Here's to you, Chaz Bono!

So, yesterday, I was pissed about the she/he comments on a Facebook photo of Chaz Bono.

It had actually started out that people were saying horrible things about his weight.  He has been verbal about asking for help with his weight loss, so somehow, this give people the green light to say hurtful things.

However, it went even further.  On this one post, he has been harassed about his weight, then disrespected with his gender, and now, called disgusting by some cretin.

On all three accounts, I got my nips in a knot.

But really?  Disgusting?

His exact words: "She was disgusting as a women and is disgusting as a man, give us a break."  It hasn't stopped there.  He's still going on about it, yet he's only 1 person.  There are more on others pages in others worlds.

This is how our children learn how to bully.

This is the evil people ape, spreading the virus of hate to another sheep soul who can't think for themselves yet.  This is a disease that gets passed from one to another.

I've never been a fan of Chaz as in, "Ooooh, he's my idol!!!" but I am a fan of his wife.  Understandably, I relate to her in a very deep way.

However, I do see Chaz as a human being who is being exceedingly judged by the public.

For that, I see him as damn brave, and I'm finding great respect for his difficult journey.

He put himself out there as a mainstream trans person, to blaze a trail for more people to have a safer place in this world.

Of course he's going to attract people who will mock him and say horrible things, because he's the first celebrity to make the word 'transgender' more common.

We are slowly seeing the world accept gays, lesbians, bisexuals, ad infinitum 'labels' we could think of being accepted country by country, person by person.

We are also seeing more countries in the headlines, jailing people for loving someone of the same sex.  People are being told it's 'illegal' in some countries to have love for another person.

Even still, something's happening.  The world is finally waking up and we, of our lifetime, get to see it with our own eyes.

It's an amazing time for people to start thinking differently.

I know that I have.  I started out with fears and quite a bit of ignorance.  Papi taught me how to live life of higher esteem.  He has given me the grace to go through all the feelings, until I finally made it to this place of seeing who and what a transgender person deserves.

A transgender person is a human being that is worthy of respect and dignity.

That's all we need to do is treat each other with courtesy.

No matter how big someone is.

No matter what someone's sexuality or gender is.

No matter how mentally ill someone is.

No matter what colour someone is.

No matter what heritage someone comes from.

We are all human beings and we are all sharing this planet.

Nobody is disgusting.  Perhaps, their actions are.  Perhaps their words can be.  

As are my rotting dishes in the sink.

... my g*d ... where's the dish fairy when someone has the flu, bitches?!?! ...

Anyway, I'm having a lot of, "You really piss me off!" moments over these last few days and what I can say is, it's because I'm paying too much attention.

When I think too much, I get angry.

I like my bubble.

I like to think that the world is full of positivity and love.

I hate it when someone bursts my little happy place.

Chaz, I'm proud of you.  For all you are enduring, you are becoming my hero.

i am grateful for my teachers

no, not she/he, asshole.

Maybe I'm just bitchy and short fused because I'm sick, but seriously, people really piss me off.

Someone thinks I'm a lazy ass and that Papi does everything.

Really mother fucker?!?!

Papi and I do different things, because I can't lift heavy items or walk for long periods, but I pull my weight.

I promise you.  I pull MORE than most people with my bitch of a back would.

I work my ass off just to keep up, so relatively speaking, I do more than most.

When I was healing in the chronic time from my motorcycle accident, people would say to me, "You know, most people only choose one area of rehab to work on then move on to the next."

I said, "Fuck that.  I've got to get better now."

So, when someone says that they feel bad for Papi, because he has to do everything, I really want to slap them upside the head.

I really want to scream at them and tell them to take their judgement somewhere else.

Go look in the mirror and tell me that you're working just as hard as me.  I can almost guarantee I'll win that game.

I know this because I'm a stubborn mother fucker.  I will win or hurt myself trying.

Earlier on in the day, another asshole pissed me off because he wouldn't respect that Chaz Bono is a male.

Can you believe it?  Me!!

This femme was pissed off because someone wouldn't give the proper respect for a trans person.

Who is that!?!?  Definitely not the same girl from two years ago, that's for sure.  That absolutely blew me away.

Then I realized, we all have a path of learning.

Really though, what it comes down to, is that we all pass judgement, whether we want to admit it or not.  We get really pissed when someone passes judgement upon us, but we turn around and do it straight back at them, tit for tat.

We're all human, but we can all learn to keep our minds open to things we don't understand.

This girl has no idea how hard I work just to keep up with everyday life like a healthy able-bodied person does.

This guy has no idea how hard it is to be a trans person and be disrespected in being called by the wrong gender, even by the person they love the most.

I mean really, look at Chaz Bono.  Is there anything in there that you can say is female about him?  The only way this person could say 'she' about him was because he had prior knowledge.

The other day, Papi and I were in the cop shop getting our fingerprints done for the consulate of the Dominican Republic, and there was a spot for previous names or aliases.  Papi had put his previous 'female' name in this spot like a law abiding citizen.

The woman thought my love had put my name in there by accident, because there's no way he could be named with such a feminine name.

When mi esposo proceeded to explain that he is a transgender person, the woman stated, "Wow!  Good for you!  I would have never known!"

That made Papi proud.

However, then she had knowledge.  She knew a secret; that Papi was called by a former pronoun.  She respected him though, and treated him like a male being.

Unlike this crud of a Facebook guy that called Chaz a she/he and a she.

As much as I'm pissed, I realize, we all pass judgement.

As soon as this girl assumed I do fuck all for our relationship, I jumped straight to judging her path, in an energetic way to hurt her back.  Good thing I didn't text her and say anything I would regret today.

I had a chance to sleep on it and realize that she only sees one side, because I never allow her to see mine.

We all judge.  Nobody is exempt from it.  But perhaps, we can try to see another person's view in the story.

It's far better than being pissed off.

i balance my self-confidence with modesty

doomsday? really?

There was a truly horrific bandaid emergency again this morning.

I got the panicked phone call.  "Honey!  Can you have the Bandaids, wipes and Polysporin ready?!?!"

I waited patiently for the apocalyptic disaster to come through the door, however, there was no blood.  It was pretty uneventful, I must say.

I thought it would be awful, considering the anxiety I woke up with, as if perhaps, I was seeing the future, but nope.

