In order to prevent the mistakes of my previous blog (namely, information overload), I plan to limit my posting to Mondays. A day associated with the moon and its phases seems appropriate for describing one’s transformation.
Anyway, tonight I’m wearing women’s shoes (I guess I’m starting from the bottom and going up) while I type and trying to figure out a way to overcome the loathing for my male physiology that just will not seem to go away. I feel like it is important for me to accept and appreciate my male body even as I begin to transition. What I have taken to telling myself is that my male body has kept me alive for 36 years. I even thought to myself earlier today, in answer to the question I’m sure many transgender women ask—”why was I born male?” —that perhaps I would not be alive now to transition if it wasn’t for my male body. How many times has my male body kept me safe in situations where a female body would not have? Perhaps my male body has been Superman to the woman within me all this time, getting me out of situations and circumstances that would have led to more unfortunate ends otherwise. Now, perhaps, my instincts sense that it is safe to transition. It does seem to be reassuring to think that way, at least, and ease the impulse toward self-loathing.
Also, I always seem to want my life to stand for something, why I guess the Superman myth appeals to me. What I don’t want my life as a transgender woman to stand for is any kind of derogation of the masculine. I would hope that, no matter the extent of my transition, I will still value my masculine aspect. I see strength and courage (at least the active kinds) as belonging to one’s masculine aspect. It is only our hyper-gendered society that demands masculinity be tied to physiology. Why are we so obsessed with physiology? Surely identity comes from the brain foremost and the body only secondarily. Mind before matter, you could say. At least, I have always felt that way.
So where do things stand currently? Woman’s shoes (just for wearing at home for now), shaved legs and pits, more feminine smelling deodorant. Also, starting to walk a little differently and talk a little differently as I imagine myself a woman. Next step will probably be jewelry of some kind, and I’m still trying to figure out what to do with my hair.
Oh, and OCD does not make for a fun first-time leg-shaving experience if you have a VHMB (very hairy male body). Ingrown hairs are not pleasant, I must say, like having had acupuncture performed by a drunken orangutan. 🙂