Random raves

I've been doing some experimentation due to my special wombyn time at the moment. I bought a Mooncup (god, I hate the cutesy names) so I no longer need to stick wads of cotton or rayon in (not-so) strategic places.

( Getting to grips with it has been interesting (complete with giggy pix!) )

Since I'm having to wait to get a tattoo done, I was trying to think of something else dinky to do with my body. Now, while I have a couple of piercings in "interesting" places, I don't want any more. I don't want a belly-button one. My clit works quite adequately, thank you, so I don't want to muck with that. I'm not interested in other more cosmetic piercings in that general area... although I do actually like them on other people. I don't want any on my face - I would like to keep my job without any angst.

And then I thought of it yesterday. An eyelet/tunnel piercing! Eee! On my right ear I have a scar where an earring was pulled out, and for some reason I don't want to put another ring in that position (even though there's another one only a centimetre away). The eyelets seem to start at 8g-6g, and I think that should be manageable. If I can track down 10g, that would be even better.

However, I rung around a couple of the piercing shops here in Canberra, and the first thing out of their mouths was "We don't do dermal punches". And who was asking you to? The other suggestion was starting with a 14g and then gradually stretching up. No, I need more instant gratification. The method I'd seen was to pierce with a large gauge needle and then stretch up to the jewellery size, if needed, with a taper. Numpty nope, none of them will do that.

Looks like I'll have to head to Sydney... in fact, that will do me just fine (except in a dark colour).

(And I'm not just saying that because I'm being painfully visited by the goddess, only four days late, only one day before I'm joing on a fun jaunt overnight to Sydney with the CDL, oh no!)

HRT puts you at a much more elevated risk of getting cancer, especially breast cancer. I knew this 15 years ago, when my aunt (who'd been on HRT for nearly a decade due to a full hysterectomy) had to have both breasts removed due to malignant growths. When she went on the HRT, there was no mention of that risk. When she developed the breast cancer, there was some feet-shuffling and some muttering about "higher incidence due to artificial estrogen" from the doctors. Oh, and my grandmother, her mother, died of cancer, so it's not as if there were no other risk factors at all. Fuckers.

So, how many of you knew that fact? How much is it in the public consciousness that HRT will appreciably up your risk of cancer? From the amount of of prescribing in that area going on for menopausal women, I'd say it's not very much in the public consciousness at all.

What about the transwomen out there who have been or are on HRT? How much was it mentioned that your risk is greater too? And what about those high dosages (higher than for menopausal cis-women) that are often prescribed for transwomen for the first several years? What about the risks there? Even the usually-comprehensive T-Vox site is fairly quiet on the risks associated with artificial estrogens.

The reason I'm on about this is due to the release of a recent study that shows that users of HRT are at 63% higher risk of developing ovarian, uterine or breast cancers than women who have never had HRT. Apparently, regulatory bodies in the UK have said in the last 5 years that HRT should be used as little as possible and for as briefly as possible. I'd say that message hadn't trickled down either.

Perhaps the fact that The Lancet is publishing the study, and that there is obvious media interest, will get the word out. Finally.

My thoughts? Don't use HRT unless you have to. For me, it won't be until I'm 80, and suffering from brittle bones (if I ever do).

For MTFs, if your treatments weren't carried out in conjunction with anti-androgen measures (and thus incurred higher estrogen doses), you'd probably want to reduce as many of your other risk factors as possible. Check your breasts regularly (I suppose not having a uterus and ovaries is a help, in this instance). And I bloody hope that someone gets off their arses and specifically studies the kinds of risks MTFs are exposed to in this realm. Perhaps reaching puberty in a male body helps? Or hinders? Who the fuck knows, at this stage?

Perhaps a higher profile will lead to some research on the causes of the elevated risk. Is it something about the artificial form? Taking a hormonal substance that isn't produced by your own body? The dosage? The delivery of that dosage (which would be more homogeneous than the body's natural cycle, with its daily, not to mention monthly, ebbs and flows)? Let's hope some momentum starts happening in this area.

I've been wanting to get a tattoo on my back for some time, since it's a part of my body I quite like. Since my back is fairly long, I want something that doesn't detract from its shape; I don't want something blocky taking up all of it (I don't have the money or the pain tolerance for some super-duper Japanese work) or sitting in chunks. Perhaps something that consists of connected-yet-discrete objects all the way up. I was thinking of things like stars, but hm, it's a wee bit clichéd... and not a visual symbol I associate with myself.

