Since I became ill, I've been living with my mother in Richmond, because it's closer to my doctors and because I really couldn't expect people to make an 80 mile round trip just to give me a ride to my appointments. Mom knows I'm trans, but at 90 years old, she just doesn't understand the depth of the condition, and thinks it's just some kind of occasional quirk that needs to be satisfied. She has never accepted that I have a female brain, and will always think of me as her son. Consequently, she has never met, let alone known the real me, and likely never will. She doesn't even know of the existence of this blog. So for the last month and a half I have been living completely in male mode. It doesn't bother me all that much, because my mind is concentrated on doing all that I can to survive the cancer that has invaded my body. I'm sure the anti-depressant medication I'm taking helps too.
The one thing that does bother me though, is the return of my body hair. It's been nearly two months since I last epliated, and and I'm becoming increasingly wooly. I thought of having my sister drive me out to my house to retrieve my epilator, but I know it would create a stir with my mother. For one thing, her bathroom is tiny, and when I say tiny, I mean I bumped my head on the door knob, while bending over to pull my pants back up after getting off the toilet! It also does not have an electrical outlet. Epilators are messy too, in that they propel yanked out hairs in every direction. Even if I did have a place to plug it in, I would have to take up the rugs, and thoroughly sweep or vacuum the floor each time I epilated, and I'm just not up for that kind of effort right now. Then too, I have my cancer medication to think about. Side effects of the medication, which ironically do not include loss of body hair, do include dry flakey skin, rashes, and even the possible occurrence of other forms of skin cancer. I'm not sure that epilation would be a very wise thing to do while undergoing treatment, given the possibility of ingrown hairs becoming infected.
So, as High Priestess of the Order of the Immaculate Epilation, you can imagine my shame. I have confessed to dear Sister Caroline, that I have become a disgrace to our order, and am now contemplating self flagellation as a penance for my sin. She is praying for my lost soul. I beg you to do the same.
Your hirsute sister,