The Jones Crew are on holiday, as it’s the last week of the Easter break. A quiet cottage somewhere in North Yorkshire, as way of a change. Through bad planning on my part, I’m away the week Chams is on, but there will be other meetings. Or, at least, so I tell myself. I try to ignore the ticking of the proverbial clock. Distraction techniques may be required.
The weather is on the turn, being spring, and as opaques are banished, and shops rev up to sell us variants on previous trends, so to do sleeves shorten for men and women. To this end, I’ve stopped shaving my arms. I’m lucky in that, compared to some gents, and even some ladies, my seen hair is pretty thin and not too dark. But, however, it’s still there and it’s taking a while for me to get used to the idea.
Depending on where you sit in the gender scale, this may strike you as odd. One group may think it’s strange I stopped, while those in the birth gender group, may be wondering why I started.
I started about six, maybe seven years ago, on holiday. We were abroad, as the Ever Lovely Mrs J’s folks had chipped in to help with the family holiday. With the mediterranean heat and regular suntan lotion, it just became easier to keep my arms smooth. Not that anyone noticed. I remember looking down at my no longer pasty arm and thinking that this felt how things should be. I felt that what was outside, matched how I felt inside. Sure, sometimes I feel a little awkward and fearful even, that someone’s going to call me out on it. But, thankfully, that’s never happened. There’s been a few close calls and I think that’s tipped me towards doing what I am now.
So why the stop? Wee Man is growing up and as he asks about changes to his body, I’m thinking the inevitable questions will come about body hair, and comparisons to me, his old man. While I don’t like the look, I try not to worry about it and oddly, it’s less stressful maintaining zero arm stubble.
I know, I never said being trans made any sense! 🙂
I guess ideally, I’d either not care, or be in a place – or more accurately, a society and a relationship – where how I looked was less of an issue. But, we’re far away from the ideal world and compromises sometimes have to be made… even self imposed ones. Perhaps, and looking inward, it’s not about what society thinks, but it says more about my confidence, or rather lack of, to plough my own furrow, by going against the typical.
Still, on the flip side, it could be worse. There could be an expectation from society that I remain trim, smooth, made-up and ‘on trend’, or so it seems as a guy looking in to the female world. “Ain’t nobody got time for that.” 😉