The ironic downside to losing weight...

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In other words, after weeks of dieting and exercise, I've come to the unsettling realization that I was more passable when I was fat. (Less fat means my features are more angular and hence, less feminine). I essentially lost my best asset when I lost the weight, and earlier today, I suffered the consequences.

It was a good day. I'd been pretty good about trying to eat healthy and and at least cut down on the bad stuff, and the results are beginning to show. The weather was warmer than it's been over the past week, with the promise of it becoming warmer still tomorrow. All in all, nothing to complain about.

That's usually a danger sign. It's like an open invitation to God/Fate/the cosmos to give me their worst. And sure enough, that's exactly what happened.

I decided to get out out the apartment for a little while and get a few things from the store, and this afternoon seemed like the ideal time. Like I said, I felt good--until I approached the parking lot.

Some guy, about twenty or so, says something to his friend as they pass by me in their car:

"Look out the window!"

Then to me, "You're a f****ing dog!!"

Now, I've been on both sides of the gender fence, but I've never understood this. Why do men feel compelled--compelled--to announce their opinion of every woman's looks, good or bad?

Of course, this isn't exactly news to cisgender women, I imagine, but the observation is only now dawning on me. At any rate, I grumbled to myself and let it go. For a while.

On the way home, however, things got even worse. I come up behind this young couple, and the woman sees me and says, "Excuse me, sir..."

That did it.

Now, I could have taken either of those things individually, and have for many years. But the one-two punch of both of them, within a few minutes of each other, was just too much.

Despite my resolution not to let them get to me, I failed--they got to me. They really got to me.

I've been crying since I came home, and the first thing I did upon reaching home was stuff myself with potato chips. Ironically, I didn't even enjoy them--those people even took that away from me.

The whole incident was an unpleasant flashback to my first few years here in Wisconsin. I'd been taken off hormones because I smoked at the time and couldn't quit until about seven or eight years later. I'd started to remasculinize, and it seemed as though I couldn't go out the door without someone pointing and laughing from a distance, yelling some snide remark, or worst of all, misgendering me. (Even the more polite folks in the neighborhood did that). Now it seems as if those days are returning.

I know some of you are not obsessed with appearance and passability. But I am, and what happened today is a vivid illustration of why. I never again want to feel this bad.

(First paragraph reworded for clarity).

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