cuttin' it close with your hostess, lady schick! :: girl, it's trouble.
BUST Blogs Help Search Members Calendar Blogs

Welcome Guest [ Log In | Register ] ]

About Me....

um... who me? uh i guess i'm the lounge's resident tranny. old school bustie formerly known as butta.

ph34r.gif
my new {wo([manifest]o)}



Etc...
my waxdj link:
Dj lady Schick

guest map:

My Blog Links

4 Pages V  < 1 2 3 4 >
entry May 22 2008, 10:45 AM
a lot of people wonder about transitioning, and while i made the leap to full time a long time ago, there are little things that you learn that make a huge difference. most of the time it's just things that you notice-- like women tend to tilt their head when they talk, the way they move their hands, or this trick that i'd forgotten-- putting your shoulders down and back. guys push their shoulders forward and out to make them look wider. since i'm used to holding them like that, pulling them back and down, pushing my chest up and forward makes them smaller, my neck longer, and more feminine. it's hard work, almost like exersize. but it makes a huge difference in perception believe it or not. a lot of times passing is more a matter of those little subliminal things, the accumulation of which is the difference between getting clocked or not. and since i'm 6' 1" every little bit helps.

i called in sick today. i love welding, but i have a headache, and i really need to do some cleaning. my place is getting unbearable. the loft is built, and i really like it. it's in the worst place in my apt-- there is a resturaunt vent near it on the roof, so when it's on there is a vibration. i hope that when i buy a new mattress and put it up there it doesn't give me vertigo. i went up there and took a nap last night and it was nice, if a little...lol...womblike.

so i'm sitting here posting and "grilled" is on comedy central. it's some ray ramano comedy, i've seen it plenty of times, i can't help it. i suppose it's my own personal kind of masochism. or possibly some sort of fucked up gaydar for trans jokes in films. every film i end up seeing, unless it's a period piece, ends up having some sort of slight against trans people. even iron man, has a little dig at transwomen in it. but let's talk about the case at hand.

one of the main charecters in it loridonna, played by Sofía Vergara. now if you've seen sofia, she is the picture of a latin beauty in that same way as cathrerine zeta jones....well, if she were latin (she's welsh, but i digress), in the movie, she is a bombshell, her hair is done in a slightly retro 40's style, and she wears a very 40's ish dress with short dolman sleeves. she's meant to be the quintessentual woman, so much so, she seduces the happily married man. the movie is shot in a way to make her the object of every guy's lust, until, that is, and i am sure you know where this is headed, it is revealed she was once a he. and ofcourse, once this is revealed, it is the ultimate anti-viagra. infact before it is revealed, sofia and ray are kissing, but the telling kills all of that. now i don't want to make out like this is the meanest movie ever. other than the fact that she's practically unloveable, she's still seen sympahetically. as much as she can be. after the reveal scene (where she sits, thighs open wide, elbows on knees, as masculine as possible), she goes back to being that bombshell. at one point ray asks if there is something "weird" between her legs and her story of the operation is rather gentle:"they just made my outtie and innie." when asked if she's ok with the operation, she replies, "ecstatic."

entry May 9 2008, 12:41 AM
so my car got stolen or towed or something. i'm not quite sure. didn't really have time to find out. i went to work and took no lunch because i have an electrolysis appt. took liquicaps to take away the pain, and came home and passed out.

at least it didn't happen on my birthday.

speaking of which, my mom sent me a card and a package. here is a post i put on the lounge's letters you will never send thread:
QUOTE
hey mom,

got the card you sent today. and the package is still at the post office. part of me wants to send them back crossing out the "carlos" part of it. i'd bet you can't even remember my name anymore. ha.

s'not like you ever bothered to learn it. hell, i'd bet you never said it once. when i told you what i'd changed my name to, i doubt you even listened. so like you, pretend the problem doesn't exist. what did you tell car? oh, your brother's into "weird stuff." lol... i guess i can be sure you don't talk behind my back.

part of me honestly wants to hurt you. part of me wants to ignore your up coming birthday. more than likely i will. why should i give you the time of day, when you never bothered to listen, you never bothered to know me. you wanted your son back, and you know, i couldn't blame you for that, but after the first 7 years i waited for you to figure out he wasn't coming back, i just felt-- feel like, fuck you. seriously. it didn't help that you bullshitted me. saying you'd come to visit me, but putting the date off for 3 mos, while i waited. and like before i just held on like a sucker. the last year or two that i've stopped talking to you have been hard, but it's been easily one of the best decisions i've ever made. i needed to cut that cord, and i'm getting my electrolysis finished, and by this time next year i'll have gotten a boob job. then maybe i'll talk to you. once carlos is gone forever. i don't know why i waited so long for you to take your head out of your ass.

