot over water and slid right in!

Yeah, it might not have been the best idea for this bitch of a back, but it sure made me smile and have the greatest time in a while.

What I realized last night, is that I leave too long between social gatherings, so that the next time I actually have to go out, I think the worst, because I forget the best.

This has to stop.  Somehow, I have to assure that scarred little girl that she's not in that time when people would tease her about her hair.

When kids would literally stop and point; one I remember yelling at the same time, "What the fuck was that?"

I wasn't like all the other kids.  And it wasn't just my Honky 'Fro.  It was also my personality.

My mind was always thinking about my piano.  My piano was my first love.

That little girl who's different had to go to an event for her own good.

There weren't mirrors all over the place.

There was one wall of them and Papi caught me before I sneaked a peak to make a negative moment come to light.  "You look beautiful, my love.  You don't need to look."

Papi may have caught me before I did damage there, but the fear of walking out into a pool as the only femme in a bikini had me literally shaking.

Just like the good old days of starting at a new school every year, she felt so out of place.

That was of course, until she saw the M-F in a full length dress, tights and padded bra slide into the water.

She did all kinds of fancy falls from that massive rope.

And you know what?  Nobody pointed or stared at my body.

It's the fear of the unknown that gets me.

The little girl who has been a little more affected than most by the potential of people's evilness had the best time last night.

She got to shine in love.

I'm so glad I made her go.

Who knows?  Maybe by the time I'm 80 she'll relax a little and realize that there's more love out there than there is fear.

Stranger things have happened in my growth this year.

there is nothing to hold me back except myself

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

Riding that wave ...

You know, it's time to put the Trust List into an archive box.

I am so surrounded by support, that the list just keeps growing.

So much so, that the little basket I'd collect hearts in, has become so big, that I now need a semi-trailer to haul all the love.

Every single angel who has sent me treasured words of esteem are automatically added to the list.

It's so big now, that I walk with pride.

It's so big now, that I don't feel the need to fall prey to social anxiety and hide under my rock, missing out on opportunities for a room full of joy.

It's so big now, that I received an email from someone wanting to make a play out of our story.

She told me she had made a web page for me some years back, but somehow, my injured noodle just can't remember.  I'll have to wait to see her face up close, look in her eyes and allow the memories to wire back in when they choose.

Anyway.

The Trust List.

It's big.

It's powerful.

It's so full of love.

However, that's all I have time to write about today, because it's a very busy day.

I'm going to go get prepared for the last shots of our BlueLight video, and Lin Gardiner is a strict task master so I don't wanna piss her off!!

Hence, I don't have much time to write, other than to say that my 2012 has started out with greatness.

I'm gonna ride that wave until it crashes on the shores of the Dominican Republic!

I'm grateful you're here to join me.

Next step: Motivation

I'm like an elephant.

I never forget.

I can forgive quite easily, as we are definitely not perfect beings.

But forget?

No.

It's part of the reason why I'm so sensitive to cliques actions, and why I have social anxiety.

I've run into the issue of being ostracized by mobs since I was a little girl.  Over and over again these throngs of people prove how mean they can be.

I really thought that it would get better at this developed point in life.  I mean c'mon!  We're adults here, are we not?

some of us have that nattering teenager inside ...

But just like elephants never dismissing a memory, some people are like feral cats and never change their loathsome habits.

I sat with a Trust List friend the other day, whom I told about my issues with 'learning'.  How I prefer to ask questions and learn from my mistakes to educate myself.

I mean really.

My biggest lessons have come through the err in my imperfect ways.

However, she looked at me with sympathetic sincerity, while asking me if it really is a method I would recommend sustaining.

I reminded myself, at the same time I told her, "I usually do these things until I'm sick of the pain, or finally realize they don't actually work."

I'm wondering if perhaps I should take a look at my scarcity of wisdom in the transgender world.

I've been so pig headed about the whole thing.  I've only been letting in what I can handle, to be honest.

