new drug

I’m dizzy and very happy and disoriented and limerencing. I’ve no map and I don’t need one. I reach and find nowhere I cannot. I’m becoming who I need to be.

flox

My body is in that state of fuzzy tiredness I associate with inflammation. There was a little lack of sleep, there is fasting, there was not coffee yet. But more to the point this feels like a post-fear forced resting state.

An interpersonal exchange might, just might, no jinxing, be going exactly where I had hoped it will. I feel like it might take a lifetime to explore her, it reminds me of jetlags, of being newly arrived somewhere and whelmed.

Time to do magic.

tiphareth IV

These are days of force going up and down. All in all I am so blessed. There is so much to challenge, but I feel the world unfold. Life is adventure.

I must learn the saran wrap technique, must try it. My estradiol levels were not tested after I started gel, so I worry perhaps I misapply and my levels may be too low? Next check is scheduled for March. But there is no fear – I no longer masculinize, so even delays in my change are only temporary setbacks.

With too many crucial and important things at once I must learn to force relaxation. It is so hard. I must set evenings when I do nothing, not even emotional labor, not even quick email answers. Certainly not late chatting. I must set days when I do nothing productive, only go see new parts of Babylon, or try to write more intense words than these. I must set days when I work on forgotten projects only, or long-term projects only, despite any urgency, days when I just read. I must start placing these into my calendar, schedule nothing conflicting then, and adhere to them.

I know this is truth and that I can do it. Nothing stops me. It is still difficult. But nothing stops me. I am alive now. I know it is what I need, so I must do it.

Similarly, I must do what is needed for health. It seems documents will not be an issue, so after the consultation in April I can decide on surgery – if, and when, and where. And if as I now am leaning to, and I will go to Chettawut in Bangkok, and if I have the funding ready, then perhaps I have no reason to delay. I’m trying to get used to the really scary thought of doing it in December. Maybe one of my partners can join. I can’t assume they will, so will keep that open, for whomever can. And thereafter, after the first month, will I spend one in my country of origin? Or will I stay in Babylon, receving guests?

It scares immensely. It must and I must process it even more before April, so I will be ready to decide then.

I fear somehow having a heart condition. I don’t think I do, but I must minimize the risk so I am not denied. So this year is the strict deadline for perfection, isn’t it? What should I do?

I should attempt to make real – again, I can, I just have to dare schedule it – so that I sleep closer to eight than six hours each night.

I should attempt to reach fully where I want to be with the fasting, and keep diligent with probiotics and vitamins. I need to minimize risk for blood clotting, optimize blood circulation. So I should also begin cardio exercise. This is even harder in terms of finding time. I cannot become sick. So I must dress warmly, from now on.

That effort with voice, that must continue.

I relax into these preparations. Certainly there is also here a factor of having a complex goal and vast ordeal being something which empowers me. After surgery, which will mine be correspondoingly? Asides from all my other goals? I will find one, certainly.

Emotionally, I learn to be ebb and flow. I write heart-baring words and then brood over whether to send them.

The sun is shining today in terrible glory.

standing waves

CW: Rant/vent/temporary emotional expression, not 100% what my logical mind says, etc., but I feel it so I want to write it.

Some day I’ll have made a body which is not only feminine, but also fit and beautiful. It will need dieting, it may need exercise, it may need more drastic measures. Some day people won’t have to make an active effort, or make me a favour, or be in some unexpected rare mood, to find me attractive.

Some day I’ll have gathered enough accomplishments that people have no choice but to be impressed and believe I am interesting and intelligent, so that I’ll be someone people have no choice but to think of as special and worth their efforts.

Some day I’ll have learned enough empathy and style and social skills and energy and discipline and focus that I’ll be able to not hurt people by being sloppy or lazy or by mistake, that I’ll be able to fascinate them so they’ll want to seek me out.

Some day I’ll have gotten wise enough to feel at peace either which way, instead of being volatile and clingy and needy, I won’t seem so desperate any longer, and therefore won’t be as scary and distasteful to others, won’t be a walking warning sign for complex baggage and drama.

I just have to keep making myself slowly, painfully edge closer to some ideal of perfection, and then perhaps I’ll experience the sort of validation that apparently I’d need in order to believe I can have value to others.

