This could get very boring, very quickly for those who drop casually by if they find this blog silting up with ripostes to THAT blog.
So rather than protest the insinuation that i have overnight developed such fey tendencies that i could not possibly bear to chip a nail – huh! – there is a sort of real point behind the story that my partner tells today.
It goes to the heart of why i am where i am…or at least, it throws into sharp relief one part of my journey.
i am 52. i cannot remember a day, as a “male”, looking at myself in a mirror and being impressed. i have never liked my body all that much: in part, i put the dislike down to being a bit overweight…a bit awkward.
But maybe i was looking at things the wrong way round. Maybe the oddness, awkwardness was not cause, but result. For there is nothing whatsoever about me, the man, that is interesting enough to work on or have incite me to try and change.
Then there was the coming out, followed almost at once by a blitz on all that hated body hair. New features slowly emerged: wrists that, if not dainty, are at least slim and – omg! – feminine. Fingers now capped with varnish: cared for nails.
It is not fetish because, try as i might, there is not the least twinge of desire as i react to this new me: just a blissful feeling of rightness.
Now, too, there is hair. Coloured. Conditioned. A visit to a hair salon at the weekend to discuss what i am going to do with it. i outed myself to a lovely stylist, who suggested a bob – and then asked if i minded it being too feminine.
Mind? It is dream and coming home in one and the same act.
i have been out – properly out – for two weeks now. Since that day, it feels as though i have permission to look at myself through new eyes. i am allowed, at last, to see myself as a person with a real physical body.
More…i am allowed to take stock: to pick and choose. For the first time in my life, i have looked at me and begun to say: “this i like: this i don’t”.
After 50 years, my body feels like it is beginning to belong to me at last.
So if i do occasionally fuss a little over chipped nails, please indulge me. i have a lot of catching up to do.