Yet, I really feel that I'm much more secure now.  This allows me to be much more inquisitive, and simultaneously, more willing.

i am the queen of denial ... and denial ain't a river in egypt ...

Papi and I went to a movie the other day about transgender people.  3 people told their stories and one of them was a very young child.

The parents of this child were so supportive of their kid being trans.  It was really quite beautiful.  They fumbled through this new world, learning as they went.  All the while, they supported their offspring by allowing this person to decide who they wish to be.

Next came an F-M who had a struggle all through his life because everyone else could see that this 'girl' was not the same as the other 'girls'.

He spoke about his upbringing, the first person who accepted the male inside as 'Tom', and his isolated voyage in this quest of finding who he really is.

We didn't get to see the third person, because Papi's stomach erupted from a bad case of 'alfredo sauce from hell'.

It didn't really matter that I didn't get to see the third one.  The first two were enough for me to feel so deeply for my love, and the titanic trouble Papi must have endured to finally get to a point of acceptance of the male within.

My love had said to me early on in the drop of the bomb, "The reason I found strength to come out about my need to change genders, is because I knew I could trust you to keep loving me, and that you wouldn't leave me."

Papi was right.  I'm not going anywhere.

But damn!  I've got a lot of learning to do, opinions to change, and fear to overcome.

Nevertheless, there was one comment that stood out in the verbal exchange of femme to femme love with my Trust List friend the other day, that still reverberates in my mind.

I had blurted out, "My love is stronger than my fear."

My friend was jubilant to hear these palpable words, and stressed that I should place this bold statement around the house.  That way, I could see these words when I fret about my future with my soul mate who is becoming another gender.

There's really nothing to be afraid of.

I've gotten past that point.

So now, the work must begin.

Anyone feel like giving me a loving nudge?

Hurt

It's so easy to be on the other side.

If I were someone else, it would be very easy for me to say, "Honey, they don't matter.  The only people who matter are the ones who love you."

This is as much strength as it is truth.

However, when you're on the receiving end of the hurt, it's very hard to just 'let it go' and heed the words of sweet security from friends and loved ones.

I'm just like anyone else.

I can't be loved by all.

I am well aware of those who hate me, because they make it very clear.  Those are the people I can 'let go'.

Yet, there are ones I can't do this with.

They are in my community, in my circle, all around me, all the time.

They don't make it clear, they just exude the energy of disapproval.

No, I'm not politically correct enough.

No, I'm not popular enough.

No, I'm not cool enough.

Yes.

I'm honest, and no totalitarian wants to hear honesty that could challenge the fascist who say, "Follow us or be the outcast!"  You must never speak your candor, nor may you ever show tears or fears.

I could never be good enough for 'them'; those who are dictated by the political, popular and cool kids.

if you think high school ended in grade 12, try being in the gay community

I stay hidden, invisible to those who stand in my scarred sight, as they look everywhere but into my eyes.  They feel my deprived reach for their gaze.  They repel this option by averting and giving a half grin.

don't bother, andréa, you're not one of us ...

I am only a visitor.

Only 9 months ago, they spoke words of false love and tried to connect with me.

Now, I don't exist.

I have social anxiety for a reason.

Here lies the biggest fear: I'm not good enough.

My foreboding fears were earnestly validated.

The pain killers were roaming my blood, searching for a place to lie, waiting to change my chemical balance.

Those little poison pills found their site to incite affliction; my sensitivity to hate.

Walking body after body I witnessed were part of the malevolent mass.

I counted them in my mind, "One, two, three ..." until finally I couldn't handle the pain anymore, and my biggest enemy appeared: my tears.

Of course, with those who love me, I used my truth for a lie, "Yeah, I'm in a fair amount of pain right now."

It was a great cover up of the reality, that those who attempted to hurt me, succeeded.

I closed my eyes and listened to the readers.

i am not here ...

The readers would take me away in their story and I would emotionally vanish, the way some hope I would forever.

poof! i'm gone.

I am still the weakest chicken in the coup.

They broke my skin with their pecking, and even today, I'm still bleeding.