Tell me, do you ever get this?

I woke up, and within seconds my stomach was in knots, I was physically shaking and all I wanted to do is peacefully perish in fetal position, cocooned in the warmth and protection of blankets.

I waited for the reason for the angst to came to mind, however, there's nothing to be afraid of today.  It's a lovely day.

Still, my mind decided to make it out to be a day to be in fear of.

... ah ptsd ... you really are a mother fucker ain't'cha? ...

I don't get it.  The sun is shining, I don't feel like my eating disordered thinking is dogging me, I'm not tormented by a horrible image in the mirror, the cats are all getting along and I have exciting up and coming dreams to think about with Papi.

There's nothing that I can put my finger on that would be worthy of that amount of stress to wake up to, but still, I wake up with agonizing doomsday feelings.

Why?!?!?

Maybe, it was leftovers from the weekend from hell I just had, where I had to read through 4 years of reports and make timelines, not to mention comb through my blog.

Honestly, reading through my blog was really, really good for me.

I saw the amazing growth I've had, and saw all the toxic words that people hate me for.

I understand why they would feel that way, coming from their side, but they have to be able to understand my side as well.

My side was not to be belittled and hated for.

My side is the same, distressed side, so many of the other half have felt.

I needed to learn, grow and let go of fear.

I did that.  I saw myself do it week after painful week, tear after agonizing tear.

I see so much more of the male my love feels is there.  I actually don't see my butch as much anymore.  My views have shifted and I have grown.

I have apologies for the harmful words that made people feel like they were 'ugly', or worse, for being an F-M.

Those were achingly hurtful for me to see.  I would never want people to feel bad from my overt pain, but I did.

I said bad things in my disturbed fear.  I don't see anybody as those horrid things that may have come across as an attack, when really, it was an offense against myself and lack of experience.

I see so many of my trans friends as gorgeous, strong, amazing humans.  These friends are absolutely more special than I could have ever imagined.

The friends I've made through this gargantuan journey definitely make up for the anguish I went through with those who don't understand me, and my peers who have felt how I felt, but were too uncomfortable to say it all along their own odyssey.

The haters?  Not so beautiful.  When you're ugly on the inside, well, it doesn't shine through on the outside.

I'm not ashamed of the immensely, heavy feelings I had.

I'm so damn proud to be where I am, and even more honoured of the people who stuck by me, even while I had so much to learn.

You gently and lovingly taught me well.  I adore you.

Ahhhhh ... I believe I feel a little less anxious now.  Could it be the coffee?

Nope.  It's the fact that I wrote it all out and got it all out of my head.

This blog truly saves me.

my life is filled with joy, love and friendship.  all i have to do is stop the criticism, forgive, relax and be open

clearing things up.

So, yesterday, I was really hurried in my writing and was also on a hefty dose of pain killers first thing in the morning and I created a bit of a wave in TransLand.

I believe the combination was a bad mix, and I unintentionally hurt people by my words.

I hope to clear things up for you with the 3 topics that have been brought up on my Facebook page both publicly and in private messages.

topic #1

I was speaking about how I am attracted to butches, but that I see I am also attracted to trans guys.

I am not attracted to bio-males, where as some women and men are.

We are all different, and I brought up my baby sister, when first faced with my coming out of the closet, was trying to learn from me.

I used my past of dating only butches to segue to the present and people thought I was saying my love is a butch.

My love is no longer a butch, and I'm still as attracted to him as I was the day I married that butch.

Presently, I am seeing that I am attracted to people with multi-leveled energies, like my love.  I am attracted to the beauty in people's vast differences in being.

topic #2

When I said 'people ... blah blah fucking blah ... freaks', I was really talking about the zealots who like to picket our lives with their signs of Jesus burned to a crisp on a cross at our Pride Parade in the great U S of A.

'They' call gays and lesbian freaks.  'They' call trans people freaks.  'They' call me a freak because I'm attracted to butches, and trans guys.

They can fuck off, because from what I've seen at Gender Odyssey, there's a whole lot of love and acceptance in this world, and their hatred will soon be squashed by the love the world has.

Really, all I wanted to say was, I'm in that boat with all the people I fit in with.  We're all in this together, and it has nothing to do with what anyone else sees us as.

For instance, I am not a 'straight' woman, but I'm seen as such.  Papi is not a woman, and he is not seen as such, luckly for him.

He is seen as the male he has always felt was there, and I'm attracted to my love, but I was afraid I wouldn't be.

I found attraction for another person who carried that energy.  A male being who had a spark of different energy from another part of him.

That made me feel so good, that I could recognize this, and I tried to write about it.

Not everyone would be attracted to the same people I am and I do not think that everyone who is trans has both energies.

I am at peace with my queerness, and see the pattern in my life where, in THE PAST I've had so much attraction for trans guys when they were a 'butch'.

There is no malice meant from my post yesterday, but there were feelings that I had insulted people, because I didn't see others as the beings they are, which is incorrect. 

topic #3

Now.  About the 'tranny' word.  I will continue to stick to my guns and call dykes, fags and trannies as such in a general way, as long as they don't want to be personally called that.

Papi likes to be called that.  The dudes I met at Gender Odyssy like to be called that.

Some people don't and I would never call them that, yet still, as general blabbing here on my blog, I am not using the word in a derogative manner, but more like I would use dyke or fag.

We have taken back dyke and fag, and we use it with adoration and pride.  Why the hell can't tranny be taken back and used for strength?!

I'm not spitting venom when I use the word, and I use it pretty much the same as I would use dyke or fag.

new business/bonus topic #4

Perhaps I shouldn't write my blog in a hurry on pain killers?

I hope I cleared things up from yesterday, and if not and you're still pissed at me, well, as much as I love you stopping by, all I can say is, you are the one making the choice to be here reading.

today's daily mantra comes from my gratitude buddy:

mastakes teach you important lessons.  every time you make one, you are one step closer to your goal.

my name is andréa, and i'm a tranny chaser.

Nope, I'm not dead.  Nor am I in the Pit of Doom.

I had 2 days of vocational evaluation for my legal trial, and my poor body couldn't take it.  So, I was either sleeping or too stupid from pain meds to write.  Today is not fun and yesterday was worse.

