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Saturday, January 19th, 2008
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7:38 am
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| Friday, November 2nd, 2007
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12:55 am - Hi, first timer here, hope the pics came out!
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Pre-op, pre-T.
<http://good-times.webshots.com/photo/1210772231059640566awtwcu>
<http://good-times.webshots.com/photo/1219310152059640566usmhvd>
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| Saturday, March 4th, 2006
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3:21 pm - Fuck off
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I feel like a bisexual young man suffocating in a lesbian woman's body. Anyone else?
keeponsmilin505
2006-03-04 10:03 pm UTC (link)
I feel ya, dude. Got no advice, but I feel you.
(Reply to this)
ethan_boi
2006-03-04 10:04 pm UTC (link)
totally there with ya.
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nevynbutch
2006-03-04 10:06 pm UTC (link)
what's the difference between a lesbian woman's body and a female body?
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starman77
2006-03-04 10:21 pm UTC (link)
I thinks it's how society perceives him.
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misterhyde_
2006-03-04 10:11 pm UTC (link)
I guess that most of us undertand. I quite understand that you want to live your full bisexuality as a male, so I am.
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scififan151852
2006-03-04 11:08 pm UTC (link)
Totally.
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1:46 pm - My jealous, bitter rant
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My roommate just announced she was accepted in Harvard's PhD English Literature program.
If you spend all your time studying, none of your time worrying, and everyone you know supports you, you can accomplish anything.
Fuck you, oh priveleged self-consumed coddled child. Fuck you fuck you fuck you. I'm bitter and jealous and I don't care.
This is a perfect example of how the rich get richer and the poor get poorer while the middle class struggle to keep afloat. This totally fuels her "you can do it, you can better yourself and pull yourself up by the bootstraps" theory which I think is, to the most part, a FUCKIN' LIE upper-class individuals say to justify their spending $2000 on a painting over the toilet.
I fuckin' hate the world today because it rewards and facilitates wealth and egocentrism over passion and need.
current mood:  cranky
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2:50 am - Bill Murray turns me On?
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My first Friday night VERY well spent.
Kick ass drag show at the U. of Washington with my super cute/super successful lesbian friend. I snuck us in after hounding the ticket lady to let us in and bribing some of the performers having a smoke outside. It was sold out to 750 people! I was in SUCH a great mood, as I am after any drag show that inspires standing applause, whoops and hollars from a tickled audience. I fuckin' LOVE where I live. Gay people abound and cross-dressers are winked at.
Really, a good drag show is still novel for me, despite how many I've attended. It's like I just can't seem to make up for those 19 consecutive years of being mocked, beated, chastised and ignored because I dressed "like a boy." And then one day across the Pacific, in the underrated town of Tacoma, this heaven opened up in the form a drag show at the local gay bar. Whhhaaaaat? You can do this in public? People love you for it? A place where crossdressers, trannies, fags and dykes and everyone under the sun commences to just have a good time with no condescending judgement or threat from homophobic assholes? WOW. Hook me the FUCK UP, Baby!
My boifriend and I hatched a plan at tonight's show to do "Father Figure" by George Michael at the next well-publicized drag show. I am SO game. I can't wait to be a total fag.
Speaking of being a fag, I danced VERY scandalously with this VERY androgynous older man at the local rainbow club tonight. I found myself oddly... and erotically attracted to him; my bisexual male inclinations stirring when he held his gaze, inviting me with his eyes to dance on over. At one point I said, "you know I'm a woman," even though I regretted it immediately after. He said softly, "I know you're a woman." He reminded me a lot of Bill Murray in Lost In Translation (they also held a striking resemblence). Similar energy, similar vibe with that younger woman that wasn't sexual per se... more intimate and understanding. Analyzing this is pointless, but Gawd did I like dancing with him. Large but soft hands, tall, big shoulders, heavy, strong, he ran his hand up the middle of my chest and gripped the back of my neck... he was rough, but not threatingly so. Here we go again. I was wearing my baseball cap and packing... he was leading me in dance and holding my head close to his, smelled subtly of men's anti-perspirant. I love men.
And women.
How appropriate to have my bimonthly session with Dr. Vehrs tomorrow. Yippy.
current mood: creative
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| Thursday, March 2nd, 2006
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12:28 am - On The Other Hand...
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Can't end the day with the last entry.
On the other hand, I admit that I am VERY proud to have been accepted to UCLA's Master of Public Policy program. UCLA. Wow, I got into UCLA. Why doesn't anyone think this is neat except me? I thought UCLA was a really good school and their MPP program ranked in the top 10th in the nation by USnews. I've been feeling incredibly validated after getting that acceptance email last Friday.
