(no subject)
Dec. 24th, 2004 06:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cabbitzillaBack from my sisters place. Things went smoother than they have in past years, and featured an answer to something I'd been wondering about. A couple weeks back, at my niece's birthday party, my mom and I had a long talk about me, my intentions, and just what it meant to me and the folk around me. I left that conversation completely flabbergasted; her tone had shifted from the staunch refusal to recognize the facts surrounding the long-term gender issue to one of tentative support. A good bit of it was spent on matters of fashion, complete with pointers from her on some of the better places to shop for larger-sized girls. Considering my full sister is only an inch shorter than I am and two inches narrower, this is something she's been dealing with for gifts for a long while.
I've spent the time in between wondering if it was real, or simply another feint in the 30 year battle of wits she and I have been locked in. I got my answer this afternoon as I was opening the two gifts from her. The first was a beautiful porcelain doll in Victorian dress, and the second was a scarf and gloves set, the scarf identical in design to the set that my sister had shown me not ten minutes earlier. The gloves were different, but color coordinated... but I blinked in surprise at what mom leaned over and said.
It was an apology for the fact that the gloves had had to come from the mens wear department, and a worried question as to whether they were acceptable. Followed by another apology. And another. She relaxed when I smiled and chuckled. Gloves are one of the few things in my wardrobe that have to be custom made -or- come from a men's department; my hips are not the only place where the arthritis has settled, and it's broadened my right hand to the point where even the XL in the women's gloves are too small. She relaxed a bit more, and we lapsed back into the fashion and design conversation from the prior talk.
She's been busy. Fashion was where it started; from there it branched into ideas on how to correct sleeve lengths, achieving the 'perfect heart-shaped bottom' (which had me giggling for a few moments), and which cosmetics to avoid because of allergy issues she's had. When I stepped outside for a smoke, she grabbed her coat and followed... and the conversation leaped full tilt into the nuts and bolts of the various surgical options. I hadn't ever broached the topic with her; until recently my priority was simply trying to make her understand that this was NOT about -her-. And then she fished out a small sheaf of papers from her coat pocket... pros and cons of the options, surgeon reccomendations, and some of the nightmarish stack of legal BS to be dealt with. One cigarette became four as we went over what she had, with me fielding questions on some of the specific details that her research had missed. Further conversation was shut down by being called to dinner; Leah's made it quite clear that she wants the kids kept out of it until she can figure out how to explain the Uncle Don/Aunt Ellie transition. I keep wondering when she'll figure out that my niece already puzzled things out and asked me direct, blunt questions. She nodded at the answers, shrugged, and responded 'You're still you, and I love you no matter what...'.
As Christmas presents go... well... wow. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around my mother having the courage to ask what exactly the PIT surgery entailed... and not flinching at the answer. The 'I' stands for 'Inversion'. Do the rest of the math yourself.
When Megan showed up (just in time for dinner, and left just after. typical.), she brought with her a box that'd arrived for me. Masque, darling, it arrived safe. Thank you. Bless you for another Ringo fix. :p I've not sifted through the cd's yet, but what I saw of the titles put a smile on my face even standing out in the wind. :) Thank you. *smooch*
I'm going to take a nap now. My brain's still stuck in the mud; hopefully a bit of sleep will fix that. :)
I've spent the time in between wondering if it was real, or simply another feint in the 30 year battle of wits she and I have been locked in. I got my answer this afternoon as I was opening the two gifts from her. The first was a beautiful porcelain doll in Victorian dress, and the second was a scarf and gloves set, the scarf identical in design to the set that my sister had shown me not ten minutes earlier. The gloves were different, but color coordinated... but I blinked in surprise at what mom leaned over and said.
It was an apology for the fact that the gloves had had to come from the mens wear department, and a worried question as to whether they were acceptable. Followed by another apology. And another. She relaxed when I smiled and chuckled. Gloves are one of the few things in my wardrobe that have to be custom made -or- come from a men's department; my hips are not the only place where the arthritis has settled, and it's broadened my right hand to the point where even the XL in the women's gloves are too small. She relaxed a bit more, and we lapsed back into the fashion and design conversation from the prior talk.
She's been busy. Fashion was where it started; from there it branched into ideas on how to correct sleeve lengths, achieving the 'perfect heart-shaped bottom' (which had me giggling for a few moments), and which cosmetics to avoid because of allergy issues she's had. When I stepped outside for a smoke, she grabbed her coat and followed... and the conversation leaped full tilt into the nuts and bolts of the various surgical options. I hadn't ever broached the topic with her; until recently my priority was simply trying to make her understand that this was NOT about -her-. And then she fished out a small sheaf of papers from her coat pocket... pros and cons of the options, surgeon reccomendations, and some of the nightmarish stack of legal BS to be dealt with. One cigarette became four as we went over what she had, with me fielding questions on some of the specific details that her research had missed. Further conversation was shut down by being called to dinner; Leah's made it quite clear that she wants the kids kept out of it until she can figure out how to explain the Uncle Don/Aunt Ellie transition. I keep wondering when she'll figure out that my niece already puzzled things out and asked me direct, blunt questions. She nodded at the answers, shrugged, and responded 'You're still you, and I love you no matter what...'.
As Christmas presents go... well... wow. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around my mother having the courage to ask what exactly the PIT surgery entailed... and not flinching at the answer. The 'I' stands for 'Inversion'. Do the rest of the math yourself.
When Megan showed up (just in time for dinner, and left just after. typical.), she brought with her a box that'd arrived for me. Masque, darling, it arrived safe. Thank you. Bless you for another Ringo fix. :p I've not sifted through the cd's yet, but what I saw of the titles put a smile on my face even standing out in the wind. :) Thank you. *smooch*
I'm going to take a nap now. My brain's still stuck in the mud; hopefully a bit of sleep will fix that. :)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-26 02:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-26 04:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-26 05:47 am (UTC)Heh... Bill at one time almost had the poor waitress at a restaurant here because she couldn't keep up with him... what was worse, was getting him and my soon-to-be ex's son together in the same place... I wanted to scream and kill them both...