I keep having to take down the mirrors. When I gain weight, I look more like a woman and it sends me somewhere dark. I don’t know what my body “should” look like. I don’t know anything. So I take the mirrors down as an act of self care and FEEL. How do I feel? How would I feel if I couldn’t look at myself at all? How would I feel if there weren’t an assumed way non binary people are supposed to look? We humans will make a box out of anything.
The problem I have when I face gender issues, one problem anyway, is that when I go into the world, I get feedback from others. All day long, it’s “ma’am” and SHE and “Hey Woman!” and “sweetie” from guys who are way too intimate for their own good. It confuses me as I’ve tried to make an effort to get my outward expression closer to how I feel on the inside. I stopped wearing makeup. My head is shaved and usually covered in a beanie. I can’t buy new clothes because money. So maybe my body is betraying me somehow because to me, my face is androgynous. It shouldn’t matter that I have these tits and curvy hips but this is rural kansas and the binary is going strong. But who knows what other people see. Other people confuse me in general, especially when they are staring at me all day long. I’ve never understood the rubbernecking and it’s gotten worse. I’d say it’s my height but it even happens in the car. Maybe my music is thumping too loud.
When I just said “yeah you can just call me She, it’s fine…” then I didn’t have to deal with the misgendering. It was easy. I’m not someone who will correct customers at work. It’s not worth it. But it is getting under my skin. To be honest, even if I could get top surgery, those worker guys would still call me sweetie. One of them called me Baby one time and I almost vomited in my mouth. I never say anything because I need those tips but I cannot hide my face and it feels like it’s doing something crumpled and appalled. They might stop if I grow a beard. I wonder if they’ll even recognize the trans colors I’m going to start wearing on my wrist when my bracelet gets here. I wonder if their endearment to my assumed gender will turn to something ugly and I’ll lose tips.
It’s like something just moved in to my body and decided this is our home now. We’ve got to rearrange things the way that we like them, the way they were used to, and sometimes I wonder if that’s where the dysphoria comes from. If perhaps some other part of me just decided to move in and why I can’t remember certain memories. And how I seem to have changed so much and maybe it’s because it’s not me anymore it’s something else. I had to rearrange the furniture and feel more at home. But I’m still here and I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize myself but some other part of me knows this is who I am.
it’s very strange. As is the feeling that there is an alien in my brain providing commentary all the time about the humans we observe. It feels very pleased when we say a witty thing and get a response and connect. Very excited when we are successful at “humaning.” But that’s a whole other topic.
I woke up wanting to change my name to C. I had a weird message on my phone one morning a few years ago. Just C over and over. And I don’t want to change it legally because good lord, I’ve been married three fucking times and cannot even muster the energy to fix my toilet from not flushing all the time, much less change my name AGAIN. But maybe my friends will call me C.
And I had this dream last night where suddenly I was going to marry this old queer man and this woman. A three way marriage and if that isn’t the Lovers card in tarot, I don’t know what is. I looked like the angel at the top of the Rider Waite deck. I saw myself walking up some stairs in this ivory dress with no back and I was sublime and ethereal. I couldn’t believe it was me.