Although maybe I didn't understand the email correctly and I actually have been rejected or wait-listed.
I'll revel in the idea of getting accepted until the other shoe drops. Which it consistently does.
I don't want to go to school just yet-- by golly I want to be ready and rested before I charge academia the third time around. I don't want to make the same grave mistake I did in college by simply majoring in whatever discipline seemed most lucrative. I want to "know thyself" this time around, and use it to my advantage to inspire passion and productivity.
However, if I can't find another job before June I'll be forced to move to Los Angeles out of sheer desperation. Oh how I do NOT want to pack up and move again. And I do NOT feel like living in LA right now. Or spending $26K a year before I have top surgery and my dental problems repaired.
Life is difficult right now. I try and remind myself I am NOT the only 24 year old suffering from that horrible interim between college and grad school/career direction. And unlike most recent grads, I have $25,000 in savings, a car, a secure job (despite how miserable) that allows me to be financially frivolous on the weekends, my health, my degree, a tiny but important group of friends, and my family to fall back on.
Okay, that's better, let's sleeping.
current mood:  content
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12:03 am - Celebrating 24 Years
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Today I am moving forth toward my 24th year alive.
I spent it passed out on the couch after another particularly rough day in the Capitalist Gulag of Death in front of the 6th Season of Frasier, then talking to my newest lover, emailing with my most recent lover, and finally eating tuna and buying workout music on iTunes.
A night well-spent, in my book. I caught up on my sleep, my Elton John, and ate in moderation.
Damn I hate my job. I live in this state of misery perpetuated by the constant regret over leaving a job abroad where I was practically worshipped and paid $30/hour to play basketball and socialize all day, given 3 weeks off to travel, paid transportation, subsidized housing, editor position on the LGBT journal, kick-ass girlfriend, tight support community, and access to native Japanese speakers all day. My ambitions ran me straight into the ground. I scan my brain every fifteen minutes trying to imagine a way to justify leaving the Best Job Ever For a 23 Year Old. I felt too guilty for having fun work that paid bank (oh how I was still brainwashed by the overrated, misconstrued Protestant Work Ethic!) and insisted I return to the states to begin a slow and steady ascent through Corporate America. Because that's what real people do. Hard-working people. People who become successful.
What a FUCKING archaic, self-defeating ideology to have if you're not well-suited to artificial lighting and accounting. Take THEE most old-school conservative business office, 4 quiet colleagues, job function which includes heavy amounts of administrative work and price auditing, and stick Aurea Astro in the center. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GET A KICKIN' LEVEL OF PRODUCTIVITY.
Which my boss diplomatically reemed me for today at my 3 month review. I'm apparently inefficient, have a "disappointing level of organization" and need to focus more and pay better attention to detail. I owe him a lengthy procedure plan on how to do each of my daily/weekly/monthly projects in a month. This is really just to "help you help yourself so you can enjoy work more." I felt the tears coming on, but I already sobbed a pathetic train wreck of tears two weeks ago after my general job frustration culminated in an Excel spreadsheet of death and my weekend-o-drinking had (I think) gravely interfered with my anti-depressants. Fucking medicated loser.
If I wasn't making respectable money for a recent college grad I'd kill myself in the bathroom next to the office.
Cheers to another year Aurea, you fucking idiot.
current mood:  cold
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| Sunday, February 26th, 2006
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11:46 pm - Being a Dysfunctional Tranny Again
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Well... it's been awhile. This is the online brain-drool for my trans progression, as I continue to "come out" to again and again to myself and others as a little transgender/bigender/gender-confused individual. Now that I have job security, a pleasant social community, and hope for the future, I am happy. And you know what happens when Aurea feels happy and confident? Yes, she indulgingly takes that additional step toward ultimate self-fulfillment by "going boy" again.
What does this entail?
Feel good --> want to hold the happiness by snatching at more happiness--> indulge in excessive amounts of yummy food--> put on headphones--> dance around with just boxer briefs and my breasts bound, mascara on my upper lip and chin, shove a couple socks between my legs--> throw up the yummy food before the stomach acids have time to begin digesting it--> turn up the volume--> press my slender frame and southern bulge up against the door frame and pretend I'm a sexy young man rubbing up against a sexier older woman (the age discrepancy I've found more validating to my masculinity).
I.e. Me being a freak.
