November 10, 2005
Just a quickie tonight.
No, not that kind of quickie – just a short entry.
It is ten o’clock, and I really want to get to bed, but just had to
put in a short note to keep too long a gap from forming.
Let’s see – picking up where I left off….
Teresa and I went to KFC. It
is about a 15 minute drive from here. This
was her very first trip out in public with her new look, and she dressed it
up! My, my what a looker she has become. She wore a long, casual, denim skirt, unbuttoned all the way
to the top because she had those fancy black stretch pantaloons underneath
– you know, the ones with the black lace at the bottom that are actually
meant to be seen, but look like lingerie?
She wore a push-up bra and low-cut top with a gentle overshirt around
her shoulders. The side light
from the window gently outlined her cleavage, and illuminated her
soft-featured beautiful new face.
God, she was just gorgeous, in a very earthy, real, and
unpretentious way.
How did I feel about this?
Conflicted. On the one
hand, here’s this knock-out babe I suddenly find myself shacking up with.
(We actually think of ourselves as married – after all, we’ve
been together nine years now!) On the other hand, in comparison to her, I am much older
looking than the actual four years that separate us.
I suppose that is partly due to the swelling from the surgery which
has stretched out all the wrinkles, but then again, everything around the
forehead was pulled tight – essentially an upper face lift – so it’s
too soon and complex a situation to know exactly how old she’ll look when
she is fully healed.
But that day… well, it was both eviscerating and
devastating. Still, my mood
remained lifted due to our talks earlier in the day, and I tended to enjoy
being with her far more than I felt intimidated or caught in a harsh
spotlight by comparison.
In fact, when we arrived at the KFC, she remained in
the car (due to the still visible bruising) and I went in for the order.
Now, normally these days I’d be pretty nervous about seeing anybody
that up-close. But I knew I
looked pretty good that day. Probably had more rest, and also the anti-aging cosmetics
I’m using now have started to have an effect.
Well, they mistakenly forgot to include a whole chicken
breast we ordered, but hadn’t actually charged us. As I left the restaurant I saw that the manager had stepped
out of a side door for a quick break. He
saw Teresa (he was already checking her out when I came out of the place)
and he saw me get in with her.
Then I discovered the case of the missing chicken
breast, and went back in. The
manager was in there too already. I
told the clerk what had happened and said I didn’t mind paying for the
additional one since we hadn’t been charged.
But the manager jumped in, grabbed one and started to pack it up in a
box. I again re-iterated I
didn’t mind any extra charge, but he handed it to me and said, “Don’t
worry about it,” with a smile.
Well, that’s quite a contrast to what I’ve been
experiencing the last few weeks. I
knew I hadn’t had a problem with the clerk, and now, the manager gives
Teresa and me a free chicken breast. FFS
pays off for her, and my confidence takes a rise.
On the way back home, then, it was all laughter and
fun. Tension had really broken.
We ate our chicken, had a good evening, and went to bed to cuddle and
giggle once more.
Next day, we were a bit tired, but in really good
spirits. Teresa continued
reading the first book of this journal from time to time.
I started paying attention to my business again, dropped some mail
off at the post office, and made a trip to the supermarket, again without
negative incident.
And when I looked in the mirror, I was looking better
and better. I guess a little
rest and some heightened moods have a big impact.
Still and all, as I drove on the way to town, I took every
opportunity on the winding mountain road to adjust the mirror to look at my
face, wait for a straightaway, and take both hands off the wheel to pull up
my lip and see if it still made things better.
It did.
Teresa was pretty active yesterday – too active.
She started doing chores, worked on some of our business issues, was
up and around and generally burning energy.
And when we went to bed, it was equal to the very best times we’ve
had since I opened up my heart that night at Cocoon House.
Sex these days has gotten spontaneous, playful, fun.
It is also taking up a lot of time.
