Embryo of Philosophy

Last night I got to see Watchmen. (For free!)

( Spoilers for both the movie and the comic )



So, in conclusion, I recommend the movie.

In other news, as you know, I've been trying to buy a binder. rockeandroll told me that it's easier if you can get someone else to measure you, so I asked my mom when I was at her house last night. At first, I tried to avoid telling her exactly what I was going to buy (she's supportive but still not entirely comfortable, and I feel that the less I share about my specific plans, the better for both of us), but I wasn't going to lie, and so the truth came out. Then, I was babbling on about all the difficulties of measuring, and the irritation of trying to return anything, and the possibility of physical pain, when my mother interrupted and asked why I didn't just get breast reduction surgery. A little surprised, I explained that I'm planning on getting a double mastectomy somewhere down the line. She then asked me why I didn't just get the reduction first. She bluntly points out, "Your boobs are too big." (And she's right, in that I'm not particularly proportional.) She notes that while I'd have to pay for a double mastectomy myself, we might be able to get insurance to cover a reduction. (I do have backaches. The cause has not so far been pinpointed. But strain from my breasts makes sense.) I'm still decidedly surprised, and I begin babbling about our insurance. (Essentially, we pay a really high deductible, then after we meet that, everything's free.) This billing year, we're fine because my mom's husband's cancer treatment easily met the deductible, but next billing year, we'll be back to paying for everything. When I noted that we'd have to pay full price, she just said, "Not if you get it before July first." At that point I moved beyond surprise into shock. She has a coworker who had the surgery, and she'll call her on Monday.

My mom's mostly focusing on the reduction as a matter of pure physical comfort (No more backaches, yay!), rather than the transgender aspect, but if that makes her more comfortable, then that's fine with me.

I'm getting all excited about this, I hope it doesn't fall through.

Argh, so much shit to do, but let's fit a post in.

We're reading Stone Butch Blues in my lesbian lit class. It's the third time I've read it. What's really interesting is the different way it's affected me each time. The first time I read it, I was thirteen or fourteen and just beginning to understand myself as queer, and it shaped my understanding of queer history and culture. (I still find myself surprised when I meet someone in the community who doesn't understand the basics of butch/femme dynamics.) The second time I read it, well, mostly, it really depressed me. Being queer isn't puppies and sunshine right now, but at least no one's going to arrest me because I'm not wearing three pieces of woman's clothing. But this time... this time it didn't make me sad at all. It made me feel proud of who I am. And more than that, it made me feel ready to stop thinking about what I want to do in the future and start thinking about what I'm going to do right now.

I've been looking up the necessary steps for a name change in Colorado. Bloody complicated and expensive, I'll tell you that. But I'm tired of that little flinch I feel whenever I use my birth name. So, I'm going with a gender neutral shortening of my birth name, and my middle name will no longer be the very girly "Marie," but the gender neutral "Leslie." (Yes, after the author of Stone Butch Blues.) I will be left with completely gender neutral name. I'm planning on starting on that over spring break, with my mother's help. (She's a paralegal, and so knows far more about law than I do.)

Speaking of my mother, I keep forgetting that she's not the same judgmental, bigot that she used to be. I mean, sure, she still blames herself for my queerness, and may very well believe to her dying day that my transgenderism is a phase, but that matters far less to me than the fact she's being supportive and helpful. I was really nervous about telling her about the name change, but she was great.

What's really amazing is that she feels she can joke about it. She told me that instead of Leslie, I should change my middle name to Mario, as it would only require changing one letter.Also, she thinks that I should change my first name to "Bosco." See, that's what she and my dad called me before they knew what sex I was going to be. (Which was so very helpful in the long run.)

The other thing I'm trying to do is buy a binder. Not a three ring binder, I mean something to bind my breasts. This is a bit troublesome. First, there's deciding what to get. I've decided to get something from Underworks, which has experience with ftm (female to male) clients. There's still several choices though. I've narrowed it down to the Power Compression Vest. We then get to my biggest problem: measuring myself. It turns out that I am as incompetent at this as I am at everything else. I'm pretty sure that "under the bust line" is 29 inches, but the site tells me to measure "over
the fullest part of your chest. Again not too tight but not too loose." I do not know what too tight or too loose is! I'm pretty sure that the most accurate average of the two measurements is 31.5 inches, but there's some margin of error there. This is problematic since an extra small is 29 to 31 inches, and a small is 32 to 34. And if I can wear a small, then I can get the double layer vest, which offers more compression. I'm probably going to call their helpline tomorrow and ask for advice. I really don't want to get this wrong, considering the expense.

Being transgender: a bloody awful lot of work.

Er, anyway, I have paper to write.

This weekend I was supposed to go on the OASOS camping trip. I had been planning it for months. Then I screwed up my schedule at work, and couldn't go. It's disappointing. The camping trip was one of the few things I still really like about OASOS, and this was my last year to go. But I think it's telling that I'm only a little disappointed. OASOS saved my life, but I've moved on. I don't connect with the other members (they're 13-15 mostly; how much connecting can there be?) and I'm continually frustrated with not being able to relate to the facilitators as adults. The only real question remaining is whether or not I'll wait until September to leave.

Within the span of a few days, I made and devoured a batch of coconut macaroons. I hope this recent baking trend continues. I've long had the desire to make things, but I'm hopeless at all things visual arts related, and I've been stagnate on the poetry front for months and months. I'm surprised at how easy so many things are to make. To me, coconut macaroons seem like they should be difficult, but it's just mix the ingredients, drop them on the tin foil covered cookie sheet, and pop them in the oven. Bourbon balls, the treat I'm making for livelongnmarry, are just as simple, especially if you have a food processor. As my mother said, the vanilla wafer people have done the hardest part by making the cookies. She mentioned finding a recipe for "quick and easy" bourbon balls, and I cracked, "Is that when you buy the vanilla wafers pre-crushed?"

I'm currently baking, but I'm still not cooking. Everything I make at home comes from a box or a can, and when I work I always eat at Taco Bell. (I know, and I am deeply shamed. But it tastes good!) I feel bad about it, but cooking is such a hassle. So many freaking ingredients! I never have what I need, and then I have to buy too much, because a can't find a decent portion size for one person that isn't heavily packaged, so the extra rots. And then I end up doing something wrong, and it's just all very frustrating.

Oh, and here's something I should have alerted you folks to a long time ago: my mom's husband has cancer. But don't freak out! He's responding really well to chemo, and things are currently looking ok. But it's still really hard on both him and my mom. My mom already had to go through this once with my dad. (She wasn't in love with him anymore, but she did love him.) I wish things were easier on my mom. Her life has been one big hectic mess for years. She still frustrates (frustrate is the word of the day, apparently) me though. I found out the other day that she still thinks that she did something wrong and "made" me queer. At this point though, I find it more perversely amusing than offensive.

Finally, the song I'm listening to now: "First We Take Manhattan" performed by Jennifer Warnes? I'm freaking addicted to it. I've been listening to it nearly nonstop for days.