Random Rambings of a Hopeless Romantic

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

This one goes out to all those people in my life who are there for me.  It goes out to those people who love me. It goes out to those people who support me.  It goes out to those people who defend me.  However, it especially goes out to those people who protect me.

Protect me from who?  From what? 

Since beginning my transition, there’s something I’ve noticed about my friends and family and how they generally act around me.  For the most part, everything’s the same as it always was… general disdain.  Ok, I’m definitely kidding about that! (I hope.)  Seriously, there are a few subtle differences that I hadn’t been able to put my finger on until the last couple of weeks.

Love

Do you love me?  Ok, let’s get the easy one out of the way.  This one’s a no-brainer.  I’m sure those of you who truly love me, do so unconditionally.  Nothing can change that; regardless of my mood, location, smell, or whatever state of inebriation I might be in… which is as it should be (the love part; not the inebriation part).

Support

Do you support me?  I’m sure you do if you make an effort to see my points of view and take a real interest in the things that matter to me.  You’ve probably questioned me from time to time and offered up helpful tips and suggestions whenever you thought of something or found something that relates to me.  If we’re Facebook friends, you’ll probably click the ‘Like’ button for this particular article.  (What’s not to like?)

Defend

Do you defend me?  Ok, we might be getting out of your comfort zone here.  Hypothetical question - If I’m not around and you’re talking with someone else and the topic of transsexuals comes up, do you politely correct that person if they say something about transsexuals you know to be wrong, misguided or hurtful?  Another hypothetical question - If you and I are together and the topic comes up between us and another person, do you walk away and let me handle it or do you stand there with me?  Psst… the answer to that one is stay put!  I might need a witness! ;)

Protect

Do you protect me? 

Hmmm…. protect you say?  Isn’t that sort of the same as defend?  Actually, it’s not. 

Let’s go with the same hypothetical question - If I’m not around and you’re talking with someone else and the topic of transsexuals comes up, do you stop first and assume they’ll react negatively? If so, do you immediately try to change the topic to avoid a confrontation?  Psst… if you answered ‘yes’ to this, then I’m afraid you’re in ‘protect mode’ and although this mode has its good points, I believe it to be counterproductive.

The main reason closed minded people are closed minded is because of ignorance and fear of the unknown.  By avoiding the topic with these people, you’re losing out on a very important opportunity to teach and help them grow.  Try not to look at what you’re doing as provoking an argument.  There are ways to engage people in a way that is not threatening.  A lot of the time, if you’re good at it, you can usually help people to learn and really understand something they’re in the dark about.  Need I direct you to ‘The Story of Joe’? 

People can surprise you.  C’mon… take a chance.

A Dark Day with a Bright Night

I decided to write something different today.  I know my posts are usually humorous (at least I think they are) but the last few days have been a little rough to say the least.  I’m going to write about my friend, Raymond Taavel who’s life was violently cut short by the product of a failed judicial system (but that’s another story).  Outlined below are the bulk of my experiences with Raymond from the day we met until his passing yesterday.

Tuesday Morning, April 17, 6:00 AM

I woke up yesterday morning in the best of moods.  My itinerary for the day was to go to work and go on a shopping date that evening with a girlfriend. Spirits were high as I prepared to face the day.  Waiting for my car pool companion, I sat in my car listening to the radio and playing a game on my phone.  The top story was how the city police had blocked off a section of Gottingen Street while they investigated a potential homicide.  Details were still very preliminary but when I heard the section was between Cunard and Cornwallis Streets, my heart sank.  It was reported that someone in their 40s had been beaten to death in the early morning hours.  I couldn’t help but think it would be someone I knew. Dozens of names and faces shot through my mind since the section of Gottingen was the location of two of my favorite night spots: Menz Bar and The Company House.

I got to work, grabbed a coffee and proceeded to my desk to turn on the radio.  Over the next couple hours, update after update kept coming through about two men getting attacked after they left Menz Bar but they still hadn’t announced the name of the victim.  I decided to text a friend to see if they heard anything.  I went back to work for a couple minutes until I heard the familiar tone from my phone telling me I had a text message.  The message read “I’m hearing Raymond Taavel.”

