So...I was reading American Gods (so glad I renewed it, it's taking so much longer than it should have due to college eating my brain)...and I was laying down because it actually hurts for me to read sitting up for any length of time, even with my chair-pillow thing...and I happened to glance down, and my chest looked so flat. I've noticed that a lot when I lay down. The damn things just aren't so perky. And I was wearing a t-shirt that kind of falls open at the chest, so I could see the bit between my breasts, basically just my mole really...and it was just so flat and I couldn't stop touching it. While I was reading, I could pretend that I was right. That I don't need to spend thousands of dollars to make my body the way it should be. I was actually comfortable.
And then I got up.
Okay, making this a bit less angsty: seven months.
Seriously? I mean, how the hell did this happen? I've been thinking about it a bit lately....how way back in middle school and such, I had always seen myself being quite...not 'loose' as in sleeping with anything that moved, but I saw myself having much more casual relationships. Things that lasted for a little while then ended without much drama (yeah, I was horribly naive). And I was comfortable with that idea. I didn't want anyone holding me down. I think part of it is, back then, it was sort of assumed that if you were 'married' it had to be with someone who had different sex chromosomes from you, and...I knew I found men attractive, but I didn't find myself staying with them. And all of the women I had met before were either nuts (in the bad way), straight, taken, or all of the above. I saw myself being that sort of cliche artiste who had relationships that aren't really relationships. Because that way, I wouldn't get hurt.
Hot damn. I really don't know how I got so lucky. I keep expecting someone to pinch me and tell me that I went on a bad trip or something. Nothing in my life has ever gone so right for so long. Something has always happened to fuck it up. I can't help but keep expecting the other shoe to drop. I mean, really. I can't be so lucky as to have someone who doesn't say anything when I suddenly start switching pronouns, or hasn't had even one moment of 'umm, I don't know....' about my surgery plans or anything else. I always thought that if someone proposed to me, I'd freak out and say that things were fine the way they are, but in this reality, 'when we get married' has been said and it makes me smile. I used to be the type who mocked people who assumed that it would happen so many years before it's plausible. I really have no idea where that old me went. I used to be cynical and jaded and planned on being a single old cat boi. And now I can't stop thinking about sharing a house with cats and fish and someone I couldn't drop, even if she let me.
I'll take it. ♥