This is silly. I am crying again, I’m irrational, I’m messed up, I’m being silly. I fascinate myself, at least. And I’ll just bury myself in efforts of self-improvement, and then maybe some day I won’t feel like this. Hard to stop crying, interesting. I’ll be OK. I have a paper to revise.

Should I hide emotions like these? Nah. It’s just so hard for me sometimes to believe in myself, I’m so inclined to second-guess it when I receive appreciation. It must be tough to deal with, and I keep on crying. Oh well.

moe doe

So, I have emotions apparently. Which is interesting. There are now two posts made here but flagged as private, which is not quite a sustainable solution. Need to work that out on a meta-level.

Also need to remember that it is about meaning, not happiness, and that my own emotions are beautiful because I feel them, whichever they are.

awww yis

So, other progesterone users seem to use the amounts actually indicated by the Powers protocol. I should do this also. Which does mean I should start cycling again, deciding on a starting point. I want to invite women close to me also on gel dosable E2 and P4 to cycle with me. Get in touch if you know how to and we’ll actually seriously do it, period tracker app and all.

Discovering that, as I had somewhat suspected, now that trans alignment and dysphoria is mostly under control given I am quite a way into transition, I’m getting to the point where I can deal with whatever my emotional damages are. I don’t know to what extent they are impacted by the loss of my grandfather. I don’t know to what extent they are impacted by the breakups which made me afraid. I don’t know to what extent the self-alienation of dysphoria intersected with body desirability perception to make it vaster and stronger over the years. I don’t know to what extent there were any hurdles in my attachment (in particular perhaps, my being so early in language and social development might have meant I considered myself personally responsible earlier than is healthy).

Either way, it’s clear over time I have a pathological fear of rejection, that I expect it, that this fear is very easily triggered, and that it drives me to constantly crave relational validation as well as to scrupulously ensure I do all I must to maintain good standing. It emerges, by and large, almost but not exclusively in my romances (whether formal ones or those odd cases where we decide afterwards it really was a romance).

I think this is good. I can do exposure training on the fear, try to remember to be mindful within it – which is almost but not quite so hard as not zoning out when touched – and I can try to use my newfound peace and introspection to define the edges of this phenomenon better.

I’d do well I think to look to my friends with BPD in how they cope with what they experience. I don’t think this is the same – just as I am not autistic – but I can still make use of some of their wisdom.

In other news, I’ll prepare templates for SRS recommendation letters. This feels exactly as when I asked academic collaborators for recommendation letters and they asked me to write a template for them. I made slightly different versions for each so that they would not look identical when I needed to submit both. There is some beautiful cosmic humor in this.

revolutions

I had a lovely date and a night of multichannel communications, bolstered by wisdom and humility. So many new impressions and shifts and thoughts. Her scent follows me subtly. I am late for the Scientific Council and that will be fine. It felt like coming face to face with reality. It felt like gentle fun. I maintain faith of connecting more and in more areas still. If we hurt each other it will be fine. I don’t need to preplan what might happen.

I kept fading out into… somewhere and she sensed it each time and told me to stay in the moment. It’s seriously hard work, I hadn’t realized how I keep escaping mentally during sex. Always to some extent.

I wanted my parts touched but even with the greatest care, and with the sensations feeling good, I feel like I’m keeping watch against something when it happens. So hard to stay even when I want to.

I cherish communication that is mutually desired. I hope for time shared simply being present together. I anticipate the future. This day is beautiful.

balances

I had some sort of realization. So, for those of you keeping track, I’d say I currently have something like four crushes, friend connections that I’d want to go towards some sort of romance or otherwise semi-persistant links but which as yet have not. One that was there has faded out, another is fading in, taking its place. Two I have had sex with and confessed my love to, of those both are sort of stabilizing into person-appropriate friendships in their respective ways, as I see and accept flaws and incompatibilities once the surge begins to dissipate. One hovers in the background like a fixed star, remote. One is pleasantly uncertain like a cloud and I am fascinated about how many fears blossom delightfully in me on that front. To this we add three committed relationships, all long or very long distance, one having been there with interruptions for almost two decades, with some form of calm ongoing evolution – a source of great safety for me; one since 1-2 years which is finding its own intensity much like that of some rare gas flame, and one which feels like sunlight glinting on the facets of an uncut and rough gold nugget unpredictably moving, which is super hard to assign a time frame to. In fact, since 2006 all my relationships have been long-distance, I have not been seeing anyone living in the same city. This is something I do want to change now that I have a home, I want to know what it is like to casually date someone without the logistics around it. This probably informed the fervor which which I was so eager to girlfriend some of those crushes.