Meeting Ray

It was October 2007 when I had been struggling with coming out.  Not knowing who to talk to for advice, a friend suggested I simply go to the next Wayves meeting and start there.  Seeing as I had an illustrating background and some experience with layout and design, they’d certainly benefit from my help.  I remember arriving early and sitting nervously on the steps waiting for someone to show up.  On this particular day, as luck would have it, Raymond was the first of the Wayves team to arrive. He greeted me with a warm, genuine smile and asked if he could help.  If only he knew how loaded a question that was.  Having told him I was recently new to the community and that I would like to volunteer my time with the paper, he shook my hand, told me his name and invited me in.  Although the atmosphere seemed very hectic to me, Raymond did his best to find something for me to do.  I remember him asking me if I could proofread and even though it wasn’t really the task I felt I was best at, he assured me that I would do fine.  All I could think was, “I have no fancy degrees to my name but he’s getting me to proof articles I’m certain were written by people much more knowledgeable at putting thoughts into words?” - Well, maybe not exactly that.  It was probably more like, “Just wing it.  Maybe he won’t notice.“  We took a lunch break and we all went to someone’s house for lunch where I met even more people and really started to feel welcome and at ease.  A new chapter of my life was beginning and everything was going to be fine.  Even though I felt the Wayves experience wasn’t for me, I have very fond memories of working with Raymond and everyone there.

After that, I continued to make my presence known in the community by volunteering at Pride events and participating in anything and everything I felt capable of doing.  Raymond always seemed to be everywhere as well.  I was really beginning to think the man didn’t sleep.  Over the years, we had many chats about many things (mostly on Karaoke night at Menz Bar).  No matter where we were, no matter the circumstance, he always had this calming effect on me whenever we talked.  He always made me feel so very safe.

The Vigil

The text message I had received struck me square in the heart.  I was quickly overcome with overwhelming grief as I sat at my desk crying and sobbing for about 5 minutes before finally making my way to the restroom to try and compose myself.  I texted my girlfriend and canceled our shopping date.  I knew there would be a vigil and I had to be there.  I worked the remainder of the day in a self induced daze.  I think it was my way of keeping it together.  I barely remember the rest of the work day; only the outpouring of emotion and shock I was getting from everyone else through Facebook and Twitter. 

I drove home, fed my cat and then I was off to the florist.  I had seen the numbers on the Facebook page steadily increasing throughout the day for people planning on attending the vigil and I wanted to be early.  When I got there, there were maybe a dozen people outside by the memorial.  After securing my bouquet to the fence, I hugged a few strangers and went inside Menz bar to possibly drown my sorrows.  I kept checking the window every once in a while and it didn’t take long for the crowd to grow.  Right around 7 PM, the announcement came that the vigil was going to get underway and we should move outside. 

Standing in that huge crowd on Gottingen Street seemed very surreal to me.  It was a sea of faces; people I knew and people I didn’t.  The mood of the crowd was obviously very sombre.  I knew a lot of people, like myself, were feeling anger over what happened but it was clear that no one was going to let it take over.  This was Raymond’s vigil and that simply was not Raymond’s way.  When the Pride flag was stretched across the road, we took over the street.  Traffic stopped.  I remember feeling as if the world was stopping to take notice.  As people came to the mic to talk about their experiences with Ray, I slowly began to feel my anger fade.  Some told funny stories while others expressed a profound devotion to a man who clearly had touched their lives.  Jason Rose Spurrell’s rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow was so very touching as was Tanya Davis’ poetry reading at the end.

I felt nothing but love last night and was thankful to be rid of the anger that had been building inside me all day.  After talking with many people at last night’s vigil, I was very pleased to hear them echo the same story back to me how Raymond was also the first person they had met when coming out.

It seems Ray was Halifax’s unofficial Welcome Wagon for the LGBT community.

Goodbye Ray.  You will forever be loved and your spirit will only grow stronger in this community you so lovingly fought for.

The Twilight Zone

You’re traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That’s the signpost up ahead — your next stop…

The Women’s Washroom!

This is the gist of what was going through my head today.  Why?  Surely, Laurie, you’ve ventured into the women’s washroom by now.  Well, that’s right.  I have been frequenting public restrooms designated to the female persuasion for quite a while now.  So what am I getting at?

Well, I’m glad you asked.  I know, you didn’t really ask but it’s my blog so just play along…I’m trying to keep it interesting.

Up until today, I’ve been using the single unisex washroom at work.  This was actually my idea so as not to make anyone uncomfortable (not necessarily just co-workers, but myself included).  Unfortunately, the inevitable happened, and the dreaded ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign was affixed to the unisex washroom door this morning.

