I can’t help but find it exquisite.

Maybe it’s a coping mechanism to deal with it all.

Lest I slough off into madness.

Overall I feel I’ve managed the pain aspects well. So far. But, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.

Now, I’ve completed my 13th laser treatment for my face and the 4th for my chest I thought I’d come back to this blog series and discuss my experience with the holy flame that is laser hair removal.

Lets start with the basics - I’m super pleased with my results and the effect on my dysphoria has been incredible. Looking back on pictures of me from a year ago has been mind-bending, but in the best way. Having these resources has transformed my life and I acknowledge my privilege in being able to access what is cost prohibitive for many.

Every exquisite sweet zap reminds me.

The pain was still uniquely intense on the remainder of dark hair on my face. Portions of that still stung like crazy til the end. Upper and lower lip and just under the nose being the worst parts of the session.

What about the chest? I’m sure it was really painful... Well, not really. It was barely a sting, even around the areola was a breeze compared to the face. And I overcame my shyness about getting topless in front of someone awhile ago, so taking off my shirt wasn’t a big deal. I can see how that might be truly awkward for some folks tho. Plus my tech is super professional, sweet, and efficient.

In that, I guess there’s not much to report from the actual procedure. As my facial hair has grown sparser and that shadow has been lifted from my face - the beard shadow, not the eternal aura of darkness I radiate, I’ll always keep that. I feel more confident. Even if I haven’t shaved yet in the morning (yes I still have white hairs I need to shave) I’m able to get things done in the world.

The biggest difference has been in how I’ve been doing makeup. Since I’m not having to cover as much with concealer or color correct for my beard it’s easier to go out with less makeup. And for my lifestyle and location on the planet that is a bonus.

Perhaps when I’ve moved to a colder climate I’ll do more stunning makeup looks.

Ya know - when I’m not melting from the heat.

Overall my laser experience has a been a positive one. I’m more confident, more comfortable, and happier day to day. But, the journey isn’t over. With many dark hair handled, the next stage begins with a different procedure.

Electrolysis.

Slower, more intense, and with a whole new level of dysphoria attached to it...

More on that in Annals of Absynth - Lightning Bolt.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is me navigating the lasers with ease. Heh, heh ease. Right...

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

Or free.

Or pretty.

Or vibrant.

Than I feel right now. And, I can’t even fathom not being here. But, being here was anything but a given.

On the day I launched Adventures of Absynth I made a solemn commitment to myself. To walk each step forward from there as authentically me as I’m capable of. That task involved many different journeys.

To look the way I felt, I had a big project ahead of myself. Laser, hair growth, exercise, nutrition, appointments, therapy.

It’s A LOT. Like a lot, a lot.

And life events didn’t make that any easier. We all deal with adverse conditions differently, but no matter who you are or your reaction to it, it can’t help but shape you. In an upcoming Substack, Annals of Absynth - Flood, I talk about one event in detail.

It’s taken til now to process.

But despite the trial that was The Flood, I persevered.

I spoke with a therapist for months before I was able to secure a letter to even start HRT. During that time I presented femme but looked male in many ways.

I had 5 o’clock shadow,

my mannerisms were maleish,

my hair was short.

It was an awkward time.

What do I mean my mannerisms. Here’s an example of one I had to unlearn:

When two men approach each other from opposite directions on a sidewalk, they notice each other and make eye contact. There is a nod that occurs. A nod? Yes, a nod. But that’s not all.

This nod can come in two forms. Upward and downward.

An upward nod is more familiar, friendly, perhaps even welcoming. It is reserved for those known to the nodder or clearly within their tribal group. (same age, race, sports team affiliation, nerd cred, etc.)

The downward nod is more formal, guarded. It says, “I acknowledge you, but we have no familiarity”. As long as there are no attacks from either side, each goes about his day. Because this is the most common point for things to go badly, always keep an eye on someone passing in the periphery.

This is mostly an unconscious silent communication. And though it is sometimes used by women, if you are trying to distance yourself from male it’s not the way to go. The best solution is smile but make little to no eye contact. Brief glance at best. Unless you’re trying to start a conversation. It’s friendly but not overly so.

And it’s not a fucking nod.

What about greeting women? I smile and say “Hi or Hello,” and it’s far more normal. If she’s wearing something cool, I might compliment with a quick: “Love those boots,” or “killer fit,” as suits the situation.

There are numerous ways in which my world has shifted. This kind of social change is only one. I’m always learning, working on myself, and figuring out how to be most comfortable in my skin, even as it changes.

A lot of focus in the trans community online is visible appearance and I agree that’s an important factor in feeling better as myself. It’s not the whole picture. My hair, my body, my boobs all contribute to the visible appearance part of transition.

I love all of that.

But how you dress, how you move, how you talk, what your voice sounds like, the words you choose, how you smell, how you gesture, how you interact, how you laugh, how you engage in a conversation, when you engage; all impact the overall experience.

All of that seems super daunting. And it was. But...

I believed I could do it.

Each time I went to my therapist or appointment or group was an opportunity to change or just practice some new thing. I was slowly becoming me. The strangeness I found in my body, and in being male, was finally getting some relief. But, it also required a lot of unfuckwithness. What’s that? That is the ability to not let the world fuck with ya.

Because it absolutely will.

I’ve had to ignore the dirty looks, the whispers down the aisle at the store, the couple walking by and saying ‘oh, that’s what’s up’. Like, I know you’re talking about me. But, I walk through the flames and hold my head high, girl.

After all, I’m proud of who I am, can you say the same?

I have to say also that it’s no fun to get clocked like halfway through an interaction and have someone switch up their behavior suddenly. Like, okay, whatever. If you can stand it it’s a litmus test on how well you’re doing, maybe what’s working and what ain’t. And yeah, it sucks but I’ve just taken it as areas I can improve.

But, Absynth, I thought this series was about your HRT journey?

That’s absolutely right, and this month I’m celebrating one year on the girl juice. Woohoo!

So, how’s it going?

It’s fucking great. Not gonna lie, if I’d known what a patch and a pill could do for my happiness, my capacity to make art, write, dance, and live - I’d have never had any drug problems (buuut that’s a different Substack).

Because during those years where I was lost and life was teaching me hard lessons I didn’t understand I was looking for something. Something I couldn’t grasp, and largely never had the language for.

But I didn’t need any scientific nomenclature, just a simple declaration.

I am a woman.

That’s it.

Once I understood that, everything else flowed from it. By opening myself up to my own divine femininity I gained the fortitude to do what needed to be done. By allowing myself to be Absynth and getting the help I needed for so long, by surrendering to the process, doing the work, and allowing my authentic self to step forward, no matter what came with it.

Of course I’ve talked a little bit about the bodily changes on HRT in my previous blogs: Annals of Absynth, Balance 3: Caution Migrating Erogenous Zones and Annals of Absynth, Balance4: The Return of Libido.

But the biggest change is in how I feel. How my soul hums in harmony with my vessel. How I’m able to be present for myself, regulate my emotions, and see through time to heal myself in the present moment.

So, what’s the biggest change from nine months HRT to a year on HRT. I’ve come into my own. I am me 100% all the time. I meet new people, I go out dancing, I chat with strangers on the elevator. Those things might seem small. And all things I did prior to transition.

But, you don’t realize how important self-perception can be. How your avatar/vessel in this realm interacts with it’s environment in different ways based on it. How gendered our society really is until you’re finally comfortable interacting with it again.

I detailed one of the recent visits to the goth club in my town in Annals of Absynth - Ghosts at the Goth Club. And I’ve been back since, met more new friends, and had the best time ever in my over 30 years of visiting the club.