I'm not ready for the big world yet.  I still need to stay with my grass floor, eggs that other hens have laid, and the smell of the stench from a fowl who has laid their feces in my home.

I still my Trust List.

Here I am!

So.

By the end of the day yesterday, I had a lot more insight.

It always happens.

That thing I was telling you about?  How I can figure out faster what I'm having anxiety about?

Yeah that thing.

I'm understanding so much more about my fears.  They have ruled my life.

They sneak in to every crevice of my reality.

I realized yesterday, that I will be taken care of no matter what happens with my job.  I'm always taken care of.  I always have food, shelter and love.

It's really all we need in this world.

some ... they have none of the above ... and that's something to worry about.

I may not have my organic foods that make my body feel better, but I will have food.

I may not have the palace I need to fit all my 'things', but they're just things.  They don't fill my heart.

I may have been hen pecked by the evil of the world, but they don't matter, because the love I receive from those I've chosen to be around me is so sticky sweet, I could fall into a sugar coma.

Last night I realized just how much love could take away fear.

Papi and I were invited to a fireworks party by a friend who's becoming more and more of a kindred spirit as time passes on.

so we sat and made every excuse as to why we shouldn't go because of our social anxiety ...

The happiness she showed that Papi and I were there made my timid heart swim in warmth.

She has no furniture, as she's just gone through the end of a messy relationship.  However, by the end of the evening, her room was so full of love that those white, bare walls didn't even miss the chairs, tables, book stand.

It was abundant.

So much so that it seemed like there wasn't even enough room at some points.

That empty room was furnished with laughs, serious conversations, opinions, understanding of one another's pain, joy and future ventures.

Then, one of this world's finest authors that we are so privileged to enjoy, informed me that she reads my blog.  Her words swelled my fragile ego into strength.

"Honest."

"Well written."

These were just a few of the words she chose to tell me what she thought about my work.

It dawned on me then.

When I was reeling from the healing of my motorcycle accident, the only way I could creatively employ my feelings so as to benefit my mind, was to begin writing a novel.

I couldn't play my instruments.  I couldn't do anything but type.

Write I did.

goddamnit i really need to get that fucking thing finished!  **frets**

When I was broken with the news that Papi would be going through a male transformation, I couldn't speak.

The only thing I could do was write.

Write I did.

Here I am. 

"If you observe nature at work, you will see that least effort is expended.  Grass doesn't try to grow, it just grows.  Fish don't try to swim, they just swim.  Flowers don't try to bloom, they bloom.  Birds don't try to fly, they fly.  This is their intrinsic nature.  The earth doesn't try to spin on its own axis; it is the nature of the earth to spin with dizzying speed and to hurtle through space.  It is the nature of babies to be in bliss.  It is the nature of the sun to shine.  It is the nature of the stars to glitter and sparkle.  And it is human nature to make our dreams manifest into physical form, easily and effortlessly." ~ Deepak Chopra

Here I am.

Healing, learning, understanding, safe and loved.

In other words, fuck it.

It's all going to work out just fine, as did my life leading up to this very point.

Here I am.

This time was meant to be.

i also figured out i need to get the fuck out of this house, because lying around with a bitchy back in a dungeon does no good to one's psyche.  i mean really ...

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.

Happy! Anniversary Papi

It's our one year wedding anniversary today!  Papi and I made to one year and we spent our evening prior to our day at a beautiful wedding.  It was a perfect way to celebrate, even though I didn't think it would be.

It was a night filled with love.

By the end.

At the beginning of the evening, I slipped completely into terror.  I didn't know why the stress level I had yesterday was relentlessly attacking me.  I was shaking, my stomach hurt, and I was feeling very anxious.

It occurred to me this morning that indeed, I still have social anxiety about being in the community.  The fear of others' judgement does affect me in endless ways.

Papi and I received a 'save the date' for a wedding by someone I wasn't sure would be caring about my feelings of Papi's male transformation.

When it came time to receive the actual invitation, it never came.