I was just so turned on again to the idea of "going boy" after an especially encouraging L Word episode (and only the fourth one I've actually seen so far) regarding Moira "Max" and the beginnings of his transition. Max looks soooo good with the adolescent facial hair the makeup artists have designed and his androgynous voice. My jaw dropped and I thought, "that's me that's me!" It isn't really but... I am the Max of the L Word posse walking through the airport. Tagging along behind the ladies, taking in the scenery, bringing up the queer rear. I always feel like the token male in a group of women, even a group of lesbians. I feel embarrassed around straight women because my attire, my energy, my very nature is so adverse within the context of straight, gender-normative woman.
And I feel kinda cocky amongst gay women because I don't feel like a permanent player on this team either... thus I don't feel pressure to score a lot of points with the ladies. As a straight-looking gay woman said, "where the hell's my community?"
I feel at home with my straight-looking gay male buddy and my variety of straight-looking straight/gay/bi women. I don't know if this is a coincidence or not that none of my best buddies look at all stereotypically gay. But when I'm with them, I feel like a straight young man with eager ambitions and a disgust for raw onions. I stop pretending. I feel normal. I feel me. I don't feel so much, and that's a relief.
current mood:  contemplative
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| Sunday, August 21st, 2005
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9:23 pm - Men's slacks
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I've finally acheived "underweight" status, which has effectively given me rights to walk in fine men's slacks with ownership and dignity. I bought these $165 DKNY pin-striped slacks today (less expensive slacks don't hold their shape as well) and, just for a minute in the dark lighting, I looked like a well-dress young man. Straight body, narrow hips, short hair....
And then I put on a Small-sized dress shirt and realized that the narrowness of my waist fucks it all up. Even a small shirt looks baggy and stupid on me. I will never have the broad shoulders and chest to "fill out" the shirt. If I wear more fitted spandexy shirts my breasts become more pronounced.
Still yet, now I have to go throw up the cheesecake I just ate in order to continue to fit into my slacks. Could I be any more pathetic? No. Could any ftm/boi/genderqueer empathize with my desperate plight to fit into men's attire? Absolutely.
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9:09 pm - frivolous American yuppy
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I have literally become a fattened, frivolous urban yuppy after three weeks of returning to America. I am once again eating massively sized meals at $15/meal, and just spent $165 on fine men's dress slacks. My day consists of walking to the car, walking around the mall, and walking back to the car.
Well, today at least. I still spend 1.5 hours at the gym 6 days/week and surf for an hour each morning. I still dilute my skim milk so that I get two gallons for the price of one. Regardless, I miss the simplicity of my rice paddy living in Yanagawa. Tofu and broccoli every single night; three outfits for work, biking 35 min to work and 35 min back-- rain or shine.
The problem Americans have is we have too much food available and too many choices.
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| Friday, August 19th, 2005
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4:53 pm - General body dysphoria
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I've noticed my personal updates are psychotic about getting fat, or finding a new freckles, or watching the burgeonings of skin cancer, or my enhanced disdain for my scars, birthmarks, etc.
I continue to ask myself WHY I'm becoming such a self-obsessed hypochondiac? Only over the past 6 months, too. I wonder if gender dysphoria is fueling it, or if some subconcious need to be a beautiful female is discreetly driving me insane. I see these fair-skinned 23 year old women who look like they belong in a generic magazine and feel so incredibly distanced from this part of humanity with my butchy hair and freckled face and baggy pants that it makes me pine for extremes-- i.e. extremes in thinness. If I can only be ultra skinny, I could run in the same race horse as these "normal," heterosexual, gender-normative, pretty young women.
I'm trying to be my own therapist and talk myself out of this self-destructive behavior. I knew it had gone too far when I tried to scrape off a new freckle from my cheek using the edge of nail clippers and now have a gaping hole which will probably scar. And of course I couldn't "scrape" away cells which are genetically designed to produce dark pigment, so I now have a reddish brown hole in my cheek, rather than the faint tan freckle I had two days ago.
In vying for perfection, afraid of being even more ugly than I already consider myself, I'm destroying my body in the process. How I wish my insurance covered psycho-therapy. Don't you?
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| Wednesday, August 17th, 2005
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1:59 am - Depression
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I feel that state o' depression seeping in. I'm aware of the signals now and understand how important it is to avoid the dreary lagoon. I can't get enough sleep, I feel overly emotional and cry easily. I wish I could get into therapy with a wise, experience Ivy League graduate. I constantly feel like I'd be flying high if I didn't have this bowling ball of "baggage" attached to my left heel. If I do this well with so many conflictions, how would I do if I could operate emotionally and mentally as a psychologically healthy 23 year old?