What’s a girl to do?  I certainly wasn’t going to ‘hold it’ all day.  Thankfully, I was certain that my female co-workers would understand and welcome me into their sanctuary where men fear to tread.

Now Entering… The Twilight Zone

For the love of all that is good and holy, what is this Garden of Eden I’ve happened upon?  I swear, I heard birds chirping and angels singing when I walked into this ‘no man’s land’.  The counter was adorned with various specialty hand soaps and there was also something else I’d never before seen… a basket of other strange things like deodorant and hand creams.

After I regained consciousness, I staggered into a stall to do my business.  When finished, I stepped out and saw something else that had escaped me when I walked in… A FULL LENGTH MIRROR?

*light-headedness returning*

I steadied myself with a firm grip on the counter and told myself to breathe.  I calmly reached for one of the various hand soaps and washed my hands.  Oh that heavenly aroma … *deep sigh*

Turning once again to get a little paper towel to dry my hands, I notice a box of moist towelettes. *swoon*  Enough… this is just too much for me to process.

Composure regained, I finish up, check myself out in the full length mirror, lick finger, touch my posterior listening for the ‘sssssssst’ and step back into the office.  As I walk past the unisex washroom, I can’t help but pray that beautiful sign on the door is there to stay.

You know what?  I think I’ll just pretend it’s there anyway.

The Story of Joe

It goes without saying (if you’ve been paying attention), that my transition at work has been a source of stress and eventual happiness and contentment.  Before beginning my real life experience, the thought of presenting myself everywhere else in the world was at first a little scary but the thought of going to work was, to say the least, terrifying to me.  I thought I completely understood why I found it so terrifying but over the last 2 months, I’ve slowly come to the realization what it was that was causing me such distress.

Meet Joe Somebody

Joe is the typical co-worker/person I’m sure everyone has in their life in some way.  Joe is not a bad person.  Joe can be downright funny at times and quite personable.  To the best of my knowledge, Joe is well liked by most people in the office.  However, Joe like most people, has their own individual personality.  Most individual personalities are very compatible and just seem to go hand in hand.  Sometimes, two personalities are less compatible and when it comes to interaction between these two personalities, there are aspects they simply do not see eye to eye on and therefore, they simply try to tolerate.

Joe is the type of person who is the epitome of a straight shooter.  He says what he means and means what he says.  He has his opinions and is rarely hesitant to express them regardless of who he may offend. They’re his opinions and that’s that.  Now some people might think that I’d have a problem with this but in actuality, in some way, I had come to appreciate it. I always knew where I stood with Joe.  Sure we had obvious personality differences and huge conflicting opinions but there was never any second guessing. It’s because of this, I had already concluded that my transition within the workplace was going to be at odds with Joe.  I expected Joe would not be very happy to have to work in the office with me. I expected that he would do his best to limit his exposure to me and probably only do as little as possible when it came to eventual interactions.  I had resigned myself to this fact but knowing I had prepared for my transition with full support from my employer, I knew the problem would be Joe’s and not mine.

Working With Joe

The day finally came just before Christmas when I opened up my life to my co-workers so they could prepare themselves for working with the new me in the new year.  I didn’t officially start my real life experience until Jan 18, 2012 but a couple weeks prior, it appeared that Joe was doing as expected; very little interaction, short one word responses to questions, etc. I was prepared for it and was ready to have our working relationship continue as such for the rest of our time at work. 

Things took a turn not long after I began presenting as a woman at work.  My supervisor and I were sitting and having a conversation when Joe walked through on his way back from the printer.  My supervisor said, “Good morning, Joe”.  As Joe continued on his journey, he replied without looking back, “Morning gentlemen, (short pause) …Laurie.”  A quick look of surprise passed between my supervisor and myself. Huge smiles soon appeared.  What was this all about?  I hadn’t prepared myself at all for this.  Was Joe messing with my head?  I just didn’t know.  I decided to give Joe the benefit of the doubt and thought it best that I acknowledge the gesture that elicited such a genuine smile on my face.  I walked over to Joe’s desk and simply said to him, “I just wanted to thank you for that.  I know it wasn’t easy for you and I thought you should know that it did not go unnoticed and it was very much appreciated.”