End whining.

We've also been busy finding our new place to live!  It's our brand new closet!

5 animals and the two of us in a tiny, itty bitty, smaller than our living room, one bedroom apartment.  It is super accessible for me to get to everything I need without the 'short bus'.

Good thing, as I'll have to be out of home a lot, fighting off the fear of claustrophobia.  This means I'll leaving the animals to fight for their immensely miniscule domain.

We've tried putting Psycho Kitty and The Bastard Prince on valium.

No, I'm not kidding.

After the near miss of losing an eye, there have been more injuries and there doesn't seem to be a 'working it out' phase for these crazy cats, even with all the suggestions we've followed.

So, valium it is.

However, the problem with that is, Psycho Kitty becomes more psycho and could actually take on a coyote.

I'm going to find him natural relaxants and see if that works.  He may be like me and can't handle the pills.

End cat rant.

Next!

I realized that after mi esposo relapsed, that I didn't actually get to tell you about Gender Odyssey.

Well, I'll tell you about those 2 days I actually did go.  Sorta go, that is.

My Person and I didn't actually go to any of the workshops, except for the tango workshop.

I tried to move around with them, until it came time to balance.  No go.

However, what I did get out if it was way more important.

I remember once, when I first came out and started dating people, my baby sister asked why I'm attracted to butches.  "You date women who look like men!  Why bother?"

I explained that they're a beautiful combination of both energies.

Sweet, sensual energy from a woman and rugged energy from the male side.

Yin Yang.

She got it, and it's pretty much how I feel even more now.

What My Person and I did the whole time was hang out with some of the founding attendees.  There's a whole gaggle of them that have been going since My Person started going with her love over 10 years ago.

It was so good to be around a bunch of trannies who called themselves trannies, and not have to worry about the immoderately politically correct Vancouverites, who take everything as an insult or a threat.

I got to just be with people who say it as it is, and I got to be around people where I could call my love a 'he' and didn't have to feel the knee jerk reaction to explain that I'm not straight.

I got to see that I am indeed attracted to transgender people.

There was this cutie.  Of course he's that 'bad boy' that I like, not much unlike mi esposo.

I do like the 'bad boys', because I'm a redneck at heart, and now I like them even better when the come in the form of a tranny.

After hanging out with the wives of trannies, I felt I fit in just fine and embraced the fact that I am indeed a Tranny Chaser, and damn!  That's a whole other level of queer.

Here's the part My Person and I giggled about.

If people think trannies are a freak, then hey, what about us Tranny Lovers?

Yup.  We're all in this together.

i feel about myself pretty much what others think of me

Gender Odyssey!

I'm at Gender Odyssey!

Remember last year, when I was supposed to go, but performing put me on a stretcher to the hospital instead?

Well, here's a little bit of irony for ya.

They couldn't give me a refund, so I had to put the money toward the following year instead.  So, I decided I would go.

My Person and I packed up our stuff and left our trans loves behind to celebrate Vancouver's Pride Weekend without us.

Now, in retrospect, I see that perhaps I should have just swallowed the ticket price, because my dearest Papi is home sweating through the tough process of bartering and bargaining for the house sale.

Anyway, here I am in Seattle.

I made it here.

About half way through the ride down, my bitch of a back decided to go into a fit and is in full seize.

Now, here I lie in the hotel room, doing the pain killer nod and realizing I'm yet again stuck flat out on my back.

We went for our sign in anyway, and as I hobbled and limped about, I had a chance to see so many people who have so much love for this conference.

Inclusion everywhere.

There is a beautiful air of comfort, knowing there's so many more people out there who understand one another.

Absolutely amazing.

My favourite was sharing a shuttle and an elevator with a family, whom of which, one, or possibly both, of their children is transgender.

We couldn't figure out their story, because we haven't seen them speak yet, but to me, being in their presence was amazing.  A family who loves their children enough to allow them a space to be who they feel they are in their soul.

I proudly placed my little identification 'happy faces' on my name tag.

A yellow 'happy face' sticker is for 1st time attendees, and an orange one is for friends, significant others, family and any other ally I've missed.

However, I haven't had a chance to use the damn pass, because I'm stuck lying here on the queen size bed in this hotel room.

Nice enough place, let me tell you, I recommend them 100%!

Here!  Check them out!

Anyway, as I write this, Papi is on the phone, wheeling and dealing with selling the house.

I am half in and half out of nodsville.

Not to mention, My Person has passed out from too much driving and we both had insomnia last night.

I look forward to giving you an update on the different workshops that I'm hopefully going to make it to tomorrow.

I won't be doing my usual coffee blog, but that's ok!

I'm doing it now and will give you an update tomorrow evening when I have more to talk about with this amazing conference.

Oh.

I realized something.

I saw many handsome trans guys during very the small amount of time we were hanging out in TransLand.

What I realized is, I'm 100% a Tranny Chaser.

I am attracted to trans guys.

And damn if I ain't lucky enough to be married to one of the hottest ones out there.

every day i learn more about myself, and open myself to even more self-exploration

'Community'?!? Not bloody likely.

Not sure if I'm too keen on this 'community' thing anymore.

All my life I've known that one on one friendships have been the best way to go for me.

Since a young age, I've witnessed people traveling in herds.

What I've noticed, is it seems that when people travel in herds, they lose their independent thinking.

Someone will decide that nobody is allowed to be friends with a certain person and the rest will agree and follow.

Sounds a bit like high school, or even kindergarten right?

It's not.  It's right here in the 'adult' gay 'community'.

I'm a one on one person by heart, mostly because I can only trust one person at a time.

As soon as people start traveling in herds and listening to The Grand Poohbah whomever he, she, it or they may be, then they can't seem to make an informed decision by themselves.

It's no wonder I retreat and only share one on one time with people who have earned my trust.

I just found out the Hen Peckers have done the same thing to a third kind-hearted, sweet-souled person I know. 

I have also learned about in fighting and accusations from one person to the next.

Not to mention all the people who decide that anyone who isn't versed well in the transgender community are to be deemed 'transphobic' while they try to learn about our brave new world.

What the fuck is going on here?!?!

Each and every loving person in my life has been affected by this ridiculousness.

Why the hell can't we be kind to one another?  Why the fuck can't we be mature and talk out our differences?  Why the fuck can't we grow up?

