Today I bound my breasts for the first time since... the Quince last April? Hmm...
I didn't have any particular plans to do it, until I was getting dressed this morning and found myself manically searching for the Ace bandage. I managed to keep it on all day, much to my ribs' and lungs' dismay, but they're a tough lot, and we all made it through. :)
Why did I do it...?
Well #1, the sports bra just wasn't cutting it. My breasts are (mercifully) small to begin with but I wanted an entirely flat chest.
I can honestly say that the first time I heard about people binding their breasts for reasons other than not having a bra, I was baffled. I firmly stated, "I'm not raving about my breasts, but they're alright and I don't want to put them under bindings...." But I seem to be doing a lot of what I never thought I'd do lately....
Number two, sometimes I get tired of the whole 'she/her' thing. There are so many connotations attached to 'female' that I simply don't align with anymore.... And I can pass for male most of the time, so I thought why not go all the way today. :}
How did I feel throughout the day...?
"AHHH, I CAN'T BREATHE!! I'm :gasp: going:gastp: to :gasp: passthefuckout!! :deep breath filling both lung chambers: Ok, we're cool." That's what I was thinking more often than not. I always get a little too zealous when it comes to wrapping any body parts--I once wrapped my ankle so tightly that my foot turned blue before I realised what was wrong. Band-aids are the same deal. :(
But it wasn't until mid-afternoon when I got a glance of myself in the mirror and realised how flat my chest actually was. It was like the Sun came out from behind the clouds after a long dark. Finally my body image aligned with the image I have in my mind's eye! I was gleeful. It really made me feel like the discomfort of not being able to take deep breaths was worthwhile. s/n: I need to find a binder. I cannot do this shallow-breathing thing on the daily.
A side-effect of decreasing my lung capacity was that I couldn't lower my voice. I kind of felt like a friend of mine when we have conversations about passing, and how they can't pass for male because their voice is so high. I felt like that today. I'll just have to be more mindful on the next go.
Would I do this again...?
Sure*. I felt way more comfortable in the day-to-day, and anything that helps with that nowadays, I'm all for. I just have to make sure I can breathe properly before flying out the door next time.
*I just want to say as a kind of side note to this post, that I rather like my breasts, and we get along swimmingly (three weeks out of the month). I just don't like the people's perception when they see mine, mainly the whole sexist/patriarchy thing.
I'm finding that as I present more androgynously to the public, in private I'm appreciating my curves and breasts more. I'm phairly certain this is because I'm not having others' ideas about my body intruding my own thoughts and feeings. Which is really nice, because as a female body, someone always has something to say about my appearance. Growing up in the beach culture of Central Florida, with tons of plastic surgery, didn't help.
But I'ma go do some stretches. My ribs still haven't completely re-expanded....
24 January 2012
23 January 2012
Scholarships and Stuff
I'm writing a scholarship essay and reflecting on why I want to work with Black queer (LGBTQ) youth. Must I explain everything?! If it gets me a scholarship, I can spin them a bawdy tale...
Anyways, I sent my rough draft to my advisor and she wants me to give a bit more information about why I am specifically interested in this demographic. Uh, why would I not be? But those white judges scoring my essay have most likely never had a last ing or definite interst in this population, so I'm taking it from Square 1.0.
That section will go something like:
As a queer youth growing up in the traditional South, I found it very hard to find means to express my True self while operating within the rigid confines of the binary gender categories. I did not feel 'female' because by definition I was supposed to be 'boy crazy' 'wearing makeup and dressed in short, tight, revealing clothing. I did not feel 'male', despite my affinity for rough play, sports and dressing 'like a boy'. While I was a child, these expressions were acceptable, but as I began to approach my teenage years, I began to internalise the messages of how and what I was supposed to be from the media, from my peers and also from my family. The pressure to conform only worsened as time went by.
I want to be able to provide Black youth facing similar difficulties and confusion to be able to have a ready alternative example, someone who can guide them along the path to forming their individual identities.
Or something like that. I'm supposed to be shortening this damned essay. Right now I feel like re-writing it, but thanks to this snowstorm, my time is limited. I'm Oh well, I'll make due with the time that is given to me.
Or something like that. I'm supposed to be shortening this damned essay. Right now I feel like re-writing it, but thanks to this snowstorm, my time is limited. I'm Oh well, I'll make due with the time that is given to me.
22 January 2012
Comatose
I feel like I've been in a coma for the last... four months. I've been hibernating and making some tough decisions regarding myself and my loved ones.
