Gender – Beeshive

Breasts and death

My hormone related changes are well under way.

And I still really want to die.

And I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with that.

Death won’t be an option until 2027, and there’s still no indication if M.A.i.D. will be legalized for mental illnesses or not, but I am still hoping to be “allowed” to die.

Isn’t that the funniest of things?

I’m not allowed to die, but I also didn’t choose to exist.

My mother and my father got drunk one night. An exchange of DNA occurred. And 9 months later I popped out into the world.

Through my early life all sorts of people with their own agendas were making decisions about my life based upon their own ideas and interests.

And here I am at 52, burnt out and tired, and unable to make a decision about my life.

But Bobbie, I thought that if you transitioned that you would be happy and that you’d want to live?

Fuck no.

With an official delay in M.A.i.D. until 2027 I thought that I would avail myself to fixing the one thing that I had always wanted to correct all of my life but was unable to due to circumstances beyond my control.

Transitioning in and of itself is not the cure for my desire to die.

My desire to die comes from my rancid childhood.

Growing up on Canadian Armed Forces military bases was hard enough under the best of circumstances.

Growing up on Canadian Armed Forces military bases as a sexually abused male was an absolute fucking nightmare.

Growing up on Canadian Armed Forces military bases as a sexually abused gender non-conforming male during the days of CFAO 19-20 was a fucking soul destroying experience.

Growing up on Canadian Armed Forces military bases in a dysfunctional family in the era when the military’s policy towards members with mental issues meant that the military just outright ignored these issues meant that there were none of the normal experiences that children require to grow up mentally healthy. In fact my father’s alcoholism and his out-of-control and unacknowledged PTSD meant that the experiences that I grew up with caused a shit ton of mental issues that have plagued me for my entire life.

How bad have these issues affected me?

Here’s some moulds made of my teeth by my dentist in a last ditch attempt to save what’s left of my teeth.

Yeah, I’ve worn my teeth down to absolutely nothing.

That’s ’cause I wake up in terror some nights grinding my teeth away.

I’ve had night guards before, but I usually grind through them in a few weeks.

So Bobbie, if you still want to die, why are you transitioning?

I’ve never identified with being a male at any point in my life.

And this has nothing to do with the babysitter, Captain McRae, Captain Totzke, or Master Corporal Gill.

I’ve never identified as a boy. I always thought that I was a girl.

Around age 10 or 11 I remember hoping and praying that I would wake up the next morning with breasts and all the rest.

And everyday that I didn’t wake up with the much hoped for changes, I was devastated.

And was I ever jealous.

The girls at school were starting to fill out, and I wasn’t.

So, I intend to spend the next three years-or-so getting some of the changes that I’ve always wanted.

I’m not going for bottom surgery. I’ll get some items removed, but I’m not going for vaginoplasty.

And for the topside, I’ll be happy with what the hormones give me. I’m not going the augmentation route.

Body wise? Yeah, I’m already enjoying the muscle loss. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve always felt that my body is smaller than what it actually is. By losing muscle mass I’m hoping to finally get my body muscle structure down to what feels more natural. I’m already getting some of the fat redistribution, but the full effect won’t be for another year or so.

The goal of this all will be that when I finally go to sleep and escape this fucked up existence, that I present as close to a female as I can.

Never wanted to be a male.

Never identified as a male.

I don’t want to die as a male.

But, in the meantime I’m going to keep on with the hormones and the changes.

The Canadian Armed Forces had an extensive amount of say over my childhood.

I will not allow Canadian Armed Forces to say single fucking thing about my remaining days or my death.

Pride weekend…… or not.

Well, it’s Pride Weekend here in Vancouver. My apartment sits right on the parade route which is on Beach Ave to Pacific Ave this year. Meanwhile I’m over at a nice little coffee shop on the south side of False Creek over by 2nd Ave.

As I’ve said before, the commercialization and the promotion of alcohol have always been turn-offs for me.