I'll stick to my one on one hangouts thank you very much.

Every person I love, who treats me with love, is deserving of my friendship.

I don't give a flying fuck who said what to whom.

I don't give a flying fuck about lies and accusations meant to harm another individual's reputation in the name of jealousy.

I don't give a mother fucking shit about the 'mean girls' anymore. 

... trust me ... 'mean girls' is only a name ... there's plenty of 'mean girls' in the form of male as well ...

They can rot in their stew of hatred that seems to be bubbling and running over the edges.  Yeah, we have to smell the abhorrent burning flesh as it hits the red hot burners, searing in it's fate.

How can people be so heartless?  How can the 'community' hold any one of these individuals up on a pedestal?

We need to open our eyes.

There's so much going on out there with the young ones being bullied, but what about adults?

I'd love to say it gets better to these young ones, but honestly, it can't.  I'm glad I never made my 'it gets better' video for my friend, because it would have be a lie.

Life only gets better if we're lucky enough to not have fallen prey to people who still bully as an adult.

So, no, I'm sorry.  It doesn't really get better.  We just make better choices as to who to spend our time with.

Fucking well knock it off everyone!

We all need to fucking heal from the bullshit that is being passed around our people.

How the fuck can we call this a 'community' when there's so much hatred?

At this point, as far as I'm concerned, there is no 'community'.

There are only individuals who are good-hearted that we can pick and choose to support us, and then there are the bullies in their gangs.

I'm so goddam fucking sick of it.

Grow the fuck up.

when i am surrounded by love, i can do anything

Candida!!! Horror of all horrors!!!

You may be pleased to know that I've showered.

It's amazing how much body hair can grow in a week.

Wow.

I think the only time in my life that I've had longer armpit hair was when I first came out and noticed all the lesbians around me grew their pits.

So, I thought, "Hey!  If they don't care then neither do I!"

That was short lived.

I'm not that kinda girl.

They were shaved.

I remember the performance I had and I exposed my newly shaved underarm to the club.  "I shaved just for you!" I belted out between songs.

As soon as I flashed my flesh, one of my silliest friends came to the stage and licked my freshly barbered pit.

I squealed with laughter!

Today was not as monumental.

I just shaved that shit off.

But you'll be happy to know I'm less stinky now.

AND!!

I can open my mouth wide enough to take pills without squirming in pain every time I tried to shove those horrid little bastards in my yak.

I was told yesterday that I wasn't drinking enough liquid or getting enough nutrition.  They said I was malnourished and dehydrated.

They told me I need to be drinking orange juice, pop and any other kind of sugary liquid I can get my lips on.

This is problematic in so many ways.

I have candida.  I've never really talked about it to much with 'you', my imaginary friend.

I mean really, when I started talking to 'you' about Papi being a transgender person and ...

... oh whoa is me ...

... how the fuck am I ever going to get over it?!?!

... hehehe ... silly wife ... we'll always love papi no matter what ...

How the hell would I make a segway from my love going through male transformation into, "Hey, by the way, I have candida."

Well, I guess I did today.

I don't eat sugar in my diet and I only eat one serving of fruit a day.  I've always just told people I'm allergic to it, because it's easier than talking about what it really is.  Not to mention the fact that too much sugar makes me a lunatic and homicidal.

But now?   I'm shoving in Canada Dry Ginger Ale, Tropicana OJ, SunRype apple juice and coconut ice cream by the litre.

My body is telling me it's not impressed.

And it's not just the sugar I'm cramming in my belligerent beak.  It's the fact that I had to be on antibiotics for a week.

Both of these add up to a nasty time in candida-land.

Oh.

Dearest boys, if you don't know what candida is, stay in your little bubble of ignorance.  You don't want to know.

Dear girls, stop squirming with the thought of a yeast infection.

Dear helpful healthy tips people, yes, I'm taking my acidophilus.

Anyway, I don't stink.

Now I just have to deal with the fact that I'm fucking hungry and have been craving bacon for two days now.

you never know how strong you really are, until being strong is the only choice you have

yes.

I was asked today, "Your spouse is transgendered?" by a legal type of individual, so I was under obligation to answer.

I'm pretty sure if I was asked this question by anyone a year and 2 months ago, I would not have had the same reaction as I did today.

"Yes," I said, with a smile of honesty and comfort.

I suppose it's true.

Everything happens for a reason.

Timing of life sometimes, is so inconceivably intricate.

My love needed to make this change in his life.  He did it when the time was right for him.

Of course, through my wallowing about it all, I would never say there could be a 'right' time for that one.

It's a bit like the ripping of a bandaid.

Just gotta do it.

Did it.

Done.

I felt that the ability to answer 'yes' with such grace came, because I've had that 'year' to think it over.

I know how much I love Papi.  I'm proud of mi esposo.

I'm proud to be in love with Papi.

This was the moment I was too afraid to think could ever come.

I'm able to defend my love.

I didn't think I'd ever get here.  I was too busy defending myself.

Somewhere along the line, my defence has switched to having been in favour of Papi.

So, yes, my spouse is transgender.

Yes, I can answer that with love and acceptance.

Yes, I can safely say that when Papi decided to make his transition, that it indeed was the 'right' time.

That smile I had while saying, "Yes," felt better than anything I've felt throughout this whole journey.

Yes.

i have abundant faith in my ability to succeed

The Case of the Vagina

So, here's a good day in TransLand for you.

Remember when Papi was so sick for 3, almost 4 months?!?!

Yeah. 

That hysterectomy really did a number on my love. 

This meant many tests to find out just what was going on there.

Off we went to emergency, clinics, our own GP etc.  Every time, my dear sweet love would go through tremendous stress to have to deal with these personal invasions.

Well, we got a bill in the mail from our BC Medical Services Plan.

They wanted to charge us for one of the tests.

We have benefits.

This is Canada.

Yet they wanted us to pay?

There had to be some kind of problem.

As we looked a little closer we found the issue.

When they removed my love's uterus, they left the vaginal wall where it should be.

No surprises.

Point is, my love has a vagina.

The problem for the health system, was that they had a 'male' identified person going in for a test who needed a vaginal culture.

If you look below the 'total' we were expected to pay, you'll see the details.

