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trans
Gender-Inverted Babylon Squared
Submitted by tess on Wed, 2011-11-30 10:32My gender-inverted version of the famous Babylon 5 "Fasten then Zip" scene from the episode Babylon Squared.
Garibaldi: Mind if I ask you a question?
Sinclair: Sure.
Garibaldi: Okay, it's morning. You get ready to go to work. You put on your bra. Do you clasp in the front and then twist it around or just clasp it in the back?
Sinclair: What kind of question is that?
Garibaldi: Look, we got two hours to kill...
Sinclair: Forget it!
Sinclair: Why do you wanna know?
Garibaldi: Why do I wanna know? Because I think of these things sometimes. I was getting dressed this morning - then I stopped and started thinking about it. Does everybody do it the same way? Does it have to do with cup size? Band size? Wrist strength?
Sinclair: Do you think about this stuff a lot?
Garibaldi: Yeah.
Sinclair: *sighs* Clasp, then twist. You?
Garibaldi: No twist, just clasp.
Sinclair: Huh.
Garibaldi: Do you put your arms through the straps first?
Sinclair: We're done.
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Patterns and Seam Lines
Submitted by tess on Thu, 2011-08-25 09:04I've begun to notice a pattern with business trips lately. As the trip approaches, I get increasingly worried about if the clothes I have to fit the venue fit me. This can be in the least, a subconscious stressor, and in the worst, outright panic. Each time I manage to get through the business trip, but it often takes a toll.
The problem is that now that I work out of my apartment it's easy to build a wardrobe of comfortable, geeky T-shirts and jeans. Then when I actually need to go to an office, everything I have is almost two years old. In those two years, I lost a lot of weight, had major surgery, and gained much of it back albeit in different places. The long skirts I used to wear five days a week now seem too obscuring and don't reflect my more attractive attributes (as my spice like to remind me).
I other words, I need a new wardrobe.
Furthremore, I need a new wardrobe with a style that better corresponds to the circumstances of my daily life. Button-down blouses are practically unsuitable for anything other than going to an office. Replacing those with new blouses wouldn't solve the problem, as they would sit in my closet or my luggage until the next business trip. Instead, I need something that's dressy, but comfortable enough to wear out with friends, as well as to a business casual venue.
Complicating this is two factors. First, I prefer simple clothing. Few patterns, colors, and no requriement for layering with the exception of the occasional cami. Second is carry-on capacity. If I cannot pack five days of clothes in a piece of luggage, I'm in trouble. I loath checking luggage and certainly do not trust the airlines. The two factors combined -- to say nothing about the money involved -- will make this a long process.
Nevertheless, it's time to go exploring.
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Skirts and Shirts
Submitted by tess on Tue, 2011-04-12 11:20It's been several months since I had been on a business trip, and the first time to a new location in over a year. The combination of a new location and a week of solitary time have conspired to make me introspective.
While it's nice to be on the road again, things are certainly not the same. For one thing, I need a better work wordrobe. Since I work from home, I've grown accustomed to T-shirts and jeans as my daily attire. While it's nice to dress up once and a while, I'm beginning to realize just how much it no longer suits me. For one thing: Skirts.
Skirts were my daily attire back in my consulting days. Rarely would I ever break out a pair of slacks, or Universe forbid, jeans on a business trip. I simply wouldn't feel "professional". Since surgery last year, however, I've grown a bit more comfortable with my butchy side. I find that I actually look better in jeans. Given the right pair of slacks, I'd probably look better in those than a skirt.
Skirts no longer show off my figure well as my figure has changed so drastically in the last year. Many of my curves appear only when viewing me laterally rather than head-on. Skirts tend to emphasize body outline when viewed face-to-face; my outline is rather poor in that angle. Tighter fitting clothing tends to negate that problem, while skirts tend to emphasize it. I'm unsure if long skirts versus short skirts has any effect as I only have long skirts with me on this trip.
Many of my blouses are rather tight given the changes in my body shape. Several are practially unwearable, others mearly uncomfortable. Before the trip I was in a near panic about this. I was afraid that none of them would look good on me, and had taken the tightness as a personal failing. Pazi had pointed out to the contrary -- that the tightness was actually a benefit in disguise. At the time, I couldn't see past my own embarassment.
Thoughtout all of this, I'm beginning to realize that I lack a lot of processing time at home. This processing time is critical for my own emotional well being as I tend to need a good amount of time to think things through. When I was living alone, I had that practically every night that I had free time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not denied processing time now that I'm sharing an apartment. My own behavioral pattern tends to push that needed processing time away until some assumed time when I would have the privacy to think more clearly. It's hard to say to my partner, "I'd really appreciate some quiet time," when it's so easy to simply put on a movie and distract myself until bedtime. This is a subtle behavior that will require a lot of reprogramming on my part.
There's more, but lunch is over, and I really should put the blog down.
TDOR
Today is the 11th annual Transgender Day of Rememberence. This year, 163 transgender individuals were tortured, shot, and killed simply for being who they are.
Normally this time of year I take the site down for several days, replacing it with a honorary comic and a somber list of names. This year, as you might have noticed, all of this has been curiously absent.
I have little to offer in the way of an excuse, and yet the circumstances of my lapse are in their own ways significant. I am recovering from surgery -- a goal I set myself to at a very young age when I barely grasped the challenges that lay before me. This year I can say, "I made it. Somehow I survived."
And far too many did not.
I am not one for marches. Nor am I one for rallies or even argument. Even my typical annual contribution lies absent this year. The question remains, What can I do? How can I help? How can I help to put a stop to all of this? Is there anything such a inwardly and private person such as myself can do?
I can start with this; quietly, uncertainly, and fearfully. I can refuse to line the background and stand, knowing that this puts me in the crosshairs of an unknown gun.
I can start with this.
No, Tess, What the hell is *really* going on?
For the past three years and the last year particularly, the activity at deninet and my creative output has dwindled. I've whined about it, justified it, unjustified it, and reasoned with it to no avail.
So what in the hell is going on?
Ever since I was a little kid, I understood I had a rather uncommon medical problem. Treatment was available, but at the time impossible. My Mother did not trust doctors and I went untreated for most of my life. Coverage was possible, but difficult. Even so, at the age of nine I set my mind toward what I hoped to be a better life through modern medicine.
In the last three years I've been under enormous personal and professional pressure. While building a career in the IT field, I saved whatever money I could in order fulfill my ambition. I began exercising regularly, then damn near excessively. I dieted. I lost weight. I jumped through all the other hoops placed in front of me -- all to reach the final goal.
Surgery.
Surgery is a stressor in it's own right. First it's an abstract appointment consisting of doctors, locations, and costs. Then all to quickly it becomes frighteningly real. Flights need to be booked. Calls exchanged. Schedules drawn up to the hour. Money changes hands. Doctors are seen to assure your safety.
When it's not a flurry of activity, it's a grinding, intolerable wait. I found myself wanting it to be fucking over already. You hear stories about how many brain cells die for each minute of anaesthesia. And then, I'm in a hospital gown, fitted with sensors and tubes, splayed on a stainless steel table in a sterile room. I stare upward at the OR lights...
...and find them replaced with the low florescence of your hospital room. I struggled for consciousness, clarity. I ran through a quick list of cognitive and acuity tests. After a few minutes I was sure I was fine, if exhausted and drowsy with pain medication.
That was six days ago.
I was discharged on Monday after a very long weekend. Since then I've been recovering at a local guest house, watching far more television, and engaging in more hours of unproductivity than I otherwise would prefer. Being away from home, it's a bit like sick leave and a bit like vacation. The physical scares aren't then only ones healing.
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