Penny's Story
Just a cute little drummer living her dream.Do Whatever You Want
So, a very good friend of mine is about to have a baby. She and I hung out the other day. I’ve known for a while that she’s having a boy, and I’ve known for a while that the baby will be circumcised.
My friend knows that I’m pretty adamantly against circumcision, and I know that she’s going to have it done and that I don’t really have any more say in it. [What I'm trying to say is that we each understand each other and neither of us is taking the others position personally.]
I’m pretty horrified by circumcision. I’m pretty horrified by any surgery that’s performed on someone without their own informed consent (“life and death” type stuff excepted, of course). When I was little I was circumcised. Sort of. *sigh* Here comes more “over-sharing.” I had a pretty small penis (urgh, I hate even the fact that I ~used to~ have a penis). Like, really small. And the circumcision I had left me with a bit more than half of a foreskin. Oh, and it was crooked. According to my mom, one of my doctors when I was younger called my circumcision “unusual.”
And then of course is the surgery when I was three to lower the undescended testicle, which instead turned into a surgery to remove a “mass.” [I'd ~really~ love to have more detailed information about that "mass."]
A lot of stuff happened to my genitals before I was able to have any say in the matter. I remain pretty miffed about that.
I don’t even know if I’m technically intersex or not. I don’t super care, honestly, because it doesn’t impact my current life. I tend not to “claim” the term intersex, settling instead for the more common (if no more understood) term transsexual. But whatever label I have, I’m very much opposed to ~any~ surgery that isn’t medically necessary without informed consent – especially on babies’ genitals.
And so my friend told me about the consent form that the doctor wanted her to sign for her baby’s circumcision. It was basically a general surgical consent form. Essentially the consent form gives permission for the doctor to do just about anything they feel is best.
Um, ~*YIKES!*~
So, my friend refused to sign it. (Yay!)
She’s still having the baby circumcised, but she really pinned the doctor down on the procedure, and on ~who~ would be doing it (her doctor agreed to do it personally). I am incredibly proud of her for being so firm with her doctor (in fairness, her doctor seems really cool). She explained about me, and my history, and explained that she had heard horror stories about botched circumcisions, as well as babies born with “ambiguous genitalia” (i.e. intersex), and made her concerns very clearly known. The doctor even said that she could be there during the procedure. I don’t think anyone’s gonna get that kid out of her sight!
So, good on my friend.
But, I’m sort of a little horrified that they still use a general surgical consent form for circumcisions. Like, fer real? That just scares the hell out of me. How many babies are “fixed” without the parents even being told? It’s just really amazing to me that doctors ask for such a blanket consent to do a circumcision. Yes, I’m pretty strongly anti-circumcision, but a circumcision is one thing, anything else (which, with that consent form the doctors already have permission to do ~anything~ else without further parental consultation) is just too much. I was just gobsmacked when she told me about the consent form. That consent form gives doctors free reign to do whatever they feel is best, and don’t kid yourself, doctors have lots of ideas about what’s “best.” I’d like to think that the medical profession has learned a lot about not fucking with babies’ genitals, but it seems like maybe we have a long way to go yet.
How about this: leave babies’ genitals alone!
Ugh.
[Sorry; this hits pretty close to home.]
Wow, that’s slippery…
So, this is totally one of those TMI topics that I talked about in my last post. I’ll try not to be overly graphic, but this is one of those things that I wish I had known more about before my surgery, so I think it’s important to share.
Anyway…
So, yea, fore warned and all that…
One of the things that I really had no idea about was how my vagina would respond during intimate relations. When I dilate I use lube; a pretty good helping of lube, actually. Dilating is sort of still a “medical chore” to my mind and body. Sex, on the other hand, is joyful recreation. I wondered whether I would need lube when I have sex.
I don’t.
To quote Darling Boyfriend from after the first time we fooled around: “I wondered if they’d be able to make a self-lubricating vagina… They can.”