"Your gender registered at MSP is incorrect."

Can you imagine the person who received the details of the individual for this test?

A male identified person with a vagina?

How utterly confusing for someone who has no idea about the transgender experience.

But how absolutely hilarious for us.

I think Papi and I giggled for a good hour about this one.

Your gender registered at MSP is incorrect?

Interesting.

So nice that one person in our health care system is able to make that judgement without having any idea about medicine whatsoever.

Stick to your day job creep.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, I did indeed write a lovely fuck you email to the skank who thought it was appropriate to laugh at someone in a wheelchair with a brain injury.

Then I blocked her and anyone else who is on my friends list that could allow the scum of the earth to see my Facebook page and laugh at someone for their misfortunes.

i attract good into my life

Let's get this clear.

For the most part, throughout my life, I've been called a man hater.

I've begun to see what this means from the outside world now.

I've had some amazing males in my life that I would never in an eternity want to live without.  These are people like my band mate, and chosen brother for HECTOR.

He's the longest male relationship I've ever had.  I adore him.

He drives me crazy, but I love him.

Hey.  Isn't that what brothers are for?  I'm pretty sure that makes him my true kin.

Anyway, there are some amazing men in my life, and I would never want them to be hurt by my actions or words.

Being a survivor of a few different forms of abuse, I've had to work on my fear of men, which turns into something else entirely when we over compensate, and it will be seen as hatred.

Of course, some of these men that inhabit our planet are worthy of this feeling, but I have to attach different words to it.

It's not 'men' that are horrible beings.

They are human beings who happen to be male.

There are some nasty women out there, believe me.  But, I won't go there right now though.

... there's plenty of time to bitch about you too ... trust me ...

So, yesterday, I found myself bashing men in front of my love.

I had to quickly retract my words and specify that I was generalizing about bio-males.

Then I realized that this is an insult to the good men in my life.

It was at that moment, that I realized what people were talking about all these years.

I would never want to hurt the good men out there.  There are good men out there.

When I find them, I hold on to them for dear life, because they're what gives me hope.  These are the ones who make up for the rest of the crud of the earth.

As per usual, I learn from my mistakes.

This transformation has opened up so much for me in my life. 

I see love easier, now that I've found the people in my life I can trust.

I see my fears and have come to understand so much of my past feelings and why I am the way I am.

I'm being taught huge lessons that have begun to enrich my life.

I've learned that true love is unconditional.

This man:

... is my teacher.

I now see that I can only place hatred for the people on this planet who use their power for evil.

Be it a woman, a man, or a transgender person, these people don't deserve to sway my emotions to negativity, nor do they deserve to have power over me, to the point where others will see me as a male basher.

I love men.

I love good men.

I love you, Papi.

And you look oh so cute in your new glasses.

... no mantra for you yet, because my gratitude buddy is sleeping a well deserved sleep in and hasn't gotten it to me ... it's her turn today ... but perhaps, today is your day to make your own?  i will update later if you'd like to come back and get ours ...

Sorry. Try again.

I'm exhausting Papi with all the driving around I'm making him do for me.

It may be trouble for my love to drive me to all the places I need to go to in a day, but I like the non-stop company of mi esposo.

At least in the car I can have a conversation with him.

That's hard to do when we're home, because my love has put down the Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land, and taken up his extra breathing moments with Rock Band.

Which I was confused about.  I didn't realize there's more than one guitar game.

I was corrected.  It is not Guitar Hero.  It is Rock Band.  All I know is you don't want to be a musician to play this game.  It will reverse any schooling you've had in music.

Anyway, yes.

When we're home, my love flits off into never never land and plays games.   I can think of worse things to be addicted to, really.

Yesterday, we were given a blog to read about the word 'Tranny'.  Of course, I read it, while my love played with the whammy bar, and tilted his guitar up like any other rock god.

In a nutshell, the blog was asking that people refrain from using the word 'Tranny', as it can be used as a derogative term.

Kinda like when people spit out the word, "Dyke," at those deemed scum of the earth to the bigots and homophobes around the world.

I don't mind being called a dyke.  Even when it's spit out at me in hatred.

I mean really, as a femme, being recognized in my own community is like asking the world of people.

As if having long hair and wearing a skirt makes me any less attracted to butches.  I come across my own struggles in my community.

I also understand the need to keep our community safe.

However, using the word 'Tranny', and other words like "Fag," is not the problem.

Not using these words will not keep anyone safe while the world has bible thumping zealots brainwashing their children to hate those who don't follow their rules.

My love likes being called a 'Tranny'.  Why should that be taken away from him, because there are crud in the world that will stop at nothing to kill off those who think differently?

Do you really think for a second that not using that word is going to make anyone person any safer from evil?

It's not.

The only way to make this world safer is to expose to the zealots that we are living creatures who believe we deserve to live our lives with love.

Fine!

Be a zealot!

It's not going to hurt us, unless you physically use it for hate.

What if I promised a zealot that I would never ever use the word again?

Do you really think that's going to change their mind?

Nope.

They'll use the word instead while they're in the process of thinking how to kill the young transgender person, in the name of their god.

I'd rather continue saying the word and making it more common in our vocabulary, so that these hateful people can't make others feel bad when they hurl these terms at them through their venom.

Call me a dyke?

Why, thank you very much!  I'm glad you noticed.  Lord knows the lesbians in my community can't tell.

Call Papi a Tranny?

Why yes he is.

Let's see you try to use it against my love.  Sticks and stones bitches.

reality is in our perception of it ... no matter what happens externally, it's all about how we perceive and deal with whatever comes ...

Gimme, gimme, gimme!!!

Here's what's really wacky.

Through this male transformation, I've had to get used to a new pronoun for Papi.

I feel like 80% of the time I'm saying the proper pronouns. 

But of course, everyone slips up every now and then.  I'm just glad my love isn't psycho about my brain not catching on too quickly.

I'm fine in black and white.  I never slip up here or anywhere else I write about mi esposo.

I just need to get this down for my love.

However, during this journey, I've opened my eyes even more to gender recognition.

It would be great if someone could come up with a non-gender specific pronoun, but here in my lifetime, well, we don't.

Unless you speak Estonian, Finnish, Hungarian, Persian, Basque, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Malay, Quechuan, Tagalog, Davidian, Turkish or Ido.

