sistawendy: (weirded out)
I had an orgasm in my sleep last night. That's right, a wet dream.

Just when you thought the TMI couldn't get worse... )

I can't help but wonder how my experience compares to that of cis women.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
It was a relatively quiet weekend: m'boy stayed over. He came up with the rather good idea of a trip to the Museum of Flight, which we hadn't been to in about three years. He remembered the German V-1 ("buzz bomb") from World War II that the MoF has, but it wasn't on display.

It's fascinating to me that he remembered and missed that one exhibit. I asked him why, but of course he couldn't tell me. He's never been the space nut that I've always been, so I have a lot of fun explaining to him all about the Mars probes, the space station, the Soviet program to put a man on the moon, etc. with the museum's many visual aids. I wore him out.

He didn't surf any porn this time because I was in the room while he used the 'pooter. Neither did he do homework, but I see nothing wrong with letting him spend Saturday night surfing Wikipedia. I used to do that kind of thing when I was his age (and still do), only I had a dead-tree edition of Encyclopedia Britannica.
I haven't yet replicated Thursday night's (ahem) success. I'll just have to keep trying.
This coming week promises to be eventful. Watch this space.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
good news about post-op orgasms under here )
And in other good news, I've figured out how to get a decent night's sleep: leave a window open for a few hours before bedtime to keep the temperature down, and don't wear socks to bed. I slept the sleep of the just. Of course, the above probably helped, too.
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
Blood: I'm bleeding again Down There, nearly exactly (!) four months after surgery. I'm not worried, but sheesh, can't this be done already? Damn granulation tissue.

Probably sweat: The Merc is having a Goth Prom tonight, and I'm told it's likely to be a sardine scene. I feel a dire need for hanging out with friends and maybe some crowd energy. Besides, after last couple of work weeks I've had with no time to fit in girl maintenance activities, I could use the motivation.

Eats: It's glorious out. Time to walk for pho.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
Dilating twice a day instead of thrice a day has meant that I can't keep up with LJ and Twitter within minimum dilation time. Yeah, I can dilate longer, but.
sistawendy: (oh yeah)
After my volunteer slot at Lambert House, I went to my coffee date with the Young Lady in the Bowler. She didn't show. She didn't text or call, even though I'd given her my number. I started hating humanity, naturally.

An hour later - yeah, I stayed that long - I politely but tersely asked via the only means I had, FetLife, what the deal was. I got a response back quickly. She apologized and told me she'd gone to the other location for this particular coffee joint. To make matters worse, she'd forgotten to put my number into her non-smart phone.

I wish I had a nickel for every time I've done stuff like that. We've rescheduled.

Since I passed the three-month mark after surgery, I've dilated in the afternoon for the last time. No more looking over my shoulder as I wash off the Jolly Green Giant at work. I get back 20 minutes a day. And my lube consumption rate is about to drop by (a little under) 33%. And oh yeah, I'm now officially cleared for sex.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
kinda gross, but not hugely )

And speaking of social life, my first honest-to-goodness date with someone I met online will be shortly, followed on Saturday night by Bang for the Buck, the women-only charity do and striptease competition at the CSPC.
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
I got a check in the mail yesterday from MyCo's insurance for $19,000 made out to yours truly. 'That's about what Dr. Snip charges for surgery alone,' I thought, so I called them this morning and asked if they'd been paid. "Probably not," was the answer, so I signed the check over to them and sent it.

I've never signed a check over before, and I don't recall having a check that big ever made out to me. I briefly fantasized about running away to Brazil and a few of the zillion things one can do with $19,000, but Dr. Snip did earn that money.

I don't remember ever directing MyCo's insurance to send me the money, and I can't imagine why I might have done so. Then again, I don't recall telling them not to send me the money either. My guess is that I got a greenhorn insurance person (What are they called, anyway? Adjusters?) who'd never processed a sex reassignment before.

Mental note: Call Dr. Snip and make sure they got the check.
sistawendy: (oh yeah)
I went to my first post-surgery yoga last night, and didn't tear myself in two or poison myself with lactic acid. I also went into and out of, for the first time, a women's locker room. No one freaked out at the tall, strong-jawed, broad-shouldered woman among them, but I freaked out the second time I was in there because I couldn't quite remember my locker number. I wonder if any of them wondered why I looked so frantic as I kept walking past the same lockers multiple times.

