So I’ve never actually been part of a family tradition. My family really isn’t that close-knit, do it for the sake of doing it type. That’s not to say we’re not close; my family would do just about anything for one another, but we’re the do our own things, mostly with each other, type of family. I love it. I’m an independent type and would probably get pretty annoyed with a needy family that constantly had some obligation for me to fulfill.
So when I went down to Florida, I met up with my aunt who I haven’t seen since I was probably 7 or 8. She’s lived in Florida and Puerto Rico as long as I can remember. Once Facebook and social media became a thing, she found me and we’ve been trying to plan a get-together since. It was nice getting to see her again. While we were sitting on the couch watching Bones, she told me she had something for me. She pulled out a gold ring and told me that her mother (my grandmother) had given it to her when she got married. She got it from her mother and her mother got it from her. As the only biologically-related “girl” (again, lots and lots of sisters-in-law) in the family, she felt that it was my ring now that I’m getting married. She has no kids of her own and, to the best of my knowledge, no intent of having any. Wouldn’t you know, the ring fits me perfectly, too. She handed it over with the comment “Your grand mother would probably kill me for giving this to you” – a not-so-subtle hint that I suspect my grandmother doesn’t approve of my “choice” to marry a woman. Oh well.
As much as I’ve come out to most of my immediate family, I’m no where near out about being trans to a lot of my extended family. It makes me wonder if she still would have given it to me if she’d known I primarily identify as male?
On a largely unrelated note, it’s cold, flu, allergy and “I sound like I swallowed glass” season in the Mid-Atlantic. I suspect either I’m getting for real sick, my allergies were not a fan of my decision to travel between Florida and here, or talking on the phone for 8 hours a day while every nut job in the state calls to complain at me at work has taken it’s toll on my voice. Whichever the case, I went to the gym last night and passed as a guy, even after opening my mouth. It was wonderful. I’ve been getting the weird “boy in the girl’s locker room” looks for some time now, but so far no one’s said anything. I’m not sure what I’d do if they did; I’m certainly not comfortable enough to change in the men’s room yet. I suppose it would depend a great deal on what and how they said it.
No updates on the therapist nonsense yet. I’m getting pretty frustrated with that. This is why I don’t like therapists in general. On a slightly related note, I’m off to get all of my ducks in a row. I have a doctor’s appointment Friday and I want to talk to her about testosterone and I want to be as educated as she is on the matter.
Until next time,