Normalizing things with people. During parties yesternight, realizing that I’m chasing after someone who explicitly lets me chase her, but who is in no shape or form chasing me back. It’s not the first time. I have spoken to others about this who all tell me the same thing, that I should not keep on falling for people who are emotionally unavailable. It’s a fact that I do, and I sort of know why.

One part is I parse it as some sort of outsidership, some indication of having seen through things, some indication of a Special Perspective. This is probably wrong of me, a person being cool and remote does not mean they are woke or that I should expect them to be brilliant and farsighted. It just indicates experiences and coping mechanisms.

Part of me also has her own commitment fears, so that coolness seems like a guarantee that I won’t have to carry the other all the time. I do want to carry my loved ones when they need it (and it’s not an option for me not to, really, I would despise myself if I did not), but I want the need to not be constant but rather only partial, I am drawn to those who steer their own lives mostly (and in some cases, those who do not but who are in other relationships giving them that support). But emotional unavailability is not that either. A person who is in crisis and neither expects nor asks for help is not necessarily someone with their stuff together. Since I will still worry on their behalf, I will still hover near them offering help (which will not be accepted). People not asking for help does not reduce my emotional labour burden. People working to help themselves as much as they can, including by seeking support from me and from others, does. And this type of unavailable person often does not seem to understand this dimension, does not understand why I can’t just stand by and watch them suffer and not care, because by default they assume no-one will help them. Whereas my default is, in any genuine friendship, family bond or romance, the other being sad or upset always should result in at least checking in, to see whether they have it under control or not. This was how I grew up, so I have culture clashes with those who’ve learned differently from their lives.

This is BDSM-y also. I’ve noted I have a fetishy wish to collect strays. On some level which is much more emotional-relational than sexual, but which also has sexual charge, I see myself as that together, unshakeable witch who dwells in her circle, her hut on chicken legs, and who comes across broken, brilliant, untrusting geniuses. I leave the door open, they can come and go and I have no control over them. Except also somehow, they are supposed to slowly, spontaneously open up, learn to trust, come to stay with me, come back again and again to submit to me, so I can heal and advise and mentor them, and also tease and taunt and hurt them a little as I do, all with love, and they will come to trust me and themselves and the world and to grow into their full potential and to surpass me eventually. This sort of stray tamer, stray trainer, is to a large extent who I am as a domme. Obviously the fact I have a mentoring fetish means I need to be very very careful when I actually mentor people (those I advise, or those I lead professionally), so I make strict boundaries not to get involved with those. But in relational contexts, this always draws me. I long somehow for subs to come to me for more, and frame it as me helping them grow through everything I do. Even as I recognize that some domming is problematic for me as it makes me stay dissociated, I think enough of it is there, remains truly there as part of me. But it’s still problematic, because often this complicated fantasy does not match reality, it doesn’t describe the trajectory of those I touch. And especially, emotionally unavailable strays aren’t always just waiting for me to help teach them to trust and be happy. That is a silly romantic pipe dream. I won’t say it is toxic because in the form I have it, I think it is not, but it also isn’t usually very realistic and I must learn not to let it cloud my perception.

Most importantly, though, there is the whole high hopes, low expectations dimension. I really needed to learn that when I did, and it is very valuable, but in my years of coping I took it too far. I know why, because fundamentally I don’t understand myself as lovable. Deep down I am convinced I am hurtful, clumsy, boring, boorish, repetitive, simple, banal. I have impostor syndromes on all levels. I consider everything interesting about me to be faked, less genuine or deep than in others. Like I pretend but from a very shallow basis. And while I’ve come to genuinely be able to see myself as at least a little beautiful (thanks, HRT!), I also am still viscerally used to think that no-one possibly can enjoy seeing or touching me. So I expect that once the limited supply of curio I have with each person is drained, they will lose interest and politely move on.

