Back in my day....

.... when I was a uni student studying engineering in 1992, my best friend from high school showed me his new HP48 scientific graphing calculator. These were the flagship models of the HP calculator line and they were ridiculously expensive. I can't remember the exact figures, but I think they were almost a thousand dollars expensive... However, he reasoned, they were the types of tools that engineers used and it made sense to learn how to use them  as a student. It made sense to me at the time and I mentioned it to my parents who bought me one for christmas and my birthday one year. Woohoo!


As it turns out, the university I went to was very theoretical and we learnt all things from first principles and so I didn't really need most of the functions of the calculator. I also discovered that I really sucked at a lot of the first principles of electronics engineering (although I did really well at the digital stuff and I liked the applied side) and I ended up focusing on software engineering which became my career for many years after I left uni. My friend also ended up in the IT industry and quickly found his way into (shock, horror)... management...  I don't know what ever happened to his calculator and I doubt he got value from it. I almost got into trouble in one exam because it was too advanced and they were almost going to confiscate it from me. It was a cryptography exam and some heavy duty number crunching was required and I fortunately managed to show them how to do a hard reset on the calculator to prove that I hadn't stored anything in there in an attempt to cheat.


Twenty years later and I'm doing statistics in psychology. I enjoyed statistics when I did it in engineering, mainly because I understood it and found it easy, especially compared to things like electromagnetic theory and quantum physics... I've just moved house and all my things are in boxes and I have no idea where my calculator is. My iPhone has a rather nice and satisfactory scientific calculator but it isn't allowed in exams. I thought I'd go have a look and see how much calculators go for nowadays, totally expecting them to be only available as oddities in specialist stores; much like a slide rule might be. I discover that something that cost me $70 in high school would now be worth about $15. Actually, my high school calculator wouldn't have been too bad if all the print on the buttons hadn't been worn off due to so much use.. Yes, I used it that much... I'm a nerd... 


Suddenly, I see advertised an HP48gII which was one of the successors to my calculator from uni. It was selling for a princely sum of $200 which is more than any other calculator on that site but lot less than what mine cost. I don't know what I expected really and this whole trip down memory lane suddenly made me feel so old.


I mean, back in my day, I used to go to the milk bar and buy chocolate drops for one cent each and I used to love the dixie cup ice creams for twenty cents!!!

Finding a place to fit in

Part of what makes us human is our tendency to interpret things and to search for answers and a reason. This inquisitiveness is a good thing but it also highlights our fallibility as we often tend to focus on over simplistic explanations for complex behaviours and problems. Indeed, Occam's Razor is often misquoted as saying something like "the simplest explanation is often the best". 

"I am thrifty with money because I was raised in a poor family."

"I enjoy spending money because now I have it where as I was raised and brought up in a poor family."

Our tendencies to focus on simple explanations and reasons often cause us to fixate on factors that jump out at us. Whilst these factors may actually be contributory, they probably aren't the single or even the single most significant cause for our behaviours. This can be seen when the same situations are used to explain different behaviours in different people. There must, therefore be other factors at play but it's a line of faulty reasoning that we fall into again and again. Perhaps we do this because it is simple and our minds really aren't that good at processing a lot of complex information without distilling it down.

Whatever the reason, it's possibly something to be aware of when transitioning. Growing up, I've always felt that I didn't fit in. It always seemed that I viewed things differently and that caused problems when dealing with others. I didn't understand nuances in schoolboy rough housing that made others upset at me and I still don't understand why their actions in certain games were considered okay whilst I was called a cheat if I did the same or less. This resulted in me, starting from very early on in primary school, spending most of recess and lunch times by myself counting the days till the next school holiday. 

In high school, my way of thinking resulted in teachers not liking my essays and creative writing and usually missing the subtle points I was making. English was one of my least favourite subjects during high school and I gravitated toward mathematics, physics and chemistry where problems could be solved with flair but (at high school level) there was only a single final answer. 