But I fel lik ei"m beginning to wake. Maybe it's just to roll over and fall back asleep or maybe it's going to move on to full wakefulness.
But I fel lik ei"m beginning to wake. Maybe it's just to roll over and fall back asleep or maybe it's going to move on to full wakefulness.
16 January 2012
The Dr's Appt
I went to see a physician today, for the first time in almost two years. Maybe more than that.... Anyhow, I'm usually pretty good with this whole medical establishment navigation. One thing that really helps is that I know the language. My mother was a medic in the military and I read medical textbooks for fun as a kid. I was forced to watch Chicago Hope and ER from a young age and any other type of medical-related show. Plastic surgery, Trauma: Life in the ER, Labor and Delivery, that was my version of cartoons.
I also learnt how to advocate fro myself. When I was diagnosed with macular degeneration, I qualified for lifetime health coverage. I recently learnt it's a type of Medicare; I love my government-run health insurance. >:} The day I turnt 18, I made my first independent Dr's appointment and have been handling my own healthcare ever since.
Today was no big deal: I'd transferred my coverage to the Western region (finally!) and had found and set up an appt with a local physician. I'd had my records faxed from my old Dr and even managed to remember the cash for my co-payment. Things were going swimmingly... except my horrible case of nerves.
Why was I so nervous, even though the lobby was one of the most welcoming I'd ever waited in? Well, I'd never gone to the Dr as a trans person before. As if it isn't difficult enough being young, Black and female-bodied, add to the non-heterosexual, non-cisgendered identities and that's a recipe for the worst coffee stomach I'd had in months. Well, maybe the black tea was to blame for the coffee stomach, but the nerves weren't helping the situation. Even though I had specifically asked the receptionist if the Dr was trans-friendly, you never really know. People call themselves allies all the time and still manage to shove their feet--boots and all--into their mouths. But I decided to give it a shot. The worst that could happen was being humiliated and making a formal complaint with my insurance company. But what I got was completely unexpected.
Dr H is nice. An older white woman (we are in Oly, but nearer to Lacey) and she takes a more homeopathic approach to medicine. She took notes, listened and :gasp: had a dialogue with me. Totally got my co-payment's worth. But when we got to the topic of birth control, and she asked me the general heterosexist questions, I hit the Wall. I deftly skirted around the issue but managed to answer all the questions completely. But when she dropped the 'p' word (pregnancy), I couldn't repress the sneer. It makes me laugh in retrospect.
Anyway fast forward to the pelvic exam, which came up completely out of the blue. I need ample prep for pelvic exams at the best of times; even years ago when I had to head tot he Dr's for the annual exam, I accidentally-on-purpose missed the bus and was late. Like three years in a row. The stirrups, the forceps those damned paper gowns--I still don't know how to put one on--I HATE THEM ALL!! And worst of all, there was no nice nurse's hand to squeeze the feeling out of. Jesus cristo..... Dr H tried to make small talk and asked me what I planned to do after I left Evergreen. O.o Between the feeling like someone was assaulting my uterus, trying to remember how to breathe and wishing that it was all over, I managed to reply that I wanted to work with queer youth. She then asked about my sexual orientation. I was so... out of it and angry/frustrated/hungry that I said through gritted teeth, "I'm only interested in female-identified people. I don't interact with penises. And I'm transgender!!" Not the most PC answer in retrospect, but I'm going to cut myself some slack, given the special circumstances. I can only imagine what her expression was, because I was too busy wishing death upon the ceiling tiles. I do remember that she apologised for asking those heterosexist question about birth control and pregnancy earlier. I wanted to hiss a nasty reply about "the system" but I was concentrating on maintaining my breathing. And then it was over, blue gloves in the garbage, and I was getting dressed.
Upon reflection, the situation is much more humourous than during the actual experience. I've had some pretty horrible physician visits that have left me with questions or sobbing from lack of professionalism. I think I'll be going back to see Dr H again. She may have fumbled, but at least she had the good grace to recognise her mistake and apologise for it. I can respect that.
I also learnt how to advocate fro myself. When I was diagnosed with macular degeneration, I qualified for lifetime health coverage. I recently learnt it's a type of Medicare; I love my government-run health insurance. >:} The day I turnt 18, I made my first independent Dr's appointment and have been handling my own healthcare ever since.
Today was no big deal: I'd transferred my coverage to the Western region (finally!) and had found and set up an appt with a local physician. I'd had my records faxed from my old Dr and even managed to remember the cash for my co-payment. Things were going swimmingly... except my horrible case of nerves.
