Martin Galway’s cover of “Who’s Johnny?”, title music for the “Short Circuit” game
(Source: youtube.com, via discopotential)
Martin Galway’s cover of “Who’s Johnny?”, title music for the “Short Circuit” game
(Source: youtube.com, via discopotential)
For a (lapsed) Catholic girl like myself, it’s odd enough to be invited to a Wiccan Yule ritual. But then to be asked to be in the kitchen with the rest of the ladies to make the Yule cakes (which are so DANG TASTY) and then to take part of the female part of the ritual?
Definitely so far as the friend who invited my wife and I is concerned, my transition is complete. And why shouldn’t it be?
“Thank you. Thanks for hosting and inviting us. And thank you for letting me be part of the kitchen ceremony.”
“Well of course, hun, where else would you be?”
It’s good to know that there are people who are willing to not only help me along the path, but to actually make sure the trail is nice and clear when I get there.
“Happy First Christmas as my wife.”, she said to me.
I’ve just found out about bicycles. Please be patient, as I’m still trying to figure out what part my feet go on and how to stop crying all the time.
Thank you.
There have been a lot of changes. Most of them this year. Here, if for no other reason than stroke my ego, is how I’ve progressed just in how my eyebrows are groomed.
Only just this Spring did I start trying to shape my eyebrows. This is shown in the third photo. No real shaping, just cleaning up. A lot of little stray hairs.
This week, my wife took me to get my eyebrows waxed. The last two photos are right after. At the salon I requested “a more feminine shape” to the brows.
I’ve got sort a Brooke Shields thing going on, I like it.
I’m fat, and I’m built wrong, and my tits keep going away, and people, like my friends, keep calling me “sir”.
I’m nowhere near hormone therapy yet. My friend Christina thinks that my brain is preparing by deciding to juke around with hormones on it’s own, because sometimes my brain just does that.
…that I wanted to be Velma Dinkley when I grow up.
I’m safely on my way there, it turns out.

(Photo shamelessly stolen from here. Have a look, Chris Sims writes hisself a fine essay.)
While I am content with being a dapper young fellow right now, what I really want to be when I grow up is a fabulous old woman.