But the difference was me. I got to be me. I danced like I do in my bedroom, I laughed, I cavorted, I frolicked. It was an ah-mazing night. And that’s where this installment of Balance gets it’s subtitle:

Gurl Unleashed.

Because I am her. I am unleashed upon this world.

The woman I hid away for decades refuses to hide, or to be small, or to be silent any longer.

My journeys are far, far from over. But, now all of the pieces of me are in place. Is everything perfect?

It - it kinda is.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is from one of my favorite selfies ever, showing off my club outfit up close and another of my outfit on the night at the club.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

Storms filled with power, churning a cleansing deluge upon the city.

Clearing the way for the creatures of the night to gather in it’s wake.

Of which I am one.

In fact, the line of night creatures stretched on both sides of the building just before opening. Ripped stockings, fishnets, black, black, and more black. Leather, lace, PVC, and silk. Bold makeup and fashion statements, or even just letting one’s ass hang out.

I get it girl, it’s nice.

And while I’m fine flying solo for my adventures, tonight I was meeting a friend. Someone known and yet unknown. Words on a screen and concepts captured through pixel reveal surprising synchronicities. Which lead to much anticipation.

I wasn’t nervous per se. I’d sent a selfie of my appearance. A cunty selfie, because that stands out. There were a lot of goth girls in that line after all.

Gotta be out-standing.

But, I was very much excited to meet and to experience the club together. Not a new experience, but one fueled by nostalgia, memory, stories, and lovely chit-chat. And when she arrived and we got a chance to venture into the club together, we clicked.

The night was filled with dancing, discussing music, talking about our lives and experiences in this shared town of ours. We people watched, rotated through the rooms, and chilled at the bar with great music pouring through speakers and radiating onto the dance floor.

There’s a raw energy to a night where you don’t look at your phone and have wonderful companionship. It’s an encompassing experience, but there were some quite memorable moments amidst the fun.

There’s this area in the main dance hall where fancy but super comfortable couches are arrayed as to have an excellent view of the dance floor. That night there was also a vendor selling some cool stuff there and so folks wandered over to check out the merchandise.

And I’m constantly checking out fits, accessories, hair, boots/shoes of the goth folks. So many great outfits, cool makeup, and vibrant dark souls having a night out. And when I saw her it hit me like a brick. I don’t think my friend noticed, and I let it pass quickly.

Standing at the vendor, browsing the bones was a ghost. A young woman who reminded me so much of my ex-girlfriend. Like twinsies. The breakup hadn’t been bad, but in recent years we’d had a falling out.

Details aren’t necessary.

She died from an overdose in October 2025.

We never reconciled.

The goth alt girl who I’d shared my porn adventures with. We traveled across the country, did SW together, lived in a car together. We were inseparable. A person I’d danced with on that very floor. Sat with on those couches.

Deep Breath

But it wasn’t her, the woman was an absolute cutie tho and her fit was fire.

It wasn’t her, because she’s gone.

All of this took no more than thirty seconds to happen and I quickly brought myself back to the present, to the moment chillin’ with my friend. I needed to clear my head a little, so when she suggested a walk - I was ready.

While heading down the main avenue towards the pizza shop and the LGBT bar a beautiful twink in a mesh crop top and tight jeans stopped me dead on the sidewalk.

“OMG I love that. I had to say, ALL THAT!” with an encompassing dramatic hand motion toward my outfit.

My shocked and delighted “Thank yoooouu!” came from the depths of my heart. Affirmed in public, on a busy sidewalk, for my fashion choices by a wonderful little gay man.

Like, I’ve arrived, right? This is what success looks like.

Fabbed up, like a drive by hype session. Then, he and his merry band carried on.

So - thank you, sweet prince, for having that say. I was overwhelmed in the best way.

See, I already had a strut going before this. But now? As my friend and I circled the block I leaned in. It felt good. I was being me, getting plenty of attention - and good attention, laughing, listening, telling stories, getting to know one another.

I felt free. I felt alive.

Back at the club and back in the air conditioning we spent more time taking in the scenery and having fun. Soon she had to leave. My time grew shorter as well. So, we parted sweetly.

After she left, I stayed a bit longer nearly to my personal Cinderella-time of 2 AM. I’ve been around long enough to know, nothin’ good happens after that.

So, I went back to the courtyard where the music was the best. And I danced and danced. And I felt comfortable. I felt at home and got into the groove. I lost myself to music and movement. Other goths danced nearby in dark and sexy outfits and I reveled in the energy of the night.

I took that energy home with me and danced into the early hours of the morning to my own mix. Not wanting to lose that feeling I’d just experienced. A night of great companionship, sudden sorrow, and unrelenting joy.

I’m so thankful I was able to meet my new friend and have a companion for this outing. It makes such a difference in relieving the awareness of all the eyes on me. Not that they weren’t on me, it’s just that I had a lovely friend to focus on.

Embrace the dark and your true self. You may be surprised what you find.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s images are from selfies I took just before heading to the club. I’ve also included the full fit pic as it will be added to The Absynth Collection to show it off properly.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

Especially for something you consider necessary.

Of course this is all contextual. The pizza delivery person who runs into a burning building to save kids trapped inside. That person isn’t thinking - okay, I’m going to do this brave thing. They just see the need. Feel the choice in front of them and act. If they don’t save those kids from the inferno, well - who will?

The choice is to risk burning and death or deal with the screams of those burning children for the rest of a likely miserable and short life.

Decisions can haunt you far more readily than phantasms.

I have the same choice. Only it’s me in the inferno, and I’ve come to save myself.

Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.

Because this is my perspective. In the same way that I don’t see the experiences I’ve had as rare or unusual - because they’re my experiences. So, let me step back from my own experience and reevaluate.

Am I brave?

What does it mean to be brave anyway? I mean here in the fractured states we call ourselves (non-ironically mind you) the home of the free and the land of the brave. But, I wanted to define it before we start. Let’s ask Google. Not exactly a paragon of bravery itself, but yall know how I can digress. So the definition:

Brave primarily means *possessing or displaying courage*. It describes the mental or moral strength to face and endure danger, fear, or difficulty without flinching. Rather than the absence of fear, true bravery is the act of pushing forward despite being afraid

Okay. Okay...

Hmmmm.

The label feels off still; I think because it feels new. Because, for many years I didn’t feel brave. I certainly conquered certain fears. But, at the end of the day I lacked the courage to be my authentic self. And that overshadowed everything. Even before I knew what was wrong, before the egg cracked.

I was so intimidated by the prospect of scorn, derision, and exile from society I ignored the signs, the many other off-ramps to me. I buried that girl deep inside my psyche for her protection. I wore the mask society said I should wear, but it truth it never fit. Sure, I put on a great act. I should get an Oscar for some of that shit...

But...

What about now?

Faced with a world of bigots, homophobes, and transphobes undergoing an active campaign of genocide, trans erasure, and outright lies in my country I had a ‘decision’ to make too. And that girl I had buried in my psyche screamed across space and time. It’s now. The moment I had been waiting for so many long and dreary years had arrived.

Really? Now?

Yes.

It was time to me.

The battle is now. It is here. And it is mine.

So, I ask how could I do anything else?

How could I sit on the sidelines and hide myself away with my sisters and brothers on the front lines? Their cries, just for standing up and being themselves, echoing through forever in my being.

You could say I had a choice. But that’s not how I see it.

But, I will concede I’ve had “the mental or moral strength to face and endure danger, fear, or difficulty without flinching”. But it’s the last part that might, just might, answer the question.

