My New Year’s Resolution: top that.
“That” being an 8x10 photograph I captured in Japan in 2019. The subject matter was a waterfall blessing of (or by?) a portable Shinto shrine.
It’s probably my best photograph (a moment of motion). But I was boymodding at the time, so I don’t feel authorship the way I want to. Maybe that’s an impossible goal to reach for—feeling authorship the way I want to—but that’s the goal just the same. 🥳
🥺 Okay, _fine_.
🥹 Cue the waterworks.
“This was how life went. A single moment seemed to extend forever, then suddenly you were snapped out of it. The forward motion of time stretched whatever rubbery glue-like substance had fixed you there until it failed catastrophically. You weren’t the person you were before you got trapped; you weren’t the person you were while you were trapped: the merciless thing about it, Liv discovered, was that you weren’t someone entirely different either.”
I'm loving all of the transfemme joy going on in my timeline, but I want to stop and let the transmascs know that they're amazing and worthy of celebrating as well.
You men and masc enbies are incredible and valid, and here's hoping that we all have a healthy and empowered 2023.
#trans #transJoy #transmasc #happyNewYear
I’m 17 months into my #transition, which (for me) means just as many months of hormone replacement therapy (#HRT). Every so often, I head into SF and lie down on a giant scanner bed, and have my body composition analyzed.
The most-profound change has been the loss of lean muscle mass. For the first sox months, muscle held steady; over the next six, ten pounds evaporated.
Right now, I’m losing more than a pound of muscle a month. 🎢
I have such mixed feelings!
On one hand: goodbye and good riddance. I’ve always been tall, broad-chested, and muscular, and I’ve always hated it. I well remember my friends encouraging me towards sports in high school—“you’re a beast!!”—and how much it fucking hurt when they did.
On the other hand: this rhymes with aging—an accelerated enfeeblement. For the first time in my adult life, I can be physically overpowered by nearly half of the species. This is humbling. It sponsors nightmares and late night pepper spray purchases on Amazon.
Speaking from experience, testosterone should be a controlled substance.
Ten years of meditation and reflection in a mountaintop temple should stand between people and power.
But also, on the eve of 2023, I find myself wondering if a global reduction in muscle mass and prettier collarbones all around might just be good medicine for us all. 😘
Who decides the answer to this question is probably more important than the answer itself. I’m pretty sure it’s me. 😇
But the first hand is the dominant one: when I see myself in the mirror, the new prominence of my collar bone, the gradual, gradual, too-gradual thinning of my neck, it makes me happy. I am happy to be reduced in this way under these circumstances.
But should I be? 🤓
I’m 17 months into my #transition, which (for me) means just as many months of hormone replacement therapy (#HRT). Every so often, I head into SF and lie down on a giant scanner bed, and have my body composition analyzed.
The most-profound change has been the loss of lean muscle mass. For the first sox months, muscle held steady; over the next six, ten pounds evaporated.
Right now, I’m losing more than a pound of muscle a month. 🎢
I have such mixed feelings!
On one hand: goodbye and good riddance. I’ve always been tall, broad-chested, and muscular, and I’ve always hated it. I well remember my friends encouraging me towards sports in high school—“you’re a beast!!”—and how much it fucking hurt when they did.
On the other hand: this rhymes with aging—an accelerated enfeeblement. For the first time in my adult life, I can be physically overpowered by nearly half of the species. This is humbling. It sponsors nightmares and late night pepper spray purchases on Amazon.
🥺 Okay, _fine_.
🥹 Cue the waterworks.
“This was how life went. A single moment seemed to extend forever, then suddenly you were snapped out of it. The forward motion of time stretched whatever rubbery glue-like substance had fixed you there until it failed catastrophically. You weren’t the person you were before you got trapped; you weren’t the person you were while you were trapped: the merciless thing about it, Liv discovered, was that you weren’t someone entirely different either.”
Passing is something that only happens with strangers. We don’t pass or fail to pass with those who knew us in the before times. We are respected or disrespected, and we bear no responsibility for the latter. That’s on them. #trans
My only #NewYearResolution will be 'use your stickers', as it has been every year for a long time.
It's not just sticker-specific, but a reminder that leaving the sticker on the sheet does nothing. Choosing something to stick it on means it will bring you joy. Might that joy be impermanent? Yes, but everything has the potential to be impermanent, and what joy is there in leaving the sticker on the sheet?
Burn that nice candle you bought for the smell. Use that bath bomb. Enjoy that snack treat. #UseYourStickers.
A recent FT article has prompted discussion on birdsite as to why the idea that you become "more conservative as you age" seems to be breaking down.
As I've talked about before, this has ALWAYS misunderstood what happens. Which is that people become more conservative when they feel part of (or the opportunity to be part of) the status quo and want to preserve it.
And Xennials/below don't have that.
Here's a thread to explain. 🧵
🏳️⚧️ Proudly Trans
🌉 Bay Area
Product-Engineering Manager for a software product portfolio; former iOS dev; attorney (CA/IL); large-format photographer; marriage ministress; cinema nut; weeb; lifelong weird girl.
Lover of myths, legends, fairy tales, fantasies, and folklore; 6502 assembly aspirer; book hoarder; gaming nostalgist; gore-adverse, torture-adverse feminist horror film fan; food worshipper; Slack poet; ace-demi-recipro-crier; a total and complete mess.
🍶::🍷::🍺::🍹::🍸