I’m still amazed by the surgery that transformed my body. I guess on some levels I thought I was going to end up with an inside-out bag. I would have been happy with that, honestly. Hell, I would have been fairly happy just getting rid of the ~horrid stuff~ I used to have. I never dreamed how normal my body would be. I had no expectation that all that internal stuff could work so well. I hadn’t completely processed that my vagina was going to be so much like any other woman’s. Dr. Bowers is pretty much my hero. It’s mind-blowing. And awesome.
YAY!
You Can’t Talk About That
I write about fairly personal subjects here. I’m sure I give more details than some people are comfortable taking in. Sometimes I write stuff that I think would make a trucker blush. I share pretty intimate details of my story in quite a public way. When I start dating someone nowadays I tell them right upfront: “I tell ~everybody~ ~everything~.”
I am the proverbial “open book.”
So, why?
Haven’t I heard of boundaries? Of privacy?
Well, the thing is, I guess sharing so much just sort of evolved. I started writing a few years ago, and I couldn’t even think of what to write. My first few blog posts were about my favorite drummers and such. It was pretty banal. As my transition approached, and as my divorce unfolded, I started pouring more and more of my heart out in my blog. I let loose with my pain, my anger, my frustration, my fear, my hopes. For whatever reason it was pretty cathartic. I’m not sure why, but putting my heart out there so publicly seemed to help – maybe my pain wasn’t so pointless if I shared it – maybe someone would be able to help me if I was honest about how I was feeling – maybe someone else was struggling with the same stuff I was.
At first I just wrote. And wrote. And wrote. It never dawned on me that anyone would actually read it, but people did. At this point I’ve had over 52,000 views of my blog in the last four years. That’s a lot of people reading my pretty intimate stuff, and yet I keep putting it out there. I’ve written about how the pain from divorce made it so I couldn’t think straight, my name change, my hospitalization for depression, the infamous “Craig’s List Day,” my first dates with men, my weird stint at being an international sort-of “other woman,” my Gram’s death, preaching at church, touring the country with Hypaspace, my first “real” boyfriend, my trip to Colorado for Sex Reassignment Surgery, reconnecting with my extended family, my current boyfriend, my increasing role in my church, my budding activism, my spirituality, and a million other things.
Something I have written about a lot is my transsexualism. I wrote about it before my SRS, and I’ve written quite a bit about it since then.
Writing is important to me for several reasons. First, just as a diary and memory aid. I was just rereading something from a few weeks ago that happened with the Darling Boyfriend, and I wouldn’t have remembered it if I hadn’t written it in my blog. I also have this hope that maybe someone dealing with problems similar to mine might glean something useful from my writing. I’ve actually received several emails over the last few years to exactly that point – people have found my writing helpful – that, probably more than any other reason is why I do this. People have told me that it’s been helpful. That alone makes it important.
It’s also helpful for me to write in a public way. For whatever reason I can’t keep a private journal. I have tried numerous times over the years to start journaling. It never lasts. I have several journals that have a few pages of entries and then were abandoned. Even when there were like two people reading my blog, it helped making it public. There has always been something cleansing about putting it online.
But I blog about ~really~ personal stuff, like how my vagina smells and such. Isn’t that over the line? Well, you know what? I didn’t know that my surgically-constructed vagina would smell like a “natural” one until about six weeks before my surgery. There is a terrible dearth of information for people with transsexualism. Even nowadays, with the wonderful internet, it can be hard to find out really important information regarding treatment and outcomes (go ahead, do a Google search for “transsexual,” you’ll be flooded by porn sites). When something unexpected has happened along the way, I’ve often joked that it “wasn’t in the brochure.” I guess since I’ve had surgery I feel a certain responsibility to report on my progress, ~especially~ the really personal, difficult-to-talk-about stuff. Sometimes that means I get a little exuberant (my post about my first orgasm post-surgery was certainly exuberant), and sometimes that means I get a little graphic (my posts about my issues with granulation tissue were certainly a bit graphic), but I’m never purposely gratuitous, I share details that I think are relevant.