We went to bed at ten o’clock, intending to go to sleep, but by the
time we looked at the clock, it was nearly two hours later!
Well, all that energy took its toll on Teresa.
She woke up in the middle of the night with a lot of pain, so I got
up with her and made her a cup of cocoa, as I like to do.
(I had tea in deference to my diet.)
We stayed up for almost an hour, chatting.
In the morning, she awoke in lots of pain, but with
hours to go until her pills. And
she was WASTED! I mean, it was
like a hangover after a three-day drunk.
She had no energy, her mood was subdued, and she looked like she been
dragged around the block a few times. Female,
but totally toasted.
I also had kind of a crappy day. I was looking forward to actually making some progress on my
business today, but some work I had done on the web for a new partner had
some problems, and I had to spend most of the day fixing it.
Before that, I went off to Placerville again, this time
to the Office Max, to pick up ten sets of build-‘em-yourself shelving
units that they couldn’t deliver because their big truck couldn’t make
it down the hill to our house.
So, I had them load the boxes in my little Saturn (a
feat I have performed many times with this sturdy little car) and schlepped
them back to our home. On the
way, I stopped in town to pick up Chinese Food for Teresa, as per her
request. Couldn’t have any
myself, though, as there is no way to figure the calories, and I’m still
keeping in between 1000 and 1100 each and every day.
Speaking of which, I hit a milestone this morning –
159 pounds! I finally made it
into the 150s. Haven’t been
there in over 10 years. Started
at 180.5, so that’s 21 ½ pounds in seven weeks, meaning, I’ll hit my
goal weight of 150 in three more weeks!
Then I can reevaluate and see if I want to lose anymore.
But that, of course, will have to wait until after my appointment
with Dr. O, as I have surgery in less than four weeks, and don’t want to
over do the diet the week before surgery.
Speaking of which, Dr. O’s pre-surgery package
arrived yesterday in the mail. It
had the usual cover letter, but because I’m only having the lip done,
there are a lot of things that don’t pertain but weren’t removed (like
being in the hospital for two days and such things as needing to show up for
things on December 0th!”)
Got my prescriptions for the antibiotic and the Vicodin,
but none for the vitamin K (a blood thickener) which I’m pretty sure I
don’t need for this surgery, but which the cover letters I need to begin
on November 0th. So,
I’ll be calling Mira tomorrow to see what’s the up and up.
I have to admit, though it is fun to get the materials,
and Teresa wanted to watch me open them, I’ve kept my reactions subdued,
as I feel kind of like a pretender to the throne having such a minor
procedure. Still and all, I
guess it entitles me to at least attend meetings of the Dr. O Society,
albeit as a non-voting member.
And truth to tell, there is a not inconsequential
degree of “surgery envy” in all this – wanting to be part of that
sorority – wanting wear a Tee Shirt saying, “I survived FFS” – and
barring that, perhaps, “I went to the same doctor that performs FFS!”
(Which is kinda like a movie advertisement I once saw that said, “From the
people who SAW Start Wars!”)
In fact, and all joking aside, I do have to ask myself
if the yearning to belong has in any way influenced my motivations to have
surgery. Perhaps, at least a
little.
Which comes back to where I stand today, this evening
actually, in regard to the surgery. Well,
I’m not sure. Sorry about
that. Yesterday I felt so good
about myself I almost thought of it as an option.
But I took some more pictures of myself today, and even did a video,
and when I look at the results, I think, “No, I shouldn’t have the
surgery because I’m just so damned old that even if I get made prettier,
I’ll be a pretty, old lady, like that desperate Grandmother in the
see-through nightgown from the cartoon series in Playboy, back in my day.
See, here’s the crux:
I only found the fullness of my female heart two and a half weeks
ago. And now, as Teresa said
today, all the sexuality and experimentation and desire to be desired is
essentially the experiences of an adolescent girl.
But this pathetic adolescent girl is 52 years old.