And then there’s the do nothing politicians like Hedy Fry that wrap themselves up in the gay pride flag for votes, but then come up with every flimsy excuse for their inability to help their constituents with governmental issues.

If that’s the one benefit of having grown up in a dysfunctional household on various Canadian Forces Bases across Canada is the fact that I learnt very young that I’m on my own and there’s literally no help coming from anyone.

In fact, I learnt very young that I’m better off just keeping my mouth shut as people in positions of authority don’t like finding out that there are problems and that these persons in position of authority are more than likely to blame me for bringing the issue to their attention as they are to actually do something about the issue. The “squeaky wheel” syndrome where instead of fixing the issue that caused the squeaky wheel, you just pump on massive amounts of grease until the squeaky wheel stops squeaking whether or not the underlying issue is fixed.

So no, I’ve never felt any benefit from the “community” or a need to “belong” to the community. Especially not a community that is extremely selective with its chosen “cause célèbre”. And not a community that is extremely protective of lame duck politicians because said politicians wrap themselves up in the pride flag and wave from a float in a parade.

Queers, gays, lesbians, trans, bi, and other people on the gender spectrum have existed since time immemorial. This need to be officially sanctioned by the local LGBTQ+ community is something relatively new.

When I first came down to Vancouver in February of 1992 to apply for a job in Burnaby, I knew that there was something different about Vancouver. When I got back to Deadmonton later that week, my mind was made up. Into the dumpster went all of my furniture, gave the keys back to the landlord, and off to Vancouver I went.

Of course I migrated towards the West End. But sadly when “queer went mainstream” the West End changed. The GLBTQ+ crowd that could, moved away. The Pride Parade at the same time went from being a massive “fuck you!” to the society in general that shat all over the queer community because the church told them to, to being a massive corporate advertising campaign for banks and booze.

And I don’t ever see this changing.

And now that the GLBTQ+ crowd has had a taste of acceptance, they’re willing to do whatever it takes to keep that acceptance, even if it means no longer making society feel uncomfortable about issues involving the GLBTQ+ crowd.

A trans teen goes missing from a Canadian Forces Base and no one bats an eyelash when their body is found in a river near the base.

Someone brings to light the fact that the Canadian Forces gave conversion therapy to the victims of male-on-male child sexual abuse due to the assumption by military social workers that male-on-male child sexual abuse was nothing more than homosexuality. Not one single fucking person cares.

This isn’t a community. This is just an excuse to get shit faced and wear glitter in a parade.

Ignored, written off, and talked-over.

One of the things that I’ve had to endure over the years is the constant talking over

I’ve had many instances of being written off and ignored.

In the past I had always hoped that I was just misunderstanding.

But often it’s not.

People have said that I don’t exert myself enough.

One of the most startling episodes of this was when we had an outside management company managing the physical plant at the hospital where I work.

When I started working at the hospital in 2005 I re-opened the welding shop. No one had the ability to weld since the last person with welding experience left. So I started welding. One of the managers would absolutely refuse to ask me to do any type of welding work for him even though there were lots of projects. The other manager blamed this on my “flamboyance” and that I was flaunting it too much?

I was thinking to myself “what the fuck?”

I wasn’t yet out of the closet.

But then again at that point in time it was almost 10 years since a Vancouver Police Department officer wrote my mugging off as a “gay trick gone bad”.

And then I started to realize that a lot of what I had been through in life up to that point in life was due to some sort of “queer vibe” that I had exhibited.

To this date I’ve never figured out what this “vibe” was. But it must have been noticeable.

Was this the same vibe that put me in the sights of Captain McRae and his teenaged accomplice?

Was this the same “vibe” that got the shit beat out of me numerous times at school because I “walked like a girl”, “didn’t have a girlfriend”, “looked like a faggot”?

Was this the same vibe that attracted numerous adult men to me for sexual favours while I was under 16?

