LeaP
06-25-2014, 08:51 AM
“My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure” (Sir Galahad, by Tennyson)
Thank goodness my heart IS pure! So there’s at least one thing I don’t have to worry about! Whoops, seems that my case that’s moral, not physical strength. The ‘ol biceps and back and pecs and abs and lats and … just aren’t what they used to be, pre HRT.
If you had the terrible misfortune to be born and reared male, or perhaps if you went tripping merrily down the Real Deal boobage path without considering hormonal consequences (you did do the research, right? Right?) then you learned to operate your hardware with certain capability parameters assumed.
Welcome to HRT! Assume no more, because, upon entering no man’s land, you no longer have any idea what you are capable of! Isn’t that fun! What’s a T-Girl to do?
What a great question!
Before answering, however. Let’s consider a few scenarios that might play out a little differently now:
You’re really buff. Maybe it was compensating behavior, maybe not, but one thing you were confident about is that you had a pretty good chance of making it through prison unscathed, short of encountering a Dwayne Johnson type. The good news is that you may still make it through. The bad news is it only applies to women’s prisons and your odds are down to 50-50. Your stretch opponent is now Ellen DeGeneres in a bad mood. What’s that? You aren’t going for SRS? Walk the line, friend. Walk the line …
You’re in your 40’s. You can best every kid and 20-something in the neighborhood in wrestling. The kiddies just love trying and attack regularly. If you have only been on HRT for, say, a year, you can still eke out a win occasionally, but now you excuse yourself, find a toilet, and vomit. Ew! You can still whup the grade schoolers, but only if they don’t gang up on you.
There you are, minding your own business, walking down the street. You’re concentrating on keeping your shoulders back, your head up, and - be honest now - putting just a little sway in the ‘ol hips. Just then, someone screams! A baby is on a ledge high above! The building is right next to you! Whatever you do, don’t try to catch that baby! Instead, grab the nearest guy, even if he’s a 16 year-old! You might get a few weird looks if you’re in drab, but Mom is going to be a LOT happier with the result …
By the way, one of the little pictures that pops into my mind once in a while is a depiction of the differences between those on HRT and those not. The scene looks something like the landscape after Gallipoli. Guess which group is ANZAC?
I know what you’re thinking. Too dramatic. Regular life isn’t like that, right? Right? Righto. Read on, read on.
Jar opening is one of those regular little validations between men and women that provides little bonding experiences while bolstering ego in a minor way. Chances are you are still gonna keep trying for a while, even if you break your hand trying. Alternatively, you will point and say “look at that!”. Then, when your wife turns away, you’ll grab the jar opener, pop the top, and announce “piece of cake.” Shame on you!
The polite thing for a guy to do when dropping one’s significant other off at the airport is to get out, open the hatch, and place the luggage on the sidewalk, regardless of bag size. It’s always been another of those little validations. What happens now, of course, is that the usual tug on the giganto bag handle results in … absolutely nothing. What to do? Use two hands? How embarrassing. Put feet on bumper for leverage? Don’t want to see that on Youtube. Nope. The one thing that will linger on is your ability to hide and deflect. So you'll pay the skycap to do it while announcing that YOUR significant other deserves premium service!
As your strength dwindles, try to resist the urge to get whiny. It's true that being responsible for dragging in the groceries is now unfair, but suck it up. That's just the way it is.
But back to the question ... What to do?
Why, what every girl learns to do! There are two choices: Run! (Warning - doesn't work in prison.) Or dominate the threat with verbal barrages out of moral superiority!
Let's see what the Man in Black did when faced with an insurmountable physical threat: (yeah, I know - a guy - but it still works ...)
To the pain! ... I'll explain and I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon. ... To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose. ... The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right. ... Your ears you keep and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, "Dear God! What is that thing," will echo in your perfect ears. That is what to the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever. ... I might be bluffing. It's conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I'm only lying here because I lack the strength ... But, then again... perhaps I have the strength after all.
