A journey to San Francisco to become no less than Me. (BLOG REBOOT: Former site of Hairy Legs.)

I’ll have to keep this one short because I only have 20 minutes, but I figured this was worth mentioning.

Last night I had a pretty intensely realistic dream that I was growing facial hair, and what’s weirder, that nobody really seemed to notice.  They just… didn’t mind, and that made me happy.  I wish it were that simple, here on the outside.  The outside of the dreamscape, that is.

Anyway, it seemed so real that, when I woke up and stumbled into the bathroom, I was slightly shocked not to see that patchy fuzz on my chin.  I guess I was still a little asleep.  The biggest thing here, I suppose, is that I’ve got direct evidence that my subconscious self-image is male, if not just yearning for transition.  I’ve so rarely had a consistent self-image while I’m dreaming, I’m usually just watching other things happen, so this is comforting and inspiring to me.  One never likes to admit to these things, but when life hits you over and over with the same avalanche vote of no confidence, one starts to have little moments of self-doubt.  It’s nice to be reminded who you really are once in a while when you start to get lost in what everyone else thinks of you.

Another little news blurb- I’ve graduated from Ace Bandages, finally.  I was getting tired of there being only two choices- moobs, or warped ribs.  So I found something in the family’s costume bag, an old bodice.  I’ve worn it before, backwards, under Halloween costumes and it works perfectly not only to flatten the chest but to arrange the fat in such a way that it gives me totally awesome pecs.  The only problem was that it had really stiff boning, which I ripped out.  It works just the same, if not ten times better, without it, and it’s way more comfortable than anything else I’ve worn so far.  The boning used to give me bruises in my ribs.

And that’s what she said.   😉


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