Not for lack of trying, but…

…I can’t NOT look evil in my pictures:

Well, I guess I can look “not evil” if you catch me unawares:

For some reason, I think I look like Charlotte Rampling in these pictures. I don’t know why. Odd, though. The “good” version is getting more hits on my Flickr page than the bad, but the bad is the one generating comments. Go figure.

Cheers.

In which I go on about nothing in particular…

I normally don’t have much to write about on a day to day basis. Unlike some of my other transitioning friends, my life is fairly serene. Placid even. Well, boring is probably more like it. Not much is happening to me. Nothing of any great pith or moment, anyway. I haven’t felt the need to invent blog subjects out of whole cloth in the past several months either. But it occurs to me that some of the folks on my friends list might like to hear from me from time to time. So here you go.

I’m seeing pretty dramatic results from HRT. I’m at seven months, give or take, and I’m really shocked at how quickly I’ve seen the changes that I’ve seen. My hair is filling back in (not enough, but, hell, that it’s coming back at all is a miracle). I’ve seen some redistribution of weight. And I’m growing boobs. I’m growing boobs faster than I was led to believe I would grow boobs. I think I’m being victimized by a medical establishment that tries to diminish expectations lest the patient be underwhelmed. I have a TS friend who’s been on HRT for years without getting the boobage I have already, so there’s some justification for it. Some folks don’t take to HRT so well. Apparently, I’m not one of them. Here’s a really crummy picture of how my boobs are doing so far:

That may not look dramatic, but believe me, it is. There are no forms and no bra in that picture. I’m about an A-cup right now, over and above the man-boobs I started with. At this rate, I’ll be a B-cup next year. Is a C-cup possible? Maybe. Mom was a C.

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Our 4th of July barbecue was underwhelming. We have sucky local friends. Two of our friends begged off because they “wanted to see the big fireworks” in town. In reality, they didn’t want to watch westerns, which I was planning (The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, which even people who don’t like westerns usually like). But my fair little town has a nice fireworks display, too, absent the 30,000 people who go to the Columbia display. Better still, I live three blocks from the park where it’s held, so we walked down there, didn’t have to park, and had a good old time watching them close up.

I got a lot of food, but we only had three people show up–not nearly enough to eat it all. Grrr….

Well, screw ‘em. We’ll just eat the yummy hummus I made, the sausages, the burgers, and the ribs all ourselves. So nyah!