Earlier on today I felt a dull pain on my left side just below my ribcage and I told my dad about it less than half an hour ago. I was worried that it would be the onset of appendicitis, due to my pessimistic nature, but my dad said it was just an aching muscle as a result of me helping him deliver newspapers a fortnight earlier. For some reason, he then went on about how I need to lose weight, basically calling me a fatass. I know I need to lose a bit of weight, but he doesn’t have to be so fucking mean about it.
Day 877 in the closet. Dysphoria has returned in a small amount.
The third day of dog sitting. My dad made me get up at 10am again today, early by my standards. My dad gave him a chewstick before going out to stand behind a horse and probably smell like one as well. Woofimus Maximus seems to ignore the chewstick when it’s just me in the house, for some reason unknown to me. Dad said he will be back at the usual time, which is in around three and a half hours.
Day 877 of being in the closet. The dysphoria seems to have subsided, for now.
I’m going to go get ready for bed now. I don’t know if my dad wants me up early again tomorrow morning or not, so I’m going to assume he doesn’t need me up early in which case, I’ll sleep in until sometime in the afternoon.
Right now I’m feeling dysphoric what with the testosterone poisoning and whatnot and the fact I won’t wake up tomorrow morning looking the way I wish I did (C-cup breasts, estrogen running through my veins, no traces of testosterone poisoning ever, really cute), which saddens me greatly, so I’ll probably need to watch lots of kitten video before I go to sleep tonight. It’s been 877 days and counting.
Day 877 in the closet and it’s all the same. I hate how I look and I wish I could transition as quickly as The Doctor. I’m sure I’m not the only trans girl to wish she could transition that quickly.
I don’t even watch football, nor am I interested in it in the slightest. Although I was laughing when my uncle found out that Iceland knocked out England in the Euro 2016 and then offered to buy him an Iceland shirt because he supported England. I remember hearing about that Viking clap. Anyway, I can’t stop thinking that if England win another World Cup, they would be well on the way to building a World Bra [because bras have two cups]. I imagine the bra size would be fucking insane.
Speaking of bras, I prefer C-cup bras myself [with matching panties]. Especially if they’re cute and comfortable. I don’t have C-cup breasts at the moment [but in the Gwenverse my dreams take place in, I do], but hopefully I will have eventually once I have the courage to come out to my family as a transgender girl and transition.