Was this the same vibe that caused another manager that I worked for to constantly refer to me as “Freddie Mercury” and to constantly remind me that gay sex leads to AIDs.

Was this the same vibe that caused the son of a company in St. Albert, Alberta to exclaim that there’s no place for fags at his father’s company?

Was this the same vibe that caused Ed from Classic Billiards to poke and prod me to admit that I had a same sex attraction?

Is this the same vibe that allows service contractors and vendors to ignore me even when I’m the one who called them in for service?

It’s so much fun at work dealing with contractors who ignore you and instead start talking to someone else who has no idea of what’s going on or what the service call is about.

But Bobbie, you’re the Chief Engineer!

Surely people have to take you seriously?

No.

Things are great when I’m communicating via email.

Things go off the rails when I deal with people face to face.

It’s those “queer vibes” apparently.

And in the macho “trades” field that I find myself in, these “queer vibes” are an outright turn-off to a lot of guys.

The only reason that I’m at where I’m at is my knowledge, my skills, and my abilities.

There are numerous people over the years who would have gladly destroyed me because of my “vibe”.

And I know it’s that “vibe”.

The was one guy at the hospital that used to turn to me for advice and knowledge and help with getting projects done.

But after management was brought back in house an I was promoted to the non-management position of Chief Engineer which allowed me to dress more appropriately for my gender identity, his opinion of me soured to the point where he was sticking a knife in my back on almost a weekly basis.

And I have absolutely no doubts that if I were to meet some of my previous co-workers and employers that their opinions of me and their attitudes towards me would change drastically from what they were before.

Yeah, okay, fine.

In the last couple of years I’ve switched over to dresses, I do my nails, and I’m more often than not in heels.

Does that make my knowledge worth any less?

Apparently so.

VPD Constable Gil Puder

VPD constable Gil Puder was the investigator assigned to my mugging.

I was working the Tuesday through Saturday 14:00 to 22:00 shift at the bowling centre that I worked at.

If I left work at 22:00 sharp, I could make it downtown to watch the late shows at either the Famous Players Capitol 6 or the Cineplex Granville 7.

This fateful weekend I went to see a movie called “Congo” at the Capitol 6. I’ve covered the mugging elsewhere, so I won’t get into the details.

But, the end result is even though I had located a video tape that showed me, my two assailants, and what triggered the mugging, VPD constable Gil Puder refused to pick up the video tape or to even just go and view the video tape and speak to the theatre manager.

Gil Puder told me right to my face that until I admitted the “truth”, that I had picked this guy up in a bar and that this was a “trick gone bad”, that he wasn’t going to help.

So, there never was an investigation.

Puder defended.

A few years later when I had moved into commercial property management one of the plumbers that worked for us knew Gil Puder.

This plumber and I were having coffee at a local coffee shop discussing some upcoming projects that I had for him.

This revelation only came up because the plumber used to play ice hockey with Puder and Puder had just died due to a brain tumour.

I asked the plumber if this Gil Puder that he played hockey with had been a VPD officer, the plumber said that yes, Gil had been a VPD officer.

I gave the plumber my opinion of Puder and explained to him what caused me to have this opinion of Puder.

The plumber seemed quite taken aback and then the plumber started to justify what Puder had opined.

“Bob, you gotta admit, you don’t have a girlfriend or a wife, and you don’t exactly come across as a ladies man”, and “Look at it from Gil’s point of view, you got mugged on Burrard at Georgia, the gays are down on Burrard and Davie, so what else what Gil supposed to conclude?”

There was also a general contractor that was used frequently that did tenant and building renovations.

I was the first power engineer that had ever worked for this employer, as such there was now a requirement to adhere to provincial and municipal codes. And this caused quite a row between the contractors and I. They were now required to pull permits for electrical, plumbing, construction, demolition, and asbestos abatement.

The general contractor would often wait until it was just him and I with no one else around and then he’d unleash on me with every homophobic slur and stereotype.

When I’d go talk to the general manager about this, the GM would talk to the contractor, and the contractor would profusely deny that he had said anything.

