how i look from the outside
Since i hardly ever hang out with other people, especially not other people who take photos of me, i rarely get a glimpse of how i look to them. I don't even think much about how i look to me. I do take the occasional selfie, but that's more for the benefit of my friends and family, to let them know i'm alive, happy and generally in good health. On the inside, my sense of self is entirely wrapped up in where i am at right now, what i can see and hear and smell, the things my brain is processing, what i'm doing. There is a mirror in the bathroom but i don't think i ever look in it. I don't really process the concept of "me" as an entity that has a physical appearance, so it feels like a shock when something reminds me of it.
When i was in Laos, i decided i wasn't going to take my padded bra that i wear to work, i instead brought the bralette/sports bra things i had with me on my bike tour. They only really serve two purposes: protecting my nipples from getting chafed, and allowing me the opportunity to remove my top without attracting undue attention. I don't have much in the way of boobs in the first place, so squishing them down just makes me appear even more masculine than i probably already do given my height and deep voice.
And those are the times i get a reminder, when even people who know me refer to me with "he" pronoun, or when i am walking along the street behind a woman and she crosses the road to get away from me, or when i exit the toilets and trigger confusion from someone coming in who feels like they must've walked into the "wrong" one...
It's funny because when i was early in my transition, i went to such great lengths to appear as feminine as possible. Make-up and jewelry and hair product and figure-enhancing clothes. I tried to train my voice to speak in a softer and more feminine way. I read all of the secret guides that trans women used to write for one another, learning how to take smaller steps when walking so that your hips sway more, looking out of the corner of your eye instead of directly at people, pointing your toe down when you cross your legs, all of those tricks for blending in as a woman and not drawing attention to yourself.
Somewhere along the way i stopped giving a shit. I think when i had a partner who was fairly butch, and she got called "sir" a lot too, despite having obviously feminine features and body shape. And when i learned that plenty of women get hair on their face, and their stomach, and their big toes. And, fucking hell, when i realized most women hate their clothes as much as i do, they just suffer it because looking attractive or simply conforming is more important to them than being comfortable. Fuck that shit. If i can't be a woman who can present however the fuck i want to present, then what the hell kind of a woman am i being anyway? A stereotype? Nah. So i gave up. Fuck make-up, fuck jewelry, fuck hair product, fuck fashion. I wear what is cheap, light, utilitarian and comfortable. And i only ever buy a new item of clothing when the previous one literally turns to rags.
But it is still neat to look at pictures of me from time to time, the way other people see me, because i realize how much i look like my mother and her sisters from certain angle.
Kinda Dutch.
One of my aunts has started writing to me intermittently, like every 6 months or so since mom died. I am trying to stay in contact but it's tough because i don't really know what to say. I can write about everything and nothing here in LiveJournal but when it comes to actually writing to a specific individual, i feel like there is some higher standard. I don't want to bore them. I want to at least pretend to be interested in what is going on in their life. I don't know if they have the context to really understand what i'm trying to say. I overthink it, and then i don't write anything.
It's my birthday today, so i got an email from dad. I suppose i should write him too.
It was a bit of a crappy birthday. Since i got back from the new year break, my shower has not been draining, and a couple days ago i realized that when the neighbor has a shower, the water starts rising out of my shower's drain. I contacted my landlord, who is in mainland right now (i think she's Chinese) and she gave a number of a plumber, but i chickened out on calling because i am so out of practice speaking Chinese on home improvement stuff. My Chinese has sadly regressed since living in Taiwan. I feel like a useless fucking expat. Anyway, i asked the neighbor if she could call the plumber and i spent my birthday morning waiting for the dude to arrive to unclog the pipes.
Actually, that was kind of a good present. I'll enjoy it tomorrow when i can have a full-length shower for the first time in weeks.
Then i went to work, where the office admin told me they'd reimburse 500元 for birthday lunch, which i still wouldn't've claimed because i think reimbursement is stupid, but anyway i had already gotten 四川涼麵 Sichuan-style cold noodle from the place in 西門町 Ximending youth/anime/fashion district because it's rare that i am passing through that part of town at lunchtime. So my birthday lunch cost me 50元 and it was epic.
But i had to leave work early, after arriving late, because i had an appointment at the dermatologist. The steroids she gave me to get through the Laos vacation have worn off, and yet again my butt, thighs and torso are covered in itchy red splotches. She has resolved to take a biopsy tomorrow, which i thought just meant scratching off a few cells for some kind of DNA test or some shit, but actually it's getting a scalpel and cutting an entire fucking chunk of skin out of my body, presumably getting stitches after, and ending up with yet another massive scar on my midriff because my body is keloid central.
Sometimes i wish i had exciting war stories for my scars. Aside from the one on my shoulder that i got while having sex in a nightclub bathroom (those toilet paper holders with jagged edges are brutal), most of them are due to doctors cutting hunks of flesh out of me.