At high school and university, as interpersonal relationships became more important and more complex, my strange views caused further friction with those that I was close to. Girlfriends couldn't understand how I could be friends with ex-girlfriends (assuming ex's wanted to be friends with me). How I could be friends with a girl who cheated on me?And nobody could understand how I could remain best friends with my friend she cheated on me with! Then there were the (to me) arbitrary boundaries that defined whether two people were friends, interested in each other or "really good friends"... I still don't understand these nuances and I still don't understand why people just can't show affection and love without it being interpreted as something more. My views and beliefs often resulted in me feeling left out because they would translate into poorly received actions or I would have to pay close attention to my actions and behave in a way that, well, wasn't really me.

I often pondered what it was about me. Many things crossed my mind such as my ethnicity, my geekiness, my physical make up or my confusion over my gender. That last one can be a problem for those transitioning as it is all too easy to believe that your problems will be fixed once transition is "over". Each milestone in transition carries a kind of holy grail with it which only leads to disappointment when we realise that we the same person we were before but we just look different or have the genitals we always wanted. Many things change but many things do not. 

I am glad that I transitioned but, it may surprise many to learn, I still feel like I don't belong. Core beliefs and values tend not to change when transitioning and my beliefs and values still tend to be way out field compared to many. That's not to say that I stick out like a sore thumb or mope in a corner in social situations; I've learnt to navigate those waters well enough. Rather, I feel more like a golf ball that nestles into a social circle only to realise that this hole isn't the cup in the green but a divot in a sand trap and that I'm about to be whacked out.

Sometimes I just want to find a place where I feel that I truly belong but then sometimes I feel like Groucho Marx when he said, "I don't care to belong to a club that accepts people like me as members."

Filly's Frolic #24

Six and half months after my operation, I decided that my breasts should probably have settled down by now and it was time to get fitted for a bra properly. I say properly because the last fitting I had was done purely by sight, feedback from me and trial and error. Requiring my feedback on whether or not it felt right seemed like a rather flawed method because I don't really think that I'm a good judge of well fitting bras. The first time I ever had a bra fitted, I'm pretty sure I ended up with a bra that was waaaay too big for me. I walked out of the store with a 14C and that was only 3 months after starting hormones. I have no idea what that lady was thinking. 

Once I had walked into Myers to ask for a bra fitting but they were too busy and told me to come back another day. There was one girl working the register with half a dozen people waiting, another lady doing some kind of stock take and sorting and and another lady wondering around between departments. So, they lost my sale... 

Today, I wandered into Bras n Things and I was immediately greeted and asked if I needed assistance. I asked if I could be measured up and was courteously directed to the fitting rooms where a nice lady measured me with a tape. A tape! Yay! Although she said that this would only be a starting point, at least she was starting from some sort of objective basis. 

"Your band size is a fourteen", she started off saying. "Now we'll measure your cup size." Yup, based on my own measurements and trial and error, I had come to the conclusion that I was a fourteen or sixteen. I was glad to hear I was right. She wrapped the tape around my breasts and she asked me to slowly spin around as she did so.

"You're cup size is a double D or an E". 

WHAT?!?!?!!

I almost fell over in shock. 

I hope it didn't show and I tried to gather myself and said, "Oh!" I was currently wearing a 16C which is also the equivalent to a 14D. That's a 38C or 36D for all you US sized people... Crap! When I had had my breast implants, I really only wanted to be about a 14C and had always felt I had come back with breasts a little too large. Now I was finding out that they were two to three cup sizes too large! Damn!

I followed her out and we picked out a couple of different styled bras to try on. This was the bugbear of women's clothing. Why, oh why, can't manufacturers make clothes of a certain size all the same size?? I remember going to buy clothes as a guy. I was a 34 pants and a 42 shirt. It didn't matter where I went or which brand I bought, it was a 34 pants and a 42 shirt. Yet, with girls clothing, my pants could be anywhere from 10 to 14 and my tops and dresses could be anywhere from 12 to 16!! And bras, something as basic as band size, could be either a 14 or 16. 