Does it work every time? Nope. "Get used to disappointment." And keep an eye out for your opportunity to run.
Thank goodness my heart IS pure! So there’s at least one thing I don’t have to worry about! Whoops, seems that my case that’s moral, not physical strength. The ‘ol biceps and back and pecs and abs and lats and … just aren’t what they used to be, pre HRT.
If you had the terrible misfortune to be born and reared male, or perhaps if you went tripping merrily down the Real Deal boobage path without considering hormonal consequences (you did do the research, right? Right?) then you learned to operate your hardware with certain capability parameters assumed.
Welcome to HRT! Assume no more, because, upon entering no man’s land, you no longer have any idea what you are capable of! Isn’t that fun! What’s a T-Girl to do?
What a great question!
Before answering, however. Let’s consider a few scenarios that might play out a little differently now:
You’re really buff. Maybe it was compensating behavior, maybe not, but one thing you were confident about is that you had a pretty good chance of making it through prison unscathed, short of encountering a Dwayne Johnson type. The good news is that you may still make it through. The bad news is it only applies to women’s prisons and your odds are down to 50-50. Your stretch opponent is now Ellen DeGeneres in a bad mood. What’s that? You aren’t going for SRS? Walk the line, friend. Walk the line …
You’re in your 40’s. You can best every kid and 20-something in the neighborhood in wrestling. The kiddies just love trying and attack regularly. If you have only been on HRT for, say, a year, you can still eke out a win occasionally, but now you excuse yourself, find a toilet, and vomit. Ew! You can still whup the grade schoolers, but only if they don’t gang up on you.
There you are, minding your own business, walking down the street. You’re concentrating on keeping your shoulders back, your head up, and - be honest now - putting just a little sway in the ‘ol hips. Just then, someone screams! A baby is on a ledge high above! The building is right next to you! Whatever you do, don’t try to catch that baby! Instead, grab the nearest guy, even if he’s a 16 year-old! You might get a few weird looks if you’re in drab, but Mom is going to be a LOT happier with the result …
By the way, one of the little pictures that pops into my mind once in a while is a depiction of the differences between those on HRT and those not. The scene looks something like the landscape after Gallipoli. Guess which group is ANZAC?
I know what you’re thinking. Too dramatic. Regular life isn’t like that, right? Right? Righto. Read on, read on.
Jar opening is one of those regular little validations between men and women that provides little bonding experiences while bolstering ego in a minor way. Chances are you are still gonna keep trying for a while, even if you break your hand trying. Alternatively, you will point and say “look at that!”. Then, when your wife turns away, you’ll grab the jar opener, pop the top, and announce “piece of cake.” Shame on you!
The polite thing for a guy to do when dropping one’s significant other off at the airport is to get out, open the hatch, and place the luggage on the sidewalk, regardless of bag size. It’s always been another of those little validations. What happens now, of course, is that the usual tug on the giganto bag handle results in … absolutely nothing. What to do? Use two hands? How embarrassing. Put feet on bumper for leverage? Don’t want to see that on Youtube. Nope. The one thing that will linger on is your ability to hide and deflect. So you'll pay the skycap to do it while announcing that YOUR significant other deserves premium service!
As your strength dwindles, try to resist the urge to get whiny. It's true that being responsible for dragging in the groceries is now unfair, but suck it up. That's just the way it is.
But back to the question ... What to do?
Why, what every girl learns to do! There are two choices: Run! (Warning - doesn't work in prison.) Or dominate the threat with verbal barrages out of moral superiority!
Let's see what the Man in Black did when faced with an insurmountable physical threat: (yeah, I know - a guy - but it still works ...)
To the pain! ... I'll explain and I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon. ... To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose. ... The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right. ... Your ears you keep and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, "Dear God! What is that thing," will echo in your perfect ears. That is what to the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever. ... I might be bluffing. It's conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I'm only lying here because I lack the strength ... But, then again... perhaps I have the strength after all.
Does it work every time? Nope. "Get used to disappointment." And keep an eye out for your opportunity to run.