Really?!

All these languages don't use pronouns to differentiate between gender identification.

So.

What the fuck is the matter with us?!

Why don't we have something to work with.  Why do we have to choose between only two options?

You see, now that I'm having to rearrange my mind with a pronoun switch, I'm starting to do it all over the place.

People who don't even have an inkling of transgenderism are starting to become non-gender specific.

So strange.

I just don't want to use pronouns at all anymore.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, over and over again I hear, "How about using they?  That works."

You know, I'm too much of a grammar nerd to use 'they', considering it's only one person.

I'm also not into calling someone an 'it', like I was spitting venom at the disgust of someone so deeply that I am insulting them.  It's like having a turned up nose toward someone, or some homophobic bumpkins, who can't even look at a person as human, and they call you an 'it' in revulsion.

Anyway, I have started to think of everyone as non-gender specific, and it's a real trip.

Even a hetro woman who is obviously showing the world her womanly bosom, and tight clothes to show of her womanly booty, I  am starting to just see as a person.

No pronoun.

A person.

So dammit!  Who's the grand-poo-bah of language?

Can someone hook me up with this person?

I need to start a gender neutral discussion with them so that we can sort this out.

Otherwise, I just might lose it.

And we don't want that now, do we?

**inserts tongue in cheek**

Turning the corner.

It started with consoling my love, by stroking his naked thigh.

You see, 'someone' has a touch of hormone madness from the hysterectomy.

I can't remember why Papi needed comforting, but that's how it began.

I didn't realize it, but I was stroking mi esposo's man hair leg, and to my surprise, it didn't feel like a nasty Brillo Pad, raring to cut my flesh like a knife through butter.

I was enjoying the feeling, as if it was a member of our Fuzzy Family.

"It actually doesn't feel so bad.  It's pretty soft!  I think I'm getting used to it."

Papi responded with, "Yeah, I'm finally getting used to it too.  It was weird at first."

It shocked me, that Papi had to get used to it as well.

I really thought he would feel connection with every aspect of the transformation.

I suppose all the joking and terrorizing was really my love's way to deal with the changes.

I guess it's an adjustment for everyone that takes getting used to.

I mean, it must be!  It's huge for me, so it must have some impact on the person who's morphing, leaving their prior 'self' behind.

One of the most amazing therapists I ever had, once explained our reactions to loss, change, hurt and even joy.

She explained that every person is unalike, and is therefore cut from a different cloth.  We all have distinctive strengths and weaknesses.

When you press an iron at a high setting on varying materials, they each have individual reactions.

If someone is made of silk, well, you can imagine what the heat will do to them.

Honestly, I'm 100% sure that there will be more challenges in life, because that's just the way life is.

But perhaps, my silky fabric has changed into denim.

Anyway, I thought about how lucky I am to have found this person I love, who loves me as deeply.

I no longer care if my love has extra hair, although there will be waxing in Papi future.

I mean really!  I keep those areas tidy for sexy time, skirt exposed legs and armpit stink.

So yes, there will be waxing, Papi.

However, I really don't care if my love talks, walks, acts, or looks different anymore.

I've had a good year to get it out of my system, and at the same time, grow with the changes.

I'm still attracted and madly in love with mi esposo.

Hey.

That doesn't mean I'm going to let go of all my opportunities to share TMI about his antics here in my blob/blab.

There's just too much fun to be had with the DIY exploits of the Tranny Terrorist.

But what I do get to let go of, is that comatose, weeping wife of an F-M.

Over the past week, I've unconsciously started to rub Papi's chest.

Through my love's t-shirts, I let my fingers softly rub over the scars.

There may be loss of pillowy softness, but that loss doesn't compare to the love I have for Papi, which was really my worst worry.

Now that I know my attraction and love are here to stay, I'm ready to get on with life and talk about other important things.

Like my ass.

My love thinks it's imperative that I get a pic of my ass in this here blob/blab, because, "It's a great ass," my love pleaded, "You have to show everyone your ass!  Look at that ass!  It's better than a 20 year old's!"

Yeah it is, but no.

Other than when my cheeks are nicely tucked into a pair of yoga pants, or skin tight Dominican Republic jeans for the world to see, my butt belongs to Papi.

Well, except for when I lend it to the Needle Master.

Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land

So here I sit, waiting for pain killers to set in, and letting brain settle from 2 days of catch up on the most current film score.

I wanted to chat about what I forgot ...

... who me? forget? ...

... to do: I failed to take a picture of my straightened hair.

Some people got confused, and thought that perhaps I'd accepted my role in this transgender relationship by letting go of my butch loving title.

Nope.  I'm not straight.

My hair was.

Emphasis on was.

My hair didn't take too long beat the heat of straightening.

It started to curl without permission of the chemicals, and from there it became a free-for-all of which of my locks could be the fuzziest on my head.

Anyway, I'll be heading back to my cousin's salon to get it done again, and I'll take pictures for sure.  I just didn't realize how quickly my hair would shoot back to Honky 'Fro status.

But as I sit trying to write about my hair, I am bombarded with notifications on Facebook.

Every last one of them has been for the Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land.

Yes.

It gets an excessive title, as it seems to be the most important happening in Papi's world.

next to me of course ...

Mi esposo loves Sims so much, that he has 2 personalities' games he plays.

One of them is from my Facebook account.

People who are in my friends list may think that it's me playing.  I mean really!  I could be playing Sims the whole time I just gorged on film score composing.

It could happen!

I could have so little to do in my life that I've built a house in the Sims world.

But, no.

It's Papi.

I feel like I need to set this record straight.

Unlike my hair.

yes ... i will take any opportunity to talk about my hair ...

Anyway, the whole point of this was to talk about that little red notifications alert that comes on our Facebook pages.

So.

Here I sit, watching notification after notification come for Papi, under the guise of me.

sigh ...

If only I was as popular as my 'wack job' character that Papi has developed for me.

No really.

My love asked me what the name of this Sims person should be, and it happened to be on a day when I was having giggle attacks about being called a 'whack job' here on my blob/blab.

So, if you're out there in Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land and you're telling 'wack job' that her mama is a llama, well, it's not me.

