Sunday, October 29, 2006

Size 13

I wear a size 9.5 in US women's shoes. My cousin, who's only like 13 and about my height, already wears a size 11 in women's. She's gonna be tall. I also feel sorry for her that she's going to have a hard time finding shoes.

After my game today, a number of us decided to have a little brunch in Noe Valley. The restaurant was right around the corner from the Cocoon House. Yes, it felt a little weird being right there with my teammates...but not too bad. I will admit, though, that Noe Valley holds a little magic for me. So does Scottsdale, Arizona. It's hard to describe, but both places bring back magical memories for me...and it's not so much the visual memories, but more along the lines of ambient memories of transformation. It's sorta like going back to visit the house or area you grew up in...especially if your family has already moved away.

So, anyway, a lot of us only know one another from the games. We start chatting and asking where we live, what we do for work, how old we are, what types of women we're into, who we're having sex with in our dreams (one gold star lesbian tells us she recently had a dream of banging George Cloney up the arse), and just bonding in general. The women I'm sitting next to is fairly tall...6'1" (185cm) to be precise. She says she likes her women to be taller than 5'4", preferably at least 5'7". She says she also wears size 13 shoes.

"I had a hard time finding shoes before the internet came along. All of the size 13 shoes I found early on were these transvestite boots."

So, not only do 6' transgender women have trouble finding women's shoes...but so do the genetic ones.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

sump'n sump'n

Speaking of dating....

Have I mentioned before how much attention the boobs get? I've been out with some of my lesbian/teammates lately, and, well, a couple of them have gotten a little drunk sometimes. One of them is dating another of my teammates who is pretty hot. She is already a really funny person when not drunk, but she is hilarious when she's drunk.

Lately, though, after she's had a few drinks, she keeps approaching me should I put it...bedroom eyes?

"Hey, you doin'?"

When she says this, she's typically not looking me in the eyes...but, instead, at my chest. Of course, I was wearing this sexy black tube top with a black jacket, so I'll admit that, well, there was something to look at. It still felt weird having her talk to my much so, that I wanted to put my hand in front of my chest.

We all later joked about it though, and I went out of my way to cover up. I know she loves her girlfriend, so I have no interest in taking advantage of a drunk friend...nor making it worse for their relationship. This has happened on two separate occasions, though.

On the first time, though, I had another teammate hit on me. She's a guy. Once she had a little alcohol in her though, she starts to become a lesbian. Strange. I basically shot her down, too...but during our conversation, she tells me that she doesn't think I've found myself yet...and that I don't know who I am yet.


I hope that I've found myself...but I wonder what she was sensing...or feeling...or what made her say what she said.

Back to the boobs, though....

Amber (yes, she's still alive) was recently over to watch an episode of BSG. (yes, I'm a nerd, ok?) Being such a great house guest, she brings over the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies while watching the show...but she needs a bowl or two. I reach up into the cupboard to get a bowl down and I spot her checking out my boobs. (hahahaha...snagged)

She said something along the lines of not realizing my boobs were that big, but also pointed out that I was wearing a baggy sweatshirt which made them stand out a little more.

I gave her a hard time in a funny little way. Poor Amber. =P

So, OK, boobs rock...and I know they grab some attention here and there. I'm still glad I saved them for last since they could have gotten me into 'trouble' had I done them sooner. They're still not quite as soft as I would like, but that's probably due to the saline, them being over-filled a little too much, and the fact that I have a bit of muscle in my chest. They look nice, though.

Friday, October 27, 2006


Softballs aren't all that soft. Sure, they're softer than baseballs...but that's like saying aluminum is soft because steel is hard.

I usually only play softball, at max, 2 days a week. I received a call from one of my teammates, though, who was looking for me to fill in on one of her teams. I said yes.

Because I have been trying to limit my activities a little due to the ankle not quite being back to normal, I've mainly been playing first base. A 5'5" right-handed first baseman is not your optimal choice, though, but I can still catch decent and can try to stretch out. I've had a few nice snags as well.

So, remember the guy who carried me off the field when I hurt my ankle? Well, he usually plays shortstop. In this game, though, he was playing second base.

An inning or two into the game, there was this humongous guy up to bat who just happened to be left-handed. That put our side as his power-side. I backed up. The second baseman was in the grassy area just outside the infield. When he hit the ball, you knew that it was moving fast. Luckily, it wasn't moving fast toward me, but toward the second baseman. Unfortunately, it caught a weird hop on the lip of the infield and caught our second baseman right in the groin. I was running toward first base at the time, and was just turning to take the throw when I heard his little yelp. It knocked him to the ground, but he still tried to make the throw. It wasn't in time.

