![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
egypturnashWell. There's a new flavor of bad dream. Being pursued by guys because I pass, and am, in fact, somewhat sexy. We're talking random guys off the street who would previously be likely to want to interact with me via queerbashing. And still would if it was discovered what's in my pants, no doubt.
Luckily, it being a dream, I had a minor superpower; I could jump to about three or four times my height without too much effort. Videogame character levels of jump. Unfortunately I didn't seem to have any other powers. So I didn't get caught... but I did get grabbed at by total strangers... ugh.
This may not be a wholly uncommon dream for someone raised a woman, but for someone who spent most of their life a boy, it's definitely a new fear.
(Being grabbed at by friends is a different proposition.)
And now to dye my hair.
ten, twenty minutes later. A head full of goo. Special Effects "Atomic Pink", as usual, with, on a whim, a little Raw "Fuschia Fatale" on part of the ends and slightly mixed into the bangs, in a what-the-hell moment. I really need to bleach my hair soon, but this is okay for now. Funny; pink hair has become a part of my identity now. I wonder if it's a cue that helps me pass - how many boys are going to have pink hair? It's just not manly. But even aside from that. As I build a new, broader self atop of what I think is worth keeping of the involuted, self-hating boy I used to be, colored hair was one of the first steps I took into saying that biology is not who I am, that I will make my body into whatever I damn well please.
Luckily, it being a dream, I had a minor superpower; I could jump to about three or four times my height without too much effort. Videogame character levels of jump. Unfortunately I didn't seem to have any other powers. So I didn't get caught... but I did get grabbed at by total strangers... ugh.
This may not be a wholly uncommon dream for someone raised a woman, but for someone who spent most of their life a boy, it's definitely a new fear.
(Being grabbed at by friends is a different proposition.)
And now to dye my hair.
ten, twenty minutes later. A head full of goo. Special Effects "Atomic Pink", as usual, with, on a whim, a little Raw "Fuschia Fatale" on part of the ends and slightly mixed into the bangs, in a what-the-hell moment. I really need to bleach my hair soon, but this is okay for now. Funny; pink hair has become a part of my identity now. I wonder if it's a cue that helps me pass - how many boys are going to have pink hair? It's just not manly. But even aside from that. As I build a new, broader self atop of what I think is worth keeping of the involuted, self-hating boy I used to be, colored hair was one of the first steps I took into saying that biology is not who I am, that I will make my body into whatever I damn well please.