Dysphoric Friday

I am feeling quite poopy right now, dear readers of the page. I’m not physically sick; no, mine is more of a mental fatigue. You know, when your brain moves so much, then slows down, and you catch a whiff of everything that is wrong about your existence. I am trying to embrace living authentically, but there’s so much challenge, you know? Both external and internal.

Today, it is the internal that is kicking my ass. I saw my face in the mirror, touched it, and immediately had to shave. How much do I hate facial hair? THHHHHHHIIIIIIISSSSSSSS fucking much! So I shave most of my face off, but still, beard shadow. Fuck. So out comes the concealer and foundation and blush and highlighter and mascara and eyeliner – and fuck my actual life – I still look like a guy in drag.

So, I put on a black long sleeve shirt, a black lace hi/lo blouse, a black lace skirt, some stockings with skulls on them, and fuck, I don’t think I look feminine at all. My upper half is all male-looking, boxy and cavernous. Whatever, hopefully a margarita and a couple more stops outside will get me out of my head…

Some pics for reference


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