Of course, being the sensitive person I have been over the past 7 months, ...

ok ... my entire life ... but i think that i'm a little bit more coo-coo now that my love is changing ...

... I jumped straight to, "We've been UN-invited."

I mean of course!  Why wouldn't we be?!

I have issues with Papi going through these changes and people have dissed me.  Why wouldn't these folks too?

Well Papi, being the bull in a china shop, posted on Facebook in haste, "I think it's funny that we've been uninvited to a wedding."

When the bride read my love's status, she immediately thought, "Is that pertaining to me?" and quickly emailed mi esposo.

Our invitation was sent on a day where 130 emails were sent, and true to Murphy's Law, the one person that really needed to be shown they're still loved, was excluded.

that would be me.

It got cleared up through a back and forth email discussion, but being the whack job I am, I felt that it had to be true that I was uninvited.

unlovable, not good enough, invisible ...

By the end of the night, I found that I am indeed loved and accepted.  Even by the people who haven't contacted me, knowing that I'm not doing the best I could be doing.

People do have their own shit going on, but when I was in crisis, I needed to know I was accepted by my community.  Well, it doesn't always work out as we plan.

'you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.'

Yes, there were people there last night that have dissed me.  I walked proudly past them with my tangerine, silky, clung to my ass dress that represented a red dress of strength, and ate as many oysters at the oyster bar as I could.

the oyster shucker was my new hero.

I danced while eating my non-dairy, bite sized tacos and allowed the room to see that I'm truly happier than I was the prior 7 months.  I also found that I did have enough love by the few folks on my Trust List to hold my head high.

No, I wasn't afraid by the end of the night.

I was loved and proud of my handsome spouse.  It was thrilling to be at a fun gathering to represent our happiness in our marriage.

It hasn't been all roses to say the least, but as I'm learning from other married folks, marriage is work.  Ours just happens to be a little more **ahem** enter your own synonyms here for 'difficult' _________.

I belong, and it's now time to tell my story.  I did so with only a few tears welling up in my eyes.  However, there was no uncontrollable sobbing.

Truth be told.

Indeed.

Wallflower

I usually don't get the chance to be out at a social gathering with Papi.  Our schedules really do clash.

Last night, I had the advantage of arriving with my love to a Trust List friend's birthday party.

It was so wonderful to have mi esposo there, however it brought some difficulty for me in the evening.

You see, my love has all the support in the world.  Every person in Papi's life is very loving towards mi esposo ...

with the exception of the 95 year old g'ma ...

... and the changes.  They are very curious or interested, and there are some people who find the camaraderie in another transgendered person.

None of that changed last night.  Every person who was in contact with Papi was asking my love how it was going, starting with the first person we saw at the door, "How are you doing with all of this?!  Is it all moving very smoothly?  How are you feeling!?"

Of course, Papi answered with glee that things are going better than expected, that my love is healing from the surgery and can lift arms a bit more now, and going back to work etc.

As the banter continues with joy and excitement, I shrink.

I want to disappear.

So much so that when they look at me, you can see it in their eyes.  The look of pity.  There is an air of tension and they stroke my arm or simply say, "I'm sorry."

Papi usually jokes and says, "Ah, she'll get over it."

There's also the part where I just stay silent.

I can't go in to detail with my oral words like I can when I'm speaking to 'you', my imaginary friend.  Here I can tell you right down to the face muscle as to how I'm feeling.

Speaking about my feelings out loud is not my forté.

Papi and the person asking questions will speak for me, speak about me, speak as if I wasn't there.

I stand with my shoulders caved in, in hopes that if I try really hard, I could just vanish.

please don't bring any more attention to me

At one point in the evening, a very nice person came to sit with us and was genuinely interested in my love's progress.  I couldn't handle another moment of pity, so I felt I had to leave the circle.

I had to go somewhere.

Anywhere.

I casually, invisibly walked over and stood beside the birthday girl and waited for her to finish her conversation with an obviously intoxicated chum.

someone i used to have a crush on ... interesting how our tastes change over the years!

