Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the "Story So Far" Page above this and the "New Readers" tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Wednesday, 28 April 2021

Dysphoria is...?

At University I had my first brush with the internet and, initially, was underwhelmed and unimpressed. However, a year into University and the discovering alta-vista had changed my views. Through that search engine I was introduced to webcomics (I had been searching for Garfield) such as Dilbert and Foxtrot but also the new breed of webcomics like Schlock Mercenary, Sluggy Freelance, Megatokyo, Roomies and others. I also found fictionmania, but that's a story for another time and I think I may have already told it anyway. One of the webcomics that I latched onto was Real Life, then written under the moniker of Greg Dean.

The webcomics are important, you'll note I have a few linked over there on the right, and I have read mostly the same ones from 1999 to now. I was there on the first page of Real Life, it was linked through somewhere else, and I saw it launch - sort of, I am UK based but the webcomic is in the States so not entirely when it launched. I followed it until it stopped updating sometime in 2015 - well, I checked by regularly anyway as part of my 'webcomics routine' until around 2017 and the birth of my smallest child. Then it spontaneously started again in 2018 and I found it later that year on a random drive-by. I stayed reading daily until it stopped updating again in 2019, hung on for a week or two, then gave it up as lost. This morning, quite by chance, I checked by again because why not.

Why not indeed. It had started again in 2020. Initially, I spotted what I thought was a new character and noted the interactions of this character with Liz, the wife of the author and character in the strip, thinking that this may have been the return of the occasional gender-flipped timeline where female-Greg had come to visit or something. I spotted the name Mae, realised I was wrong, and kept scrolling back to find where the new strips started. June 2020. It wrapped up the storyline begun back in 2019 and then...


Hooo-boy. Now, in fairness, that one didn't really hit me, but the strips after that point, up until here, really... They made me stop and think a bit.

And, given my last actual post on here, it hit kinda hard. Naturally I have spent today, my busiest day of the week, devouring the storyline, then re-reading it, then checking all the media I can access about Mae Dean. The only reason I haven't started following her Facebook public page and Twitter accounts is... laziness?

Anyway, I have blogged before about whether or not I feel dysphoria. I always come up blank. I have analysed (thank you, Calvin) my identity and always come to the conclusion that I am happy with me and don't need no alter-. But... it cannot be denied that, given the opportunity, I would have breasts and wear a bra - not to provide amusement but because when I stuff a bra it feels right in a way that not having breasts just... well, it just doesn't. Do I hate my genitalia? No, no I don't. They feel pretty groovy, thanks for asking, but, again... If I could try out not having a penis, I would certainly try. As I posted in March, I think I have gone from not being able to get a haircut to actively growing it out (truth be told, I've been waiting for an excuse to try it for ages - I have bought some Alice bands and I am seriously contemplating if I could get away with hair-grips - I know I can't with hair clips).

Oh, and I have moved into my house now, and I have got an actual accessible wardrobe that now stores my en-femme clothing. Properly. Like on hangers and stuff. I have a drawer for knickers. I have three bras with matching knickers. My thongs have a space of their own. As do my tights. My bedding is floral, my mother bought me flowers to welcome me here, the house was decorated by one careful lady owner and, well, I like the decor. I use female deodorant and shower-gel. I have bought Pride-themed bamboo toothbrushes (my daughter liked them though, so she uses them whilst I get jealous). My favourite shirt, the one that had Tilly wrinkling her nose in disgust back in July 2011, is floral and... well, it's male but I don't see many men with that style of shirt.

But, and it's bigger than my actual one, I recall reading Leslie's story (still inspiring) and concluding that I did not feel like that in the same intensity. I have read Stana's blog and come to the conclusion that I do not feel like that either. In all the cases, Calvin, Leslie and Stana, I just didn't feel that I could lay claim to the kind of things they spoke about - I couldn't operate on that high level, I wasn't as good as they were.

I have ordered a Vice chastity device because I like the idea and the concept and my existing devices are painful and leave chafing and so on. I regularly consume pornographic images and captions relaing to forced TG one-handedly. I do not feel that I can honestly, hand on heart, say that I am totally trans* in any category. I've said it before, I'll say it again, I would make a horrid woman physically. I barely make a man and my hormones have been largely male since birth. I am a disgusting little pervert in so many ways, sooooo many ways, and... we're back to that opening comic (see the first link above).

Shit. I was hoping to make a post here again, about the house and the moving and the wardrobe and the hair, but this was not the post I had been planning. Not at all.

So, I once asked: "where does that leave masculinity and me?" And now... now I have to ask: am I an egg? Or, more likely, am I now, in fact, an omlette?