When I was younger I was told that there were things you just didn’t talk about. Unfortunately, when there’s something I’m not “supposed” to talk about, it’s all I can think about. My favorite example is that when I was little (probably six or seven) my mom told me to not tell anyone that she and my father were never married. [I was the product of an affair, my father was married when I was born, he just wasn't married to my mother.] It became all I could think of when I met people. I ~had~ to tell people that my parents were never married just so I could stop thinking about it. The conversations used to go something like this: “Hi, I’m Penny. My parents were never married.” And once I had that over with I could just relax. I’ve never been able to deal with the elephant in the room.
Another message I got when I was younger was that people “don’t care about you problems.” Well, my experience in the last few years has completely disabused me of that notion. People most certainly care about me and my problems.
One of the reasons it took so long for me to get treatment for my transsexualism is that I ~knew~ that I wasn’t ~supposed~ to talk about it. I was supposed to just suffer in silence and not make other people uncomfortable. I suffered for years longer than I should have if I had been taught how to be open about things. I don’t have a lot of good feelings for the notion that there are things we “just don’t talk about.”
I spent so long ~hiding~. It feels incredibly empowering to just tell my truth and my story openly and honestly. I believe that it’s good for me, and I believe that it’s good for others.
I’m sorry if I’m sharing enough to make people uncomfortable. I really am. But I’ve given this a great deal of thought both now and over the last couple years. I truly think it’s important for me to share as openly as I can. I think it’s helpful for my continued mental health (I feel great, I see blogging as part of my mental health maintenance). I think it’s really important for me to share as much information and experience as I have to give, even if it seems like really personal stuff (there’s probably another “TMI” post coming soon, actually). I think my experiences are important and there are far too few women who’ve suffered with transsexualism willing to share this openly (I’m hardly the only one, but there aren’t many). I’ve considered censoring myself, but it just doesn’t seem like something I want to do. I still find it too helpful to be excessively open and honest. It’s just very important to me to share this freely. I hope y’all understand, and still love me…
Escort Me to the Faire, My Love…
The Darling Boyfriend and I went to King Richard’s Faire on Sunday. It was a pretty spectacular day. I had been planning it for a while, and I hoped that I could get some friends to come with us, but as the day approached it became apparent that we would be on our own. That turned out to be just fine – young love finds a way of entertaining itself. 
Anyway, I decided to wear a nice corset top that I got from Torrid a couple years ago, a black velvet skirt, and these really cool boots I got from Payless (yay Payless!). I was really happy with how I looked, though I worried that I might get cold as the sun went down (it’s been chilly here lately). Here’s a pic of my outfit:
We got there pretty early, and after hitting a couple shops, and after the Darling Boyfriend bought me a rose, I headed off to get my face painted. It was on my agenda as one of the things I wanted to do, and I knew I wanted to do it early. Here’s a pic of the amazing design (it was called “Scorpion King”):
After getting my face painted, the Darling Boyfriend and I did quite a bit of browsing in the amazing shops. We did see the end of one magic show on our way by. We went into one of the sword shops (you gotta love Ren Faires – “~one~ of the sword shops” – lol) and I ~so~ wanted to buy a wakizashi, but I was good – I didn’t. We moseyed further on, and the Darling Boyfriend bought me this really cool hair-braider thing; you spin your hair around it and then insert a long pin to hold your hair in place – it works great even on my thin and frizzy hair. After getting the hair-braider we stopped at a pewter store, where the Darling Boyfriend bought a mug. He was so tickled with his purchase that we needed to get him some beverage to put in it, so we headed off to the food court. He got a turkey leg (of course) and I got fish and chips. He got hard cider to fill his mug and he was a happy camper. 
After lunch we headed off to see a sword fighting show, which was really this cute comedy act with kids from the audience. It was funny and super-cute. The “good guy” sword-fighter was training the kids to be his “deputies,” and he told them to say, “God save the king.” He then turned to the crowd for our response. None of us knew that we were supposed to say, “Long live the king,” so my boyfriend said, “Go Sox.” The Good Guy was bemused, and said it was the first time he had ever heard anyone yell that. I was cracking up, and the Good Guy said that the children were about to go into battle and were possibly minutes away from death. I was still laughing and the Good Guy turned to me and said, “Lady, it’s not funny.” I dunno, I thought it was pretty funny. The guys in this show were just awesome with the kids, and the kids were adorable, and it was just sweet fun.