It’s kinda like waking up from a coma that put you
down at age 16 and discovering you’re 52 now and missed out on the chance
to be young and pretty and be silly and femmy and soft and outrageous.
I think I wouldn’t bother me quite so much, except
Teresa honestly looks about 28 now (or at least while the skin is still
stretched). If she gets a
second chance, I want one too! If
hers is a permanent roll back of the clock, then I also want one.
And as she looks totally female now under all conditions, I want that
too!
But I only just barely have the money I need to do very
little about it. Face lift
would help me. Eye lift would
get those wrinkles gone. But is
there time to make the money? Is
there time to get the work done before I’m so damn old that I’m totally
beyond even a taste of that freedom to be that I just discovered I wanted?
Of am I just full of the usual shit, look fine, could
act any way I felt without ridicule, and simply can’t give myself
permission? Could be.
Likely even. Case in
point: Teresa ordered a bunch
of new clothes, lingerie, and stuff from a number of online stores. The first batch arrived today.
In the box were peasant skirts, a whole range of
camisoles, some with sequins, some with lace.
There were fitted and flared denim jackets, new slacks, and many
things that layered together to make her one hot tomato, looking sometimes
more like 18 than 48 and never more than 28.
With that blond hair, her earth-woman expression, and that
overpowering feminine energy blazing gently from her eyes – what a vision.
I enjoyed seeing her try all that on.
She thought I’d be mad, said she, that she was spending so much
when I can’t since I’ve leant all my money to our joint account for
bills except for the money I need for the lip.
But I wasn’t mad at all.
Just envious. I didn’t
lament that I didn’t have those clothes.
I lamented that they wouldn’t have looked nearly as good on me.
Oh there was a day when they might have, but I never knew my heart
then. So now, here I am, too
old to wear those things, with her just 4 years my junior, and she looks so
damn good in them.
But it was the shoes – the one pair of shoes she
bought that knocked me for a loop. A
simple pair of flats, nice velveteen flocking, but there was a little
graceful non-functional shoe lace on the front, tied in a curvy little bow.
And I looked at that gently curving lace, and I looked
at her gently curving face. And
I realized that her features, from the new cut of her jaw to the gentle rise
of her nose, and her perfect breasts, and gradually sloping neck (with no
Adam’s Apple since she started hormones at 18 and I at 38) and all those
features matched so perfectly that shoe.
And then it hit me – I really know that I can pass as
a woman when I try, without any difficulty.
And I really believe I can pass even in crappy conditions once I get
that lip and perhaps a lower face lift.
But what I’ll NEVER be able to do is have those smoothly graceful
features that she now has.
Dr. O was able to take the rather large block of her
granite jaw and brow and carve them down into a perfectly graceful line.
But my features, though (as Dr. O has said) fall naturally in the
female range, are more the sharp female features you see in many women.
And the problem is – that’s not the woman I wanted
to be. I wanted to be a soft
and feminine and delicate woman. But
I never thought I could. So, I
went for the career woman look.
And yet, I remember when I was first starting out,
right after SRS, I used to dress in white pleated skirts with fuzzy pink
sweaters, my hair drawn back to expose the line of my own neck. And it worked so well that men would start conversations with
me on the street and tell me I was beautiful.
One guy working the cash register at the 7-11, actually reached over
the counter and pulled me across it and kissed me, right in the damned
store!
But that was then, and this is now.
And though I absolutely do not begrudge Teresa her first opportunity
to enjoy this kind of thing, watching her grow in the ability to do it
brings sharply to my attention the fact that those days have left me behind
– AND I WANT THEM BACK!!!
Not sure yet if that is possible. Need money. Need
surgeries. Need other stuff.
But I’ll start with this lip before even that money is gone, and
then I’ll work hard to get what I want to have.
And, hopefully, I’ll either come to terms with this
whole thing, or achieve my purposes with enough time left in life to pay
attention to something else beside transformation.
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