Joe’s reply? “I’m tryin’”

Up until that very moment, I hadn’t realized how tense I was at work since I began my real life experience.  This smallest of gestures from Joe simply put me on cloud nine for the rest of the day and I felt a huge weight off me.

Over the next few weeks, Joe continued to exhibit signs of acceptance.  I didn’t know what events took place in his own life that caused him to feel he should do this nor did I really figure out if he was still somehow just playing with my emotions.

Around this time, my supervisor called me aside for a private conversation.  He had a huge grin on his face so I knew I was about to hear something good.  He informed me that Joe had told him that one day recently, he shocked himself when he realized he was ‘checking me out’ while I was bent over tying my boots.  My boss told Joe that Laurie’s going to LOVE hearing this.  He was right.  I enjoyed a very good laugh upon hearing it. Then I thought about it. I originally was simply overjoyed at the fact that someone was checking me out.  Then I was ecstatic when I realized he acknowledged that I had developed enough to actually have something TO check out. I was now beginning to really feel that Joe wasn’t playing around.  He was being genuine.  Just as I knew it was difficult for him to make a point of referring to me as female that very first time, I imagined it had to be even more so for him to admit to this.

It’s Going to be OK

The icing on the cake finally appeared this week.  I was still going on the assumption that although Joe was treating me with respect at work, that’s all it was; it was at work.  I simply felt Joe had come to the realization that it was easier to do that than to carry any bad feelings and ill will.  He knew the rest of the office didn’t have a problem and neither did my employer.  I felt that he was just letting it go so he could retain his own sanity at work.  As I was leaving the parking lot one day this week, Joe was walking towards his car.  I had glanced away for a split second to check for other traffic but as I looked back, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Joe had raised his hand to wave.  If my car pool buddy wasn’t in the car with me distracting me from what had just happened, I probably would’ve been bawling my eyes out most of the way home. 

It’s after work.  We’re off the clock.  Joe has no obligation whatsoever to even acknowledge my existence.

But he did.

Joe, I can’t thank you enough. Everyone at work has been treating me like gold but you have done so much more than that. 

You’ve treated me normal.

I’m just full of GREAT tips!!

I feel a whole lot smarter now that I learned this.

Here endeth the lesson.

You’re welcome.

Road Rage can be a Good Thing!

… Not that I condone that sort of behavior even though I too have personally lost my cool in traffic situations.  Nothing too drastic; a hand gesture here, a loud verbal exchange there followed by regrettable dangerous driving.  Ask anyone who’s known me a long time and I’m sure they’ll agree that I’ve definitely gotten better. (knock on wood).

But enough about me. Let me talk about you.  That’s right. You. The guy who lost his temper with me today.  You know who you are.  Today, I was in no particular hurry to get home from work so I’m just driving the speed limit, obeying the signs, signalling when I need to and being courteous when I can.  I’m sure a lot of you are aware, that this particular style of driving I was demonstrating, can be just the right ingredient to send a road rager off the deep end.  I won’t say I was oblivious to him.  As I said, I was driving correctly, and that includes occasionally checking the rear view mirror.  As I was driving along, this person (let’s call him, oh I don’t know… Bruce Banner) drives up behind me at a very alarming rate of speed. I look at him in the rear view mirror and he’s glaring right at me while waving a hand around and verbally expressing himself.  I envisioned him turning green and expanding beyond the confines of his own car at any second.  Obviously I couldn’t hear him but it was clear he was ‘on’ about something I had or hadn’t done. So we continue along and he’s just riding my bumper and getting redder and redder in the face.  Eventually the street we’re on becomes two lanes and comes to a red light at an intersection where I’m turning left and he’s going straight.  He screams up beside me, slams on his brakes, rolls down his window and then does something I’m not used to.  He reaches out and knocks on my passenger side window.  Startled and a little hesitant, I stared back at him for a second before cautiously rolling down the window a bit. 

OK Bruce.  You have my undivided attention.  This light isn’t going to stay red forever so whatever it is you have to say, choose your words carefully because you won’t get another chance.

“YOU F***IN’ WOMEN DRIVERS ARE A F***IN’ TRAFFIC HAZARD!  GET THE F*** OFF THE ROAD YA’ STUPID B****?”

I’m quite certain that the beaming smile he received from me didn’t help his mood at all.  I simply said, “Why thank you!!” and rolled the window back up.