Why was I so nervous, even though the lobby was one of the most welcoming I'd ever waited in? Well, I'd never gone to the Dr as a trans person before. As if it isn't difficult enough being young, Black and female-bodied, add to the non-heterosexual, non-cisgendered identities and that's a recipe for the worst coffee stomach I'd had in months. Well, maybe the black tea was to blame for the coffee stomach, but the nerves weren't helping the situation. Even though I had specifically asked the receptionist if the Dr was trans-friendly, you never really know. People call themselves allies all the time and still manage to shove their feet--boots and all--into their mouths. But I decided to give it a shot. The worst that could happen was being humiliated and making a formal complaint with my insurance company. But what I got was completely unexpected.
Dr H is nice. An older white woman (we are in Oly, but nearer to Lacey) and she takes a more homeopathic approach to medicine. She took notes, listened and :gasp: had a dialogue with me. Totally got my co-payment's worth. But when we got to the topic of birth control, and she asked me the general heterosexist questions, I hit the Wall. I deftly skirted around the issue but managed to answer all the questions completely. But when she dropped the 'p' word (pregnancy), I couldn't repress the sneer. It makes me laugh in retrospect.
Anyway fast forward to the pelvic exam, which came up completely out of the blue. I need ample prep for pelvic exams at the best of times; even years ago when I had to head tot he Dr's for the annual exam, I accidentally-on-purpose missed the bus and was late. Like three years in a row. The stirrups, the forceps those damned paper gowns--I still don't know how to put one on--I HATE THEM ALL!! And worst of all, there was no nice nurse's hand to squeeze the feeling out of. Jesus cristo..... Dr H tried to make small talk and asked me what I planned to do after I left Evergreen. O.o Between the feeling like someone was assaulting my uterus, trying to remember how to breathe and wishing that it was all over, I managed to reply that I wanted to work with queer youth. She then asked about my sexual orientation. I was so... out of it and angry/frustrated/hungry that I said through gritted teeth, "I'm only interested in female-identified people. I don't interact with penises. And I'm transgender!!" Not the most PC answer in retrospect, but I'm going to cut myself some slack, given the special circumstances. I can only imagine what her expression was, because I was too busy wishing death upon the ceiling tiles. I do remember that she apologised for asking those heterosexist question about birth control and pregnancy earlier. I wanted to hiss a nasty reply about "the system" but I was concentrating on maintaining my breathing. And then it was over, blue gloves in the garbage, and I was getting dressed.
Upon reflection, the situation is much more humourous than during the actual experience. I've had some pretty horrible physician visits that have left me with questions or sobbing from lack of professionalism. I think I'll be going back to see Dr H again. She may have fumbled, but at least she had the good grace to recognise her mistake and apologise for it. I can respect that.
11 January 2012
"You Guys"
Goodness knows I've said it myself. I grew up in the South for Christ's sake. But lately the phrase 'you guys' is grating on my nerves like like sandpaper on an open wound.
Maybe it's because I'm transitioning, maybe it's because I'm thinking about the people I know who feel excluded by the phrase, maybe its because I've told these people time and again that 'you guys' is offensive, insensitive and a tad archaic. Perhaps it's a combination of all three. However I DO know that my patience is wearing.
I'll admit I don't have much patience these days--I seemed to have used it all up surviving Fall quarter--but I do think that a little consciousness on the part of those who are members of the privileged groups (i.e cis-gendered) to take a step back, and realise that their reality is not the only reality that exists.
Yes, we all make mistakes, lawd knows I trip and stumble all the time. But you need to own your mistakes and be aware of the hurt that your causing. And fix that ish!! I'm not going to give you an appeasing smile and a word of encouragement. You're going to get something a little more realistic and reflective of my daily experience.
And it's only Day 3 of the quarter....
Maybe it's because I'm transitioning, maybe it's because I'm thinking about the people I know who feel excluded by the phrase, maybe its because I've told these people time and again that 'you guys' is offensive, insensitive and a tad archaic. Perhaps it's a combination of all three. However I DO know that my patience is wearing.
I'll admit I don't have much patience these days--I seemed to have used it all up surviving Fall quarter--but I do think that a little consciousness on the part of those who are members of the privileged groups (i.e cis-gendered) to take a step back, and realise that their reality is not the only reality that exists.
Yes, we all make mistakes, lawd knows I trip and stumble all the time. But you need to own your mistakes and be aware of the hurt that your causing. And fix that ish!! I'm not going to give you an appeasing smile and a word of encouragement. You're going to get something a little more realistic and reflective of my daily experience.
And it's only Day 3 of the quarter....
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