I got a new freckle on my face and the purple wound on the back of my calf is there permanently thanks to a too-young fucking physician intern in Japan who permanently FUCKED up my leg. Fucking, fucking language barrier. I don't want to get out of bed because I feel so incredibly ugly. I feel fat and hideous about 90% of my waking hour. I like, can't get out of this mentality. I want to hide from the world. No body will love me. I'm too hideous. AND I know it's only going to get worse as I get older. I'm already showing severe signs of pre-mature aging because of my childhood excessive exposure to the sun. And my teeth are falling out. My eye whites aren't white. I have a four pack above the tummy roll from hell.
Anyway, I have to do this workshop for Gender Odyssey and I don't want to dig out, but it looks like it'll have to be that given my total lack of experience regarding costs associated with transition. I feel like there's no happiness anywhere. Not even the idea of dressing in boys clothes gets my engines rearing. Everytime I think about boy's clothes I think of how they don't fit over my breasts and tummy roll and how the birthmark on my neck is totally obvious. I want to hide from my body. Sigh.
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| Tuesday, June 14th, 2005
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6:02 am - My gf is driving me crazy
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Today was so internally infuriating. My girlfriend makes me feel so much just sitting next to her. As we sat listening to a presentation on swords and samurai in Japan during our monthly meeting in the seminar I accidentally peered down and was struck by the contrast between her and myself-- she was decked out (being the PA, in charge and in power of 250 JETs) in her summer power suit, black panty hose, her legs crossed and her black heel dancing loosely off her toes. I was in typical black men's fine-cotton slacks and polished shoes, my legs spread apart. The stark difference between us; masculinity next to femininity was so incredibly erotic. I sat there secretly undressing her in my mind; I wanted to be on top on a dark, quiet couch, listen to her breath faster and heavier, run her fingers through my hair, love me like I love her.
Ten minutes later I caught my reflection in the window, revealing that HUGE BLARING discrepancy between how I delude myself into thinking of what I am and what I really am. No, Aurea, you're NOT a strapping young man, you're a fruity little boy-girl with kinky hair and a freckled neck. You FUCKING LOSER you're SO fucking ugly. Anyway, within a few seconds of my mirror exposure Greer mentioned how "tall and fit" she thought a handsome peer of ours was to a young woman beside her. Like usual, she played up the heterosexual gig, a luxury only she enjoys.
Anyway, I was silently screaming tears inside for the umpteenth time at the thought of my gf (Kristi, now Greer) canoodling with a broad-shouldered, flat-chested man. It absolutely kills me. I can't compete with men but such is the silent dismay of all tranny boi's and butch women, regardless of whether it's warranted; We're playing in outfield while they tear it up in the infield. All we can do is wait for the fly balls to show off my skills. GODDAMMIT this is SO infuriating to me!!! I want to be this hard, fit body against her soft, sweet curves. Which is what I delude myself into thinking until I catch my reflection in the mirror.
current mood: crushed
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| Friday, June 10th, 2005
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8:47 pm - Grad School- vomit
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I broke my three month anti-binging and vomiting yesterday and now the urge is stronger than ever. This evening I actually walked through the thunderstorm to Lawson's to buy two chocolate bars, a donut, chocolate milk, and a pastry under the sole intention of gourging myself sick so that I could vomit quickly and painlessly. But even after everything was out of my stomach and floating around in my plastic-bag covered trash can I continued to shove my fingers farther and deeper down my esophogus until I was belching air and heaving. My eyes were watering, I was sweating, the music was blaring, it felt so good. It's like cutting, but without the blood, the pain, and the scars. Only a sense of relief, of light-headedness, of calm.
I haven't given more than a cursory consideration to gender and gender transition. I'm faced with the hugest decision of my life direction so far: Graduate school. I can't continue to operate outside of the ivy towers of academia without losing my FUCKING mind!!! BUT the only programs I can think to apply to are Law School and UW's Public Policy and Urban Planning dual degree. I want to go into the latter because it will delay derisive decision on a career and engage my variety of interests more fully, AND it's 1/3rd the price but... have I learned nothing from a liberal arts education? That being "interdisciplinary" and "liberal artsy" does not guarantee white collar status by 35? I'm not intelligent enough to operate within a 5-dimensional box like my friends. I need rules, directions, and hard copy graphs. If I dive into a Public Policy program I'm risking further career disorientation and thus, more binging and purging sessions, perhaps a sex change to boot, and ultimately falling through the cracks of life. I'm not stable enough to be in a program without solid, substantial goals.