After some fluffing about trying on different sizes, it was determined that depending on the bra, I was either a 14E or a 16DD. The lady was very knowledgeable in fitting as she was able to explain exactly why a bra was the right size or not and was able to show me what to look for and how to adjust everything properly. Everything made sense and there wasn't any sort of subjective "Does that feel right to you?" type question. I ended up buying half a dozen new bras and spending way more money that I had anticipated but at least I now had something that I was confident was fitted correctly. 

 Unfortunately, it has brought back the thoughts of going back for breast revision surgery. However, it's not really urgent and it will have to fit in with my study schedule now which probably means that I won't make any decisions for at least size months and if I do go, it won't be for probably a year. But, we'll see....

Bad Dreams: Waiter worries...

Agitated, I roused from my dream. It was only a dream, I kept telling myself, but that didn't help and sleep evaded me for the rest of night as I tossed and turned in my bed. 

"I'm going to have to move you to another table", said the waiter as we were halfway through our meals. 

"Oh? Why?", I asked with an eyebrow raised. I'm usually quite flexible and understanding with these sorts of things as long as there is a valid reason for the inconvenience.

"We've been asking the other customers how they feel about what has happened and some of them aren't happy", replied the waiter. About what has happened? It didn't seem to me like it was a really big deal. My friend, who was she in my dream? My girlfriend? Just a friend? My wife? My ex-wife? She was a blur but the relationship troubled me now that I was awake. My friend and I had wandered into this restaurant in search of dinner. I didn't know what the restaurant was called or where it was, but I knew it was rather posh and reservations were usually required to get a table. Of course, we didn't have one. It took some time for anyone to discover that though since the restaurant had a rather strange layout.

We had wandered in through the front entrance and we were greeted with roomful of occupied tables with not a waiter in sight. There was no lectern at the entrance, no sign and no maître d' to ask us if we had a booking and to show us to a table. We wondered past a few tables looking for someone to help us, scratching our heads and wondering where all the staff were. As we walked further inside seeking assistance, I could feel some of the customers looking at us wondering who these boorish people were.

Finally, we caught the attention of a waiter in the next room who was a little flustered when he found out we didn't have a reservation. He left us for a moment and then came back to tell us that he had found a table for us and led us into the next room. We followed him past the double doors and were startled by the impressive sight. Whilst the previous room was upper class, but plain, this was a ball room for aristocracy. Statues, paintings and antiques adorned the velvet curtained walls and marble pillars. Silverware glittered on the tables that were paired with gilded chairs. We were shown to our table and sat, marvelling at the sight.

Everything was proceeding delightfully until the waiter came to make this strange request.

"Where are you moving us to?", I asked.

"We may move you by that window", replied the waiter aloofly. "There is some glare coming through that window and we shall be using you to stop it."

My jaw dropped at the rudeness and I stared back dumbfounded for a minute or two as a smug smile crossed the waiter's lips. Were the other customers upset that we were sitting at this gorgeous table without a booking? Perhaps they were annoyed that people of our stature in society had been afforded such undeserving luxury.

"What exactly is the problem?", I managed to ask after a few moments.

"Some of our customers are upset that when these two ladies walked in, one of them was actually a man", replied the waiter bluntly.

I might have been dumbfounded before, but this time I was totally taken aback with shock.

"Excuse me?", I asked trembling.

"You heard me. The she is a he. You're a dude!" A sneer crossed the waiter's lips as he hissed that last word. I was shocked, hurt, embarrassed and angry. I didn't know how to respond, how to handle the situation. 

"What do you want from me?", I asked standing up and approaching the waiter. "Do you want me to drop my pants to prove to you that I'm not?"

"I'd like to see that", he replied with a sleazy smile mixed with contempt. I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him towards me.

"Come on then."

"You want to come and have a look too?" he laughed as he asked a fellow waiter.

"You know what?", I asked, turning around, after we were halfway to the toilets. "Screw this. I think I'm just going to sue you." 

A hushed silence fell over the room. Everyone had seen what had happened and I was sure I'd have a case. Judging by the reaction of the room, I wasn't the only one who thought that. 

I woke up agitated. Why had I dreamt that?? An uneasiness settled over me that prevented me from going back to sleep. I'd only had a few hours sleep. Today was going to be a long, rough day.