I mean. "Doctors". More like butchers, am i right?
Sigh. Happy birthday to me. I'm old and tired and it rains all the fucking time in Taipei. Wish some sun over here, guys. I hope your day is more thrilling than mine was.
When i was in Laos, i decided i wasn't going to take my padded bra that i wear to work, i instead brought the bralette/sports bra things i had with me on my bike tour. They only really serve two purposes: protecting my nipples from getting chafed, and allowing me the opportunity to remove my top without attracting undue attention. I don't have much in the way of boobs in the first place, so squishing them down just makes me appear even more masculine than i probably already do given my height and deep voice.
And those are the times i get a reminder, when even people who know me refer to me with "he" pronoun, or when i am walking along the street behind a woman and she crosses the road to get away from me, or when i exit the toilets and trigger confusion from someone coming in who feels like they must've walked into the "wrong" one...
It's funny because when i was early in my transition, i went to such great lengths to appear as feminine as possible. Make-up and jewelry and hair product and figure-enhancing clothes. I tried to train my voice to speak in a softer and more feminine way. I read all of the secret guides that trans women used to write for one another, learning how to take smaller steps when walking so that your hips sway more, looking out of the corner of your eye instead of directly at people, pointing your toe down when you cross your legs, all of those tricks for blending in as a woman and not drawing attention to yourself.
Somewhere along the way i stopped giving a shit. I think when i had a partner who was fairly butch, and she got called "sir" a lot too, despite having obviously feminine features and body shape. And when i learned that plenty of women get hair on their face, and their stomach, and their big toes. And, fucking hell, when i realized most women hate their clothes as much as i do, they just suffer it because looking attractive or simply conforming is more important to them than being comfortable. Fuck that shit. If i can't be a woman who can present however the fuck i want to present, then what the hell kind of a woman am i being anyway? A stereotype? Nah. So i gave up. Fuck make-up, fuck jewelry, fuck hair product, fuck fashion. I wear what is cheap, light, utilitarian and comfortable. And i only ever buy a new item of clothing when the previous one literally turns to rags.
But it is still neat to look at pictures of me from time to time, the way other people see me, because i realize how much i look like my mother and her sisters from certain angle.
Kinda Dutch.
One of my aunts has started writing to me intermittently, like every 6 months or so since mom died. I am trying to stay in contact but it's tough because i don't really know what to say. I can write about everything and nothing here in LiveJournal but when it comes to actually writing to a specific individual, i feel like there is some higher standard. I don't want to bore them. I want to at least pretend to be interested in what is going on in their life. I don't know if they have the context to really understand what i'm trying to say. I overthink it, and then i don't write anything.
It's my birthday today, so i got an email from dad. I suppose i should write him too.
It was a bit of a crappy birthday. Since i got back from the new year break, my shower has not been draining, and a couple days ago i realized that when the neighbor has a shower, the water starts rising out of my shower's drain. I contacted my landlord, who is in mainland right now (i think she's Chinese) and she gave a number of a plumber, but i chickened out on calling because i am so out of practice speaking Chinese on home improvement stuff. My Chinese has sadly regressed since living in Taiwan. I feel like a useless fucking expat. Anyway, i asked the neighbor if she could call the plumber and i spent my birthday morning waiting for the dude to arrive to unclog the pipes.
Actually, that was kind of a good present. I'll enjoy it tomorrow when i can have a full-length shower for the first time in weeks.
Then i went to work, where the office admin told me they'd reimburse 500元 for birthday lunch, which i still wouldn't've claimed because i think reimbursement is stupid, but anyway i had already gotten 四川涼麵 Sichuan-style cold noodle from the place in 西門町 Ximending youth/anime/fashion district because it's rare that i am passing through that part of town at lunchtime. So my birthday lunch cost me 50元 and it was epic.
But i had to leave work early, after arriving late, because i had an appointment at the dermatologist. The steroids she gave me to get through the Laos vacation have worn off, and yet again my butt, thighs and torso are covered in itchy red splotches. She has resolved to take a biopsy tomorrow, which i thought just meant scratching off a few cells for some kind of DNA test or some shit, but actually it's getting a scalpel and cutting an entire fucking chunk of skin out of my body, presumably getting stitches after, and ending up with yet another massive scar on my midriff because my body is keloid central.
Sometimes i wish i had exciting war stories for my scars. Aside from the one on my shoulder that i got while having sex in a nightclub bathroom (those toilet paper holders with jagged edges are brutal), most of them are due to doctors cutting hunks of flesh out of me.
I mean. "Doctors". More like butchers, am i right?
Sigh. Happy birthday to me. I'm old and tired and it rains all the fucking time in Taipei. Wish some sun over here, guys. I hope your day is more thrilling than mine was.