Saucy Wench and other names of note


Field Notes In/On Transition

Saucy Wench and other names of note

I finally went to Army and Navy and picked up some reasonably priced underwear, and some ankle socks that are just a wee bit too small. No variety of socks at A&N in ladies, oddly a far more diverse selection of socks in men’s wear. The young clerk gal was super friendly and non weird about my purchases, which isn’t always the case at A&N. we chatted about the cuteness of the panties & socks I bought. 

A bright and cheery trip, aside from the cotton leggings supposedly on sale that I really wanted were only available in size xs or extra small.  oh well, one thing I did get, was a cheapie black sports bra. This is my new “training bra”. I have definitely gained a bit more lady boob shape of late, but have always had a hard time finding a bra that fit right. Usually to get a comfortable fit around my barrel like chest I have to get a size that doesn’t come quite small cupped enough for me. I know most women have a hard time getting a “proper fit”, but I’m new to the game.

Anyway, I figured at $7.99, if it didn’t fit, it’d be not much of a loss. turns out that it fits just right, or as close to just right as I’ve ever found in a bra. There is a thin padding that actually accentuates rather well the small cleavage that I’ve gained. I’ve been “bra’d up” since Saturday. It’s been kind of scary and I’m pretty self conscious,  but it all feels so natural. when I look in the mirror with this silhouette, or see a picture, it seems so true, so “what I am looking for”, that I can’t otherwise articulate. a sense of self that feels right, true, unlike most of the time, when I have to look hard to see myself.

I’ve also started shaving (more expenses) everyday. Most of my life (except when bearded) I’ve kept a pretty regular “shave schedule” of every second or third day.. I can’t stand the stubble any longer than that, but now it bugs me later that day. Don’t get me started on the rest of the hair maintenance, Oy Vey. I am happy with the much slower regrowth of my former sasquatchiness, it’s kind of manageable, in fact.

 I do however need to somehow find the money for some laser to keep that inelegant reminder of my maleness at bay. I’m really kind of against pancaking it up too much at this point. I never feel like i’ve covered the beard shadow, and that I’m drawing more attention to the things I’m trying to hide/get rid of. I know, practice, right? I’ll get there. 

On Monday while trying to pull a tee shirt out of my jam packed full of crap I never wear closet I had a bit of an epiphany. What if I took all the men’s clothes that I haven’t worn in months out of here, I bet I wold have way more space. hell yeah. As I hauled out all the stuff crammed in the back, (I have a tiny but two tiered closet, just as chaotic as the metaphorical one that you are thinking of right now) and on the shelf above, the two drawers of tee shirts I haven’t worn in 4 years in bathroom cabinet. In all I have a mountain of men’s wear (see ridiculous photo) that I hardly ever wear. I held back a lot of tees that I do still wear, and will continue to do so, until they fall off my back, likely. 

I literally have a few dozen dress shirts I haven’t worn in years and years. A lot of these shirts are actually way to big for me, as I bought most of them back in my pre-hypertension days when I was so fricking huge (275lbs).  Gender change or not, these really nice shirts (i’m a bit of a clothes horse, whichever gender) pants, and jackets are all going to waste. 

So upon cramming everything that I hated into endless supervalue, bags I realized I would only feel good giving all this to charity, change some chubby trans man’s life, just like those crazy ladies who throw out all the cute things I buy at value village. Too much to just carry down there, so I will likely call one of those charity pickup deals. Now there is tons of room (well relatively speaking.) in the tiny closet. 

This morning I had a check-in with my Transition Doctor, she seemed really pleased with my progress, and how comfortable I am in my now constant androgynous look. I’m trying a slightly stronger dosage of the anti-androgen. I’m also taking some calcium/vitamin D to help against osteoporosis, down the road. That I’ve been taking since my last visit to the doctor. 

I told her how I’ve been just doing all these little things for myself, like wearing ladies’ clothes, all the time, jeans, and tee shirts, but still. (the leopard print fleece I bought in the winter has become like my security blanket!) I’ve integrated a daily light eyeliner routine, that has either gone unnoticed, or gotten compliments out and about in my hood, or at work. 

The other thing we talked about was the whole name change thing. What’s working for me? 

Well for the last while since I changed my Display Name on Facebook, a number of my friends, local, and non have been calling me Josie, and for the last two weeks or so, whenever I have had to introduce myself, I’ve said “I’m Josie.” with no hesitation, just rolled out each time. The hesitation, came after, when I realized what I said and was proud of myself. Weird feeling that: pride. 

So, she printed out the instructions for me to get my Name Change done, and gender change on my BCID. It seems to be laid out fairly clearly, and also some of the fees get covered, (with some letters from my doctor) so that’s a huge weight off for me.

I am/will be Josie Boyce (Josie Ann Boyce, to be precise) likely sometime this summer, when I get it together to get this done. It’s down the list a bit, though, as I’m still getting used to it myself. Every time anyone calls me Josie, I grin from ear to ear and almost giggle. Gotta be something to that. Also, I really love tell people I’m going to use my “Maiden” Name :p 

What about the whole “Burgess” thing, you ask? Well, I really have no attachment to that name at all. (though I love Joe Boyce Burgess as an author name) I never met my father (His father, I remember though, giving me a bottle of pepsi from a machine whenever I saw him, as a little kid.) and have no real feelings about it. I dealt with that a long time ago. 

There were lots of father figures around, growing up, for me to see. None terribly perfect, but who is, really? I think, I’m just not sentimental enough to even want to know if my biological (and name giving) father is still alive. It’s not a big deal to me, though my hope is that he has had as good a life as he could have found for himself. Wishing people ill does does damage to your soul, in my estimation. Hanging on to things like that, that do nothing but tear at your heart? Not a way to live. Forgive, and let it ride.

Oh and I wanted to end on a note about something that I referenced in one of my earlier blog posts; about, how when I was shopping one time at Value Village, wearing my leopard  fleece, and sparkly threaded jeans, that I thought this older lady was giving me “dirty looks” or somehow disapproving of me, but then as I was in line with my items, this same lady tapped me on the shoulder and handed me her full “points card” from value village, the deal was ending the next day, so she would lose them, otherwise, and that I had a lot of nice stuff. It was really lovely and humbling.

A friend of mine, who I related the story to, is also a teacher and used the story when giving examples in a class she was teaching where they were talking about preconceptions, diversity, prejudice... and it turned out that two of the students used the theme of the story in their own short stories for another class. I have read one of them, It is all so very sweet. things like this help me to verify the truth of my own story. 

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