This was also the first time I'd seen myself in a full-length mirror wearing tight little black pants and a smallish t-shirt. I have to say, I look reassuringly girl-shaped these days. Yeah, a girl who's not that well endowed with big shoulders who carries her weight in her thighs instead of her hips, but a girl nonetheless. Hooray for girl 'roids!
sistawendy: (dolly)
Normally I don't like to post about the Seattle area's occasional snopocalypses. Up until last night might, this past week's edition hadn't affected me that much; I'd even driven the two miles two work with only minor slipping & sliding. But when snow gets between me and going out, especially on my birthday, well, then I get worked up.

It all started on Thursday when my neighbor parked about three feet from the entrance to the driveway that his house & my house share. That was only a minor annoyance then, because I had the option of parking a few blocks away at the corner of MyCo's campus where I used to work.

But then it happened again yesterday, and I had a car full of shopping to bring in. Imagine my displeasure. My housemate J was shoveling & fuming in the driveway when I arrived on foot; he couldn't get out any better than I could get in. I was the one who knocked on our neighbor's door and asked him to move his car in. A bit of shoveling later, the neighbor was all the way in. Through the kitchen window I saw the neighbor repeatedly back his car to the end of the driveway and pull it back in. I'm not sure what he thought that would accomplish.

After J left, I had to shovel myself out, of course. Then primping, then I leave, right? Right, except for the part about getting stuck on the way out of my driveway, with my car blocking half of a long, straight four-lane arterial with a 40 MPH speed limit at night. Excitement! I hurried back & forth in my makeup & perfume and dug myself out. (Digging myself out of situations I shouldn't have gotten into in the first place seems to be a recurring theme in my life.)

I took the short way to Seattle & paid the 520 bridge toll.

Once in Seattle, there was an unusual abundance of choice empty parking spaces on Capitol Hill, but they were useless to anyone because of the tall piles of slush blocking access to them. I had to park six blocks from my destination. Wearing my tall, shiny black gumboots was the best idea I had all day. If you can't dance in gumboots, don't live in Seattle.

So finally I arrived at Electric Tea Garden to worship at the first church of house, orthodox. The tunes were right on, even if the crowd was a bit small; I'm sure the weather didn't help. In chronological order: the Architects, Karl Kamakahi, Alexander East, and Chicago headliners South of Roosevelt. Mr. East, by the way, isn't a bad singer.

The moment of the night, though, was when this gorgeous tall blond woman with braids pinned to her head and obvious classical training challenged a B-boy to a dance off. Guess who I was rooting for. They're both really good dancers in their respective styles, and it was a riot.

You won't be surprised to hear that I was a little stiff from the shoveling & dancing today. I'm not supposed to have serious exercise until Tuesday, said my surgeon. Too bad. I needed that.
sistawendy: (hopeful nun)
Pure, glorious TMI )
sistawendy: (butterfly)
With my thrice daily dilation schedule for the next couple of months, I'm getting tired of having to drive home on the way to Nibs' or wherever at the end of the workday to dilate. Much better to do so at work, don't you think? Observations:
  1. As crummy as it is that there's hardly any traffic in the women's bathroom, it's awfully convenient for this purpose. I can camp in a stall for twenty minutes, then walk to the sink to wash off the Jolly Green Giant.
  2. Dilating while standing requires more effort to hold the dilator in. Get me a cape, because I am Captain Obvious.
  3. It's actually kind of a nice break, if you don't mind standing for twenty minutes or so in heels.
sistawendy: (lizzy)
The trans women among you may have more interest in & knowledge about this than the rest of you, but it's here for all of you anyway. Sweet noodly monster, this is TMI. )
sistawendy: (dolly)
Nibs, after graciously consulting with me, has arranged for her mother to fly up the weekend of February 25th. Remember, Nibsmother has been nastily two-faced about my transition, so we really don't want to lay eyes on each other. That means I won't be at the old place at all. I'm thinking that would make a fine date for the Flowering at the Wildrose, and it's just a couple of weeks shy of three months after surgery.

ETA: February 25th conflicts with plans at [ profile] nerdvana. So, I'm moving mine to March 3rd.

