Swimsuit issues
I've never felt unattractive. I mean, if you look at me as having come into the world in July 2003. I remember being an overweight kid, and an unexceptional-looking man (though one who did all right), but ever since I woke up like this, I've known what I saw in the mirror. Not the prettiest face, but I smile nice and fill a sweater out even better. Nice butt, my legs aren't bad, and my waist kind of comes and goes with the seasons. There's a few more pounds there right now than there were back in August, but it's good. I like what I see - I know that Martin Hartle would have done me, at least. And, OK, I know what faults he/I had, but I never feel undersirable.

It was a pain in the ass at first. I didn't want guys to want me. I got over that, obviously, and I feel confident because of it.

What this has to do with anything is that Maureen got snippy yesterday when I was unpacking my groceries and I pulled out the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. "Why are you buying that?", she says.

"Hey, summer will be here before you know it. Think this would look good on me?" And I opened it up to a random page. Which turned out to be body paint, causing Maureen to look away.

"God, Marti, you've been a woman for almost two years, and you know exactly what disgusting thoughts go through a man's mind! How can you encourage it?"

"Trust me, the thoughts aren't that disgusting. Besides, I haven't lost my appreciation for the female form just because I've got one."

"But... This is disgusting!"

"It's just boobs. You've got 'em, I've got 'em, and, besides, what lind of self-respecting lesbian doesn't like boobs?"

She gives me a snooty "the self-respecting kind" and walks away in a huff.

All of which is just more set-up for going to the gym with Jen after work today. I've never been much of a workout guy or girl, but I have put a little weight on over the winter, and I don't get to hang out with her much, anyway. Her paired-off relatively drama-free life doesn't quite mesh with mine as much as Kate's does.

So, I get off the bus, meet up with her, and it's still kind of a shock when we go in the locker room. These girls are just ridiculously healthy-looking. I actually feel inferior looking at them. And, man, I was ready to just sit down and die after about a half hour.

Where am I going with this? I don't know. Something about being confident in physicality even though I've definitely got room for improvement, or someting.

-Marti
- posted 10:15 PM - - (archive use only)