beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (uncertainty - you are here)
A personal essay of sorts I wanted to record:

A lengthy history of my relationship with my sister and art )
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (life is a puzzle)
This is a continuation of my last post, which was just some lengthy backstory about an episode of pelvic ouchiness I experienced some years back.

I meant to write up this stupid second part days and days ago, but of course it didn't happen. I had half of it done and sitting around on my computer unfinished, and then I was always either too busy or too tired.

I feel like whatever was driving me to write this down has run out of steam, but I suppose I should finish it anyway.

Because I think someday I will actually want to remember all these pointless details - plenty of TMI follows )
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (shoes)
I've had a personal health/body issue on my mind for a few days now, and I keep feeling drawn to getting it down in some format - on paper, on Livejournal, whatever. It concerns a subject I really haven't written much about in my lj before...or, in fact, in any journal I've ever had.

I don't think most FtMs like to say much of anything about menstruation. In actual fact, I'm not particularly shy about it, or bothered by the mere fact that I experience it. (Although it is annoying, and occasionally a challenge when you use men's washrooms.) But I don't at all like calling any attention to it.

It's long been a habit of mine to mostly avoid even mentioning anything exclusively pertinent to being born with a female body; somehow, I believe it'll be easier for other people to think of me as male if I simply play Let's Pretend (I Was Born With A Penis); the reality is that the people who can already mentally juggle the fact that I'm male with the fact that I have a female body are not ever the ones who are fazed by mention of my anatomy or what it does.

So this is the start of what's been on my mind; it's the background story, basically. Probably not deeply interesting to anyone but me. I was going to tap out an outline of what happened, and instead THIS came out, and I realized this story is something I need to get out in some level of detail, or it'll continue to pull on my ear. So.

Further proof that some careless child somewhere has a doll that looks like me )
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (Default)
This is the story I promised elsewhere, one of my faves to tell...

When I was 9, my family moved from Saskatoon to Calgary (which I now consider my home.) I was not very popular at school in Saskatoon, kids thought I was a nerd, so I was happy to get a chance to start over. (Isn't any outcast? But how rarely hopes pan out...)

Unfortunately, I didn't do too well at my new school, either. (Big surprise.) The school was quite old-fashioned, with big wooden desks. The desktops were all individually patterned, and apparently the teacher saved the "best desk" for me, the one all the other kids coveted, because she wanted to make a new student who arrived half-way through the year feel "welcome." This didn't win me any friends...neither did being smarter than everyone and getting told I would be skipping a grade...neither did wearing boy's clothes and having a boy's bowl haircut. I simply had no friends at all.

As I've mentioned, the school was old-fashioned. They had separate doors for boys and girls to enter and exit by at recess. Maybe because these doors were right by the respective washrooms, strict rules were kept about kids only using the doors for their assigned gender. A teacher stood at each set of doors at the beginning and end of each recess period, and scanned for deviants.

I hung out by myself on the playground, making no effort to become friends with anyone. Subsequently, there was no one willing to defend me when I needed it.

One day, after I had only been at my new school for a couple of weeks, I got into trouble when the bell rang. The teacher "guarding" the girls door did not teach any class I had, and did not recognize me. I had been able to sneak past a myopic volunteer when she was absent, but now that she was back, she caught me. "Just where do you think you're going, young man?"

"I'm a girl," I told her, just like I was supposed to.

"What do you think I am, stupid? I know just what you're trying to pull young man, and you won't get away with it!" (I was 9. What did she think I was trying to pull?) "Get out of here!"

Girls streaming past up the steps giggled and gave me nasty looks, as if to say, "That's what you get when you look like a boy."

I had no better luck at the boy's door - the "guard" was my French teacher, stern, formidable and unyielding. When all the other children were inside, both teachers hauled shut and locked both sets of doors as if they didn't even see me, alone and near tears, sitting on the ground a few dozen feet from the steps.

I was terrified. What did I do? It was absolutely forbidden for a student to use the front doors during school hours unless they were arriving late. I knew my teacher, Ms. Green, would be mad at me. I sat and waited for someone to come find me. No one came.

Finally, I decided to risk a front-door entry. It was just my luck the principal was coming out of his office right then. He demanded to know what the hell I was doing. I couldn't answer. He told me I had detention with him and sent me to class.

Ms. Green went atomic when I appeared at the door, and gave me a chewing-out in front of the class about being late off recess, making her put me before all the other kids, and how unfair that was. (She put me first, huh? Why didn't she make an effort to find me for 20 minutes?) I got detention with her.

I served my detention with Ms. Green, skipped out on the principal, and had my parents fix the sitch. Thank God. Oh, and I didn't skip a grade, either. My parents moved me schools after I was there 6 weeks.

Sorry this is such a long entry. I'm amused by this now, of course...mostly.

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April 2009

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