Good things come to those who wait.

This dear friend has a heart bigger than one could ever imagine.  Her soul is an innocent, youthful, magical entity.

She looked at me after saying goodbye to her ex that is still haunting her and said, "I just need to hold your hands."

I needed more.

I took her head into my bosom, and held her as if she were my own child.

Funny part was, it felt as though she was doing the same for me.

We took one another's pain and exchanged it with love.  We crawled into the same balloon of air and breathed away each others stress.

This interchange of energy was so beautiful that I felt filled.  I felt I could return to my love.

This is one of the beautiful souls in my life that I am so fortunate to have as a Trust List friend.

I really am one of the luckiest people in the world to have so much love.

Truly.

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.

Chapter One: Expansion of Trust

It was a day of days yesterday.  So much so, that I'll have to give you a 3 maybe 4 chapter unfolding of events.

Seriously.

I started my day with emotions from hell.  Not only did I feel like the walls were coming in because of The Countdown, but I had a visit from someone that I wasn't expecting.

Someone from the community, whom Papi told could come borrow the power washer.  My love was sleeping the Graveyard Coma and didn't tell me.

So, this person phoned to tell me they're in my backyard, and how was I doing?

how am i doing?  haven't spoken to you since the bomb was dropped and you obviously are oblivious to how difficult this is, so here ya go ... here's how i'm doing!

"I'm breathing.  I'm alive.  I'm a mess."

She was taken aback, "Oh no, well, while we're here picking up the washer, I'd love to give you a hug."

"Alright then, I'll be up in all my glory."

hair a mess, glasses off so i can't see shit, donning crumpled pajamas and a pillow face line ...

She gave me the welcoming hug that made the tears fall.  I blurted it all out.  You don't get to just hold me when I'm hovering over the Pit of Doom.  No, you have to save me to keep me from falling in.

I told her about The Countdown to top surgery, the 6 weeks of lying in a La-Z-Boy catatonic state November/December, and the struggle I've had just to stay above water.  I let 'er rip.

It wasn't what she was expecting, then she dropped a bomb on me.

"Girl, I've been through it twice.  Once with an M-F and once with an F-M.  I said never again.  Never again will I go through this.  The pain and suffering is beyond what anybody could ever imagine."

Then she asked me if this was spoken about before the wedding, and I answered shakingly, "No."

She looked me straight in the eyes, "You have every right to be fucking pissed off.  You have every right to let the wife you're losing know exactly how you feel, and fuck them for their feelings after having lied to themselves about this and in turn lied to you."

I crumpled in her arms.  I cried sobbing, hyper-ventilating tears that were familiar to that 6 week state of demons taking control of my mind.

She held me until my neck muscles, back muscles and shoulders stopped pulsating from my overpowering lungs.

"Come tonight.  Come to the party and get some love."

I told her of my fears of a Rah-Rah-Tranny and what those people could do to my heart when it's in a place of weakness.

She promised to hold me up.

I told her of my Trust List and that I've now collected another heart for my page.

One more added.  Another soul who just appeared out of thin air who knows exactly what I'm going through.

Why?

Why aren't those of us who have been there in the forefront?  Why are we forgotten about and our words are like a taboo sin to be heard?

I wasn't really planning on going to the gathering, but after my Trust List expanding, I decided I would.  There would be 3 of them there.

Still, the social anxiety hammered at me all day as I prepared my mind to get ready.

When Papi woke from the Graveyard Coma, I announced we were going and my love began to ask me questions about things we spoke about 3 days ago.

I'm quite worried about this.  Papi's memory has seemed to become a problem all of a sudden.

I told my love that I think it's the hormones.

it has to be ... it's the evil poison that is in your body

And this is where chapter 2 begins ...

Gratitude.

This planet is getting messy.  The U.S. has a financial meltdown along with fires and flooding. Haiti lives with their never ending disaster.   Libya, Greece et al are revolting.  Japan has a new found reality. Australia is in dispute with mother nature and there's so much more.  I just can't keep up with it all.