“True bravery is the act of pushing forward despite being afraid”

Because that’s where I am right now, in the present. Pushing forward. Any given day I could come across someone who doesn’t like me, my face, or the ‘gender ideology’ I represent. Any given day my government could revoke my documentation and throw me in a detransition torture men’s prison (also known as a federal facility) claiming me a terrorist.

I have my fears and I don’t think they’re unfounded, because it’s the reality happening all around me. All of those levers are already in place, just waiting to be pulled.

What’s my response?

I’m going to continue to be me. I get dressed, look cute, dance, and go about my day. Am I more guarded and more careful? You bet. But, I’ll be damned before I let those assholes take my joy, feed off my fear, or pin their many and heinous crimes on me or anyone else in my community.

I guess from an outside perspective, when I take a step back, from a bird’s eye - okay I’m stalling. You might see me as brave, but I’m only doing what I deem necessary. Because I had to show up for myself, I had to show up for my community. Under whatever circumstances the present moment holds, whatever challenges it throws my way.

If that’s also brave, then so be it.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is one I made for Pride because on the 250th anniversary I’m flying my own flag. Because it’s my freedom to do so.

It’s basically: did you manage to convincingly pull off the attempted gender expression you are transitioning to.

And there are a lot of factors that play into that. Some can be more cultural than others and some are more universal. And learning the how, where, and when of a different world certainly plays a role. Not to mention the important time-over-target to get it right and be confident about it.

I’ve seen some online gurls say they often pass more easily when they’re trying the least - no or minimal makeup, oversize sweatshirt, baggy pants, hair up. You get it.

Hyperfem can also be hyper visible - as fun as it is do “doll it up”. We are a rather femmephobic society - at least here in the fractured states. Add to that a tendency of the male gaze to home in on such details as a signal to them. So often it’s not worth the hassle. It is a reaction to a behavior.

Of course, not every gurl is trying to pass or match the patriarchal standards of beauty for that matter. Being visibly trans is being visibly beautiful. For others passing is the holy grail - the magical moment where the clocking ends and pure girlhood begins. And it is possible to get there. Passing I mean.

And the starting variables also vary, right? Frame or build, bone structure, - ya know what ever avatar you entered the world with, plus whatever the expressed effects of hormones were on your body, times however many years.

That’s “what we’re working with”.

Then of course come barriers to access HRT, what country or locality you live in, financial situation, and social barriers that also factor into passing. I’ve been fortunate in some ways that I’ve been able to access to the care I have.

Anyway, just to give an overview, I’m certainly not the expert on passing, but I’ve started to pass in certain situations, when all of the cylinders of femininity are firing. As I’ve let the mask of masculinity to fall away and allowed myself to move, gesture, dress, accessorize, and speak in a way that feels far more comfortable - that inner girl has come out to play, explore, live.

And I can definitely see the changes HRT have made in the mirror. The roll of images on my phone tracing back to when I decided to take this journey tells the story plainly for me. So much so I made a GIF of the images.

No you can’t see it.

Least - not yet.

Well, really, it’s not finished. I’ve shared it with a select few people I trust and it was very affirming to get their reactions. The final version will be absolutely epic. In addition to an HRT journey, it’s a laser hair removal and hair growth journey. All of which factor into passing.

Now that I’ve had a bit of time out in the world as myself I want to talk more in depth about passing and just being visible in public again. I’ll share a few experiences I’ve had. One experience involves going back to the goth club as myself for the first time and the other involves putting on a one-piece swimsuit and going swimming at a fairly busy beach. Don’t worry I didn’t turn to cinders.

I know some of yall thought it.

I spoke a little bit in my last blog about going back to the local goth club I’ve been visiting for years and one of the places that instilled a love of goth music, dancing, and fashion in me. A place where I stalked the dance floor with longing and envy as visions of beauty in black corsets, fishnets, and lace spun about me on the dance floor.

I still danced prior to my transition. I don’t want to give the impression I’m some wallflower. Though, if I was I’d be poisonous all the same.

But going back there in a skirt, fishnets, knee high boots, and the confidence to be me was, to be honest, absolutely overwhelming. But, in a way, this Substack keeps me honest to myself and the promises I make to that girl in the mirror. And I had promised myself a good time.

I took some time getting reacquainted with the place, very little had changed. I felt a little bit like a vampire that’s awakened after many years and relearning the rules of the hunting grounds. I observed, listened, and watched. I went to each of the rooms to get the vibe until I found where I was most comfortable. Then I danced, enjoyed the dancing of others, and forgot I was concerned about anything.

Since I don’t drink (with the exception of my namesake absinthe) liquid courage wasn’t an option. Luckily, dancing is something I’ve done plenty of both out at many clubs, after hours, in my bedroom. So, my confidence was pretty high.

Still...

As I’ve continued to be more femme in appearance and in presentation, I’m aware of the eyes on me. I see the stares, hear the whispers. Mind, not all of that is negative. I do have certain features which draw attention. Features I refuse to hide, because I’m celebrating what I have and how I’m growing.

I was mostly comfortable, even on the sweltering dance floor. Knowing I would sweat I wore an appropriate amount of makeup so as not to be pouring my entire face onto my outfit. I also wore mostly cotton, moisture wicking socks, breathable boots, medium hole fishnets so I was able to cool off easily.

As the night continued I ventured from room to room, dancing in each for a bit - soaking in the atmosphere, watching talented (and some not so talented) dancers move. A few hours passed and I was getting a little overstimulated and decided to make my way home.

That’s when the catcalling happened. Now, I’m not in any way condoning catcalling. Ahem. But, here’s how it went down.

Me, being my cute, cunty-ass self is sauntering back to my car from the club, which is a short walk through the party district of the city. Just a few shorts blocks and then up the elevator to the topish of the parking garage.

A voice starts talking behind me, and I’m not immediately aware after the first words if they are directed at me. In fact, I’m not sure I make it out at first. I’m trying to keep my head on a swivel as I navigate the various folks walking around.

Then I hear it. Clear as a bell.

“Damn you look sexy,” he says.

I don’t miss a step, keep walking my usual strut. Okay, that’s cool. I’m not really in an area where I’m isolated. So, I keep moving like I didn’t hear.

“Dayum you are sexy,” he says, more emphatic this time.

I crack a small smile despite myself. But, I continue on, don’t engage. Because despite my euphoria (or ewwphoria as this type of affirming negative reaction is often known as) I realize, in the moment, that I’m passing. At minimum I’m hot if not straight up passing as cis.

There’s one more call before I reach the main drag where I turn quickly into the pedestrian flow, leaving the man behind. I never saw his face, and I’m not sure if he saw mine. Look, he could have also been inebriated. It is the party district after all.

My heart’s racing a little. Somewhat from my quickened pace once I turned the corner, partially because I wondered if I did engage in some way if I’d be clocked. I took the win and continued my journey home.

It’s hard not to feel affirmed by the process. Because I was seen how I want to be seen. As a woman. And a sexy woman at that. I’m sure the night was full of moments where I passed and didn’t pass and I’m sure it mattered which eyes were looking and why.

So, I’m getting used to being visible in a new way. And not always knowing if I’m visible because I’m passing or not passing. And that’s not always easy to figure out, because it can very quickly got from one state to the other. Which caused some anxiety.

But I handled it.

Now for a very different environment, the beach. You should know dear reader that the beach is not my natural environment. Shocking, I know. But, I do like to visit from time to time. This past week I joined my family for the annual vacation at the beach and wore a women’s bathing suit for the first time.