This immediately reminded me of a similar incident that happened (coincidentally) the same day I had decided to come out publicly.  No, not at work.  I mean the day I decided to simply go out and put myself out there for the world to see.  I’m referring to the day of the 2011 Halifax Pride Parade.  I had decided to walk the parade with my team mates from my softball team.  I did my best to feminize myself and still look like a ball player.  Sure, I wanted to wear something a little more girly but figured I’d have the rest of my life to wear that stuff.  That and I didn’t want people to think I was a drag queen.  It was Pride after all. ;)

So I’m walking from my place down to where everyone gets set up for the parade and I’m carrying all my rainbow stuff to show my support.  As I’m walking down a hill, this pickup truck drives by me and the passenger yells out the window at me, “F***in’ dyke!”  (I mean no offense there… just quoting).  Clearly, he was throwing out a nasty derogatory insult at me but do you think it upset me?  Ha! Hell no!  He gendered me correctly!  All I could do was smile and say “Thanks!!”

Some day in the future, these same exact situations may elicit a very different response from me, but for now they’re a welcome and very uplifting occurrence.

The Smallest Gesture can Make Your Day

So I was having a bit of a downer day yesterday.  I decided to follow my hairdresser’s advice and tried to see if I could wash and style my wig all by my little ol’ self.

“It practically styles itself.” she said.

Yup… ok. So I tried and failed and basically ended up with what amounted to a ‘bad hair day’.  I got through it and things were looking up since I was going over to my sister’s place after work to take a look at some clothes she had got from my other sister.  Yay! Clothes!

Sadly, none of them fit to my liking so I was again, a little down.

I left and decided to give my Mom a call to see if I could drop in for a visit since I was in the area.  The phone conversation went something like this:

Mom - Hello?

Me - Hey Mom. How are you?

Mom - Fine

Me - You’re home are you?

Mom - I was just about to head to work.

Me - Oh ok. I was in the area and was thinking of stopping by.

Mom - I’m sorry but I think you have the wrong number

Me - Umm… no Mom… It’s me… your daughter… Laurie.

Mom - What?  Wow.  Laurie is your voice EVER changing!!

Ahhh… self esteem skyrockets and everything is right in the universe.  Thanks for that Mom!!!  I’ll bet you didn’t realize you had so much power!!

Side note: Just to ensure readers aren’t mislead here, my voice isn’t changing.  I am changing my voice.  I just didn’t want to give the impression that hormone therapy was somehow affecting my voice.  That’s something I have to do by myself.

No Offense Intended

Time for a bit of seriousness. First of all, I apologize for the lateness of this post but I really wanted to make sure I thought it out before making it public.  (Here’s hoping I thought it out well enough).  Second, I want to state that I do not speak for the entire trans community.  I am far from an expert on trans life and all the things I say here are simply my thoughts, experiences, and personal opinions.  I don’t expect everyone to agree with me.  Finally, there is no offense intended by what I’m about to say next.

Funny though; as soon as we read that phrase, ‘No offense intended’, we just know that we’re probably about to get insulted or ridiculed in some way and the phrase is actually just a preemptive apology for whatever follows.

Something I’ve learned over the last few years really makes me question my own personal feelings on a lot of things that I ‘thought’ offended me.  I’d just taken it for granted that offensive things were simply offensive and never really thought about ‘why’.  These things just upset me and therefore, it’s offensive.  Does that make sense at all?  I’m starting to think that this post is REALLY going to qualify as a true ‘Random Rambling’.

Anyway, I’ll try to get to my point here.  Before finally getting a clue and realizing who I really was, I’d never given a second thought to what trans people go through.  Sure I knew what a trans person was but I didn’t really pay much attention to the prejudice, ridicule and trials they face practically every day.  I’d heard all the terms people used when referring to trans people but did they offend me?  Well, honestly, no they didn’t because at the time, I didn’t personally know any trans people (as far as I know) and the words didn’t apply to me.

So let’s fast forward to the present.  Now that I finally got a clue and realized who I was, suddenly all of these terms DID apply to me.  So was I immediately offended?  Well, honestly, no I wasn’t.  Why would I be?  Being offended isn’t some switch we turn on.  It’s something we learn.

Case in point: ‘Tranny’

Now, remember what I wrote at the start… I don’t mean to offend.  I simply mean to make a point.  During the early days of my ‘getting a clue’, I had used Halloween as an excuse to be me without letting people know.  I think it was two years ago, I dressed up as what I proudly called

“Sexy Tranny Zombie Cowgirl”.

