It had to happen – and when it does, its never from the place you expect it.
Church – touch wood – has so far been remarkably tolerant. Ask me again in 12 months time, but i am increasingly proud of how they have responded to me.
Work has been mostly accepting. There has been a little wariness on the consultancy front – though i put that down to other stuff as well. Consultants wear sensible shoes (and suits) and keep a low profile. I, through my journalistic efforts, get up the noses of government ministers and write about smutty stuff.
Like sex. (that’s a description: not an offer!)
So its a tad unexpected to find a local drama group expressing such concern for my welfare that my participation is no longer required.
Transition, it would appear, is a stressful time: a time best spent in the bosom of my family. They obviously don’t know my family too well. I can think of little more guaranteed to up my stress levels than being confined to home and the tender mercies of my nearest and dearest.
It is very confusing. Do they really think i would be better off at home? It might have been worth at least asking me if i thought i would be – as opposed to dropping the results of their deliberation into my lap, all neatly sorted, so i wouldn’t have to bother my little tranny brain with thinking about it.
Transition, tis well known, lowers the individual’s IQ by several tens of points: so best to take decisions for them, rather than ask them stuff any more.
But seriously: do they think i would be better off at home, swigging hormones and de-stressing? Or is this just a very ill badly thought-out excuse for dispensing with my services.
Guess i’ll never know.
(rebuffed, but smiling)