I'm sure Canada and Europe must be next.  Every other country is imploding, so I guess it will happen to us too.  We're not exempt.

Yet there I sat, with anxiety bursting through my blood, because I have to go to a new gym where I don't know anyone.  My stomach turned when thinking that I had to go to a class for yoga.

I am terrified of people.  It's absolutely ridiculous. 

When I got there, I had nothing but smiles from the employees and friendly people in the change room. 

I went to the rowing machine and had my usual rivalry with the person next to me, even though they were not aware of the athletic event. 

i'm faster ... yes!

Another guy came by to try his hand on the machine next to me, and I smoked his ass too.  I outlasted two people AND went faster than them.

Competition.

It's my way of being ok.  I don't have your fancy name brand attire, but I'll annihilate you on the rower in my ratty old sweat pants.

Off I go to the yoga room and insecurely choose my spot near a wall.  I still think I need to be near something solid in case I fall. 

The diminutive red-headed yogini invited me to come closer, "Yeah, it's a habit from brain injury.  I still think I need the wall from my lack of balance.  Today I'll be brave.  Today will be my first day away from the wall."

She was ecstatic that I had a monumental moment in her presence, and noted how well I did.

of course!  i'm in competition with everyone in the room!  and you're my next contestant.

At the end of the class, the only thoughts I had were, 'Life is so fucking good.  I'm so fucking lucky to be me.'

I was so afraid of going, yet I made it, and did amazingly well.

When I watched the news later and saw all that was happening to Japan, I realized that my minuscule fears are nothing.  Absolutely tiny.

The person I love is making a happier existence, yet somehow it makes me scared enough to cry for 6 weeks straight, and fret about pronouns, body parts and hair.

Japan is going to have to rebuild their lives.  Mexico is living in fear of the drug lords.  Haiti, oh Haiti, my heart breaks for you.

There is nothing in these small fears that any ONE person in these countries would look at and think, 'Really?  Try this one!'

I know that it really is all about perspective and everything is relative to our own experiences, but damn!  I am truly narcissistic.

I have the greatest love in the world.  It really doesn't matter who Papi wants to be.  I'm in love with mi esposo's soul.

I am so damn lucky.

Susan Jeffers has a book that I've never read, but I've lived by the title all these years: 'Feel the Fear, and Do It Anyway."

Indeed.

The crest of the wave is coming ...

I'm realizing where I can feel safe is amongst strangers.

These outsiders don't know what the hell is going on with me.  These unknown people are not going to ask, "How are you?" or become one of the brutes who may think my love is a freak and I'm an aberration for loving a transitioning transgendered person.

New-comers will talk about things that are funny to entertain each other, or light conversation to keep the flow of company going, sans white noise.

I went out for dinner last night with a person on my Trust List, and a bunch of her friends.

I got myself all worked up about going.  Stomach turning, hands shaking, legs weak, the conversation in my head of why I shouldn't go ...

When I got there I noticed there were 3 foreigners with that dear heart I love so much.

(and two more that i've met a few times, but they never speak to me anyway, wtf is that about?!? what ... ever ...)

I sat myself down and started chatting up a storm.

I was fine!

I was having fun! 

I had no fear because they didn't know my secret, giving them no reason to be mean or start a serious conversation that might make me get sad, angry or scared.

I just enjoyed myself.

I was a little more reserved than I usually am in groups.  Being an extrovert, I would normally need the attention on 'me'.  That entertainer will rise up wearing the boa, arms raised in a 'V', eyes to the sun, inviting that luscious light to shine on me, and those lucky enough to be around it.

it's all about 'me'

Last night, it was just a great time of banter, about 'us all', minus the 'secret'.  I got to call my love my 'wife', 'she', and other things to be sure the ladies there all knew I too was a lesbian.  I needed to keep my identity strong in the face of similitude.

I needed to prove I was no different.

I didn't get to see Papi yesterday, and that's probably part of the reason I found the strength to go.  I hadn't dealt with 'it' and wasn't a maelstrom of emotions.