I think I was more nervous about this than the club. Though I will say that in both instances I used tucking panties to give me a bit more confidence. This was especially true with the swimsuit. I started out really modest: a simple one piece suit with a skirt.

The water was lovely, the sun was hidden behind clouds and my pale skin was thankful for it. Yes, I wore SPF. I take great pains not to burst into flames in these situations. It felt different than going to the club, more vulnerable. Maybe the daylight, or lack of makeup, lack of jewelry had be feeling a bit more dysphoric about it.

It was also a shorter experience and I was staying directly on the beach so I only went down into the water and then back to the house I was staying at.

Ultimately each of these experiences were just forcing myself to get out into the world again. The environments are the same as they’ve ever been, I’m just learning new ways to interact. Funny enough I felt more seen at the club than at the beach. Maybe it’s because I had my partner with me at the beach and I was solo at the club. So, felt more vulnerable.

Here’s the catch about visibility and passing. It’s difficult to know (at least at just over 9 months on HRT) if you pass, or if you’ve been “clocked” as trans. But, the paradox is that if you act like you pass, that confidence actually helps you pass better.

But the real trick is maintaining confidence in yourself if you’re visibly trans or if you’re passing. Because each one of those things is going to happen. You’ll find supportive people, and at times find affirmation. But, you’ll also get clocked, run into rude ass bigots, and run into jealous bitches tossin’ shade. Okay?

You cannot let any of it get to you. None of it.

Don’t lose your composure.

Don’t miss that step.

Don’t lose your cool.

And give better than you get.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is another I created from a real life image of myself and this is the exact bathing suit I wore on the beach for the first time. It was all around a successful trip and I didn’t even get burnt.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

I wear a bra, makeup, women’s clothes. All the time.

It feels amazing. Like a magnificent dream. And there are so many factors that play into it.

How I feel in my body is different. My mind is different. How I move, walk, talk, emote, gaffaw, giggle, and cackle have all changed. Some more subtle than others, but it’s all there. And it’s not all HRT - it’s that I’m no longer bound by the norms of the cishet male gender and all the silly and stupid rules I learned being a ‘man’.

I’d argue that I am less male-socialized and more nerd-socialized, but I think that’s another Substack. That’s one of the loci behind my series investigating my feminine heroines and their influences on me. Maybe it also explains my penchant for cartoons and anime.

But this isn’t about that. This is a celebration.

Raises glass. To 9 months on HRT. Huzzah!

This month marks three quarters of a year on the girl juice so let’s check in with Absynth and see how she’s doing.

So as not to bury the headline, the biggest news is the return of my libido. By the Goddess it’s a blessing. It’s been on a journey and been as transformed as I have. The loss was discussed in Balance 2: The Search for Libido and I talked a little about the changes to my erogenous zones in Balance 3: Caution Migrating Erogenous Zones.

And those changes have carried on surprising me.

Also, I can now - with one hundred percent certainty - state that boobs do indeed make everything better. I fill out my clothes better, I have a silhouette, they jiggle when I walk. But all of that is really one thing - affirming of my gender. Like, first of all, they hurt. They are still tender AF. But they are also super sensitive in a really, really good way.

Don’t get me wrong - I’ve had a ton of great sex, done a bunch of euphoric drugs, communed with the spirits of ecstasy. But, when I get turned on now? Holy hell. I’m a bit glad I’ve got half a century of wisdom. Cause I could get myself into a lot of trouble if I didn’t already know better. How much? Like a lot a lot.

Sometimes it pays to make mistakes early in life. It definitely pays to survive them.

In the last Balance entry I talked about how I’ve found a new love in vibration and that had been the main avenue of excitement for me. Basically if I wanted to get hard I was reaching for the vibe. And for my breasts.

Now, the breasts alone can create the desired excitement for me and get the rest of my body there. Don’t get me wrong I still reach for the vibe. Of course the more pleasure centers I stimulate at the same time the more amplified the effect. Imagination serves for now, but also scent, texture, touch are on my mind much more than a beautiful image. Of course if you look at my art you know the image is still there and what it looks like.

The shift is strange but not unwelcome. It’s like lust is pulled in toward me now - like a gravity well - rather than focused outward toward a figure of worship. I am the object of desire. And that makes me absolutely melt.

Of course that has a big psychological effect. The biggest being my self confidence. Embodying a goddess reflects outwardly and affects each and every interaction of my day. HRT has been very kind to me, but it’s also allowed me to be kind to - me. To really find empathy for myself and what I’ve just gone through - and for my ongoing mission.

The biggest change at 9 months is a that my personal vision of who I could be, who I wanted to be - knew I always was - has arrived. Is it completely done? No, of course it’s not - but it’s tangible, it’s real, it’s manifested for me personally. I can cup it in both hands. I see that bad bitch in the mirror.

Just like a private club, I’m not for everyone and some folks aren’t even invited. In the end, as long as I’m happy being me, I’m reaching my goals. Thankfully HRT has also made me less competitive and I’m mostly able to squash comparing myself to other women whether cis or trans, or even 30 years younger than me.

Cause, just don’t, girl.

While the food cravings have been the same (pickles, salt, meat, tomatoes), I’ve had other cravings as well. Well, sure, carnal ones too, but I’m talking about actually wanting to go out in public. Wanting to interact with the world again. Now, mind you, I may decide after a night of that I’m done.

And so I did.

I’ll probably talk about this for my Visibility series here on Substack, because I got dolled up in a sexy but comfortable outfit and took my ass to the goth club. It’s been a long time since I’d last been there. Just over 13 years.

And I had a lot of fun just being myself. I danced, I laughed, I got catcalled on my way back to my car. It was affirming in many ways. Am I still a little clocky? Sure, but you need a certain amount of immunity to the stares, the looks, the whispers. I pretend not to see or hear it, because in the end, it’s not about me. It’s all about them. I’m just here to hold up the mirror. Not to engage.

Anyway, I’m happy with my progress because the facts are that if I wasn’t feeling great about myself, how I’m presenting - I wouldn’t have the confidence to interact with the outside world. I wouldn’t have the strut that triggers the catcalling and the focus not to let em stumble me up.

And as much as I don’t want to admit it. I enjoyed being catcalled. Not because I was interested, but because I wasn’t in any different a situation at that point than any other hot woman. Cis or trans.

I delayed this entry into the Annals to include this canon event in the record. And because I just smashed through an emotional blockade on several fronts. At least for me, I can make something terrifying in my own head before I set foot toward it. Writ large I did this with my transition. So, getting out there, inserting myself back into the world levels me up. No longer pixels on a screen and a dream but manifest in reality as me.

I can finally just be me.

I ended my previous Balance blog with a commitment to get out into the world and I did that. And I’m not going to reach too far for my next goal. Do it again. Get out to the club again, this time on a Friday night.

I’m okay with being seen, whispered about, stared at. Because...

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image was created using ChatGPT to blend a picture I took before I went out and my art to show my exact outfit I wore to the club. I was comfortable dancing, able to cool down when I got too hot, and I felt sexy.

I’ll continue this series as I reach major milestones. Next entry will be the big one year mark.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

No, not like that - you kinda said ‘Yeah’ a bit too fast, but...

I can let it slide.

What I mean to say is - my art process, compared to some, is slow.

It’s deliberate. Methodical. Detailed.

I used to say “I’m a picky bitch,” but I was told meticulous sounded better. And I have to agree.

So, I’ll be using this image of me as a badass sith as an example to highlight my process. This blog will have more images than a typical blog here. Anyway, strap in.

Like using most text-to-image models my process begins with the prompt and resources to make what I envision in my mind. It’s mostly naughty stuff. Or subversive. But, let’s not digress (just yet).