He sat there for a little while, as the pain rippled away from his testicles. We asked if he was ok, but mainly got no response from him. Once he stood up, he decided to check to see if he was ok. The right fielder turned her head as he looked down his drawers. I jokingly asked him if he needed me to check if things were ok and asked why he wasn't wearing a cup. He said he didn't think he would need a cup at second, but that usually wore one at shortstop.

After the game was over, he asked me if my offer was still valid. I told him no. (hahahahah...he's such a flirt) Somehow, he then got on the subject of how it felt when one was hit in the balls. He described it as a pain that one didn't really feel at first, but then it spreads through the entire body.

I already knew this...but I didn't tell him that. I'd been 'racked' a few times in my life, and every time it felt horrible. The pain was just incredible...incapacitating...but yet, like he said, it wasn't something that hit you right away. It was this pain that, for me, built up in my stomach and made me feel really bad. It's such a weird response to being hit there...and yet, when I was accidentally kicked there earlier this year in a sporting activity, it was nowhere near the same feeling. Lucky me. One more benefit for them being gone.

OK, so later in the week, I went to one of my more regular games. It was playoff night and we were first scheduled to play the 4th seed since we were the 1st seed. Before the game started, I was chatting with two of my female teammates and Bob. Bob likes to talk about a lot of really juicy items. Somehow we got on the topic of sex. (Like that was really hard, huh?) I told Bob that I hadn't had sex in 10 months. Melissa asks me if I am dating E anymore, and I tell her I'm not. She then tells me she knows a guy at work who is looking for rebound sex.

"His rebound or my rebound?" I ask.

"His rebound."

We chatted a little more about the topic. I really couldn't see myself having a relationship with any friend of a friend, especially with my disclosure. Sure, one might say, "Oh Kara, just get some and don't worry about it...especially if you'll never see the guy again." Yeah yeah...I know.

The other woman who is in our conversation, then perks up about one of her coworkers.

"We just got this new woman at work. We're chatting, then she tells me that she smokes. She says something about a lot of people frowning on anyone that smokes...especially in California. She then says, 'Oh, and I used to be a dude.' "


"Was this recent?" I ask.

"Yeah, like two days ago."

My teammates then discuss how she started looking closer at her and trying to figure out if she was really indeed transgender. My teammate thinks she is joking since she can't tell, and asks us why anyone would joke about that...especially when she barely knew her new coworker.

My other teammate then tells us about a research professor that works on her campus who is transgender. I know who she is talking about, but I've never met him. She says that he looks just like a guy, but he's kinda short and has this weird voice. I made a few comments during both conversations, but I will admit, I get a touch nervous when the transgender topic pops up. I wonder if they know and are trying to find a way to breach the subject with me...that they are cool with it and are just curious...but it's so hard to simply guess that. I'm betting they have no idea that I am, but one never knows.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Smear the Queer

I recently received a letter from my healthcare provider telling me that I was due for a Pap smear test.

(What is Pap, and why do they want to smear it on me?)

It stated that they knew many women did not like having them, but it also listed the positive aspects for it. Besides that, it stated reasons why one would not need to have one.

It didn't list 'being a transsexual' as one of those reasons.

So, I sent a note off to Dr. Meltzer's office asking if I needed one. Here's the response:

I am attaching some information regarding necessary follow up that you can give to your PCP, but to sum it up – yes, you do need a PAP smear.

Their attachment contained this information:

We recommend our patients have yearly vaginal exams and PAP smears. Our patients do not have a cervix but the skin used to line the vagina is an epithelial skin and there is a possibility for that skin to produce abnormal cancerous cells. This is a very rare type of cancer, but is a possibility.

It also said that I should have my prostate checked per the routine established by The American Medical Association. Hmm...wonder how I'll set that up with my healthcare provider. I still have a few years before I need to start getting it checked, I believe.

Anyway, I scheduled my Pap smear for next month. To be honest though, I had no idea what a Pap smear test was. Based just on what I have heard in the past, it sounded like they took a small skin sample from some place in the vagina. It also did not sound like the most pleasant thing to have done.

I turned to my trusty internet to see exactly what it is:

Your doctor can do a Pap test during a pelvic exam. It is a simple and quick test. While you lie on an exam table, the doctor puts an instrument called a speculum into your vagina, opening it to see the cervix. She will then use a special stick or brush to take a few cells from inside and around the cervix. The cells are placed on a glass slide and sent to a lab for examination. While usually painless, a Pap test is uncomfortable for some women.

That darn speculum again. [sigh]

I'm hoping that is the worst part of it. I've had a metal one up there a few times now...and when the doctor is moving it all around with a bit of pressure on a fun thing to do. Since I don't have a huge amount of sensation inside my vagina, though, the removal of cells shouldn't be too bad...I hope.