We were right next to the cape store, so I decided to look at capes, because I’ve wanted one forever, and I was really starting to get cold. I told myself I would only buy one if they had a pink one. Of course, they had ~one~ pink one, so I had to get it. C’mon, it was pink! I absolutely loved it, I just had to. It was too expensive, but that’s why you don’t go to the Faire everyday.
At that point I had to pee wicked bad. Like, wicked bad. So we headed off to the “Privies.” I think this is one of the first times that I’ve had to stand in line for the ladies room while having to pee that bad. I’ve had to stand in line before, and I’ve had to pee bad before, but this was the first time for both at the same time. I was in so much pain standing there in line. And Darling Boyfriend went into the men’s room. And came out. And I hadn’t moved. Ugh. So Darling Boyfriend stood with me while the line for the lady’s room was outside. It just sucked. And then, when I finally got into a stall I overheard two women talking and one of them said that this was the only time she wished she had that certain “appendage” so she could just whip it out and be done with it. And I felt like saying, “It’s not worth it!” So, yay, sweet relief. I learned a valuable lesson about not waiting that long when I know there’ll be a line; I should have dragged us to the privies sooner. A lot sooner. Well, lesson learned, and no harm done.
After that we went and threw some weapons around. Darling Boyfriend shot some arrows at the archery range and then threw some throwing knives. We both threw the throwing axes and the throwing stars. The throwing stars were awesome! Darling Boyfriend also shot a little canon at a canvas ship. They had a swing-the-hammer/ring-the-bell thing, and I decided that I wanted to give it a try. I honestly thought I’d be able to do it. Oh.My.God. I am such a wimp nowadays. I did good to even get the hammer over my head, and I think all three times I got it to hit the right spot, but the little slider thing barely made it half-way up the rail. I’ve fully assimilated into the proper side of the gender-binary, as after my miserable turn, the guy running the hammer used my performance to try to goad a few men into trying it, saying, “Hey, she did better than you guys who are afraid to even try.” Wow. And then Darling Boyfriend tried it, and he didn’t ring the bell, but he got a heck of a lot closer than I did. I am weak.
We ambled and browsed in more shops. We stood and watched a glass blower for a little while. That was pretty impressive. At some point in there we got some mead to fill Darling Boyfriend’s mug – it was yummy.
As it was getting late, we decided to go by the “creepy gypsy lady” (my words), and get our fortunes told. Darling Boyfriend went first and he had his palm read. I was laughing at so many of the things the woman said because they seemed so dead-on target. She said that he would fall in love in his late thirties (hmmm…), and said some other very interesting things about his love life and career. After that I had a Tarot reading. I got four of the Major Arcana cards, including two Magus cards. The woman said that was highly unusual, and that it showed destiny and that I was entering a time of being very powerful, which I think is pretty accurate, honestly. She said that I’d be financially successful – it’d be lovely if that proved to be true. She also said that I would be in a relationship with great sexual compatibility (hmmm…). When we left her stand I was almost creeped out, because the stuff she said just seemed crazy accurate, and she didn’t do any “fishing” for info before the readings.
We grabbed a quick dessert, and took a look at tiaras. I saw a couple girls wearing these really cool circlets with jewels dangling on their foreheads and I really wanted one, but I didn’t find any that I thought were that nice.
As we were headed out the front gate we watched a guy juggle with batons lit on fire, and I had the Darling Boyfriend take my picture standing next to a guy in a giant wizard costume (I’m wearing the new pink cape).
All-in-all it was an amazing day. The Darling Boyfriend and I seem to just have one awesome adventure after another, and I seem to just fall deeper and deeper in love with him all the time.
Yay.
Pondering Transproofed with Friends
Saturday night I hosted a group of friends to watch the short film “Transproofed.” It was the first meeting of what we hope will be a recurring and growing group. I say I hosted it, but I was hardly alone in making it happen – it’s just that it was at my house.