Thick skin.

It took me years to grow a thick enough skin to ignore these opinions of my worth.

And as much as I am able to ignore them in the modern day, the problem is they still have the ability to cause me to endure significant issues.

Employment is something that I can’t just up and change if I wanted to.

Do you have any idea how long it took to work up the confidence to start dressing the way that I wanted to and to even start on hormone therapy?

Do you realize how severely I have limited my future?

In 1980 the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service investigated Captain McRae for having committed “Acts of Homosexuality” with young children on Canadian Forces Base Namao. At the time “homosexuality” was viewed as a “victimless crime”. That tarred and feathered everyone involved with Captain McRae as a “homosexual”.

This is why I spent time in the care of Captain Terry Totzke receiving “help” with my “homosexuality” that I had exhibited.

In 2011 the CFNIS conducted an investigation into the actions of the babysitter.

As I’ve said elsewhere, the CFNIS had in their possession both the CFSIU investigation paperwork and the courts martial transcripts. The existence of which the CFNIS withheld from the MPCC and the Federal Court of Canada.

They knew what Captain McRae had been charged with, and they knew that it was the investigation of the babysitter for molesting numerous young children on base that triggered the investigation of Captain McRae.

But the CFNIS in 2011 would have been exposed to a report that was written back in 1980 when the attitude was that Captain McRae, the babysitter, and all of the other kids involved were “homosexuals” with perverted minds willingly participating in the victimless crime of homosexual sex.

Is this why the 2011 CFNIS investigation was such an abysmal failure?

They had the CFSIU investigation paperwork and the court martial transcripts that implicated the babysitter in the direct molestation of young children, but the CFNIS still had the audacity to call me a liar.

Anyways, enough for now.

Gotta get ready to catch my bus back to Vancouver.

A little hint

Okay, so I had a little bit of a learning curve with my estrogen patches.

Yes, they’re supposed to stick you your skin. But I found for the first couple of days my patches kept falling off.

And not really wanting to miss out on any of my meds, I had to think of something to do to keep these from coming off.

If I could put them on my upper arms like a nicotine patch, that would have worked, but the estrogen patches have to go on either my butt or my lower belly for the best effect.

So I turned to Tegaderm.

I put the patch on, then I put a Tegaderm dressing over top of the patch. And the patches don’t fall off. which is nice.

I don’t want to miss out on any of the meds.

Coming up this Friday I have my first blood test to make sure that my body is handling the estrogen properly.

Hopefully my body is.

Mentally I like the difference in mood.

It’s almost like androgens are a toxin.

Happy Pride Month?

As I’ve said, I’ve never really taken part in pride, and I really don’t identify with it.

I guess part of it has to do with the environment that I grew up in.

Military communities were isolated. And by isolated I mean that the Canadian Armed Forces had control over the types of people that were allowed to live in the military communities on base.

By way of filtering recruits, the Canadian Armed Forces could control the political leanings of those living on the bases. And it should be of no surprise that these military communities were very conservative and right leaning.

The thing is, when you’re living within these communities, especially if your exposure to the outside world is very limited, you come to see the political leanings of these communities as being “normal”.

Yes, Canadian Forces Administrative Order CFAO 19-20 did no apply to children living on base, it only applied to members of the Canadian Armed Forces. But as has been indicated through various studies, members of the Canadian Armed Forces often had a problems with separating their military careers from their home lives.

As the civilian social worker that dealt with my family noted during various home visits to our PMQ on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach, Mr. Gill orders his children with simple commands and answers their questions with yes or no replies and the children don’t question these decisions.

Being in the Canadian Armed Forces, Richard was nothing more than a cog in a machine that demanded his servile obedience. His was not a position to question. His was a position to do as he was told. And like many men who are stripped of the authority in their lives, he made up for this lack of authority by exerting his authority on those he could.