Friday, October 13, 2006

A glimpse

My life lately has been filled with its little ups and downs. After I injured my ankle almost a month ago (described in 'Carried Away'), I haven't been exercising. I just returned to the field in a limited capacity two weeks ago...but I haven't been as effective as I would like. And, of course, I haven't been running...something that has been my stress relief for much of my life. It's just better in the long run to let things heal until I feel comfortable getting back to my workouts. In the past, I've had some injuries linger way too long because I didn't let my body heal properly.

Work has been busy. I've been working on designs, tweaking drawings as needed, and trying to put things together before we move into production. I'm also dealing with every other little problem that seems to raise its head. On top of that, (and I'm sure I mentioned it), we had a coworker in our group leave the company. Sure, I've had an intern lately, but he can only do so much. The thing I really miss, though, is a lunch partner.

Around the time I hurt my foot, I was also caught in a local sting operation. Yup, I was busted. I was driving back to work after picking up lunch, and was nailed for not yielding to a pedestrian in a crosswalk.

If one knows me, they know that my luck is quite unique. I am one of those that would be the lone survivor in a plane crash, but would be killed 6 weeks later when a rabid squirrel bights me on my finger.

I have yet to get a speeding ticket in California, and haven't had one in general in over 10 years...but, I have been ticketed for running a stop sign while riding a bike. Do you know how embarrassing it is to hear "Blue bike pull over!" from a police patrol car?

Anyway, I had just turned the corner (where there was a separate area for those turning to simply yield) and was driving about the speed limit. I saw a guy walking on the right start to move toward the road. In my mind, I thought, "Dude...don't jay-walk in front of me" because I could not see a crosswalk in the area. As I got closer, he steps out into the street, then steps back. Seeing this, I slowed, then changed to the left lane so I wouldn't be near him. I hesitated to stop all together when he stepped back. As I looked to my right while passing the pedestrian, I saw all of the cops parked just after the crosswalk.

In a fairly polite way, I told the cop that their sting operation sucked...especially since their 'set-up guy' had stepped back. While the officer was writing out my ticket, though, I saw all of the motorcycle cops chasing after other cars that had blown by the crosswalk area without even noticing the pedestrian.

I'm supposed to do something by the fee, pay the fee and go to traffic school, or contest the violation. I did some research and looked up the law on pedestrians and motor vehicles when it comes to crosswalks. It basically says that the pedestrian has the right of way...except as to not cause harm or pose a risk to themselves, and that the driver of a vehicle shall take all measures possible to prevent any harm to the pedestrian.

Also, the crosswalk the cops decided to use for their sting operation did not have any painted lines. It was simply defined by different colored bricks...something that was hard to clearly distinguish from the regular road. I couldn't find any laws on how crosswalks are supposed to be marked, though, so I don't know if an unpainted crosswalk is in violation or not. I have since found, though, that crosswalks outlined with the painted line are much easier to see.

I'd love to contest it since I believe the whole incidence is 50/50 in terms of responsibility (and that the city does not have all of their crosswalks clearly marked), but I'm afraid that the judge will clearly side with the police officer. What's it worth? Well, I'd have to go over to the courthouse with a letter contesting it...have them set up a trial...then state my case during the trial. The easy way out is to pay the $182 fine and be done with it...or go to traffic school to keep it off my driving record...thus keeping my insurance rate the same.

I'd love to hear some unbiased opinions in terms of if I would even have a shot at contesting the violation.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Tranny Spotting

I saw a new guy in our cafeteria the other day. I spotted him sitting at one of the tables talking with a bunch of guys. As soon as I saw him, my T-dar went off. He had longer hair, a fairly clean face, and was wearing a sweatshirt/hoodie.

Kara, fool, there are plenty of guys with longer hair, a clean face, and that like to wear hooded sweatshirts.

OK, yeah, there are. So, I went on with my business. It's not like I was going to walk up to him and say, "Hey...are you a tranny?" or "Hey, do you know who I am?"

A few days ago, I noticed him walking around in the area near my cubicle. Again, the same look, and the same subsequent dinging of my T-dar. (Remind me to turn that off sometime.)

Today, I overheard him talking with some other coworkers. From what I can tell, he's in software engineering.

ding ding ding!!!

As I stood at the fax machine semi-watching that my fax went thru, I also noticed a small transition of hair below his jawline to no hair above his jawline.

Kara, not all guys have hair on their face...and it grows in different places for different people.

True...but so many things are pointing to him being T. Most people wouldn't notice them, but for me, I know what to look for. OK, seriously, he probably isn't T...but he definitely shows some indicators that he could be. If he does come out, though, I'll be there lending a hand if needed.