I expect to be able to ask for and sometimes receive intimacy, but to always have to ask, because no-one will ever take initiatives towards me. Why should they? I am not attractive to them. When they accept, whether it is from kindness or a curious interest in the moment, I expect polite withdrawal at any point. I expect no persistence. I expect nothing to last. I expect for all who interact me to become bored and politely move on. While I have important and precious counterexamples, I also have many examples of people getting close and then that dimension fading out. None of my play partner interactions remained such for more than a brief few times. Every time this happens, I am reinforced in my belief that only fleeting interest can be held in me, that I cannot be foundationally wanted or loved. That I simply am too unskilled, too banal, too ugly, too shallow for anyone to stay around. That belief remains strong despite my partnerships and interactions, because it still was very long since I experienced anyone having sustained passion for me resulting in their approach, not just them letting me interact with them when I ask.

I cried over this on the dancefloor yesternight, and enjoyed that much. I recalled that phrasing, not wanting to be an option but a priority for someone. Except rarely and in the past and remotely in some of my partnerships, I don’t feel familiar with being a priority. I certainly don’t expect it in the slightest. I haven’t ever, I think. And that hurt so much in my early tweens, when I was still idealistically romantic, so when I found a high hopes, low expectations approach, that was the perfect defense from feeling constant pain and sorrow and self-depreciation. Letting love be solely to love others, to never expect love except as grace and blessing that comes solely by the contingent choice of others. A good way to keep from a great fear of rejection and abandonment. And it also certainly plays a role in me seeking out unavailable people. I believe it is all I can hope for to be an option but not a priority, and then somehow that feels safer.

I’ve hurt others too of course. From this baseline, I would feel it was wrong of me to require myself to feel physically drawn to someone if I was to approach them, discriminatory. I should give everyone a chance because no-one chooses their body or person, and it is somehow mean to not give a chance. So there were people I perhaps lead on, or slept with and then were happy when it never happened again, hoped that I could just let the bond cool, let them down gently. This is cruel and must have harmed just as I have been harmed. I must start to restrict myself to just those I really do want also in body, for all our sakes. That is also scary because of course I believe myself to be so unappealing that if I am picky, I will just be alone.

Being alone feels easier now. Not that I will be, for I am anyway multiply loved. This is wisdom, painful growth, painful for myself and others both. Thorny lives. Thorns thrive.

But I should restrict in another way, and this is what I thought of at the parties. If the only one making an effort is me, if all initiatives are taken by me and eventually accepted by the other each time, then what am I? An option, not a priority. I’m fine with being an option sometimes. I don’t want restrictions, or my life to be woven around anyone else – I need my freedom and my truest wife is Science, it is she who rules me (and I can say pretentious shit like that because I’ve actually earned it by this point). I have crucial loves that can never be edged out.

But I need for a proportionally larger part of my week-to-week, month-to-month emotional and sexual and romantic and friendly interactions to be with people who actually want me enough to make an effort. Because I deeply, dearly need to heal that part of me that thinks she isn’t worth anyone’s efforts. It’s not that anything is wrong with the casual connectivities, or the proposals that someone might take me up on once from curiosity. But I must balance that with receiving attention in a manner such that I actually feel _wanted_. Because there is such a great hurt inside me where I believe I cannot be, believe I am unworthy of being wanted.

This is scary in itself. Because if I ration myself – don’t seek out intimacy (broadly described) where you are the driving force to a greater extent than you receive intimacy from the other acting and making an effort, all in all, averaged over all bonds and relationships – then I fully expect to be lonely, to not experience much. Precisely because of that hurt cemented in teenage and tweenage years (and probably dysphoria-compounded) where I fully believe none will want me unless I am the one doing the legwork.

But now I have a self at least. I have achievements. I am fracking proud of myself in so many ways, because I know that I stand out in so many ways. Despite using stress to force myself, I know I am exceptional, that I shine like a star. I know I am beautiful, and that while I am no genius, I have a combination of agency, executive capacity and fluid intelligence that lets me do almost anything I decide to, so long as I pay the price. I know I can pay the price and smile through the tears as I do it, if I have to.

So maybe I can deal with that fear, and start expecting something from others also. And then maybe where I find that I am the only one making the effort in a romance, I can let that reach whatever level of loving friendship can work, and not chase after someone who won’t reciprocate. Strength lets me but the reason I need it is that I have this deep, deep wound that I must heal, and the only way I can heal it is by experiencing intense enough interest, love, lust, desire from others, evidenced by them also making commensurate efforts.

I don’t know where that healing process will go, but I feel somewhat confident on embarking on it. And being here in Babylon as a place of grandeur and adventure, I will be in my temple-grove, and I will go out to touch everything, and dance, and play, and forge bonds, and I will smile and cry always as I will. I am alive.