My dear soul mate is again working too hard.  Not sure when my love will realize there's a reason for the non-stop sickness; overworking.

(note to Papi if you're reading this, "you're not 20 anymore my dear!!!")

Anyway, I didn't have to download and talk about 'it'.  'It' is still deferred to another day.

phew!

I have to come to terms with the fact that the surgeon recommended Papi go up in the hormone dose to help stop Papi's menses.

My stomach just sunk thinking about it.

More hormones means that my love will be stepping further into the 'man zone'.  There will be more changes.  More to deal with.  More to work on.

More to accept.

I was just getting used to this point in time.

I don't know how this will play out for my injured, limping ego, but currently I'm back to shaking, feeling nauseas, and fear is ripping through my blood.

oh, i see you, my demons, i see you ... you don't need to pull so hard at my wrist

I don't want this, but it's going to happen.  I had a nice month and a half of coasting on no more changes.  I suppose that was a small gift of a brain break.

It's time to deal again.

fuck.

The games 'Wii' play ...

I had a dream my Dr. actually ok'd anti-anxiety medication.  I was holding a beautiful, sparkling bottle of clonazepam.  I stared, counting each pill to see how many days I would feel it was easier to get through this phase.

Alas, this is not the case.

I have to keep working out these fears on my own, drugfree.

It's so very frustrating, because I never had any anxiety/panic attacks before the brain injury from my motorcycle accident.

The other half, is I didn't have this type of social anxiety before my love dropped the bomb about the male transformation.

The social anxiety is not about the transformation, but about how people will react in my presence.

I have a completely different anxiety about my love's male transformation, but the fear of how people will treat Papi and I has turned into a full on fear of people in general.

This has now extended into difficulty in leaving the house.  Even when I need to go shopping, I feel as though every eye in the store is watching, judging, waiting to pounce.

I put on the strongest smile possible and speak with excitable tweets in an effort to be the non-threatening face, persuading strangers not to speak with cruelty.

The omega.  The child who needs to be loved.

It can be a perfectly beautiful day outside, and I just stare out the window, as though I've created my own lockup.

My twisted mind that weaves my world into another hemisphere has struck again.

I'm not in the pit of doom anymore, however, I'm now stuck in a detention cell.

It's as though I am a living video game; every level has something else to conquer before I reach the end of this heart pounding amusement ride.

The feeling that I can't defend against the creeps and critters that would say harmful words has shifted slightly.  I now feel that I could defend Papi, just not myself.  However, I still feel that it would be done from a place of fear rather than strength.

Regardless, it's a start of the new level.

Papi is still testing the waters about speaking of the day that there is a hormone injection.  Every time I hear about it, the nauseating stress wells up.

My love threw it in nonchalantly when speaking about the horrendous day that happened yesterday, and that one of the stressful moments was because of, "that thing you don't want to hear about."

My dear.

Do you not understand what I mean by, "I don't want to know, or hear about it"?

Then my impish love wanted me to feel the stubble on that changing chin skin.

I wouldn't do it.

Jeeeeeezus my love!  I don't want to know!  I can only deal with one thing at a time!!!

In a sly act, Papi asked to see my glove, pulled it off to take a look, then grabbed my hand, forcing it against the chin stubble, rubbing it back and forth with great giggles of victory, "See!  It's soft!"

With my tongue in cheek, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and pressed the elevator button with a choreographed sigh.

"You're a jerk and no, it wasn't 'soft'!"

It felt like memories past; horrid razor-like shards of glass.  Those nasty prickly strands would rub my skin leaving red, streaking welts of evidence that the bristles had been there.

I don't like it, and I've told Papi oh so many times.  I suppose because I love my soul mate so dearly, mi esposo feels I'll just get over it and it will grow on me (pun intended).

I love Papi deeply, but that doesn't mean I have to like everything.  We all have traits in other that bother us in relationships, but never would I have imagined that the thorn in my side would be 'man hair' on my love's perfect skin.

Wish me luck in my game.

When do I reach the next level?