I remember telling everyone this was my costume and just about everyone didn’t seem to mind my choice of words.  Eventually, someone did point out that I shouldn’t be using that term.  Fair enough.  I was unaware and I simply stopped using it.  Did that mean I suddenly found the word offensive?  Nope.  Sorry.  I still don’t.

However, unlike this person…

I still know better than to continue using the term when I know it offends others.  It is a simply a sign of respect.  There are all sorts of other words that don’t necessarily offend me that don’t even apply to me.  A good example is the word ‘fruit’ which is a derogatory word some people use for gay males.  There are all sorts of words that do offend me that don’t apply to me either.  The ‘N’ word is a perfect example.  I had to learn to be offended by this word.  I grew up with it.  When I was younger, many people used it freely and it didn’t phase me in any way.  Later, once I became aware how this word had so much power to hurt some of my friends, I began to empathize and before long, their pain was my pain.  I would imagine, that eventually, words I may not necessarily find offensive today, I very well may find offensive later, simply because I will see the pain they cause to friends I care about.

Ru… I love you.  I’ve enjoyed watching you over the years and you’ve never failed to put a smile on my face.  In a way, I can respect your stance on this but only because I personally am not offended and I do ‘own’ that word.  However, you are still dead wrong and I’m sad that you’re not man enough to admit it.  You’ve p*ssed off a very large group of people with your bigoted comments and you have no right to tell them they should not be offended.  No one has that right. 

Remember that ‘N’ word I mentioned?  It’s already accepted by almost everyone, that this word is simply never used whether or not you ‘own’ it.  The rest of us have learned that. 

So why can’t you learn this?

References:

Complete interview

The Trans Advocate

Pam’s House Blend

Rebecca Juro

Momentary Lapses…

Yes my friends, it’s time for another rambling installment from yours truly.  Will this post be another on the topic of my transition?

Duh!

I’d been having a bit of a hassle lately trying to find the perfect bra.  A good friend of mine pointed out that I really needed to start wearing one because I was soon likely to poke someone’s eye out.  I’d been loving my sports bra for the most part but it really only worked with certain articles of clothing.  Blouses with a bit of a neckline didn’t work at all.  So off to the stores I go.  After several attempts to find one that actually fit me well, I was beginning to wonder if one even existed.  I ended up buying a few that ‘sort of’ worked ‘good enough’ but not so good that I wouldn’t complain about them.

So last weekend, my daughter and I are at her house.  I complain about the bra situation to my ex who told me I should really try something called the ‘Ahh Bra’.  (Coincidentally, my ex is also the good friend who told me to start wearing a bra). She had one of these ‘Ahh Bras’ and offered it for me to try on.  I trust her opinion so I took her up on the offer and proceeded to a private room to check it out.  Well, I just loved it!  I modeled it for them both and they agreed it worked well.

Back to the washroom I go to remove it.  It’s at this point, I decide to not bother with the one I was previously wearing and simply went without.  I mean, I was going to go right out and get the Ahh Bra anyway, right?  So I just put my t-shirt back on and went back out to converse some more with my ex and our daughter. 

A little later, it occurred to me that I had what I considered to be a VERY important question for my ex.   Since she has known me for a very long time, I knew she was the absolute best person I could ask this question.

“OH! OH! OH!”, I exclaimed. “You need to confirm something for me!!”

I excitedly grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt and proceeded to pull it up and over my head. 

So…

Remember how I decided to not bother putting my bra back on?  Oh, don’t worry. I remembered too.  Guess what I forgot though? 

“YOU’RE NOT A MAN, STUPID!!”

“Oh my God!! I can’t believe I just flashed my daughter!”

My daughter had a brief look on her face that could only be compared to the type of face you’d make if you saw your own mother working a stripper pole!

Thankfully, that quickly turned to laughter and I was able to get my ex to confirm for me that the amount of body hair currently residing on my person was down about 50%. Sweet!

I’m sorry I scarred my child for life though… Oops! Oh well, we all need a little therapy anyway, right?

Oh and one last thing. The Ahh Bra turns out to be not-so-perfect either.  It fits and gives all the support exactly where I need it.

Unfortunately, I’m back to poking eyes out again.

Shouldn’t that better my chances at getting a date anyway?