Here’s the initial prompt:

And the final prompt:

The output for this initial output prompt is a bit rough - and mine usually are rough at this stage. Girl needs a glowup right out of the generator. This example started as a generation on the civitai.com website. Though most images I create start in the Invoke Community Edition software. Regardless of where the rough draft came from the process of refinement is the same. For me that means lots of inpainting.

Here is the initial cleaned up output from civitai:

Inpainting is the process of isolating/masking off areas of the image to change, running those changes, and then picking one of the generated fixes. Invoke has a good suite of tools for making edits without the need for an outside software (though I do use Photoshop at the end of my process).

Here’s the masks:

Each one of the elements of the sith Absynth are masked off and generated - then refined and regenerated to make a more cohesive, detailed, and refined image from the primordial soup the online generator and/or Invoke give me. Sort of like assembling a puzzle.

Just a note that there are other faster ways to do some of the steps I do manually. Some can be automated, like face fixes, refinement steps run after the initial image is generated. This is faster, but remember I’m kinda slow, methodical. I like to take my time and really enjoy the experience.

Ahem.

So, I break down sections of the image I want to adjust and mask them off for regeneration. Here is a GIF image of what that looks like for our example sith.

A concept called denoising is involved in this process and it’s basically how much of a change you want the model to create in the image. Low for less change and higher for more changes. During the process I usually keep this between .4 and .6 - with lower or higher for certain edge cases.

The initial result has all the basic characteristics of the final image. The next step is to upscale the image to get it to a decent viewing size and also to a size where I can put in finer details. This is definitely where it all starts coming together.

Up to this point I’m just shaping the primordial soup

I now go back in with masks (usually by resizing the existing masks in my project to fit the space it did in the initial image). I do this manually and go back over the masks before I generate to ensure I have the entire area I want changed covered and that I’m not in an area I want unchanged.

Then I generate. I have separate masks for things like the eyes, hair, clothing pieces, jewelry, legs, shoes, anus - you get the idea. Anything I want to make a detail decision on - I’ve masked off. Further detail is dialed in by switching Loras on and off, and/or adjusting the strength/weight of the Lora, while inpainting. The prompt can be manipulated for each mask to ensure no stray commands are followed. This can all also done in the ‘rough draft’ pass and ensures that only the Lora and prompt elements I want for Absynth herself (face, hair, jewelry) and other Lora (pose, clothing, character) don’t interfere with the end result.

For example with our sith Absynth I am using the outfit of a character from Star Wars Visions named Am, for which I have a Lora with the details of the character including her outfit (which I am shamelessly stealing). So while I’m inpainting the areas of the outfit I toggle that Lora on to include the dataset in the details I’m creating. For the face though - I’ve turned that off and I’m just using the usual style Loras. (These can be found on the civitai website)

This is how I maintain consistency. That, and a fairly critical eye while I make decisions on each detail I want to include. I check for consistency in outfit details, perspective, fingers and toes, eyes, hair, earrings, butthole - okay I see you get it.

Once all the masks are run and I’m happy with the details of the image I save it and add the final details in photoshop. This includes removal of any watermarks from the original datasets the model trained on, adding my own watermark, evening out any issues along the edges, and cleaning up artifacting and little spots on the image to get a cleaner end look. In the sith image those artifacts are an intentional spark effect.

Anyway, that’s my basic process. I don’t claim to be an expert on all the techniques my software or any other stable diffusion output software, but I know how I use it. And I continue to learn and grow as the techniques available to me evolve, so will I.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

I might have been thrown off because I didn’t need to remove my shoes.

Perhaps the speed of the water-bottle-strewn line caught me off guard. Who’s to say?

As I stood in front of the scanner, arms out, feet on the indicated spot I realized my error.

I’d forgotten to take something out of my pocket. Thankfully not contraband, but I like how you think.

No, this was just a flashlight, clipped to the inside of my cargo pants pocket. Simple. But, it wasn’t the item per se but it’s mere presence that triggered the pat down. I didn’t have any time to register as the female TSA agent approached me and asked, “Is it okay if I check your pockets?”.

“Of course,” I said, as she found the hair tie I’d also forgotten. My mind raced - wondering if I’d forgotten anything else in my pockets. She continued to check my numerous pockets and finally cleared me to move to the end of the scanner where all the crowd of eyes waiting for their carry on baggage, spectate the TSA line. If you’ve flown, you know the spot.

My relief and euphoria were somewhat tamped as I stood in the throng of travelers impatiently waiting for this part of their own trip to be over, as we all shared each others’ company in dreary silence.

I’ve gotten somewhat used to being visible now, so the eyes on me weren’t a bother but they do make me hyper aware of myself and the humans around me in an uncomfortable way.

My tray spit out from the scanner, I grabbed my stuff quick-like and continued my journey into the terminal. Everything went smoothly on the way out and the trip was fruitful, but what about the return travel?

As you might guess, having gone through the new process once allowed me a chance to refine my system. I cleared the scanner quickly (not leaving anything in my pockets this time) and was past the TSA line before I really had a chance to think about it.

My hair was down this time and I wore the same outfit on the trip out. Baggy t-shirt, cargo pants, sneakers, basically none of my jewelry. Despite this I was gendered correctly while I was presenting “more male” - which is simultaneously a triumph and a defeat.

I think the popular term is male fail. Where a trans woman attempts to be male presenting and fails instead being gendered in a preferred feminine way. Of course HRT has a lot top do with it, exercise too, plus long hair and nail polish helped.

As an experience the whole affair was terrifying and affirming all at once. It’s amazing to be in a place where I more convincingly present as female than male, even if I’m trying not to. Mind, I didn’t do anything outwardly other than ‘tone it down’ and wear male clothes.

Heck even at the restaurant I ate at prior to the airport, the waitress gendered me correctly. Of course during my trip I dressed how normally do and wasn’t misgendered even when my deadname was plain to see. Shout out to the dispensary employees who got it.

Also, to the Walmart greeter who told me “I slay!” and whom I squeaked out a quick “thanks,” under my breath. You were correct, I did slay, was slaying - was indeed serving. And I rode that high all damn day, girl. Preesh.

Glad to be back home where I can be cunty full time.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is just a girl waving goodbye to TSA, at least for now. It was quite the journey.

And I’m not sure addressing it in writing is the way to go - yet I persist.

I’m anticipating flying within the next 48 hours.

Trying to keep myself busy making art, packing, writing, cleaning, and every other task I’ve set for myself - but beneath there’s a persistent nervous edge.

Why the worry?

I’m not trying to brag, but my glow-up is real. And, that comes with a strange consequence.

My identification still has a picture of me from 2014, an M gender marker, and looks only vaguely like me. Especially when I’m done up proper. I wanted an honest opinion, and folks who have known me a long time still see the old me. So, I asked my therapist about it.

“Let me see your I.D.” she says.

“Oh yeah,” I pull out my license and give it to her.

My therapist looks at the picture, looks at me, looks at the picture. “Girl, you do not look like this anymore.”

“Right!?!” I say, smiling with affirmation and slight terror.

“Oh, no. Girl, they will pull you out of line.”

I laugh. “That’s my worry.”

“Yeah,” more incredulous this time. “Girl, you do not look like this. I think... I think you may have to tone it way down with this picture. Wait... Pull your hair back for me.”

I pull my hair back and smile.

“Better.” she hands the ID back to me. “Yeah, I think you’re right to be concerned. I am worried for you, but just put your hair in a manbun or ponytail, no makeup, and you’ll do fine. But, you need to get this changed ASAP.”