When it came to me and my issues from Canadian Forces Base Namao he was not going to question the authority of Captain Terry Totzke. If Captain Totzke said that I was a homosexual, that I was exhibiting signs of homosexuality, who was master corporal Gill to question this?

When I’ve talked to other base brats about how things were on base I get this Pollyannish rose coloured view of what things were like on base. This usually comes from former brats that didn’t have “issues” and therefore weren’t exposed to the underbelly of life in the “company town”.

I have encountered a few former brats that don’t participate in any of the social media groups for base brats. They want nothing to do with acknowledging their past. And I have an inkling that the brats who don’t want anything to do with remembering their pasts as base brats vastly outnumber the number of brats that celebrate their past as base brats.

The number of broken and dysfunctional families that lived on the bases was probably a high percentage, especially when you look at how the recruiting process would naturally filter out more liberal minded recruits. The military communities were rife with homophobia, racism, misogyny, victim blaming, victim shaming.

Another matter that played into the sterility of the military community was the fact that military housing could only be rented to members of the Canadian Armed Forces, and that these members had the ability to decide who could live in these houses and who couldn’t. If a service member wanted his spouse out of “his” PMQ, she was booted off the base by the military police. Same thing for his kids. As long as provincial law allowed for it, the serving member could give his kid the boot. The age that a child can live on their own varies from province to province. In Ontario a 16 year old can move out on their own.

I’m not sure what the rules are any more, but in my day living on the bases, 18 was the absolute oldest a base brat could be. Once you hit 19 you were expected to get off the base. There were exceptions to this rule, care givers could live in military housing so long as it was to look after military dependents, persons with disabilities could live on base past their 19th birthday, and students obtaining a higher education could continue to live on base until their 24th birthday.

As you can imaging, there wasn’t a lot of diversity. Everything was sterile. Everything was the military mindset.

Queer kids just learnt to stay in the closet.

Queer kids learnt that they were defective and a national security threat.

Kids on base learnt that there were no victims, that it always took two to tango.

Kids on base learnt that compassion was a liability.

Living on base there were no “others” like us.

Living on base we only had exposure to adults that passed the requirements of the Canadian Armed Forces recruiting agents.

Our view of the world was shaped by the monochromatic views of the world espoused by these serving soldiers that passed the conformity tests.

You know all of those soldier that have been implicated in hazing rituals over the years? Yeah we grew up amongst those people.

I lived on the base that was the home of the Canadian Airborne Regiment. We grew up amongst the mindset and the racism that lead to the death of Shidane Arone in Somalia.

All those sexual assaults that occurred in the Canadian Armed Forces? Those were committed by men of the Canadian Forces, many of whom were our fathers.

The misogyny and homophobia that were rampant in the Canadian Armed Forces back in the day? The men espousing these views were often our fathers.

I grew up in a community that allowed everyone up the chain of command to escape responsibility for the murder of Shidane Arone and allowed a lowly private, private Kyle Brown, to be made the scape goat for the whole sordid affair.

I grew up in a community that allowed sexually abused children to be blamed for the abuse they suffered at the hand of members of the Canadian Armed Forces.

I grew up in a community where the chain of command could determine who was a victim and who wasn’t a victim.

I grew up in a community that had the legal power to investigate itself and its members for sexual assaults against children.

I grew up in a community in which officers with no legal training and no legal background could summarily dismiss service offence charges that had been brought against their subordinates.

I grew up in a community in which a 3-year-time-bar applied to all service offences, including service offences of a purely civilian nature.

I grew up in a community which claimed criminal code offences related to children as service offences to be dealt with solely through the military justice system.

I grew up in a community served by such a compromised justice system that it was dismantled and restructured due to horrific miscarriages of justice.

So no, in the end I have nothing to be proud of.

Estrogen Log: Day 10.

Okay, so I’m on day 10 of being on estrogen.

I’m currently on patch #3, patch #4 will be on Wednesday.

Not too much noticeable in the way of changes, but there are some changes.

