Decrying Gravity

Goddamn it.  It's been a few weeks since I've been on the trans-forum.  For awhile I'd check it as a proxy for doing anything tangible, particularly when I had my beard.  It was encouraging and helped, but oh the envy.  Things have been progressing recently [and Indians are taking up an increasing portion of my time.  MY LIFE IS BEING OUTSOURCED!?!? True story?], so I haven't felt compelled.

But tonight I did.  And goddamn it.  I swear, it's voodoo.  There are before and after pictures that make me want to scream.  Pretty standard looking guys transitioning into beautiful women.  I mean it.  You doubt, if you haven't seen for yourself, but you not only cannot tell they were even male, if you're attracted to women it's ever-so-much a moot point.  If you know what I mean.  And you might, I don't really know.  I'M TRYING TO SAY THEY'RE REALLY PRETTY, OK?

Anyway.  It bothers me.  Yes, there are some who are... not.  And I have a lot to be thankful for, in so many regards.  But I see so many of the others, so gorgeous, as if by magic, and I want some of their magic.  I want to know where I can find it, what I have to do to implement it, how I can effectively replicate this magnificent transformation.  Because, honestly, I feel like all I do is change clothes and use a smidge of makeup.  I shave, too, and sometimes it's enough to make my stomach not feel repulsively infested for a day.  But they... they're beautiful.  And I so, so want to be beautiful.

I am making progress, though.  I'm 2/3 through with LHRT [lazer-hair-removal therapy, and it's delightful not feeling compelled to shave anything but my upper lip unless I'm otherwise inclined [although the upper-lip is ghastly].  I've been on hormones for ~four months, although I've only been on my "full" dosage since early July.  I'm not great at noticing differences, except that my arm hair is growing back clear, and I now have breasts.  They're undoubtedly A-cup, but they're also really breasts [I never had manboobs, for better or worse, so it's a novel experience].  My hair is smoother, thanks to prolonged and consistent conditioner use.  And it's entirely possible that various body hairs are regrowing blonde ["invisible"] without my knowledge, although that doesn't stop me from staring at them with so much ire.  My voice is higher as a baseline, although I think I can still improve it.

And I'm progressing socially, too.  I've told just about everyone, aside from the grandparents/my mom's conservative family.  I'm pretty consistently Juliet at home.  And, hell, I went to campus on Monday and no one explicitly confronted me, even as I nervously strolled through the Commons.  I am progressing.

But I can't help but feel stagnant, too.  Part of this, I think, relates to never having felt "like a woman trapped in a man's body."  Certainly, I can pretty safely say I've almost always wished I was born a girl.  But I didn't feel as if I was a girl.  I felt I was a boy.  One who hated himself and wished so desperately that he was not, but a boy nonetheless.  So now, as I transition, I can't help but feel I'm still... kind of a boy.  "Juliet" still sounds strange, especially when people introduce me/I introduce myself.  I think of it in the same way I think of receiving compliments about my insecurities: it hurts, and I want to immediately counter by saying "Oh, no, no, I was Dylan.  But now I'm Juliet.  I don't deserve to be seen as a woman, if you were tempted to do that, which you probably weren't, because I'm pretty clearly a boy in women's clothing, right?"  I have a hard time requesting it, if people don't ask about it.  As if I don't deserve to be called Juliet if they don't think I do.  It's as if I want to have a giant asterisk hover next to my body that, when pushed, says: "THIS BODY IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION FROM MALE TO FEMALE.  PLEASE IGNORE/TOLERATE THE AFFRONTING INCONGRUITY YOU SEE BEFORE YOU AND ACT AS IF NOTHING IS WRONG EVEN THOUGH IT CLEARLY IS."  Yes.  Caps and all.

Am I Juliet yet?  Well, kind of.  In the right lightning.  With the right mood.  In the right frame of mind.  I am not Dylan unless compelled, certainly; I won't sign my name as Dylan unless I have to, I won't refer to myself as Dylan unless I have no choice.  But Juliet?  It's almost of a form of self-hate to say I'm not quite her yet.  At least, not all the time.  And I don't just mean when I'm presenting as Dylan for my grandfather, and going back to Juliet when I'm at home.  I mean, even dressed as Juliet, I can look in the mirror and sometimes see a rather cute woman looking at me and sometimes see a disconcerting mess of a person, a male with cavernous hollows under my eyes and cheeks, egregious and conspicuous facial hair, a hair style that is "eccentric," and cartoonish features.  Hell, I can look at pictures from the GSSE prom and see the same thing.  For instance:

I can see arguments for both sides.  Makeup helps a bit [I rather love mascara], and I guess I could brush my hair, too.  But that's how I look with clothes changed, and it doesn't improve [too much] otherwise.  Everyone reading this knew me as Dylan before Juliet.  So that somewhat colors what you see.  It affects what I see, too.  But what does everyone else see?

Gah.  It makes me think of Mulan, a transnarrative by another name [although a good case can be made for The Little Mermaid, too].  Indeed, it's entirely fitting that Mulan is painted and fit into the trappings of gender performativity to begin with, and as the song progresses she exposes its artifice as she wipes it all away.  [It's disheartening and ironic, though, that the initial image is of a woman with a "beard" made for comical effect.  Oh, look, a woman who is not entirely feminine, even masculine.  Let us laugh.  Oh, wait, isn't that exactly contrary to the film's message?  Disney, Disney, Disney...]



"Look at me
I will never pass for a perfect bride
or a perfect daughter..,
Can it be 
I'm not meant to play this part? 
Now I see 
that if I were truly 
to be myself 
I would break my family's heart. 

Who is that girl I see 
staring straight 
back at me? 
Why is my reflection someone 
I don't know? 
Somehow I cannot hide 
who I am 
though I've tried..

When will my reflection show 
who I am inside? 
When will my reflection show 
who I am inside."


You can read it twice in different ways, struggling with decided to transition and then struggling while trying to transition.  It depends on which "part."  If that part's male?  Definitely, not meant to play it.  But what if it's female?  Will I ever pass for a daughter, much less one fitting conventional norms?  What if I'm not meant to play female, either?  Hell, who is that person staring back at me?  When will that image be who I feel expresses the me I feel inside?  And how do I recognize hir once ze's there?  Or is it from the inside out, me  coming to terms with how I look and owning whatever femininity I have?

I don't know.  It's all still new.  Juliet, as a named identity, is not even a month old.  But god, I see the magical transformations of those gorgeous transwomen.  And I'm left staring at my reflection, wondering if I'll ever see something so beautiful myself.