no, that's not true. i know why i waited. because i loved you, because i thought you were better than you are. because i wanted to maintain a relationship with you.

you know if i have one real regret, it would be that i wasted so much time on you. not just that 7 years after i transitioned, but all that time in highschool. after university. i wanted your approval for so many things. i was such a fool to think you could handle this. i think i'll open your letter, but i'm still not talking to you. not till next year.


then i'll call you, and say,
hey mom, your very own son's never coming back. and if he did he'd say one thing to you.
FUCK YOU.


so i opened the card.
she asked for forgiveness. i don't think i'll contact her anyways.

last time i talked to her i told her i didn't want to talk to her till she realised that her son wasn't coming back, and she was ready to accept me as i am, but she continued to send me things, and email me. but the fact of the matter is that what i said was true. not talking to her has allowed me to grow in ways i never could while i was waiting for her to figure things out. nows my chance to grow into me, and i'm not giving that up for nothin'.

on a side note, ER had an episode with a transwoman whose parents didn't know, and that she didn't talk to. in hindsight, i think that might have been a better choice for me. but what can i do now?

the electrolysis went well, S said that my hair is already thining. i think the twice a week for 2 hours was a good idea. god i can't wait. seriously. i am hoping 2 months will be enough for my whole face. the boobs thing may take more time, but i am glad that i am finally coming together. the work situation is better than i thought, but it still sucks to go to work with a few days growth. on the upside, S said that hair that is too long makes it more difficult, so 4 days growth seems to be the optimum. so there i do get a day of being clean shaven once a week, but my face is fucked up with my skin pushing out the hair and the folicle so it's almost blistery, or it's a bit scabby. so it's not like i get off scott free. as much as that weird glitch in my head-- the one where i see that boy when i look in the mirror-- has resurfaced, there are times when i see me clearly. it's at those times i chomp at the bit. i want to hurry things. it's always nice to love what-- and who-- you see in the mirror.

now it's just a matter of waiting. a matter of when.

entry Apr 18 2008, 06:18 AM
my has it been a while....

ok, so this is weird: one of my co-workers asked me how many days after i miss my period do i start to freak out?

um.....huh?

really, this wood working thing is so super new to me. i really don't know how do this. i swear i thought my head was going to explode. huh? it's not like i don't understand the question, it's that i don't know how i got here. i simply cannot fathom it.

when i started my transition i was sure that i'd never pass so i took the punkrawkish position that i didn't want to, that i wasn't going to try. i was going to live in the middle, out, open and honest. i would respond to either he or she, pronouns were irrelivant. i would strive for androgeny. i tried on different gender identities, gender labels, i was a androgyne, a inbetween, a all-in-one, a chick with a dick, a boy with tits, a gender bender, a gender blender, a gender fucker, an either/or, and and or an all-terrain vehicle, a t-girl, a trans woman, a male born female, a trans dyke, i made some up, fusing other identities, like i was trying on clothes. fuck yeah, n fuck you! torn jeans and skateboards, makeup and street burns. the rule was defy the rules. i relished the question, so, are you a boy or a girl, or what are you? honestly i didn't then, nor do i now think it's anyone's business what is between my legs, but the reaction, and watching people try not to offend me was the height of hilarity. i suppose it helps to have one of those faces that is pretty for a boy, and/or handsome for a woman. and the hormones certainly helped that. changing the shape of my face in subtle ways...i was right there... in the middle. i'd giggle to myself when people would, on meeting my say, oh, you're that skateboarding tranny my friend saw. they said you were badass....fueled by feminism i yearn not to be some frail damsel, but the tuff girl. the scratches, scabs and scars on my knees and palms are my accessories. tres chic, non? they show me how to survive. to grow hard.

for at least my first four years living fulltime i kept my boy name. i remember working my dj gig and some guy or other in a suit would come up to the dj booth and start hitting on me. sooner or later he'd ask my name, i would smile, slyly, and reply, hand extended to shake theirs, making sure that they were standing on the large "X" on the floor before i drop the anvil...