My facial hair isn’t growing as fast.

My nipples have started to change shape, and now it feels like there’s an empty void behind them.

And my testicles are smaller.

Other than that I’m still waiting on the muscle loss.

I did go for physio last week and the one thing we noticed is that my muscles aren’t as stiff and tense as they usually are.

I don’t expect the really noticeable changes to start occurring much before June.

June is my vacation month, so I am expecting to go back to work looking a little different than I did before my vacation.

That should be very entertaining……..

A co-worker of mine whom is aware of my blog and my desire for M.A.i.D. has asked me if finally being able to transition will put an end to my desire for M.A.i.D.. I told them that we’d have to wait and see. We’ll have to see what awaits in 2027.

Anyways…… ’nuff for now.

Day Two

Nothing much to report here.

I’m on day Two.

I don’t really expect to see any results for a couple of weeks.

Mental changes should start showing up first.

Physical changes should be showing up in a few weeks.

Facial hair should be the first to slow down, followed by hair on the other parts of my body that females typically don’t have increased hair growth at puberty such as their backs or their chests. Arm and leg hair will slow down but not by much.

Muscle loss should be coming up shortly after that.

The neat thing is I’m off work for the month of June for my annual vacation and this is when most of the new changes will start to come into effect.

When I go back to work after my vacation there should be some noticeable changes.

I’m hoping that after my first three months on 50 ug patches that I can look at something stronger. But this will depend on the results of my blood tests.

As long as nothing goes out of whack and as long as my body processes the estrogen properly I can’t see any reason why I wouldn’t be able to step the dosage up.

One thing that I didn’t anticipate with transitioning is that blood tests will be a frequent requirement. For the first while they’ll be monthly. This is just to make sure that my androgen levels are decreasing like they should and that the estrogen is not harming my liver.

Estradot

Well, I got my prescription for Estrogen.

Because I’m over 50 my doc wants to work me up to the full dose of between 100 – 400 mcg of Estradiol

My starting dose will be two 50 mcg patches per week.

I’ll have to go for blood tests every four or five weeks to see how things are progressing.

The blood work will guide us in ramping up my dose of estrogen.

Once the estrogen is under control then my doc will start me on an androgen blocker such as Spironolactone.

Between the estrogen and the androgen blockers my testicles won’t stand a chance. They’ll start shrinking on their own.

It’ll be about a year before I can request surgery to remove what I want to have removed.

If everything goes fine then I should start sprouting breasts in about 3 to 6 months. My breasts will max out in about 2 to 3 years. And if I stop taking hormones my breasts will remain.

My testicles will start to shrink in about 3 to 6 months and will reach maximum effect in 2 to 3 years. This will be permanent even if I stop taking hormones.

My muscle mass will start to decrease in 3 to 6 months and I will have achieved maximum muscle loss in 1 to 2 years.

Decreased growth of facial and body hair in 6 to 12 months with maximum effect in 3 years.

My skin will start to soften between 1 to 6 months. It’s unknown when the maximum effect will occur.

If my gender dysphoria and my gender related issues resolve with hormone therapy, then I should be able to decrease my anti-depressants.

There are some side effects, such as an increase risk for stroke, blood clots, etc.

But to me the risks are more than worth it.

Am I happy that I’m finally starting to transition?

Yes.

This is something that I have wanted to do for so long.

Am I upset that I let the CFB Namao issue get in my way?

Honestly, had I started to transition back in 2008 when I had changed my name in preparation for transitioning I think that the CFNIS would have taken me even less seriously if I had shown up for my video statement in a dress with breasts than they already did.

I can only wonder what Richard would have thought seeing me after my transition.

Work is going to be wild over the next while. Yeah, I’ve worn dresses, skits, kilts, etc. for an eternity at work. But I don’t think that anyone at work has any ideas of what’s coming down the pike.

< 24 hours to go.

Okay, so I have less than 24 hours to go before I go see my nurse practitioner tomorrow to start on Hormone Replacement Therapy.

