The Spackle Technique Looks Great! The Pattern Scales Perfectly; And The Cross-hatching Of The Brush

To my followers

I know that a number of the people following me fall into one of two categories: those that are trans but remain closeted; and those that have an interest in (and please excuse me for any incorrect use of terminology) the femboy and / or sissy lifestyle.

To the people in the first group: I see you! You are valid. If you ever want to talk to someone about how to take those next steps, please don’t hesitate to send me a message.

To the people in the second group: if you’re just following me for your own personal, uh, ‘enjoyment’ - that’s okay! I take no offense. Live your life!

I will say that for a long time, I did something very similar: lurked in the shadows, and lived the trans experience vicariously through the lens of fetishism.

(In fact, the very moment I knew I was trans came when another trans person gave an example of a lie they had told themselves in their past life: “It’s just a fetish”; words I too had previously uttered.)

So if you think maybe you are more in the first group than you initially realized... feel free to reach out to me too. I don’t hold all the answers, but I might just have the questions you need to figure things out.

I have two of note:

There’s an indentation above my right brow; when I was born, the obstetrician had to use forceps - and was a little too forceful in doing so. (Very few people realize this is a scar, however.)

On the left brow, there’s a half-inch long scar from a rejected eyebrow piercing (which I, alas, foolishly failed to address until it was too late).

For the most part, I’ve managed to avoid picking up scars; with the following exceptions:

A small circular scar on my upper arm, from a tuberculosis inoculation.

An identical scar, but from the removal of a mole whose countenance had offended my dermatologist in some capacity.

A constellation of minor scars on the torso, where I was struck by flying glass.

A line running halfway around the base of my index finger (a combination of accidental self-injury, and subsequent surgical repair efforts).

The various scars resulting from gender reassignment surgery (which included a laparoscopic component, so there’s a smattering of satellite scars on my abdomen).

Altogether, I’ve been pretty fortunate in this regard. 🙂

Do you have a facial scar?

Immediacy is a big plus. (I understand all too well how easy it is to forget an idea if you don’t externalize it right away! And that’s to say nothing of the scourge that is Not Enough Time And Energy; which I know you know all too well. 🙂)

Regarding the fanfic asks: 📈, 🛠️, and 🤗!

📈 How many fics do you have?

Uh. UH. I... they're kind of spread over a few different areas, and are we counting only active fics?

Upwards of ten active WIPs. I don't want to chase down every WIP I have somewhere, or even the completed little one shots.

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I do ninety percent of my writing in gdocs. It's quick, easy, and I can do it on my phone because I'm a madlad.

In terms of 'tools', just stuff for names. I've been using a lot of wiktionary to research the meaning behind various kanji to help create names for Naruto/Bleach, and occasionally even get to use it for some wordplay. Otherwise, random name generators, behindthename, top 100 baby names - that kind of stuff.

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

This kind of goes for any writer or creative but: create for yourself first. Pleasing your audience is great! It feels great! But don't chase them.

Make something for yourself first, be happy with it, satisfied, and let that be enough. And then, if people like it, that's great! If they don't, well, who cares? You didn't make it for them.

Nominally I’m not in the habit of reblogging (nothing against it; I just prefer to create myself) but Nick is not only an incredibly talented artist, he’s also an amazing human being and deserves so much love!

Collection of Nick Robles Nightcrawler, for…uhh…art reasons.

Hon, correct me if I’m wrong, but - don’t you play the violin?

(I ask because my vision therapist once informed me that this is a common adaptation seen in people that practice independently focusing their eyes on objects at different distances - e.g. violinists, and their violin, and sheet music.)

(That being said, both I and my prescription go both ways; so perhaps there’s merit to the idea that they are connected? 🙂)

Complicated news from eye doc today but part of it is that one eye is nearsighted and one is farsighted so the punchline is even my eyes are bisexual 🤷🏼‍♀️