"carlos."
"what? i'm sorry? the music is loud..."
"carlos."

and then... the anvil would reach it's target. acme products have got a bad wrap. they work like a charm. they'd get this dazed wile e. coyote look on their face. then turn pale. so delicious. really. there is no price for something like that. such a change from the times you get rejected as soon as their friend clues them in, or they, in the act of heavy petting, stop suddenly when they feel the bulge in your panties, passion evaporated like a vapor. the people talking shit behind your back. no, these times, you savor them.

some how the need to blend in creeps in. slow as molass, the pointing and whispering take its toll like water carving out the grand canyon. there is no defense. like trying to stay away during a boring sermon, fighting it just makes it stronger. sooner or later, you will be dragged under, you will lose the strength to resist.

i had umpteen jobs where i was out. but that's me, i have umpteen jobs anyways. so being "the transexual" means little if the job is transitory, temporary. i will just be "the tranny that used to work here" or there. a ghost, a footnote. after all, the first five letters tell you all you need to know, "t-r-a-n-s". meaning to cross, from one side to another. my body, my heart, my life are all in flux. not that i mind, that little punkrocker in me loves change, but there is that undertow, the one that comes with growing up: the one that wants stability. the trappings of punk are gradually shed, i stop riding my skateboard as much and start riding a bike, or driving my car.

and i search for something i want to do for a while, a career, but of course i can't play it straight. i've still got that rebelious spirit, and the picture of rosie the riviter in my head.
and what i want most is this; to be one of the girls, to be seen as a woman, nothing else, but i wonder how different that was than where i started, because at the end of the day it all boils down the the need to be accepted as you are, be that punk androdyne or lady welder.

entry Aug 22 2007, 09:40 PM
the first thing that told me today was different was going to the tool room and one of the usually cranky tool guys, brightened and said, "what can i get you little lady?"

really? me? a little lady? seriously, if it's my kidney you want, you've just talked me into it.

i don't think i have to remind anyone that i'm 6'0" at the least. hell, you can have a lung for that comment too.

i went back to my usual station, where i work with one of my classmates from welding school, who, is my fitter. in the last 2.5 weeks ive come to loathe. why, you ask? it's simple: he's an unmittigated ass. my supervisor came by and asked m, one of my co-workers who i'm starting to get a crush on, (really, i can't help it-- she's a chubby little latina with thick legs...) if she wanted to go and weld elbows all day since she didn't have any work today. she wrinkled her nose and said no. he turned to me and asked me if i wanted to. i jumped at the chance. it's in a quiet section of the place, sectioned off from the rest of the place. and i like s, a cute little korean 80 year old lady welder they hired back when her hubby died, and t, who is her fitter. they are both nice, and t said when he and s were training me, that i was the only one who picked up different types of TIG tack welding quickly. he's right, to me tig welding is like a puzzle. i can figure out most welding assignments i've been given by about the 3 setup, if not sooner. if, and i'm discovering, if, i've got a good fitter. which my classmate, sadly is not. i would rather take pride in my welds, but when he doesn't care i don't care to spite him. but i digress. as soon as i told t that i was going to weld with him today, he said, i was hoping they'd send you. you're the only one who can tack. (yay!) i ended up welding with t all day. which was great. the night shift welded 24 elbows in 8 hours, we did 29, and according to everyone who came by, my welds were better. nice clean, tiny, beautiful....

there is a guy who is the janitor of the place. the quickest discription of him would be rudy from the fat albert (you know the one with the red paperboy hat), with a couple of gold teeth. he's nice, always says hi to me. so in the middle of the day, he comes by with this guy who works there, and introduces me to him saying "he's been asking about you since day one" he turned red and introduced himself, denying that he was asking about me. t teased me. i should have guessed they'd have people coming by to meet you... he smiled.

at lunch m and i talked food... again...we always talk about food. although yesterday was beauiful. there was a table all the women (or most of them), and i felt so wecome, so a part of the group...

before the last break i saw m. she asked if i wanted to switch with her. my fitter was driving her nuts.....



entry Aug 20 2007, 06:47 PM
the site ate my 1st version of this post, so this is the less funny, observant, and witty, truncated version.


so... its starting.

i always forget how much i need to be employed. i think i love the freedom of being self-employed, but i get too crazy. i spiral down, i get agoraphobia. i stop talking to my friends.... i need a job where i am forced to leave the house. it's too bad since i think a part of me would love to stay in and paint all day...

so i got a windfall, and i found an electrologist, again. meh. i always start, but then work troubles intrude and, well here it is years later and i'm still fucking shaving every morning. argh. i always make it the primary goal when i get a job, but it always takes too long, and well, it's one thing to hire a tranny, but when she starts growing a beard a few weeks into things. and is stubbly half the week. and have to be. the electologist needs to have hair long enough pluck so, that means i have to go without shaving 2-3 days a week. you know that saying you can't make a purse out of a sow's ear. it's not like it's wham or miami vice type stubble, this is pretty thick. and take my word for it... beards and lipstick clash like you wouldn't believe.