As much as I hate that conventional path toward financial security; college--> law/med school--> white collar, I'm terrified of diverging from it. And thus I may continue to stick my fingers down my throat until I bleed and cry and punch walls and cry for those wonderous days of college where I could flail into the arms of the econ department. Now I'm all alone, scared, directionless, outside the horse track searching for the onramp.
I don't know what to do with my life and I need to decide in three weeks.
current mood: calm
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| Tuesday, June 7th, 2005
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4:35 pm - Ugh
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So, it looks like I'll be running through my savings pretty quickly once I return to the states. I'm looking at 500-700 dollars a month in rent, a $1,300 LSAT preparatory class at the UW, in addition to food, clothes, and the obligatory unemployment lull while I get my shit together in preparation for the next five years of my life.
Looks like I'll be putting off gender therapy and chest surgery for at least a couple years. I mean, I'll be studying and working and saving until I get into grad school, and then won't have any time to get distracted with gender shit while actually in grad school, and then there will be those few years post-grad school trying to solidify a career... which is why I'm second-guessing Law School. I just don't want to be strapped down yet, you know? I don't want to feel trapped. I want to go into UW's Urban Planning program because it's less specialized and more interdisciplinary, and could launch me into something I'm passionate about. BUT I can't mull around for another year or two without Losing My Mind!!!
I feel the gender binary crunch in Japan to a fine cue. I think it really distorts my ideals of what gender (if any) I want to be "when I grow up." It would sure as hell be easier to be a real man in this country; and consequently my gender disphoria and body disphoria is heightened and I'm encouraged to transition. But that may not be the case in America, where androgynous dykes are a dime a dozen, you know?
Anyway, I just got nervous about not being able to go home and surf for yet another year because of having to study for law school, so I consumed 3 bananas, a packet of carrots and two cups of moccha coffee. So I'm gonna throw up to angstful music now. Snort!
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| Thursday, June 2nd, 2005
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9:23 pm - Sigh
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I'm so in love with my girlfriend. I bought her over a dozen roses yesterday-- I wanted to buy her the entire flower boutique. I tell her so often how beautiful she is and smart and talented that I think she's getting sick of hearing it. I was suddenly overwhelmed this morning about the chance that I may never find anyone has wonderful as her. She's everything I could want in a female counterpart. AND she's fucking hot and gives the best head ever. She turned my sexual life around-- she helped me discover an appreciation, a pride in fact, of my female parts. She's also sensitive to transgenderism and gungho about drag shows. She's brilliant and my boss, too. Aw man, I wanna love her forever but our time is coming to an end.
If it's fate, perhaps we'll reconvene when she returns to Canada summer of 2006. Let's hoping right now.
Sigh... I knew I shouldn't have listened to those fucking ultra liberal hussies with shitty GPA's in college. I'm going to pay the price for my peer pressure vulnerability when I begin applying for Law School. Note to self: Do for Aurea what feels right for Aurea. Ie devoting my heart and soul to school and Friday nights to private cross-dressing parties in front of the mirror.
Speaking of cross-dressing, I know I need to buckle down when I return to the states in a couple months and begin the career/grad school application process but OH MAN am I excited about cross-dressing in public. Oh thank you God for letting my home country be leading the liberal wave.
Ah yeah, dressing in fine men's attire, sagging my pants, tight boxer briefs, packing, binding, cologne, a little fake mustache, rubbing up against boi's and grrls at the Catwalk, Wild Rose, The Cuff, my room.... ;) YAY!
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| Wednesday, May 25th, 2005
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8:17 pm - Sigh
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So low today. Couldn't sleep last night for fearing of falling through the cracks once I return to America. I'm so afraid of being a "has-been" and failure. It seems like it's been a downward cycle since... maybe 20? Since becoming a little tranny weirdo, basically.
Anyway, bad eating disphoria day. Tub of tofu, two carrots with jam, handful of assorted candies and half-pint of milk at 1am to get to sleep. Creamy "pan" bread and chocolate milk around 11 am, vegetables and two fried potatoes around 1pm, non-diet coke at 5pm. And I'm hungry again at 8pm. Why? WHY am I always hungry??? I didn't do shit today but sit on my ass and then jump around for all of 20 minutes during my one-on-myself basketball practice. Biking does NOT burn significantly more calories than walking, despite what "futte iru" people say.
