Sex Change Hospital

Not fully recovered from my illness, I spent a quiet night watching episodes of Sex Change Hospital. Like almost all TV shows, I wasn't aware this one existed, but once it turned up, I was shall we say in the demographic? Long ago, I knew a drag queen who taught me a lot, and always referred, mildly disapproving, to those sex changes...not the procedure... the people. So watching a number of those sex changes... (they actually show the procedures but blur them, like those private parts were in witness protection). I got to thinking.

Hearing those stories... it is a natural question In the demographic? the audience or the players? and while I have referred to my imaginary vagina, a real vagina is a whole other thing. I am more certain that I will not be on an episode bantering with Dr. Marcie Bower, about when I first realized I was a woman, my year of living as a woman complete, my coterie of shrinks proclaiming (or is it alleging) that I am not a psycho. Nor will I be in Thailand showing a wad of cash, and skipping all the rigamarole. But.... If I could snap my fingers, my wrist slightly limp, and voila... bye bye old friends, and hi new friend, then I certainly would do it. And go back to work the next morning... nobody the wiser.

But on the weekends ..Talk about accessorizing...

So does that make me a transexual. I think the obvious answer is yes. Does it mean that I am unfulfilled with my imaginary vagina? I don't think so. I just think that those genderqueer boyz and girlz are closer to the real then the well meaning doctors, and their sincere and hopeful patients. but then again I don't have a single letter that says I am not disturbed.

Shelter from the Storm

Out of commission for a few weeks with illness. And illness always brings to mind its old friend death. Not to be too melodramatic, but when you smoked cigarettes for 35 years, and then thought you dodged that bullet and the old smokers disease comes along bronchitis, and you can't get rid of it, then you need to see doctors, and who knows what they will say? So a chest X-ray, my first in probably 20 years or so. Like the young doctor said to me.. "who knows some people say if you want to stay healthy stay away from doctors" Amen brother. I dont just preach it. I live it. So showing my tits to a perfectly polite technician, and no one remarking about them. Are they invisible to the vanilla world? Or is everyone just ho hum these days. Anyway to my surprise the x-ray did not reveal imminent death though I sort of expected it. And so it was just a few weeks living the life of the infirm and convalescent.

Boo Hoo. Missed all my kinky birthday celebrations, though I had a perfectly lovely one as pater familas up in Maine on the family vacation. But the real topic is illness and gender right? Since the blog is everything and gender. Well, ill me is not particularly femme, Femme for me takes energy, enthusiasm, I need to feel something. Not just the hollow sloshing of my own effluvia. So I am almost well. My little friend the wren came visiting during the hurricane. I forced him back into the elements.
Its prevail or perish in any world I am familiar with. It looks like Belinda will prevail for a little while longer. Thanks heavens. I must have half a dozen outfits that are barely worn. Full moon on its way, and that means feeling femme, frisky and looking forward to tranny night in King of Prussia.

Ave atque vale.