i've started the new job welding, and one of my co-workers, this sweet girl, who i think is maybe 19-- impossibly naive-- told me that a guy who she was working with was making fun of me. she said he was saying i was a guy. my usual reply is that, "i always get that." neither confirm nor deny. she said that i can't be a boy since they wouldn't have let me in the women's locker room if i was a boy.

and then at the end of the week i've got facial hair....

it's hard enough doing this already, i'm still on probation for the first 90 days, and these bits of friction... i can't do anything cos in washington state it's a fire at will state, so inspite of anti-discrimination laws, they can give any reason they like to have rid of me. my last job let me go because they felt the job was "too confining" for me. i get sailing along thinking a job is going well, and i work my butt off, and then there is nothing. electolysis is off again, and i have to start all over again... another year shaving.... spinning my wheels. i hear so many stories of trannys who get so much done, electrolosis or laser, boob job and by the second year have srs.....and here i am years later... my life in fits and starts again... i think everything would be at least be a bit better with my face taken care of.... it just seems never ending.

i went out with l last week and told her that daddy and i got back together again. she looked disgusted. i suppose most of it is my part. i'm really a homebody. i'm older than most of my friends, and a night of drinking and dancing, well, it does little for me most of the time, and i am a super flake. really. if it weren't for my being a fantastic listener, my spot on advise, and my utter and complete idolization of all of my friends, and constant praise of their virtues, i would be the worst friend ever. i rarely call anyone (i dislike phones), i rarely show up when envited to parties (i dislike crowds, or groups of more than 5 people), and more often than not, i'd rather be at home with the person i'm dating or out seeing movies or some such. i prefer my friends separately for the most part, since when my friends know each other they tend to disgard me... in this case when daddy and i were initially dating i would always flake when l invited me to her parties. l is my polar opposite. gregarious, constantly sunny, and the consumate entertainer, she is one of those social butterfly types who, goes nuts unless she throws a party atleast once a month. consumed by guilt, i dragged myself and daddy to one of her parties, using daddy as the excuse for leaving early. it was only fair, since i insisted on being her excuse for anything she didn't want to do. a company function? i was having a fit, and we were fighting. we weren't but still, who could blame her for trying to deal with this personal issue? when her co-workers would meet me they would be suprized. when forced to go to such events, i would enjoy myself, being charming, witty, funny, and nice. they would always talk about what a great gf i was, attractive, and interesting (my secret is to let them do all the talking. i would leave the party knowing their life story, but they couldn't tell you a thing about me other than i could converse about anything, and was dating daddy.) but using your date/mate as an excuse has drawbacks, which i always kind of knew, but never really minded before. perhaps it was because i was always the excuse. now that daddy is the excuse, i realize how fucked up doing that is. i don't think daddy gets a fair shake with one of my best friends, and that isn't very cool. but it's too late. daddy has been exceptionally good about making me socialize with my friends even when i'm lazy and would rather just stay home and draw. she and i are alike in our homebody-ness so i push her to be social too, which i'm glad of, but i hate the idea that l blames daddy, when daddy is so good to me. it kind of breaks my heart....


meh. i need to work on a paintng, so that's all for now.

gt.

4 Pages V  < 1 2 3 4 >  
1 user(s) viewing
1 guest(s)
0 member(s)
0 anonymous member(s)

Interests....
interests:
sk8 boarding with a long board,
skateboard drifting
street art/stickers/graff/stencils
art/television/radio/magazines/
(video)gaming
thriftin' and liftin'
asian cinema- particularlly korean films, movies from the 60's + 70's, screwball comedies of the 30s-40's, german expresionist film, horror and film noir, neo-noir, sci-fi particularly dystopias, self-reflexive film. film theory.
almost any genre of musics, particularly soul, r&b, jazz, blues, old, new and true school hip-hop, jump blues, jazz vocals, "incredibly strange music", "golden throats", odd covers, asian underground, cock rock, hair metal, j and k pop and hop, the "countrypolian" sound, rockabilly, surf, soundtracks and theme songs, swing, big band, lounge, tradional ez listening, bossa-nova, international pop.
subcultural histories. asian subcultures, american subcultures, historical tangents, politics,
gender theory, queer theory,
feminism, feminist theory, feminist film theory,
transgendered issues.

and welding! yay for OAW!!!!

blog categories:
music
film
politics
art
etc
las hormones y vida travisti
all categories

Search My Blog


IPS Driver Error

IPS Driver Error

There appears to be an error with the database.
You can try to refresh the page by clicking here