(EDIT: Also, must clarify: I do know the experience of being priority, not option. Those relationships which became lasting partnerships, and a number of lasting friendships, they did and do give me this, very much. It’s rather that I need to experience it more, in yet other contexts, from yet other people, to be able to heal as I crave.)

that moment when…

… you hug a girl goodbye and her scent somehow stays with you and whenever that becomes apparent you are again reminded by how much you are in love with her despite the fact that you shouldn’t because she has made it clear she does not want the two of you to be girlfriends.

That moment. It will happen again, I am quite sure.

auld tan sine

NSFW: Sex party stuff.

I’m a sappy, romantic girl. Also I need to learn kinder time management for self. Also life is hard and life is great and I may need and want more consistent/coherent/intensive emotional connections; perhaps I’ve kept expectations low as part of a strategy for not being sad in a life often complex and disappointing. Also the stereotype is real in that if at all possible, trans girls crush on trans girls at the drop of a hat, more than 50% of the time.

Went to sex party for NYE again, it was once more transformatory, edifying and more fun than the last two times, I’ve gotten closer to a social self that can handle it. In past years I was shyer and less anchored so I spent more time being unsatisfied with not enough happening. Some this time but less.

As previously, started out with name and pronoun rounds, as well as stating intentions for next year and next few hours. Mine were embodiment, and for the evening, getting caressed, worshipped and spanked into submission, as no-one really has tried my pain threshold and I want that. I suppose what I want is something very specific, and I did not get that yesternight – having my butt spanked with flat, blunt implements like floggers by someone I am sure knows enough not to leave permanent marks, but going at it far and hard and long enough that I really cannot keep dignity. Basically relaxing into a state where I keep no control except resisting, and then lets go and surrenders when it’s reached the level that I cannot stand more. Crying and screaming and actually feeling something more than pretending, giving in because I literally have no choice. This really appeals to me. But also needing for whoever does it to not tease me with pain, not let me get all cool or bored or resentful or dissociated or distracted or zoned-out, it has to stay full-on intensity so I can’t escape anywhere. This has been a tall order for a girl who tends to date subs and very kindly, conscientious people…

Anyway. Then there was facilitated play which was much better than I thought. Group takes turn, one third at a time wears a blindfold for ten minutes. The other two thirds move between the blindfolded people, greet and goodbye them by touch, staying for some time and touching them. Anything is on table unless the blindfolded signals not – pain play, breast fondling, caresses over and under clothing, kissing, biting. Ensure at least one person touching each blindfolded person at all time, preferably more. Hardest part was with people who did not respond much to what I did, easiest where I could guess from their wishes what they liked.

I told people they could remove my corset beforehand. So that felt amazing, being held and moved around, having my chest made unclothed, nipples pinched and kissed and sucked, being grabbed and touched hard by several pairs of hands at once. I didn’t go ecstatic or lose control, but I did have a lot of fun.

This leads to one of several insights. I fear not being as reactive as other people in terms of getting lost in passion, I fear being relatively asensual, that I’ll always have to remain in control, remain aloof and separated. What I’m beginning to suspect is that perhaps I’m just difficult, that I need a lot of time during which I both feel safe and secure, including socially and emotionally, and during which I get sufficiently intensely stimulated, am not allowed to fade out or zone out or dissociate, do not feel the duty to give anything back and so to focus on giving rather than receiving (happens all the time, I always fear being selfish), and am not touched in any of the wrong ways. Maybe if that happens then somewhere there is a state change and I too would lose myself in passion. Or maybe there has to be an emotional connection also. I really hope I can experience that. It seems so, so selfish. And then I think of people I’ve been with who feel guilty for functioning exactly like that. Maybe I function exactly as my girlfriends have, and am as hard to please (and as deserving of that effort) as they? Wouldn’t be the first time it was like that…

Anyway. Then faded out a bit but got to experience violet wanding; tried to push my boundaries by nipple play or so, but while it was fun to experience the electric jolts, in the end it wasn’t strong enough. Perhaps having it directly on genitals while tied up would be something I couldn’t just take, but this was nice but mild.