So, we watched the film, which deals with dating as a woman of transsexual history and stealth and all that fun stuff.
After the movie we had a great discussion, with some help from some recent facilitator training for one of our group. We talked about disclosure, I told the story of how I talked about my history with the Darling Boyfriend, other people shared their dating hopes and experiences. It seemed like we were all on the same page as far as honesty and disclosure and such.
It was super-neat having my friends over and hosting discussion. It was just very cool.
[spoiler alert]
The part that touched me in the film was when Andrea James is helping Calpernia Addams “trans proof” her apartment, getting rid of all evidence of her trans history. Andrea insists that Calpernia must rid her place of the pictures of her friends. Calpernia refuses, feeling that is too high a price to pay for acceptance. It was a really touching scene. I wouldn’t think such a short movie could make me cry quite so much. Wow. Good stuff! And the talk with the group was just all sorts of deep and insightful and educational and groovy. I love my friends!
Performing the Written Word
So, as you saw in my last post, I read some of my poems at an open mic night last week. It was pretty interesting. My how things have changed. I spent so long hiding in my room. I lost years of my life because I was afraid to even go outside, and here I am reading stuff that I wrote in front of people. Just, wow.
I read at this queer-inclusive night called Transcriptions. I’ve been there a few times before, and I thought it was about time for me to actually participate. I gotta say, I was a little nervous, but I was far less terrified than I had expected. I’m still surprised that I enjoy public speaking. I guess I really am becoming powerful. It was super-fun, and I will definitely do it again.
The weird part was that I don’t really write with the intention of having my words read aloud, so it was a very different way to look at my writing. I think reading my own words out loud was really helpful in terms of me understanding some things about how words flow. It was very informative.
Most of the poems I read I had written before. I read four haiku that were from last year or before, then one longer piece that I wrote late last year, and then three haiku that I wrote fairly recently. The last one I wrote the day of the reading. The three newer ones were all written about my Darling Boyfriend. It was kinda cool to read love poems to my boyfriend from the stage.
Anyway, here’s the newest one:
we feel the same way
hints with pajamas and ra-
dio i love you
[Yes, I'm aware that I broke all sorts of haiku rules with that whole split "ra-dio" thing, but I don't care.]
In So Many Words
So, I gave in. I said it. And he said it back.
Why do we torutre ourselves like this? Three stupid words. God, we’re all completely nuts.
I read him my last blog post, and all the comments and advice that it generated from friends and family, and we talked, and I gave him one of my long and rambling preambles, and then I said, “I love you,” and he said, “I love you, too,” and now we have that damn elephant in the room taken care of.
I didn’t make myself as nuts about it as I have in the past, which makes me happy. It’s sort of annoying that the first time you tell someone that you love them it carries all this drama and baggage and it can’t just be a joyful expression of emotion.
So, yea, he loves me. That’s pretty frickin’ awesome right there.
Loving him feels pretty great, too.
Woooooo-Hoooooo
…not in so many words
So, Darling Boyfriend and I told each other that we love each other the other night, though, not in so many words.
I’m still not sure whether he’s as reticent about the “L-word” as I am or if he’s just respecting my issues, but we’ve both sort of danced around it a few times.
So, the other night he came over, and I showed him the Betty Boop pajamas I had bought earlier that day. The Betty Boop pajamas that say, “True Love.”
Then, later that evening I was making my shirt for the Pride Parade, and he was doing some work, and I had on this internet radio thingie called Pandora. You create your own “stations” on Pandora by telling it songs you like and then liking or disliking the music it plays. You essentially “teach” it how to play music you want to hear, and it does a great job of anticipating new music that you might like based on previous likes and dislikes.
So, we were listening to Pandora, and after a couple really awesome songs played (like ”Today” by Joshua Radin), I explained to him the whole concept, and then said that the station that we were listening to that I had created I had named “Falling in Love.”
He asked if I was trying to tell him something between the pajamas and the radio station name. I sort of looked at him with that look of “~maybe~” – I’m sure I had a twinkle in my eye. And he looked at me and said, “I think we feel the same way.” And we got up. And hugged. And kissed.
