My ugly trans stage

I apologise in advance if the quality of the writing in this post, or in all my future posts, is lower than usual. Here’s the thing, my fear of people coming after me because I’ve expressed my ideas poorly or misspoken, and my worry that people will see errors in my grammar and then assume my books are written similarly has meant that in the past I would spend days crafting a single blog entry. This blog stopped being my open diary and started being… I don’t know, a platform or something.

There have been so many things I wanted to share, but I didn’t have the time to carefully revise and edit a blog post like a piece of artwork, and so months pass and I don’t share anything. I want to stop that. As much as it really stokes my ego when people message and say ” you haven’t blogged for ages and I miss you” or they suggest a subject they think I can do justice to (I love you people!) I’d rather just be here, sharing my stories. So! Sorry about the mistakes and shit here. From now on I’m just going to write and hit post and if I’ve got a halfway decent photo to slap on top that’s a bonus.

End tangent /

You know in high school when you’re growing into your adult self, or you’re supposed to be, and you’re trying to find who you are under the piles of who everyone wants you to be? And you experiment with outfits and have some awful haircuts and it’s 2am and you’re piercing your friend’s ears in the bathroom with a sewing needle, you know that stage? I think maybe when you figure out you’re trans as an adult you get to go through all of that all over again.

Or something.

Trans friends, tell me if I’m wrong. Because maybe this is another weird Miriam thing and it’s got nothing to do with being non-binary.

Since coming out, I’ve been allowing myself to explore my gender expression and trying to understand the difference between what I’m attracted to (people in heavy eye-liner, brightly coloured hair and alternative gothy clothing) and what I want for myself (not that). And whilst some of it is frustrating and uncomfortable, some of it is awesome too.

Do you ever walk past a mirror on the way to the shitter and get startled because you don’t recognise the person and holy shit there’s a stranger in the bathroom but actually no, that’s you. You look like that, and fuck you’re getting old, when did that happen? That’s been me for a long time. But lately I’ve been seeing me in the mirror.

I look like a dad at a barbecue. But it’s me. And suddenly, because everyone knows I’m not a girl now, I’m okay with that. Like, it is very obvious to me that I have gotten less attractive. And also heavier, thanks covid. But before, when I’d have days where my short hair was boyish instead of edgy or I had a beer belly (period coming next week anyone?), I’d feel self conscious. And now I’m like “cool bro, maybe I’ll confuse a cis person today and get called sir”. No more putting on makeup, hating it, taking it off, and then being late.

In year nine I actually had a poem published about exactly that. I wish I’d kept a copy.

On days where I’m looking old, I go and drink some water. Dehydration and lack of sleep looks very similar to losing ten years during the night.

Anyhow, I feel like this ugly but happy stage is a pretty normal thing. This is the time of year people are posting lots of “glow ups” and there are so many before and afters of young, attractive, sad people turning into joyfully weird-lookers. There’s probably a deep message here but it’s near midnight and I stopped being coherent hours ago so make of this observation what you will.

And yes, I am coming at this from a white cishet beauty standard because that’s what I marinated in for a very long time (the brain is basically tofu.)

But this trans thing? I’m having fun with it.