Then an odd episode. Someone spilled vanilla sauce on himself. I commented that at least something at the party should be vanilla and offered to get a napkin. He offered me to lick it up. So I did, at his feet, and he kept spilling vanilla sauce on his leg while I lapped it up, until I said I’d had enough vanilla sauce. Then we kissed and made out and he gave me pain and pleasure on my upper body through mouth and amazingly strong and capable hands. I felt safe and present mostly, as he was clearly more into giving at this point, and it was mostly surrounding social circumstances – and sort of not knowing him enough to read whether I kept him happy or interested enough, causing again social-style worry – that limited how far I could get to some extent.

This suggests to me that I should make sure not to let social anxieties get in the way. Specifically, it’s great the more I know someone so I can read them, know how they communicate, know what sorts of things they feel, know what they want and what the understanding of the situation is. I will continue to do party play like this, but I’ll hope even more for stable friendships and partnerships as a vehicle for really intense sexual experiences. I need to accept that I stay a social creature also in formal play.

It may also be that I have to acknowledge that I DO have preferences for people, some attract me more than others, and I actually need to be somewhat physically attracted to someone for sex to be able to be as intensive as I want it at least sometime to be…

Then there were some formal sessions/rituals which didn’t do much for me, and I fell out of scope and mood and mindset from having come down, until I was again asked to join play with some people very dear to me in different ways. However, given their relatively more intense dynamic internally, I felt through no fault of theirs that I was somehow in a fifth wheel situation, and having already begun thinking on the above, that moved me even further out, and I spiralled on that thought. In a sense, I realized I really want situations where I don’t worry at all socially, where I feel fully engaged, and where I feel certain we want the same thing, and that this is what we want most and undividedly, right there, right then. Not in all cases, perhaps, but that type of emotional framing for sex, with friends and partners alike, seems like something I may need to focus more on, I need more talk on the framing and perhaps I should be more restrictive on whether a certain time is the right time or not?

Found the way back though as we ended up with me essentially cuddling the others while casually using a vibrator on my bottom parts through clothing. It turned a somewhat challenging situation into a great opportunity. I can’t recall when last I masturbated except as isolated experiment to see whether I still could come, certainly years ago, so having a situation where the best thing to do was to lie in a cuddle pile masturbating was a great learning opportunity. I can indeed stay in pantyhose tuck and use even a small vibrator, I won’t get too hard, and can trace tissues like where outer and inner labia would be, where the clitoris would be, where the vaginal opening would be, can try to trace what touching sensations and pressure on these parts would be like, and that felt safe and good. I could get close to coming, enjoy that, and edge myself for what must have been close to two hours. It takes me time to be able to reach close to climax, I can keep myself close to there and enjoy vibrations, and when I finally went over, I enjoyed that too.

Then the fluid aspect made everything horrible. I don’t ejaculate so much, and it is clear fluid at least, but I loathe it so much because in this setting I end up with the tucking panties getting wet and cold, so the only way out is to again acknowledge the shape of my anatomy. Up until that point I don’t have to. It’s possible that being all wet would be fine if I could be naked (and/or casually wipe off), but getting naked reminds of my shape. I can’t use any other words for it, I can’t type out what others might call my genitals. And loathe getting hard, and can only hide it from myself by tucking.

So… I want to be able to stay relaxed throughout pleasure, but right now, coming means a huge let down, dysphoria spike, logistics. All so cumbersome. I just want to be able to stay present in my embodied self and not have to edit my impressions or keep doing workarounds. Well, maybe I look for confirmation that I should have surgery, but yes. There should be a way around this. And I worry about finding the right technique, and recovery times and challenges, and costs, and things that can go wrong one way or another, and how afraid I will be of complications without easy access to the same surgeon, and how afraid I will be that healing won’t go well, or that nerves won’t work.

I’m still really afraid, and I become more afraid when I think of really doing it end of this year. That’s so close! Barely any time to prepare! However will my life be ready! But at the same time, I want it done now, I want it over with. I want more life post-operatively. I’m definitely on a track here. I briefly implied to my parents I will do it, and to the rest of the world. I think perhaps people won’t be surprised. I hope it will be soon. I hope I won’t regret anything going wrong. I feel guilty that I’d pay so much privately rather than save/invest, if waiting longer would mean insurance coverage. But I realize I won’t wait three years for a body I can be naked in.

In the meantime, I’ll try my best to enjoy sex, and nudity as best I can, and so on. It will be a year of workarounds. But what else is new?

It will be OK.