So, we told each other we love each other without either of us actually saying, “I love you.”
So, yea. Cute. I have no idea if it comes across as cute and sweet as it was in real life, but it was just awesome. This guy is freakin’ awesome, and he just seems to get better all the time.
YAY!
The Crossing marches in NETU Pride
I can’t start to write this without mentioning how completely exhausted I am. I may be blurry, but I’d really like to write this before I go to sleep and lose my initial impressions.
So, today was the New England Trans United Pride Parade in Northampton. I marched in the parade. Not only did I march, I brought some folks from my church (including my amazing priest) to march as well. It was pretty awesome. It was raining, and cold, and a lot smaller than the Pride parade in Boston (d’uh), but it was lovely and powerful.
I had to get to up at OhMyGod O’clock this morning to see Darling Boyfriend (I need a new nickname for him) off to work. I tried to go back to sleep, but I was much too wired. Last night I made myself a shirt to wear in the parade; it says: “I’m a Transsexual and Jesus Loves Me.”
It was really nasty this morning when I got to the church to rendezvous with the group, but our spirits weren’t troubled. Heck, I was super-excited for today. So, once the four of us were assembled, we headed off on the two-hour trek to Northampton.
When we got into town we took a few minutes to stop off and water-proof our banners. I was a little stressing because we were pushing the time a little bit, but we managed to get our business taken care of and get to the start of the parade with a little bit of time to spare.
Marching in the parade was neat. Northampton is just such an awesome place; it’s one of the most welcoming and friendly cities I’ve ever visited. There weren’t tons of people along the parade route, probably due to the lousy weather, but the people that were there were super-supportive and positive. We carried separate banners that said “God” “is” “Love”. I carried the banner that said “Love.” I just had the biggest smile on my face for the whole parade while my priest was yelling “Blessings” to folks along the route. It was another in what seems to be a string of very powerful experiences for me. The world is a wondrous place, and people are warm and loving. Yay.
Darling Boyfriend expressed interest in coming, but he had to work. It was really sweet, because he said that it was the type of thing that he could see going one of two ways, and if it was a positive and fun time he wished he could share that with me, and if it turned ugly with haters he wanted to be there to support me. He is just totally out-of-this world awesome. ~*swoon*~
When we got to the end of the parade there was a rally planned. We stayed for a little bit and chatted. Rev Steph chatted with Gunner Scott, the head of the Massachusetts Transgender Political Coalition, where I’ve been volunteering lately. It was very cool to have the two of them connect. I also ran around and said hi to a few of my “Facebook friends,” which was really cool. It’s always great to attach an actual person to an online identity.
I’ve made a pretty conscious decision to be pretty actively supportive of Transgender civil rights. It’s true that I’m still struggling a little bit with seeing myself as part of the “Transgender Umbrella,” and I even have some problems with what I wrote on my own shirt (“I’m a Transsexual”), but that has nothing to do with whether I believe that civil rights for marginalized folks is important. If gender variance, in ~all~ its forms, was better understood and more tolerated in this world, I bet SRS would be covered by insurance companies, I bet young trans kids would be diagnosed a lot earlier in life, I bet fewer repressed trans folk would marry only to divorce due to transition. In short, I think society understanding trans folks (of every type) better would make the world a better place. I certainly think it would make things easier for those that come after me, and my hope is that fewer people have to go through the emotional turmoil I did.
After we left the rally, my church friends and I went to a Tibetan place for lunch, where I had yak stew (~yes~, I said YAK!). It was wicked yummy. There were also veggie dumplings that we shared. It was just a great meal.
After lunch we headed off to the mall. Rev Steph and another woman from church who came with today thought I could use some new clothes. I had tons of fun shopping with them – it was like being with my sisters. I bought more than I should have, but I found some really nice stuff so it’s hard to feel all that terrible.
Finally we headed home and I am now going to crawl into bed around 9:00 PM and hope that my Honey comes over soon to crawl into bed with me.
It truly was an awesome day.
God.is.Love.
Yo.
Pass it on…