Many years I have waited for this.

Always something in the way.

Work.

Ghosts from my past.

A 13 year battle with the Canadian Armed Forces.

Have to take things one day at a time.

Transitioning is hard enough, but thankfully I’m no longer a military dependent.

If Captain Terry Totzke tried to destroy me because of the homosexuality that I had exhibited when I “allowed” myself to be molested by the babysitter and Captain McRae, just imagine what would have happened if I had told Terry if I felt like I should have been a girl.

My father’s disdain that he exhibited towards me after the CFB Namao fiasco and the absolute silence he directed towards me after I sent him the letter in May of 2008 explaining why I had changed my name tells me exactly how Richard would have reacted to me as a kid if I had declared that I wanted to be a girl.

And the fact that the community that I lived in and grew up in was governed by Canadian Forces Administrative Order CFAO 19-20 should explain to you that growing up as a trans kid on base would have been absolutely impossible and not tolerated in the least.

I honestly don’t know what things are like on base these days. I moved out of the house when I was 16, and except for two months in 1990 I have never lived on a Canadian Armed Forces Base since.

Sure, the Canadian Armed Forces have attested that things are different these days. But they’ve been saying the same thing about their flawed military justice system since the days of Somalia, and they’ve been saying the same thing about sexual assaults in the military since the ’80s.

The Canadian Armed Forces is the penultimate “old boys club” and they’re used to getting what they want and they don’t and won’t tolerate what they don’t want to.

DNA TESTING

On another front:

I honestly don’t know what to expect from this.

My mother is potentially Chinese on her maternal side and Quebecois French on her paternal side, I expect to see some of that. How strong the Chinese ancestry will be is anyone’s guess. I never met my maternal grandparents. And Marie never spoke about her mother other than to say that she died young from an epileptic seizure in the bathtub.

On my father’s side I expect to see Cree ancestry and some Irish. My paternal grandmother was Swampy Cree and my paternal grandfather was Irish.

It’ll be interesting as mammals share more of their DNA with their mothers than with their fathers, but the father’s DNA controls the expression of some genes.

All humans carry the mtDNA of their mothers. That is the mitochondrial DNA of our cells come only from our mother, which they got from their mother, and so on and so on.

As I said, it will be interesting to see what my lineage is.

Also, I’m curious to see how many half siblings I have.

And how many extended family members there are.

Now, bear in mind this will only be as successful as the number of relatives that have also completed a DNA test.

So, May will be an interesting month.

Saturday May 4th, 2024.

People have asked if I have ever been involved with any type of queer support groups in the past.

No.

No I haven’t.

I don’t do well in groups.

Never have, never will.

I’ve always been on my own.

In Toronto as a kid I would always sneak down to the Pride parade but I would always enjoy it from the periphery.

Even though homosexuality wasn’t an outright criminal offence in the ’80s, the police were still mostly of the old school.

And of course there was the fear that I’d be caught in the vicinity of one of these parades or events.

I guess that I was carrying around the teaching of Terry.

I went to a few pride parades in Vancouver during the ’90s. Again just watching from the periphery.

What I always loved about the early parades was how “in-your-face” they were. It’s like the participants in the parades were wiping off all of the shit that society had thrown on them and were throwing that shit right back in the face of society.

But then the double aughts came.

And the pride parades started to become more corporate, more generic, and less offensive.

2006 was the last parade that I went to watch and the last pride event that I went to.

To be honest, pride events were never too appealing to me because of the overt presence of alcohol.

When my doctor and I first started discussing my desire to transition into something other than male he proceeded to give me a list of groups that I could join.

The thing is I don’t want to join a group.

I have been on my own all of my life.

I function better on my own.

I can’t see myself willingly becoming part of a group.

So…… off I go on yet another adventure.

Transitioning from male to not a male.

Anyways, time to head off and get my nails done.

I’m thinking something of a hot pink shade this time.