Remembering During A Summer Rainstorm

Today we had a long, heavy thunderstorm that dumped a couple of inches of rain on us.  As I didn't have to go to work today, I spent the day at home, doing some things I'd been procrastinating.


It was also a very warm day and, as you probably figured, humid.  In the course of my doings, I got to thinking about the way I used to dread the kinds of weather we had today. I'm still not crazy about it, but when I went out en femme in the days before my transition, this weather used to wreak all sorts of havoc on me.  My makeup would run off; mascara would run into my eyes.  Clothes would cling and sag in places where I didn't want them to.  And then there was the general fear I had about being exposed or having to endure the heat.  If I wore light clothing, I had the feeling that everyone could see through them; if I wore too much, I would sweat all of my makeup off.  


Now I just worry that everyone can see my fat.  You can never lose enough weight, or lose it fast enough, or so it seems.  On the other hand, I recall that the first time anyone called me "Fat Bitch" was on a day as hot and steamy as this one.  At the time, it seemed like a victory.   I guess the years are showing:  No one has called me that in a while. But they do call me "ma'am." That is better, definitely.  Still, I don't become as ecstatic as I once did on those occasions when someone calls me "miss".  I mean, sometimes I'd like to be young and female, and be what I couldn't be, as pointless as that wish is.  


It's been said that summer is a time of memory and fantasy.  The funny thing is that, through much of my life, the latter were more remote, and even abstract, for me.  Now, sometimes, they seem more or less the same thing. That is why there is only the present, which just happens to include the heat and humidity and rain.  At least I don't have to worry about losing what I am, any more than I can change what I was.