I will now return to my brain drain relax, where the only thing my noodle can handle, is to watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

Oh, you laugh NOW, eh Papi?

Papi.

Oh, dearest Papi.

We have an 'issue'.

It has nothing to do with my love being a transgender F-M.

It has nothing to do with The Great Breast Disappearance.

It also has nothing to do with the hormones that are rapidly stealing my butch.

It's all about the kitchen sink.

You see, my love doesn't like the 'oogies' that culminate in the drain catcher.

Papi would rather have the chunks of inedibles go down the drain, instead of them being caught and disposed of.

But you see, the problem is, there's a reason for a drain catcher.

It keeps our drains clog free muthafuckah!!!!

Leave those bitches where they belong!!!

Day after day I toddle into the kitchen, roll my eyes and growl, "Papi!!!!" through provoked, pursed lips.

I will inevitably receive the gratuitous, "What did I do now?" with the usual sigh of regret.

Imagine my surprise when I went to make my morning coffee and there was no drain catcher.

Do you see a drain catcher here?!?!

When I say no drain catcher, I mean it wasn't even in the vicinity, never mind the usual place I find it, which is usually an inch away from where it should be to do it's job.


While this would normally create an angry state, I realized that because it was nowhere to be found, that this could very well be the result of the Tranny Terrorist.

Mi esposo is getting better every day, which means I'll be experiencing more of his antics I'm sure.

When I realized there was no sign of this drain catcher, the light bulb turned on.  I thought, perhaps, just perhaps, I should check g'ma's sink upstairs.

Check!

No drain catcher there either!

Aha!

Papi's up to no good again.

My love is lucky I know him well, or I would have woken him to tell me what he did with the goddam drain catcher!



But I knew it was just mi esposo doing what he does best when he feels better.

It just so happened that my love was up 'early' today.  By 'early' I mean 11 am, and I jumped at the opportunity to find out where these little gems were.

My love snickered as he opened the toaster oven.  Perfect place to hide them, considering I wouldn't be using it until the afternoon, hence making me crazy for the majority of the day.

The best part was Papi telling me how he could barely contain himself as he hid my treasures.

Well, I hid something on my love.

Let's see how long it takes for him to realize it's gone.

>enter evil laugh here<

Tranny Talk and Straight Porn.

After my Living Day Anniversary breakdown, I've calmed down and am back to obsessing about other things.

ah ocd ... never a dull moment of crazed thinking ... it's just good entertainment ...

I've stopped gorging to avoid the fear, and am now back on track with my diet, complete with the zits and dark circles under my eyes and narcoleptic tendencies.

Not to mention I'm wearing my fat pants right now.

You know, I didn't realize I was gorging and being a lunatic about my Living Day Anniversary until after the fact, and that I'm not the only one who freaks about the Discovery.

You see, we visited one of the absolute sweetest couples we know.

It's been a long time coming.  We've tried to make a hangout work forever, but last night was the magical night that it all came together.

And a beautiful night it was.

It was one on one time, and I didn't sob my eyes out when I started talking about this blog and Papi's transformation.

The best part of the night was when they showed us the wild world of bad straight porn that's on our movie list through our cable company.

Of course there's nothing there for lesbians.  When they say, "Girl on Girl", it really means straight women who will cringe at the scent of their counterpart's taco, have long fake nails that would never come near a real lesbian ...

... pap smear anyone?!?! those little fuckers would poke my cervix out of it's happy home! ...

... and will continuously look at the camera, playing it up for the men who are watching.

Because it's all for the men, not us.

Fuckers.

... no pun intended ...

We also spoke about how our insurance company will place the Discovery on the date of our accidents, in an effort to get us to spaz out, and that they then canceled it.

sound familiar?!?!?!  yeah ... at least i proved to papi that i'm not just paranoid, i'm also correct.

We yacked about the people in our community that make someone like me, and others, afraid to speak about our grief, hence the La-Z-Boy and the Pit of Doom.

yes ... it has been that long since we've tried to make the hangout happen.

Through it all, there was a moment when I looked at my love a little differently.

I had another moment where I got to see the male my love desires to be.

Of course, that fleeting moment flew by and denial kicked in again, but through speaking about my fears I concluded that I am indeed really doing well.

There are just a few ends to tidy up.

ghosts ...

However, Papi and I spoke about it like it was no big deal.

Well, it is a big deal, and mi esposo and I are on the hunt to find the perfect moderator to help us communicate better through this.

Sometimes we can work things out on our own.  We really do have honest open communication, and even if it stings the other to say how we're feeling, we open it up and sew it back together.

There are parts about this male transformation that we need someone to guide us through.

There is no handbook on "How To Talk To Your Tranny."

There is also no handbook that says, "What Your Crazy Wife Is Thinking Right Now."

So continues the healing of this wacked out world of transgender life.

Oh!  I've been corrected in my language and learned something new about this gender reassignment again.

Transgender is like a wide umbrella that holds people of all walks in their journey.

Papi is a transsexual.

Good to know.

At least I still get to call him a Tranny, and that's all that really matters.

My Brag Blog.

You know, I have wanted to get a few things in here to brag about.

It's important to brag!

The Video

We have to get a few more shots done for the video, but here's some snapshots of the first half of the filming.

i'm so spoooooooky

we're so spoooooooky

The Rings

I recall back in July, my Blogger Friends wanted to see my bling-a-ding-ding, so here ya go!

did i mention i'm a princess?

On my left hand you see my engagement, wedding and our 1 year anniversary rings.

On my right index, you'll see Papi's engagement ring that he outgrew.

"Men don't wear engagement rings," my love had told me.

And that's ok, because I get to wear it hehehehe.

The Amber Ring is an heirloom of the G'ma who let me wear it as an engagement ring while it was being custom made.

Papi had bought a massive ring for me for the engagement proposal and it didn't fit.  Anyway, G'ma still allows me to wear it and I love it so much.

My First Published Article Paycheck

This is the first step in my venture as a writer.

I'm pretty damn proud to have the opportunity for my voice to be heard.  I have received so much acknowledgement from others who love trannies telling me they needed to hear my words.

gimme my money bitches!

Secretly Loves Trannies

I realize now that I'm attracted to transgender people and have not really recognized it for a long time.

It's taken me a while, but I can honestly say that I could wear this t-shirt with pride now.

it's true!