“No doubt.”

The conversation went on, but I’d confirmed my fears were not unfounded and sometimes that’s what you need to move from fear to action. Normally, I move in the world openly and genuinely. Aware of eyes upon me. But, this almost feels like I’m walking in with fake documents. And I’ve played enough RPGs to know when a deception roll or a use of a disguise skill is going to occur. So, I’ll take the steps I need to.

Oversize hoodie, no makeup, baggy cargo pants, no jewelry to take off through security. Making sure I’m ready and don’t draw too much attention to myself. My fears could be unfounded- I’ve certainly had that happen before.

But, as a student of history, I’ll stay prepared.

Because an ICE detention facility, becoming a government example of gender “fraud”, and just dealing with hateful bigots is not on my bingo card for the month.

It sucks and I hate it. But, it also means I need to get off my ass and get my name change official as soon as possible when I get back. And of course a new photo for my identification.

I’m staying positive going into the process, seeing it for the mission it is, try not to overthink it ahead of time - staying ready, remaining calm, and going through whatever I got to. Ultimately, I expect it’s going to be fine. But, am I gonna avoid issues however I can? You betcha.

Survival is existence and...

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is me at the airport, dressed for comfort and ease of travel. I kinda feel like celebrity trying to hide from the paparazzi. Anyway, wish me luck!

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

A name from the ether. Spoken in my mind.

I was out on the lanai when I heard it.

Clear, confident, and echoing through my being.

Absynth.

At the time I didn’t quite understand. Because part of me was still afraid. Stuck in the “what ifs?” and unwilling to lose what little I had.

I came back into my home office and wrote it on the white board. I looked at it each day as I was generating images. Using older images of myself, selfies from a time I was more confident. Creating a male image, a femboy, a trans woman, a complete bimbo, and a cis woman based on the images.

I didn’t realize the template I was creating for myself. Until, one day, I did.

And, the world came into focus.

In playing around with the concept of Absynth’s look and figuring out who she was, I was - in fact - figuring out who I was. And it didn’t take too long into this process for the revelation - the culmination of revelations - to hit.

And when it did it was unmistakable.

I walked out onto the lanai, as that name I’d written on the white board rang in my head again.

Absynth.

And I had the epiphany that changed everything in my life. Look, I’d known I was a trans woman for a good while. But in that moment I knew my name.

Absynth.

And when it rang in my head, I heard it spoken in a sultry, sexy, clarion feminine voice.

“There she is. Hello, Absynth!”

And a flood of emotions filled me. Joy, trepidation, ecstasy, loss, relief, anxiety - all at once. I sat down - overwhelmed by the deluge.

This wasn’t some distant beauty, some elusive muse - this was me.

Absynth was me.

Absynth is me.

Well, fuck.

It was a hard truth. After fifty years to come to such a conclusion is devastation incarnate. But, perhaps I judge my path too harshly. Looking back it’s easy to see the other off ramps. But in doing so I must also admit the miracle I even made it this far.

So, everything came together in the course of time. A slow burn, a fine vintage, a flower which takes a half century to bloom.

Now that I had a name, I had to ask myself what it meant. There’s the obvious connections to the drink absinthe as well as the associated green fairy reflected in my green eyes. Absinthe is a common drink to find at goth bars after all. It’s where I was introduced to it’s incredible allure. So, what better intoxicant to embody?

Plus personally, I don’t drink alcohol, but I drink absinthe.

But the spelling is important. Absynth has different connotations with the word ‘synth’ prominent in it. There is a synthesis, an artificial synthetic element, the synth’s are artificial creations in games like Fallout, and my penchant for synthwave/darkwave all add to my techno-mystic goth cyberpunk vibe.

Of course the prefix ‘Ab’ is also found in many words: abracadabra, abyss, and abhorrent. I understand the meaning is ‘away from’ or ‘off’. Maybe there’s some other meanings yet to be revealed to me too.

Of course there’s ‘syn’ (with, together, at the same time) and ‘nth’ (utmost, last, most recent in a long series). The implications stirred me.

Mind you, I did no research on this prior, no long process of choosing. I hadn’t yet in my life imagined myself able to move beyond my deadname or the feminized version of it anyway. When I had my moment of clear self actualization and heard that amazing strong feminine voice greet me in my own truest name. I’ll never forget it.

So, perhaps it’s divine timing. Perhaps it’s okay to let go of the journey as it had to unfold to bring me to this moment - alive, stable, and focused.

You might ask then - do people call you that in real life?

Yes... and no.

If you’re here with the cool kids - I’m Absynth. For, not all may speak the magic.

Amongst the wider society I use a nickname, but I respond to both equally.

Okay, maybe I’m slightly cuntier when I’m embodying my full throated Absynth-self, but did we expect anything less?

After all, I am Absynth, now and forevermore.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

For today’s image I wanted to depict myself close to how I appear on a day to day basis. Jeans, cute top, bracelets, rings, necklace, choker, and smiling like I’ve just learned the secret of the universe has been inside me all along.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

At first I lived in imagination, empathy, and love.

From the great female characters in fiction I adored to the real world women who inspired me, I had some practice imagining myself as something beyond the form I’d be given, the name I’d been called, and the gender I’d been assigned.

Today I wanted to go through some of my earliest female influences starting with an obsession I’ve maintained over a lifetime: cartoons and the capable women in them. It was born on Saturday mornings, on UFC channels tuned in by a wire hangar wrapped in tin foil, and only seen at a certain time on a certain day.

The first of these heroines appeared on my Saturday morning screen with a bevy of monsters, a headstrong son, and a brave husband. I’m talking about Tara of the Herculoids. This blonde bombshell in a blue dress was an empath who communicated with the beasts of her planet to help protect her family and Quasar, her planet, from harm. Her devotion to her family and connection to her environment stick in my mind as remarkable.

While I was aware of the Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman, it was her incarnation on the popular Saturday morning series Super Friends that stuck in my memory. With her lasso of truth and her invisible jet. Oh, Wonder Woman didn’t also become invisible, just the jet - which... let’s not dwell too long on the tech implications. The implications of her standing with Batman, Superman, Aquaman as equals was not lost on me.

Princess Ariel was my absolute favorite sorceress. Educated, powerful, and pragmatic, Ariel was constantly using her powers to shield her companions from harm, shoot energy at enemies, create a bridge of light, and various other effects. Decked out in a blue leotard, gold accessories, and gogo boots this badass sorceress left a big impression on me. I also really liked Ookla the Mok - maybe a little too much. Isn’t he so cuddly tho. Okay, okay he’s got some anger issues. Nothing we can’t solve. Whispers: I can fix ‘im.

The next two heroines who shaped my view of who I eventually became were the ladies of the legendary Dungeons and Dragons cartoon: Sheila the Thief and Diana the Acrobat. Sheila with her cloak of invisibility sneaking her way through the enemy unobserved. Something I related to in many ways. And Diana, a brave and agile black woman with a big green extendable staff. Vaulting over enemies, obstacles, and peril in ways that resonate with me now as much as they did then.

On a side note: I’d like to apologize to everyone who received their paper late on Saturdays even tho they had a ‘morning paper’ subscription. Cartoons were really important to me. Okay?

Cartoons were also part of my regular schedule after school where I discovered my first catgirl. Everyone’s favorite cheetah lady, Cheetara of the Thundercats. Another staff wielding lithe and agile warrior (yall know I love my girlies with staves) she is a literal speedster and gets shit done. Later in life, when I learned to use a staff myself I remembered how much I admired Cheetara for her skill and grace.

