Up and down, up and down, I am sick of this ride, I wanna get off. How can things go so right and so wrong all at the same time? It seems this month was day after day of never knowing what the next hour would be like.
First I tackled the problem of my weight. I threw all the bad fat food out. I went to the store and bought things I liked that were good for me. I knew I could never be a fat man. A fat woman didn't matter. I hated myself as a woman, so fat was not an issue. I was out of any relationships but friends, because I could not be with another person as a female, especially a fat female. Besides, my heart had been broken, I lost the love of my life , but that is a private story. So now that I was to be a man, I had to lose weight. I was good for a few days, but depression settled in and soon it was pizza at 1:00 am. I had exercised for a few days, but that was over and I felt far away and disconnected from my goal and the reality I was trying to create. The further I got the more I ate and couldn't care.
On a break one day, I was looking through some magazines and found myself looking at "Shape". I was totally uninterested in the mag, and was trying to find something to get me motivated, but it wasn't working. I remember thinking how I wanted firm thighs, flat stomach etc... but ...
But what? Something was tickling my brain, then wham. It hit. I wasn't interested in that because it showed how to be a fit WOMAN...aaaggghhhh. I looked at some other mags and found what I wanted. MEN'S FITNESS & HEALTH! I almost started yelling. I am a man. I want to look like a man. I want to be in shape like a man. Why was I looking at women's' books. I was so energized. I could not wait to be out of work and at home working out.
Along with that came the realization, that no matter how much I had wanted to be a man, or how much I thought of myself that way, I was programmed to be a woman. It meant so much to snap that chain. I had to stop thinking of me in my old programmed mode. I am a different person now. I have a different program now. How simple it all was...how very hard it would be. My first step was to go out as a man.
I had done that much of my life before, just dressed masculine and had the attitude I was a guy. It was so easy, so freeing to spend the day as myself. The last several years though I had gained weight and now I could no longer pass easily, so I had quit. Content (yeah right) to be an old fat lesbian. I couldn't wait to go out as a man with all the new data I had on myself. I found a way to bind the old nasty boobs, and went to a movie with my best friend and my mom. They were only shocked at the fact that I went in the men's room. That was an experience. I had been in men's rooms before, but only the kind that are singles, you know lock the door behind you type. Here was a public one with men going in and out. I felt no nervousness or wrong. I was a man. Heart and soul and now body-wise looking. No one blinked an eye. This may all sound strange, but it was the first time I had EVER been comfortable in a public restroom. All my life I have cringed and lived in fear of going in a public bathroom. I always , always fell out of place. I was afraid someone would scream and run out, or verbally accost me, or find out I wasn't supposed to be there. I didn't fit there. I hated washing my hands, it meant standing there with maybe someone else as they primped and fixed hair and makeup or talked with others about their boyfriends, and I felt as if I were trespassing. It was hard not to run out most times. I would stop breathing almost till I got out. Sometimes I would sit in the stall for 15 minutes or more waiting till it was clear before I came out. That feeling never went away, never lessened, never let up.
So here I was in the men's room, and the world was right. I went up and washed my hands with my head high. I was not afraid. I was in the right place. It sounds so weird, but it mattered so very much. The rest of the day was bliss. I talked to store clerks and they flirted, I didn't have to worry they would be embarrassed I was a woman, I wasn't, I was me!! I exercised like a fiend, I ate good things, I was so high.
Then the roller coaster went down again. I had to move. I had to be out by the end of the month. No matter, I told myself. I would be fine. Well I found a room with some friends at work who knew about me, and was actually excited at something new. I swore everyday I would start packing. I did, but only two or three boxes. I had two full bedrooms, an office, a cram-packed living room, a full kitchen and six to the gills packed closets. I moved in with my co-workers two weeks early and went to the old apartment to get clothes, and shelves and stuff to put in my new room. Nothing else got packed. Three days before I was to move, I hired some guys from my old job to help me pack up. They never showed. I never packed. Then the day before I was to be out, I got a storage room and a truck and another guy ( and supposedly a few friends) to help me. I left the truck at the apartment while they were loading and I went to work. I get home and no truck and no workers. They took the truck wrecked it and then left it. Now I was without a truck, without any help and late getting out. A few days later I got the truck ( it had three things in it) and my landlord got some guys to help me get the stuff out. Then the company came and took the truck after it was all loaded (I had gone to work) and claimed it was stolen.
I found out that I was not supposed to have that truck as it was damaged. The supervisor didn't know I had it and reported it stolen, then took it with all my stuff. Needless to say it was an awful experience. But work was fun, and my new digs were fun and different, and my roommates were fun. So it was up and down everyday. I still had my car and my job and a place to stay. I concentrated on starting some things fresh and tried not to get down. It was a very long month.
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