Well woman

A few week’s ago I had an annual check-up; the first in two decades. (Hooray for America’s dysfunctional healthcare system!) I wasn’t particularly concerned ahead of time; but then I received an automated reminder from my provider that had the appointment listed as a “Well Woman Exam”. This lead me down a bit of a rabbit hole as to exactly what that entailed; and then I proceeded to freak the fuck out. Even now, I’m not entirely sure what the problem was - there was definitely some anxiety centered on the more intimate aspects of this kind of exam; but having spent a significant amount in analogous settings (e.g. laser hair removal), I didn’t think this was the issue. (There’s also the matter of my PTSD cranking up in some medical settings; but again, there doesn’t seem to be a particular rhyme or reason as to why and when that fires off... or doesn’t.) A friend suggested that perhaps the issue stemmed from having to speak to my provider, openly and honestly, about my transgender status. My provider is a very nice fellow, and has a fantastic bedside manner (something of a rarity in the US); but even so, transitioning is in many respects a form of magic, and pulling back the curtain on how the trick is performed is not fun. When the actual day rolled around, my heart was racing; and I had to apologize repeatedly to the nurse practitioner for my ridiculous pulse. Thankfully everybody was very understanding; and my provider made the necessary conversations about as straightforward and easy as they could be. (It actually turned out that between various changes in recommended screening guidelines and where I am in my transition, that there’s basically nothing to screen for for the next five years or so; so no poking or prodding there.) I did elect to get caught up on some immunizations while I was there; including getting the HPV vaccine (which is now recommended for everyone, up to the age of forty-five). The administering nurse was perfectly nice; but her technique was slow and methodical (not what you want when getting needled); and the HPV vaccine in particular stung something fierce (which I guess is a known issue with whatever they put in it). In the end, everything worked out okay; but I worry that there will be more of this sort of thing in the near future - I’m out, and as far as the majority of big ticket items are concerned, transitioned; but I feel far from confident in my newfound place in the world as a woman or my ability to pass, and it’s going to be quite some time until that changes.

Nice moment

Our youngest cat was crying for attention from the kitchen this morning. I walked in to find her on the countertop, and when I came near she put a paw up.

I think I understood, so I bent down a little and she jumped onto my shoulder. Then I walked over to the fridge, and she jumped on top of the fridge.

Now she is singing from on top of the fridge. I’m not quite sure what happened, but it was a nice moment we shared.

Facebook friends

I may have a Facebook page. It’s a nice way to stay in touch with the family.

I have noticed however that the site’s friend-finding algorithm is a bit... wonky.

“Hey, you know how you have that friend on the opposite side of the country, and otherwise no mutual acquaintances? Well, here’s everyone they know. IRL friends, family, everyone. Are you sure don’t know some of these people?”

“Hey, we think you might know this person. You have no mutual friends. You don’t live in the same part of the world. We’ve raided your phone and email contacts and as far as we can determine, you have never communicated once in your lives. But... they’re trans. Are you sure you aren’t buddies?”

Machine learning has been all the rage of late (along with the godforsaken Cloud); but I’m really starting to think that if a company of Facebook’s size and expertise can pour millions of dollars into their friend-finding algo and this is the best it can do, well... we may be on course for yet another AI Winter.

Double oh-no

I swear, self-administering an intramuscular injection is like flying a space shuttle. It seems so simple - all you are trying to do is move an object in space from Point A to Point B - and yet there are so many little variables you have to keep track of; any which of one could result in a catastrophic failure if not accounted for.

Tonight I did my Estradiol shot; and I swear in short order I:

Couldn't relax my thigh muscle (despite my best efforts);

Inserted the needle at an angle;

Hit a vein on the way in (unavoidable, but annoying).

I'm not sure what the problem was with (1) - maybe the way I was sitting? I suspect (2) is because you are supposed to make the skin taut, and I've been doing that by pulling it in a single direction... Maybe I need to stretch it taut instead?

The things I put myself through for the sake of aligning my mind and body...

Electrolysis

I just got done with the nth round of electrolysis on my face. My electrologist is a pleasure to deal with; the end results speak for themselves (hairs that kept resurrecting despite multiple max power laser applications - like some kind of follicular lich co-op - are now being permanently killed off); and the session fee is very reasonable.

However, I’d by lying if I said it didn’t bloody well hurt. It feels a lot like getting jabbed repeatedly with a superheated needle (because that’s exactly what electrolysis is); and unfortunately for me, one of the major problem areas is my top lip (which sucks, because that’s also a super-sensitive spot just full of little nerve bundles, ready to vociferously complain at a moment’s notice).

I’m glad I’m doing this - I’m a fan of fire-and-forget solutions - but god it would be nice to not to feel like I got hit in the face with a sack of bees afterwards!