Among the warriors and sorceresses Niko of the Galaxy Rangers stands out as not only both but also an amazing scientist to boot. Her main powers tho were psychic which tied into the lore of the show nicely. A space opera with magical elements was a popular bet back in ‘86 for sure. Niko has amazing hair on the show and I remember wishing I had long flowing hair like hers. An adept at psychic powers Niko embodied the capable woman with a special talent of psychic ability to overcome her enemies.

And last on this list is the ecomancer and pirate Tula of The Pirates of Dark Water fame. Another in a long theme of skilled agile women. My first ever female Dungeons and Dragons character was based off of Tula as the template. Though as I recall she was a half elf fighter/thief. I only remember playing her at a table once, but there are many other characters I made back in my AD&D days that never got played. So she was ahead of the game. Tula will always remind me that I’m mother fucking magical, but I need to learn to harness my powers if I’m gonna survive.

Now, there are many more influences I haven’t included here including the likes of Rainbow Brite, Sunni of the Gummi Bears, Jem of Jem and the Holograms, all the ladies of G.I. Joe, and Smurfette come to mind. And there may be some I’m forgetting. There are a few brain cells that never made it out of my party years after all.

Perhaps that’s for the best. I’m sure there are a few things in there I don’t need to recall. Tho I’m certain it’s scandalous.

When I look back I can see now how the paths of these fictional women helped mold me. Even if it was in small ways, the effects of these and other elements were cumulative in my psyche. Comics, anime, movies, books, television, and every woman I’ve ever met had a hand in shaping me.

And I love each and every one of them for their contribution.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

The images for this blog are cropped (SFW) versions of ones I’ve used for my latest Patreon poll. I’ll be doing a more finished nsfw image of the winner and posting it next month. It’s free to vote for your favorite.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

What’s changed?

Everything. My entire world’s shifted.

Sure, the whole world has - well - the world is aflame.

But, like, how’s the journey going - ya know - outside of all that?

I dunno. Boobs make things better I guess. Cause that part of my journey is in full swing. Tenderness is a constant and still quite affirming. I’m more used to having breasts - meaning I bump them into less things. Cause - ouch!

Trying on clothes I thrifted/bought at the beginning of my transition has also been great. Things my flat chested self only imagined 6 months ago - a year ago - have blossomed. Watching my curves start to fill out a dress - incredible. I expected that. What I didn’t really expect were the changes in sensation. I’ve had plenty of lovers play with my nipples, rub my chest - and that felt good - but not arousing. Now?

Well, that’s part of the greater tale of discovery, right? My breasts have become a new erogenous zone on my body.

And I love it. Can’t get enough of that. And I wasn’t really expecting it. They are always in the mix now.

Well, what about the points down?

Previously, when I was under the yoke of testosterone, I had very sensitive skin on my scrotum and less sensitive skin on the shaft. This is of course relative, still a sensitive area. I always attributed my staying power to having a less sensitive shaft. Now, it’s flipped. The shaft is more sensitive - and responds better to different stimuli. Specifically - vibration.

I never really understood the vibration of toys. It had an effect, enjoyable for sure, but sometimes seemingly unnecessary. And now I’ve likened the feeling I get when a vibration is hitting the right spot(s) to peaking on ecstasy. My eyes roll back in my head, my body heats up, my hands find a breast - usually mine - it’s great. Absolutely fantastic.

Of course how I get individually stimulated in the first place has changed. While still a visual person I’m much more in my imagination and less in a screen. Some of this is because I’m rapidly becoming the woman I always longed to be. It’s not just on a screen in front of me, it’s my full time self.

I talked a little about that in my Annals of Absynth - First Person Affirming substack.

And that brings me to the emotional changes. I expected I’d have perhaps more uncontrollable emotions - but thus far I haven’t found that to be the case. Tho, I’ve always been a bit chill. The reason I enjoy stimulants and stimulus so much I think. If anything the range of my happiness has widened. I laugh more freely, giggle at myself and the world around me, and find joy in the damnest of places.

I do admit that might just be because I’m myself - but femme HRT has shifted my perspective. In that I’m more complete. I feel better. I want to laugh, I want to dance, I want to eek out whatever freedom I have left.

I’ve also had cravings.

Some were expected: like pickles, and salt (two things I had an unhealthy craving for already). What I didn’t expect was a craving for tomatoes. In particular the beefsteak variety seems to be what I desire most. Also - meat. I crave meat - of all kinds. My desire for spicy has increased as well. Some days I want my meal to hurt me. Ya know- depends in my mood.

Other things I mentioned in Balance 2 have continued - smoother/softer skin, softer hair, changes in my face (cheeks more filled out), finer body hair, ass filling out even more. I’ve also noted I have a different scent and sweat less. And yes, my libido has shown up slightly more in the past few weeks. Aided by the discovery of new erogenous zones. Perhaps I’ll have more to say on that in my next Balance entry.

Okay, so that’s basically the physical/emotional changes. Aces. But, for a moment, let’s talk:

Social transition.

Now that I’m appearing in public as me everywhere - mostly in a very casual capacity (grocery shopping, appointments, visit to family, etc.) I’m so much happier. I’m starting to pass more often than not. Since I have my old ID still that sometimes ruins it.

There’s definitely a euphoria from being gendered correctly. There’s even ewwphoria in getting checked out walking past someone. Especially in that quick-sized up way. It goes like this:

I walk past. Being my radiant and magnetic self I naturally attract a certain amount of attention. Eyes see my face, makeup, long hair (or styled in a girlish way ie in a ponytail, up in a clip, etc), and the eyes go immediately to breasts for confirmation. Pure lizard brain reactions.

And then that person holds the door for you (I know they are checking me out again) or I get a ‘mam’, or referred to as ‘that woman’, or ‘this lady’, or whatever it is. It feels good. It feels right. And I try not to let it affect my day either way - but it can definitely put a swing in my hips.

I can definitely say, with near 100% certainty, that I’m more cunty. Not in the bad way, but in a bad bitch way. I’m really super sweet to most people, but I’m still venomous if crossed. I carry myself more confidently as a woman and never really ‘boy mode’ any more. Now that feels uncomfortable. Plus, I just look like I’m wearing my boyfriend’s shirt when I put on any old clothes. I gave most of them away - kept a few to DIY modify.

The next part of this journey is a foray into more public settings, meeting new people, and getting out into the larger world again.

Is it still unnerving to be visibly trans?

Sure.

But, I just don’t care.

Every day, every step forward I’m more certain of who I am.

It’s glorious.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image reflects my more confident self, smiling and being happy, wearing badass boots, and being myself.

I’ll continue this series as I reach major milestones.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

I was assisting one of the organizers of the event with picking up a flow artist who was working the event. This was our first meeting and it was just myself, my girlfriend (I’ll call her Tina), and the flow artist who had flown in for the event. (Let’s call her Raye)

Raye turns out to be everything she’d been hyped to be by those who’d met and worked with her. Funny, chill, relaxed - and everyone was just vibing before the event. Substance use at these events is a sort of given, so talking about it isn’t taboo - and quickly we were trading stories on the drive.

I offer - for the very low price of free - several gel tabs to Raye during our conversation. Ya know - just a quick: “Hey, I’ve got these, would you like them. As a gift for coming to the event.” Raye accepted the gift, stashed them away. Soon we were at the venue - separated with hugs and lovely words of parting.

Once we’d set up our camp, and were well nestled in our tent, Tina turned to me with a simple question.

“Why did you give away those tabs?” she said. Rather incredulously I might add.

“I didn’t.”

“Are you denying you gave Raye two tabs?”

