Oh well.

The change in appointment time was a system error. Turns out I didn’t get moved early, and I was getting my hopes up for nothing. My appointment remains on September 29th, which, considering the time zones, interestingly falls right on my mom’s birthday.

Still, I think I should use this time to shred a tad more weight before starting HRT. It is better to get rid of these belly rolls now so I don’t have to worry about redistributing existing fat later.

However, I don’t have a good relationship with fitness.

I hate physical activities so much. Ironically, I used to love going outside and playing when I was a chubby child. My family’s taste in food was particularly sweet and heavily seasoned. I had a large appetite too, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the fresh air. Soccer, jumping rope, hopscotch, and sometimes hide-and-seek: it was all so fun.

I remember the time when we would craft weapons out of sticks and rubber bands. My brother was the warrior; he always made a sword or a spear. He would hit other kids head-first and chase them around.

I, on the other hand, wanted to be a spellcaster. I made staffs, and sometimes I would sit with my brother scratching the concrete with a piece of brick, making fake letters for a made-up language. For us back then, physical activities weren’t just important; they fueled our energy and creativity.

When I reached adolescence, things began to change.

The urge to change my body was outweighed by the constant label of being overweight. Yes, I was overweight. But no, their words didn’t help by repeating the exact same thing I had already known for a long time.

By the way, I have never been bullied by peers. I was called slurs, yes, but it was more a reflection of children’s ignorance than actual hostility. The only real bullies I had were my relatives and occasionally my family, whether they intended to be or not.

I hated my face because it was so round. I hated my belly because it had stretch marks and ruined all the clothes I put on. I hated my legs and arms, especially when people said they looked like those of a pig. I hated everything about my body; the mirror only existed to cause me anguish.

I didn’t have the mental capacity or the physical urge to exercise at all. It was exhausting.

Currently, things seem a bit better. I think it is fun when I can just walk around campus and ramble to myself, sometimes talking about whatever I have on my mind or organizing my schedule. But as of now, my physical activity stops at that.

I hope I can be more active soon.

Anyway, here is a voice training progress update! I actually feel more inconsistent in my vocal range lately. How do you define a voice that is too cartoonish versus one that is not feminine enough? I can’t tell unless I record myself every time I say a sentence. I haven’t had the courage to use my new voice with anyone else yet. At one point, I was thinking about voice surgery in the future, but the complications seem too risky, so I will have to put more thought into it.

I heard I need to learn how to do everything femininely, such as stopping myself from clearing my throat, coughing, or sneezing in a masculine way. Being a woman is so tiring, let alone conforming to the standards given by society. But it makes me happy, so I will try to learn and adapt.

“Se potessi andare indietro ti darei una casa vera in cui dormire
Se anche fossi solo vetro ti coprirei per strada e mi farei colpire

Spalle larghe, la testa sopra ma, i sogni ancora più in alto
Parole tante, ma poi strappate da ciò che diceva un altro
Pochi anni ma tanti sbagli che manco facevi tu
Li nascondevi tra lacrime d’odio che riempiva i tuoi occhi blu

Coi pugni stretti e i pensieri fragili, guardati adesso
Crollavi sempre anche con basi stabili, ma ora detesto
Pensare a te come una di quelli lì, che ci hanno perso
Pezzi di cuore per darne agli altri
Pezzi di cuore come gli scarti
…
È facile distruggere i più fragili
Colpire e poi affondare chi è solo

Copri le lacrime, segreti da tenere, non farti scoprire
Lo sai che a casa non devon sapere cosa dovrai dire
Una figlia che perde chi la vuole avere, quindi apri ferite
Vorresti solo un altro corpo
Ma a quale costo?
…
Guarda me
Adesso sono un’altra
La rabbia non ti basta
Hai cose da dire
Se ti perdi segui me
Quel vuoto non ti calma
È il buio che ti mangia
E non ti fa

Credere nei propri sogni salva
Se vuoi ballare balla
Non puoi sparire
Se ti perdi segui me
Quel vuoto non ti calma
È il buio che ti mangia
E non ti fa dormire.”

(“If I could go back, I’d give you a true home to sleep in
If I were just glass, too, I’d cover you on the street and I’d let myself get hit

A broad back, my head upon it, my ever-rising dreams
Words, many words, that wind up torn by what someone else said
Few years, but so many mistakes that you didn’t even make
You hid them among hateful tears that filled your blue eyes

With closed fists and fragile thoughts, look at yourself now
You always crumbled even with stable bases, but now I hate
Thinking about you like one of those people there, that lost us
Pieces of our hearts to give them to others
Pieces of our hearts like waste
..
It’s easy to destroy those who are most fragile,
To hit and then drown those who are alone

You cover your tears and your secrets to keep, don’t let yourself be discovered
You know at home they don’t have to know what you gotta say
A daughter who loses who wants to have her, so you open wounds
You just want another body
But at what cost?
…
Look at me
I’m now another woman
Anger isn’t enough for you
You have things to say
If you get lost, follow me
That void doesn’t calm you
It’s darkness that eats you,
That doesn’t let you sleep

Believing in one’s own dreams is a savior
If you wanna dance, then dance
You can’t shoot
If you get lost, follow me
That void doesn’t calm you
It’s darkness that eats you,
That doesn’t let you sleep.”

– BigMama, La rabbia non ti basta. 2024