I feel fat. There's fat around my hips, and my belly, and my thighs, and celulite (sp?) on my ass and my calves are totally untoned. THERE'S FAT EVERYWHERE FAT EVERYWHERE ON MY BODY!!!! I'M DROWNING IN FAT. Fuckin' A.
current mood: crappy
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| Tuesday, May 24th, 2005
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8:59 pm - Money, Japan, Natsukashii
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My day was spent mostly at Yanagawa Blind School reading, surfing the net, talking about my favorite foods to Kouji-san, watching turtles eat grass, eating what tasted like grass itself with the school lunch, and then off to my english conversation class with the shipyard folk. They spent 40 min. of our 1.5 hours talking about spiders being messangers from God, and then I brought up a discussion on the difference between Ms. Miss and Mrs. .... which totally bombed and silenced everyone. Should have stayed with the spiders, I guess. I keep forgetting that these men just wanna relax and talk about spiders and various brands of liquor; I honestly don't understand what I'm getting paid an obscene amount to do. But such is the constant, notorious wonder of the ALT-- "why am I here?" "What am I getting paid so much to do?"
Which reminds me. I'm a fool for leaving the money. I'm making $3500 in pure, untaxable cash each month-- AFTER bills. Ken, Jamie, Sylbeth, stop FUCKING REMINDING ME. I want to hang myself everytime I think about the money. But didn't I just tell you I spent the day watching turtles eat grass? Fuck that shit, I didn't grad magna for that. Argh, I don't wanna talk about it.
Now I'm home getting ready to go to the gym. No classes tomorrow; hospital run on Thursday to get some moles removed that'll probably run a couple hundred dollars, concert in the city on Friday with all my friends (Greer bought me a ticket for my b-day), really bored but really sad about soon leaving this little world I've come to have true affection for (since April, I swear, no sooner). The old ladies and their baskets of potatoes always in my way, the kind-hearted convenience store clerks, the greatness in general of Japanese convenience stores (you pay your bills, buy plane tickets, buy everything of quality at a Japanese convenience store-- and one is a 2 min walk from my apartment!), the serene river stroll next to my apartment, biking along the uber safe, empty streets at night, always feeling safe in my town and unstressed in my work.
Seriously, Japan is truly the safest country in the world. It's so incredibly civilized and time-oriented. Well, it's 9pm! Time to shut down for the night, Keiko! Even the "thugs" are like, only "thugs" because they have bleached their hair and spend the evenings reading comics at the local convenience store instead of studying until they pass out. They still ride basket bicycles and are at most 120lbs. They still throw recycle their trash into the "cans only" "bottles only" "burnables only" recycling bins outside every store. Ha, it's ridiculous, but incredibly respectable, huh?
current mood: grateful
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| Saturday, May 21st, 2005
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9:19 pm - Then and Now
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8:22 pm - More body dysphoria
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My point with the last update is that I feel like my exercise and eating routines, even at their height of discipline, are still fruitless in providing me with the body I want. GODDAMMIT I WANT A FLAT UPPER TORSO, NO CURVES, NO BUMPS, NOTHING JIGGLING. It's not vain anymore, if in fact it once was; it's like, I am conscious of the fat on my hips, lower abs and thighs EVERY WAKING MOMENT. I can't STAND it! Fuck it makes me SO incredibly unhappy. I'm obsessed and I'm feeling defeated. Even when I was 124 lbs (currently 130) at the height of my surfing and gym routine two summers ago, I still couldn't get the fully exposed six pack and rectangular torso I desperately pine for.
I wish so much I could just take T and get the male stature I want SO BAD but without hair, big pores, balding. I don't want to pass as a man; I don't want to be seen as a man under any circumstances. Ima boi-girl, not a man. But I swear I'm getting to the end of my rope with everything above the waist and below the neck. Like, if I have to spend $15K on lipo and breast removal to relieve myself from the mental strife of feeling fwumpy and curvey, I may just do it.
Wait, no I won't, that's ludicrous. See?! There's no way out! There's no way out of my body!!!! AGH!!!!
Seriously, what will it take to have a totally flat, curve-less and rectangular upper body? Anorexia? Bulimia certainly didn't work. Liposuction? Top surgery and an excessive work-out routine? Sigh....
The gym is turning into a place of defeat. My guy friend drinks like a fish and doesn't run or lift, and he has this permanent upside-down triangular figure; broad shoulders and narrow hips. Fuckin' A.
current mood: cranky
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