Fake-edit: Aw, I kinda want a rear-view camera though? I've got the parallel parking ability of a woman in a 90's movie.
Cruise control would be nice too... But in general I love my 2004 Toyota. Reliable, stick-shift, and familiar.
Wasted yesterday and much of today trying make my face presentable for a drivers license photo (most of this time was spent freaking out in various ways and procrastinating, but much of it was solid attempts). Final result: None of my trans friends commented on it. Which confirmed what I thought.
But that's okay I went anyway. I knew the plate office near me wouldn't do licenses, but I stopped by anyway just in case. Sure enough, no camera booths. No *signage* explaining the difference between a plate office and a license office, but whatever, adults are meant to just know this stuff. Google maps was negative help in that regard.
Traffic's a nightmare
Get to the actual license office at 4:33, stop at the door. "Don't open! Wait by the traffic cone, someone will assist you!" it reads. Okay... I can barely see inside the gloomy building, but I wait for a couple minutes. A woman walks past me to open the door. "Oh uh- it says we have to wait out here?" I say. She looks at me like I'm crazy [or a freak]. "Yeah IDK either... uh..." thankfully someone finally arrives.
"Sorry, we stopped taking people at 4:30" woo. understandable, but that sucks. At least I can-
oh, she's launched directly into her queries.
lovely. That's fine, she's also renewing a license ("it expires
tomorrow! Can't you help me?") and has mostly the same questions. Though she needed an explanation and indignant follow-up question about RealID. But okay, that's fine. She finishes.
"Good luck!" I offer, smiling behind my mask (I'm the only person wearing one, including the employee, despite the signage). She just ignore me. Great. "Can I help you
sir?"
...hh...
*mumbled* "M'am actually. Uhm, mostly the same questions she had. But there's a typo..."
"What kind of typo?" Is he... suspicious? Does he really think I'm trying to-
"Ah just an extra O in my name"
"Ohh okay. You'll just need one form of ID"
"Great! I have my birth certificate. Ah, is just 1 okay? (they need 2 for an expired or lost ID)"
"Yep!" Okay I'll just hope he's right about that.
I thank him and go.
The traffic is awful, and I can't stop thinking about my face. Or whatever it is he saw, since my mask was on. My *neck* is smooth and concealered. My legs are epilated. My hair is down to my ass. Is it the shorts, I guess? The T-shirt from a nice hiking trip? My sports bra being too modest? Maybe it's my forehead. Yeah. Yeah, maybe I'll give myself some bangs, that'll show me- show
me?
Waves of self-disgust progressed like this for a while.
I stopped at a thrift store and pretended to look at board games for a while until I had space, then found a tank top in a nice dark purple. Simple, shows off my shoulders and athletic build. Things I like about me. Hard to mistake my gender too (at least by accident). Only $5. I'm not nervous at all as I check out- buying my first bra and my first concealer got that anxiety out of the way, this is nothing.
This is nice, actually. So's the cashier
I divert by the grocery store for carrots and dry beans. The traffic truly is incredible. I forgot my bag again but I only needed one disposable, barely. But the cart return is a mess- people have piled 3 carts just outside of it at cross angles. My OCD or
whatever is going off. It's hot. I hate myself. I shove one in. I shove the other 2 in, hard, loud. I feel a little better. I think I hear someone talking about me but I'm probably just paranoid... I get back to my car and a truck has parked next to me at such an angle that they take up a 2x2 of spaces. I put my bag down and snap another picture, darkly amused at this cursed day.
As I get in my car the driver of the truck walks up and waits for me to pull out. Fuck. He saw me, and he's staring at me with an unreadable expression. I pull out... then park again, and take off my mask.
"Hey..." I wave. He's on edge, understandably. "Sorry about that, I was taking a picture for my friend. I didn't want to... scare you?" I end awkwardly. But it works, maybe because he can see the awkwardness is killing me, and he laughs and nods.
So that's good. I'm glad I didn't leave that like it could have been.
I stop by a pokestop just before home, but I can't get my phone out of my pocket. My thumbnail keeps snagging. It's bad- must have happened when I shoved the carts. I never self-harm on purpose, but I keep doing it "by accident". plus the drinking, though these days... I finally fish it out. "Okay google-
please open pokemon GO". I sit there, parked, looking at the screen. It's waiting for more words. "Please" broke it. Language AI my
fantastic ass. I give the algorithm a couple choice epithets to consider, cancel, and launch manually.
Other than that it went fine... other than having to wait for an ambulance to pass. I've got carrots, I've got a little comfort ravioli, and I don't have to think about my face until tomorrow morning bright and early.
Maybe tonight I won't stay up until 5AM from vague discomfort (dysphoria).
Maybe someday my dad will stop being such a piece of shit about trans people, to my (hah) face.
Maybe I deserve everything that's happening to me gods dammit NO. No.
Comfort ravioli and a long-distance hug from my partner will help. And sleep. I'm exhausted.
(it's not impossible that my dad sees this, but that's okay. I'm his daughter, he just pretends otherwise... while going out of his way to misgender people who matter to me. Typical insecure trolling.)