I biffed it on the sidewalk today at the end of a walk with my dog. Ironically I was trying to step around a patch of ice and it was when I accidentally stepped on another patch of ice that I fell. While not fun, normally something like this wouldn’t bother me. However, since I’m pregnant I immediately began to flash back to the scene from ‘Gone with the Wind’ where the pregnant Scarlett falls down the stairs and has a miscarriage. I didn’t really think my own fall would have those consequences, but I did go through the next half of the day periodically poking at my belly to see if I could get some kind of reaction out of JC. Finally when he was in the mood, he kicked around a little in there, and I took that as a sign that everything is okay.
Also today, J had his first meeting to talk about his transgenderism with the VA psychiatrist. I helped him do his hair before he left in the morning: a french twist with some long bits that I curled hanging loose in front. I was pretty happy with the results. Back when I had long hair myself I never knew quite what to do with it. My hair when cropped into a bob above my chin is manageable, but when it gets much longer it starts to show its true personality: stick-straight, individually fine-textured, collectively thick and heavy, with a strong tendency to become static-filled. J’s hair is very similar to my own, but there’s a lot to be said for the convenience of doing hair that is not stuck on your own head. The job takes a lot less time and generally looks twice as good when it’s done. Since J has begun to cross-dress in earnest, I’ve more or less become his private hairdresser. It feels pretty good to suddenly be considered an expert.