We interrupt our story for the following SQUEEEE moments.Yesterday, the first day back from Denver, was spent catching up on household chores, including truncating the weeds in the yard. Trips like the one we just took do wonders for my self-confidence, so when I realized I needed fuel for the lawnmower, I grabbed my clutch purse and a fuel can, and jumped in the Rocket Skate to run to the gas station, despite just having work clothes on. I not only surprised myself by hardly giving it a second thought, but nobody gave a second look, either.
Today was errands and a doctor appointment about my back. I got a little more dressed up, and headed for the first stop, the DMV, to renew my car tags.
I'd decided that this year I wanted a fancier license plate and a custom number. We have one here in Florida entitled "State of the Arts" and it looks like this:
The colors aren't quite that vibrant in the sunshine, and they look a little like the trans flag, which is why I picked it. For the personalized number, I wanted the name of my Mini Cooper. I had been calling it my Roller Skate, but
@SassyCassie, with her innate ability to name things, insisted that because of the supercharger, it had to be a Rocket Skate. Think Wile E. Coyote on roller skates with an Acme rocket on his back. And so Rocket Skate it was and it ever shall be. I looked up the combination, and it was available. RKT SK8 will be forever emblazoned on my four-wheeled wonder.
I marched into the DMV looking cute, in my humble opinion, and with my best voice checked in. When I was called up, Amy behind the desk was a little overwhelmed by all the paperwork she had to do for all the custom stuff, so she called another lady over to help. As they consulted I heard things like, "yes, she has to sign this one," and, "right, give her that one," and so on. It went on and on and the squeee pressure kept building with every correct pronoun. When she complimented me on my nails and I we talked about how I'd had them done to match the dress I wore in a wedding last weekend, then she ooo-ed and ahh-ed over my custom Apple Watch band, I could hear a high-pitched
eeeeee noise leaking out of my ears. By the time the last paper was signed and the bill was paid and I thanked her and left, I was about to
squeesplode. I walked calmly to the Rocket Skate, got in, and let it all out. Dance dance dance!!!
Next stop, doctor's office, since my back is still killing me. (Hmm. Could it be caused by car dancing?) I checked in at the front desk, was once again complimented on my nails, and once again had a cool conversation about a wedding I was part of. (You know, these wedding things are kinda cool. I think I want to do that every weekend.) The intake nurse took me back, did the intake-nursey things like weight and blood pressure, and went through the standard intakey checklist. Lots of
dears and
honeys and
sweeties, and no weirdness at all.
My doc came in, and as always he was soo cool. In direct opposition to what I'd initially thought for a doctor in Redneck Central, Florida, he is incredibly well-informed and interested in my progress. He even made a comment about his "other transitioning patients." It reminded me about how at an earlier appointment, he'd mentioned that the clinic I'm going to has about 30 transgender patients. This is a small town, and I'd been sure I was the only one in miles. Maybe we should put together a support group here...
While I'd gone in specifically for back pain, we talked quite a while about GCS, FFS, HRT, BA, and how things are going in general for me. I asked him about progesterone, and he wasn't too knowledgable about it, but promised to study up on the pros and cons so we can talk about it after my next lab tests, coming up next month. He was clear that if the risk factors were low for me, and I wanted it, he'd be happy to prescribe it. I left with a referral to a chiropractor and a big smile on my face.
On to the post office to check the company's PO box. Smiles with the ladies I passed coming and going...
Last stop, Wally World for grocery shopping. It's amazing how mundane stuff becomes a fun adventure when you're happy to be there. I've written about this before, so there's no point in explaining again how it feels. I was just sad to finally have to go back home to my little bubble where I get so little interaction and have the continuing risk of being misgendered among people who've known me so long. But all good things must end, and I got into my casual clothes, had a few fun text sessions with Cassie and
@Kendra , and went back to chores.
I know I keep saying things like "I'm living the new normal" but I don't know if such days will ever become unremarkable. I kind of hope they never do become boringly routine. It's much better if we remember that every day is special in one way or another.
Today sure was.
Stephanie
We now return you to our previous story...
