Hokay, so.
I’m on HRT and have been for a decade and change. This is real cool, except how basically every interaction with cisgenderedists gets me misgendered, and a hearty “sir” or a flurry of “he/hims” levied my way. I mean, fuck, I can be standing there in knee-high boots, a leather skirt, and a cropped hoodie and I get misgendered as fuuuck.
“So change shit up, motherfucker.”
I do a phone job and my voice is believably feminine in both English and Japanese, which is cool, but something about my real life existence just reeks of masculinity.
Can’t really do makeup cause the structures responsible for processing my face are damaged. I can tell what emotion I’m making, but I can’t perceive enough of my face to draw well on it. Also since I’ve had two strokes, even if I could, I’d prolly do eyeliner wings like a fuckin’ gridiron player.
I got beautiful wavy blonde hair that goes down past my butt, and though I don’t have the manual dexterity to style that really well with buns and braids and such, I can at least try shit other than the basic nape-of-neck ponytail.
Also I’m flat as your average golf course: maybe two discernible bumps, and that’s fuckin’ it. Also I’m ace as fuck so if they were any bigger I’d get real self-conscious about it.
At least I got a fashion sense that makes Square Enix jealous.
I’m gonna figure shit out that works for me, either that or I’m gonna keep on tolerating the injustices of the bastards who never thought to play with the character creator.
Also I guess they want me to add a photo so here you are.
Apologies for my shitty English. It’s fuckin’ terrible.
“Shit, mang.”
Yeah, shit’s bad. Can’t even walk into Sizzle Pie without their pizza size chart giving me a seizure cause I can’t fucking process it with my busted brain meats.
Eyeliner’s gonna be a biiiiitch.