This evening though, after some non-nerdy (heh) thinking about maths, I reminded myself of MC Escher. Ahhhh. Now, a lot of his cool work has a circular or diamond/square/triangular shape to it, but not all. This kind of thing is appealing - not so much the breadth of it, or the component shapes, but that whole notion of one shape coming out of another... and then gradually becoming fully-formed and separate. This too. Very tao-lite, I'm sure. But I definitely want colour, and for the overall trend to run diagonally over my back. Also, cute lizards (although that might be another kind of cliché, doh!).

Unfortunately, this may require more design and drawing skill than I possess. But at least I have something to ruminate on now.

... and no more spamitude today, I promise.

Firstly, while I think my sexual tastes are relatively unbizarre (no laughing in the cheap seats!), I just found the vid for B-Line by Lamb on YouTube (I like the track, although I actually prefer one of the remixed versions), and I find it oddly sexy. I mean really. And don't worry, it's not the weird figure she morphs into so much as the whole thing. I think I'm getting stranger in my old age.
( embedded Lamb vid )

Secondly, update on my knee. It's going really well, and while it got a bit tired the days I walked to work last week (it's only 15 minutes), it held up fine. I am finding I need more physical rest at the mo, but part of that is hormones too.
( Knee incisions )
The incisions are smaller than my little fingernail - about 7mm at the most. There are no stitches at all. At least not any visible ones. Getting to sleep can be a bit tricky, since I sleep mainly on my stomach, and put weight on my knees (depending which side I have my head on), but once I've drifted off it's all good. The ache is minor, and I've only been taking a couple of paracetamol in the afternoons when it's been feeling tired. For just one week after, I'm pretty happy. Yay!

I'm done, and I'm home. My knee surgery went brilliantly, with no problems whatsoever. I can walk around, although stairs are a bit challenging, since lifting my foot more than 10cm is a bit tricky. It hurts less than what it has for the last four years, and the slight ache is more than kept at bay by a combination of codeine and paracetamol. It feels more stable already.

The kind of injury was a "parrot beak" tear, which had also some degeneration, and there were cysts in the joint too (which caused most of the pain, I believe). Having the anesthetic was interesting - I didn't realise you conked out with no warning. No side-effects other than a bit of nausea on waking, which was knocked on the head with a shot of something. I was booked for 6:15am, was in surgery by 7, and was walking out the door before 10am. Just amazing.

( Piccies - one v. slightly ick )

So, although I was booked to stay in Sydney till today, there was no point hanging about, so the OGF and I took a leisurely drive home through the Blue Mountains and had tasty lunch.

The hotel in Sydney was fab. They swapped my room for one on the ground floor when I checked in and found the room I originally booked was up a steep flight of stairs. It's an old guesthouse, thus no lifts. They also did not charge me for the extra night when I checked out early, which they totally could have done (and which I expected, to be frank). They gave us plastic wrap so I could cover my knee and shower in the morning, no problem at all. So, if you want to stay somewhere somewhat old-fashioned, without many comforts, but clean, functional, air-conditioning in the rooms, fantastic staff, not fazed by queers, featuring a simple continental breakfast served in a nice courtyard for $5, and very reasonable rates, you can't go past the North Shore Hotel by St Leonard's Park. < /pimping>

The absolute only hassle I had was buying homeopathic remedies from Life Organic on King St in Newtown. When someone tells me that I have to provide a business card or "proof" that I'm a qualified practitioner when I want to buy a few (admittedly high-potency) remedies, because she is "personally liable" for any adverse effects, I get fairly fucking irate, actually. What bullshit. Homeopathics are not controlled substances, and since when has a homeopath been "liable" for a remedy's action? Never. And I wasn't asking her for a consultation, which is the only way I could see that she would be liable. My OGF reckons the fact that I didn't want a consultation was the problem (no consultation fee). If so, a bloody shop shouldn't say they sell remedies then, should they? If they stated they only did consultations, no problem, I wouldn't have bothered them. I got the remedies after 10 minutes of "discussion", but I won't be going back if I happen to be in Sydney. Idiots. It's not as if I (or anyone) can't buy as many remedies as I like in any other homeopathic pharmacy or online anyway. What were they trying to prove?

But anyway (rant over), I'm very very happy with how this has all gone. I also have a DVD that the surgeon did of the procedure, so once I get my OGF to drop it off (I left it in her car, duh), I'll post the interesting bits on YouTube or something. Yay!

