I’ve been poked..

..and I’m not talking about Facebook.  But more on that later.

Last weekend I had a couple of nights out where I found myself pretty much surrounded by strangers.  On Friday night I went to a local club where I had gone before with an old friend from the Democrats, expecting to meet her again.  Only when I got there, another of her friends told me that she wouldn’t be able to get to the club that night because of carer’s duties.  So I found myself with friends of a friend.  And I had quite a good time.

On Saturday night, another friend from my Dem days was in town and had invited a number of her friends to celebrate a significant birthday with her.  Again, I found myself surrounded by strangers as the other people attending were connected with her work or family.  And once more I had a really good time.

On Sunday I visited BFF and we caught up on all the gossip, cooked some dinner and watched a bit of telly.

And now for the poke.

Every 12 weeks I need to see a doctor in order to get a new prescription for my little blue pills.  I’ve been going to the same medical practice for close to 20 years now and it has changed quite a lot.  My original doctor there was murdered back in 1996.  Then a wonderful doctor there saw me through my transition to GRS and beyond before she went on a sabbatical.  Since then, I just ask for an appointment with whichever doctor is available.

So on Wednesday morning I went to see a doctor.  It’s bad enough when I have to pay over a large chunk of my hard-earned cash to spend a few minutes with a doctor who just pushes a few keys on her computer, prints out a prescription and then signs it.  But when she leans over and pokes my jelly belly and gives me a lecture on losing weight, it’s a bit much.  And then she made me stand on the dreaded scales! UGH

On Wednesday night I went to a talk at the University where the recent “Slutwalk” event was discussed and its role with respect to the annual “Reclaim the Night” rallies was questioned.  A really interesting discussion was had.  Many, myself included, found the use of the term “slut” to be problematic but the consensus was that both events are a response to men telling women how to behave to avoid  being raped.  There is room for both events (and more) with perhaps men telling men to stop raping.

I was invited to sit in on the first part of  the ACT Law Reform Advisory Council’s meeting last Thursday to consider its response to the ACT Government’s request for advice on implementing trans law reform.  I can’t comment on what happened at the meeting but I can  say that I’m optimistic that the views of Canberra’s trans community will be passed on to the government.  And I have to say that I am impressed with the number of powerful, non-trans people in this city who support our rights.

On Friday I got a text message from one of my daughters saying that she was meeting her sister for a chocolate fix at the Mall and inviting me to attend.  So at lunchtime I found myself with 2 of my daughters and 4 of my grandkids having a chocolate overdose.  While there, my youngest daughter said that she and her other sister had been discussing ways in which they could help the trans community and thought perhaps they could help by talking to people who are having trouble coming to terms with having a trans parent.  Have I said how proud I am of my daughters lately.  They are the best!


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