Save the date!
sistawendy: (eek)
I was looking at my benefits web page for an unrelated reason when I saw the claim for my surgery: $59,715.57. I'm walking around, a bit painfully still, with the equivalent of a Mercedes between my legs. I believe that figure includes everything but hotel & air fare.
sistawendy: (skeptic coy Gorey tilted down)
Coughing or sneezing will eject my dilator unless I hold it in. Is there something like a strap-on harness that can give me back the use of both hands?
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Yesterday's adventure was to get from my hotel to Amoeba Music, just steps from Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, without any taxi or other car. So, that meant taking SamTrans (i.e. San Mateo county's buses) to CalTrain to BART to Muni to get there.

I got on the Muni 71 going the wrong way at first and ended up waiting forever for the one going in the right direction. I didn't mind too much, though, because it was a beautiful, sunny day and I was on Market St. in San Francisco. I got to check out what people were wearing. Trends: crazy tight pants, lots of leggings, chunky-shafted boots, sweater dresses. I saw one woman (?) older than I am ride a bicycle helmetless down the double yellow line in a red velvet miniskirt and heels. That's what I love about San Francisco.

What I don't love about San Francisco is aggressive panhandlers and other two-legged nuisances. They didn't bother me personally, but that was a matter of luck. I can tell they're a problem that a tourist town like San Francisco can ill afford.

Public transit has a last-mile problem, definitely in the Bay area, and everywhere else in my opinion. CalTrain & BART are dreams of spaciousness, frequency, and swiftness, but if you're at all off the beaten track (even Haight Street in San Francisco?!) then frequency of service will be far too poor for anybody but a fanatical tourist like me. Never mind the sardine scene that is Muni.

What to do about it? A quick look at my beloved King County Metro's expenses seems to indicate that automating driving & maintenance would be the biggest win.
Why am I sleepy right now? Because Mom texted me from her BlackBerry at 0645 this morning Pacific time, thinking she was emailing me. And who taught her how to text from her BlackBerry? Need you ask? In all fairness to Mom, by default BlackBerry unifies all text & email messages in one view, and unlike Windows Phone 7 it doesn't have an obvious way to get to the separate kinds of messages. That's more convenient in some senses, but it could (and did) confuse somebody who was new to the technology.

I just washed a bunch of undies & socks. I brought more than one pair of undies per day of my (non-hospital) stay, but I was bleeding so much when I got out of the hospital that it wasn't enough.
Tomorrow I'll be visiting N, who was the best man at my wedding, in dowtown San Mateo; [ profile] trystbat, whom I met at a wedding, in Palo Alto; and college chum H and her hubby D back here in Foster City. I'll be getting a CalTrain day pass and flogging the hell out of it. Mmu hu hwaugh huh hah ha!

ETA: Picked up at Amoeba: The Knife, Neon Indian, and the KLF.
sistawendy: (oh yeah)
I called Dr. Snip's office this morning about a couple of issues I've been having. They're gross. )
sistawendy: (prabob)
My post-surgical appointment at Dr. Snip's office - she herself didn't attend, sadly - went well. I got the weird, wonderful feeling of gauze being unwound from my coochie, so no more stuffed turkey feeling! My bladder (a.k.a. Foley) catheter has also been removed, so I'm peeing, if a bit messily, under my own control. My swelling & bruising are normal, said the nurse, and I now have the letter that I need to make New York state change the magic letter on my birth certificate.

All you post-op trans women know what comes next: dilation, which maintains the new cavity's size & shape. Incredibly, I forgot to bring my stuff to the appointment so I had to use theirs, but I managed it there, and again right after I got home. That'll be for 15 minutes thrice daily for the next three months, twice daily for the next three, and then once daily after that. It isn't hugely uncomfortable, but I'll be unable to do much else besides shove a well-lubed piece of plastic up me for 45 minutes a day. I guess that'll be my social networking time now.

Mom leaves tonight. Awww. It's been wonderful to have her here, though.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
I got discharged from the hospital today, and I'm back in my hotel room. Brunette Sister goes home early tomorrow.

Love: Mom, Brunette Sister, freaking them out with tales of my life, percocet, Dr. Snip
Hate: catheters, bleeding, packing in my neovagina, not-yet-operative guts

Must. Sleep.


sistawendy: (Default)

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