Sometimes there are not-so-good days. Today was one of them. (Ashley, this will sound awfully familiar... Be forewarned.)
Today I had just one activity on my calendar, a meeting. With a lawyer. And my ex-wife.
And, that means I had to present as a male.
No wig, man-glasses, man-clothing, man-shoes. I'm sitting there with an oversize jacket covering my chest, and a baseball cap over my buzzcut remaining hair. (It feels a little like a wig, and calms me a bit.)
Two hours of being HIM again. My head hurts, I feel nauseous, and I'm trying not to curl up in a ball. Dammit.
I'm really hoping this was it. We just signed the financial settlements, waivers, and whatnot, so if it all goes past the judge, we'll just have to meet to transfer the investment and bank accounts and I'll be done. That will be a relief.
I think I may celebrate with an eyebrow threading and ear piercing. It is the way of my people...
There was one piece of black humor to come out of the day. The lawyer wanted to notarize the documents then and there. Um. ID, please. Ooookay. I passed him my drivers license, with my dear transphobic wife who I haven't told about the name change yet sitting next to me. He took it as I started to say that there had been a revision. He looks, and says "Oh, yeah, your hair is shorter." The ID photo looks like my avatar. He starts to fill in the notary entry. "Huh, your name is spelled different. Michelle, not the Michael he knows.
He just holds the ID so my dear wife can't see it, and fills in the entry, "Michelle P. known personally to me as Michael." He didn't say anything else about it, which was actually pretty awesome.
I was supposed to go out to a meeting of an amateur radio club, but the idea of spending the evening with a bunch of old men alternately staring and misgendering me is not appealing at all.
I think I may just stay in tonight.