Papi had bought it for me way back in early January '11, but I have not felt that I could wear it, as I was in too much turmoil around the male transformation.

The difficulty in coming to grips with this journey of gender modification have seemingly become more clear.

I don't like the poison of hormones that are in mi esposo's system.

This is the drug that steals my butch.

This is the elixir that magically transforms my love into the male being he feels inside.

I'm really not sure I could wear the Secretly Loves Trannies shirt because of what's on the the back.

ummmmmm ...

Yeah.

This is the other half of the hardest part about this transformation.

Penes.

Don't like 'em.

to put it mildly...

I would have to be hammered or drugged to get me to go there.

Well, I've been wanting to get my brag list done, and now that's done.

Ahhhhhh ...

Butterflies

So, these last few days that I was without 'you', my imaginary friend, were quite the blur.  There was so much work, joy, stress and blah blah blah ...

Do you ever just look at ...

... ahem ...

... life's lessons and you get figure out the moral of the story right away?

It's always nice when that happens.

Maybe I'm speaking cryptically, but it's because my brain has not quite opened up to what day it is right now.  I really pushed my injured noodle to the limit with this fucked up adventure I just went on.

I will get there and tell you a little bit more about my whirlwind of the film score mania week, but let's just say, one of the lessons learned is that we should always take time for our lovely friends.

In the meantime, I will talk to you about my love.

i mean, that's why you're here anyway, isn't it?! it's not really about me ...

Papi is healing very well, and it's been nice getting to have my love awake and laughing, even if it does hurt.  I mean really, laughter heals, doesn't it?

So anyway, I'm a hypochondriac, and Papi teases at me about it.

seriously ... i'm positive i have my mother's cancer even though it hasn't shown on any tests ...

Well, Papi was also convinced that there would have been cancer in my love's woman bits.  It's not really too far off the cuff to think that, considering my love did have pre-cancerous cells.

I do believe this is part of the reason why I'm doing so much better with this most recent surgery.  I, too, was also afraid that Papi would have had something going on there.  Plus, I didn't have to experience the gore of changing dressings on this round.  It's all hidden away, tickity-boo.

phew ...

And besides, Papi's fear is warranted, not only because my love lost his mother at the impressionable age of 10, but also because my love has a horrid pop addiction, and probably the worst diet second to The Beast.

oh ... don't bother asking about the beast ... that's way too long of an epic life lesson to share ...

So, when they did indeed remove that last portion of woman bits from mi esposo, I was probably just as relieved as my love to get that bitch gone!

Something that I'm really learning about my life with a transgender person, is what being in love really means.  Papi really is that same person I married, minus a few less 'bits'.

So, when people commented on Papi's 'changing' voice this weekend, I had to look at them like they just might be imagining things, because I just don't see it.

You see, in the beginning, when I was all fucked up about this transformation, I was thinking I wouldn't be very appreciative of the Helium Voice.

The Helium Voice is a rite of passage that every bio-male and transguy must venture through.  The cracking of the voice is definitely not music to my ears.  However, there is a lesson in this.

When people say my love's voice has changed, I just don't see it.

It's possible that if I wasn't so adept in Papi-land, I would hear it as well, but when you live with someone day in and out, some of the changes aren't as apparent.  I really don't notice my love's voice being any different than it was before.

Oh, here's another one!  A week after Dr. Scissorhands had his way with my love's uterus ...

and ovaries ... fallopian tubes ... and cervix ...

... I was looking at my love's side angle face and I noticed side burns.

Yes.  Sideburns.

I thought I just wasn't paying attention before, and they just popped up to flaunt their tentacles at me.  However, my love said, "Have you noticed how all of a sudden my side burns have come in since the surgery?"

No.  I just don't accept that removing that womanly body part would change mi esposo into the male my love sees in the mirror, but there is evidence, and you know what?  It's kinda cool in a fucked up reality kinda way.

We, who are in love with the transgender person, really have a world to exist in that not many others get to experience.

Through the tears, fears and anger, we get to watch our morphing butterflies reach for freedom.

I guess that caterpillar fuzz on my love's upper lip is no longer going to be a fledgling.

Never say 'never'.

This hysterectomy is a lot less demanding of my emotions than the top surgery.

I do need a few days to process my feelings around all of it.

Papi said I'm acting different.

yeah ... well at least i still have my lady bits ...

I am having feelings, but I just can't figure out what they are.

Papi asked if it was because it was the last procedure to get through.

Could be.

Could be that it's all over now and we get to watch the butterfly emerge.

I honestly don't know what it is, but I'm sure it will surface soon.

It usually does when I'm writing to 'you', my imaginary friend.

I haven't had a chance to force feed Papi any vegetables yet.

I'm too busy feeding and caring for the Fuzzy Family, the 96 year old coot, and the wounded tranny.

except for yesterday ... yesterday i played hookie from being a caretaker and got to see some of my 'rough around the edges friends' ...

Interesting enough though, last night we watched a documentary on transgender children.

The narrator told us they'd be using their birth assigned gender as the referring pronoun.

I was actually shocked that they would disrespect the children this way.

When we were watching the documentary, these children were the gender they felt.  It didn't matter that they were born a boy or girl.  They were definitely the gender they felt in their mind.

I was horrified that they documentary makers would refer to them as a gender they clearly were not.

It pleased me that I was horrified.

It means I'm thinking a hell of a lot differently than I was a year ago.

Then it dawned on me.

A year ago, I couldn't fathom being in a relationship with a transgender person.  I couldn't imagine ever letting go of my perfect butch that I grieved for.

I believe that's the reason the top surgery was such a big deal compared to the hysterectomy.  I wasn't ready for it.

Time heals us.

I was well enough to be Papi's support system for this surgery.

When the top surgery happened, I wasn't ready.  This is why it was such an ordeal for me.

I suppose this means I truly am ready to deal with all of the changes.

One good thing about the hysterectomy?  Papi will be taking less of that poison everyone flippantly refers to as 'T'.

Testosterone.

The 'rules' are still in place about that one.

They must still be called hormones for my weak psyche to handle the fact that this concoction is roaming through my love's body, changing him from the inside out.

I don't know that I'll ever get used to that one, but then I said that about a lot of things, didn't I?