You know, one of the worst things about being PMTish isn't so much I'm somewhat hypersensitive, I constantly crave greasy chips, I'm horny as hell (in a nasty way) and I blow up nearly a whole clothing size. No, it's that I dread taking my bra off before bedtime. Ow!

Don't talk to me about walking downstairs either... ow-ow-ow-ow-ow (and that's just to the landing). :-/

Off to the osteopath for the first time in months. She's a chickie I haven't been to before, but she certainly did the biz. If it weren't for the fact I need to do some work in the office (can you tell? at least I can let things run while I type, heh), I would have crawled home and gone straight to bed. Man, I'm poked. In a manner of speaking.

The interesting thing about it is that she told me that all my joints are hyperflexible. When I went to get my knee looked at a couple of years ago, the doctor informed me then that my kneejoints certainly were, and the fact I've sprained my ankles severely over half-a-dozen times tended to indicate the same for those. So the osteo reckoned that the reason I'm not flexible in terms of musculature (because I am so not) is that I hold myself with much more tension than the normal person so that I'm not wobbling around all over the place.

I've taken up tai chi over the last couple of weeks after saluqi's encouragement (and the fact I've only been meaning to do it for at least 15 years). I was finding it quite frustrating that my ankles seemed determined to sabotage me whenever any lateral movement took place. Finding out that it's a mechanical problem that has always existed rather than my lack of... whatever - moral fibre? - seems to have suddenly shifted my headspace in that area.

Yay! Also, I was wondering why I've been incredibly grumpy this week, and I now seem not to be. Methinks there was a link, in my wee lizard brain. Huh.

Also, ow. Hot bath tonight!

I have committed successful shopping!! For an item of clothing!!!eleventy1!!!!!

I have two business-ish jackets which currently sort of fit. I seem to have somehow lost the last one I bought in London, which would fit as well. The two I have are both vile and were bought out of desperation. My current shopping strategy is to buy whatever I find that looks good, no matter if I can't exactly afford it right then, at least until I get my work wardrobe up to scratch. I have bought two such items in the last year, one of which being one of the barely-adequate jackets.

Anyways, I was somehow feeling robust this evening and hit the mall. I tried on the three decentish looking jackets at Myer that I found, with no luck. Even if it is a size 16, if the bottom of it finishes a matter of barely two inches below my waist (really), and the buttons start on or under my bust, it is not a good look. For me. I don't know why they're all cut like that this year.

I went across the way to David Jones in the spirit of seeing the horror out to the bitter end, and fell across a nice-looking one. Eee! There was an 18 and a 14. The 18 could have had an entire tribe of Berbers encamped within its folds, so with great trepidation, I grabbed the 14. It went over my arms! The buttons started halfway between my collarbone and my nipple line! It fitted!!!! Thank christ. $400 on sale is not exactly the cheapest item in the world, but what the fuck.

It's a very deep charcoal with a subtle pinstripe, so I hope it will go with my black pants and my grey ones. I also want a grey jacket, but those appear to be like hen's teeth right now. There is no hope wishing for deep greyish-blues or extremely deep greens, because they don't exist. Apparently. I'm not adverse to some colour, but you couldn't tell that by the selection I have to choose from (bright colours, pastels and anything with yellow are not me).

After being bolstered by that, I went shopping for a much-needed new bra or two. You know what? I might be in massive denial here, but I am not going to wear an 18E. What the hell is it when the one size 14 jacket fit perfectly, the size 16 jackets had me bulging in horrible places and the 18E bra only just fit? Maybe some of the lacy numbers would have worked better, but there is a limit to the kind of girlie harness I can endure.

I gave up on that, and went much-needed shoe shopping. I've had my one pair of work shoes for 8 years now, almost to the month. Ecco had the nearest to what I wanted: black, leather, fully-enclosed, lace-up or buckle (slipons generally don't give enough room to my high arches), un-narrow toe, and no heel to speak of. The problem with the Ecco was that the sole of the shoe would be better off on a ballet slipper. Fine if you drive everywhere, but not if you walk to work every day. Also, $200. The bloke shoes, with about twice the amount of leather, were the same price and actually had a functional sole. If they came in a size 5 1/2 (or whatever it is in Oz, 7ish?) I would have bought them.

Still, I achieved something today.

Well, it's healed up, but I don't have a decent digital camera, so you have to endure fairly awful phone camera pics

( tattoo )

Unfortunately, quite a bit of the detail is hard to make out, and things look more wobbly than they actually are, since I had to get myself into slightly interesting positions to get it all. Oh, it's on my lower left calf, all the way round, if you can't quite figure out where we're at!