Psychosomatic Masculinity.

First Draft.

​There has been a shift. Something very important has changed. And I think it is for the better.
Ever since I came out at the weekend (it feels so very alien to think of it that way, but I suppose there is no other way to put it), I’ve found myself acting and reacting subtly differently on a subconscious level. I don’t mean that I’ve starting mincing around like a walking cliché, but inescapably, a certain pretense of masculity that I hadn’t even realised I was affecting, that was entirely a part of my personality at this point, seems to have evaporated. It isn’t my go to response anymore.

I don’t really like the idea that I have been acting falsely for years, but realistically, I must have been. Psychosomatically, anyway. It’s difficult to know how to describe it, but ever since admitting aloud, so to speak, that my feminine side far out-balances my masculine, and the internal pressure to redress the balance has alleviated, I find that I am talking differently, gesticulating and even walking differently. And again, I don’t mean I’ve started talking like a “valley girl”, or popping and snapping my hips; there’s just a small but noticeable lilt, or softening of tone.

Moreover, I can’t wait for the weather to warm up so I can get rid of this beard.

The first couple of days back at work have been encouraging. Everyone has been incredibly supportive (the beautiful lesbian couple sitting either side of me in particular), even the guys, whom I’ll admit I was more worried about them feeling awkward about the idea than I should have been. I don’t kid myself that this will hold true everywhere, but I’m not exactly about to start going in to work in a dress. I haven’t got the tits for it, for one thing, or the waist for another. And these boxy shoulders? Nope. Though I have found a reasonably androgynous white hoodie that I might get. If I’m feeling brave. Need to learn to Noel Fielding before I can Kaitlyn Jenner.

Still feels so bizarre to even be indulging this line of thought, having suppressed it for a quarter of a century. But it feels good bizarre. Happily confused, rather than frustratedly flummoxed. Paradigm shifts can sometimes be entirely for the best.