“No, but I didn’t give them away, I purchased something. Something beautiful.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll see.”

“Whatever. Help me with this cooler.”

I’m paraphrasing of course. This took place some time ago.

At some point in our adventures around the festival, which were many and varied - I was lost in the set of one of the event organizers (my friend who brought Raye in for the festival). And in the middle of the lights, driving music, and dancing bodies I saw a most lovely vision.

Twirl ribbons reflected the lights of the stage in scintillating patterns before my eyes. Perfectly timed to the set I wanted to groove too most. The energy was magnetic and spread into the crowd, bodies moving together to music but each to their own style.

This was the moment I’d sought with my gift. The magic I’d known would come from it.

It’s the same magic I’m afforded. For is there any better gift to artist than the stage on which to perform, to be seen, to be experienced. And being supported in doing so.

I’m not really sure Tina got it. She saw the results, but I think there was more behind it. I’ll not speculate, but that’s part of the point. Some people, even those who are closest at the time, aren’t going to understand your actions - you must proceed.

Raye understood. She didn’t need to say so. I saw it in her fluid movements, the joy on her face, and her flow.

It’s a good reminder for me that not everyone is going to understand how I choose to move in this world. But those few who do understand - I cherish. Always.

Never be afraid to bring beauty into this world. Not every attempt will pan out. But even especially in these dark times, you must persevere anyhow.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is just me as a dancer. Celebrating freedom of expression, beauty, and movement.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

As a lifelong gamer, from TTRPGs to video games, there are certain aspects of those genres which color my life, writing, and art. 

I recently went on a Solo Leveling anime binge; my second viewing of what’s become my favorite modern anime. I’ve started to love the real life RPG or gamification of life in other media as well, like Dungeon Crawler Carl series for example.

And I’ve come to see my own life in game terms. For example, I sometimes see a HUD map in my mind’s eye while I’m walking or driving in an area I know well (fully explored on the map). 

More recently, I’ve had this notion of certain RPG systems wherein you have a certain build you’re attempting to put together for a more powerful end game character. Maybe it takes investment deep into skill trees, or special prestige classes, or increases to stats in order to change to a more optimized profession. So, as you’re leveling (or in this case living life - whatever we want to call it) you adventure with sub-par skills, damage output, healing, mana - etc.

That is - until you reach the endgame. The moment all of the skills you’ve been working on culminate together in ways you only dreamed of.

I’ve had that feeling irl. And now that I’ve started to spend those points rapidly, and changed some aspects of my avatar, I’ve had to quickly level up or skill up, however you define it.

And it’s not easy.

There’s daily quests to gain new skills, constant learning. All while undergoing a metamorphosis of mind and body. And yes, one that aligns with the unique music of your soul, but also one the world seethes at.

Add to that the feeling of loss and - of time missed - and opportunity never realized.

That reality would be abso-fucking-loutely crushing.

Should be.

If I weren’t so damn happy.

Because I’m here and I’m leveling up every day. And some things have come faster than others, but the most brilliant thing - how I feel inside - has leveled up the fastest and is shattering a pathway for everything else to happen.

I started this process to resolve the incongruity between my body and my mind - the inconsistencies of my inner and outer worlds - to drop the masks that were prisons made to keep me safe.

Nothing can ever reverse that process.

Nothing can rend my wholeness asunder.

Not even this world.

But the idea of leveling up isn’t new, nor the idea of quests - yet I do it daily. Maybe not because I’ll have to face off against a poison-toothed giant desert centipede like in Solo Leveling, but dysphoria is a just as fearsome opponent. And leveling up and doing daily quests are my greatest weapons in facing whatever comes.

So, don’t be afraid to level up - cause it’s your endgame build - not theirs.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is one I did in the Solo Leveling anime style. Being able to reimagine myself and gain the skills and confidence to move through the world is mirrored by the anime. A character that starts out as the weakest and grows to be the strongest - in order to survive.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

Why?

Because I know I’m not dreaming. I know I finally took the plunge and made my decision. And I’m so relieved. In that moment of twilight before full waking, I embody exactly who I’ve always wanted myself to be but was too scared to.

That is - once I really started to understand what I wanted. What, as it turns out, I needed.

Since October 2024 I’ve created art in my own image while simultaneously transforming my physical avatar within the 3D meat space. As I sit writing these words, more comfortable than I’ve ever been in my skin, my painted claws (mortals call them nails) dance across the keyboard, fingers adorned with rings and bracelets gathered through my transformation, this grand adventure.

It feels magical. Like a feminine armor, shining and dangerous.

Loot gained through experience. Upgraded equipment imbued with power.

I never expected how I present to my own eyes outside of camera or mirror would affect me to my core. How it had been affecting me for so, so many years.

It’s not solely a visual experience of course. There’s a tactile change in my arms, fingers, hands, my whole body. My gestures and posture more often reflect these features. And it has allowed me to surrender over, to drop the mask I wore (it stopped fitting anyway), and embody my feminine self.

I’ve seen tremendous and exciting changes as I cruise into five months on HRT. I talked about some of those in Annals of Absynth - Balance Part 2: The Search for Libido. My body shape is changing, not only from estrogen and t-blocker but better diet, exercise, skincare, laser treatments, rigorous (but gentle) shaving, etc.

As my avatar changes I’ve undergone the process of replacing almost my entire wardrobe (via many trips to the thrift store, shipments to my home, and repurposing of hand-me-downs). For me, it’s a huge part of the journey.

Those first trips to the women’s section of the thrift store were nerve-wracking. I don’t think I looked anyone in the eye, except maybe the cashier briefly.

But I steeled myself and pushed myself to go into stores and shop in the women’s section.

And, over time, I’ve obtained a decent wardrobe. I’ve tried different styles of shirts, skirts, dresses, and pants to find what I like and don’t. Those sheer fabrics, form fits, and silky linings fit my new form enhancing the feeling of being right in my body.

Finally right.

Add in accessories: tattoo choker (I can be basic too), earrings (a half century birthday present to me), necklaces, bracelets, and most of all - rings. It took close to a year to collect the rings I wear regularly, but I think the attention getter is the snake ring coiling about my left thumb, head raised. I pet her sometimes to soothe myself. I do the same with my nails.

I find confidence there. Power to cast this spell.

It all started with the tools to envision myself and the audacity to embody my truth.

And I’m happier than I ever imagined.

But, there’s more work ahead. And life doesn’t wait, but the days pass. So I continue to focus. I keep working out, take care of myself, take my girl potion, and things keep getting better. All of that to say, don’t count out the importance of presentation to yourself day in and day out. It’s made a tremendous difference in my life.

Painting my nails claws wasn’t just my first person affirmation to myself, it was a signal to the world around me that a change was underway. Before I came out to my family and friends they noticed it (some took a minute) as the first sign that something was different. Though I can’t imagine they understood the magnitude of the metamorphosis about to take place.

It was from this foundation my personal femininity was built. Now, now - I know wearing nail claw polish is not a strictly gendered thing. But it can be.

I started out neutral tending toward my natural black as a goth at first, but I soon ventured into blue and purple shimmery shades. More playful colors. I started wearing a women’s watch, bracelets, various necklaces - next came clothing - tops first, but then jeans - and eventually makeup.

Then I came out.

And I live every day as myself.

But I still smooth my fingers over my claws, feel the weight of the rings on my fingers, bracelets sliding on arms. I feel soft fabric against bare skin, tuck my long hair behind an ear and smile.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is me lounging and painting my nails, just one of many new rituals in my life - part of the greater spell manifesting myself into this realm.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

Starting it off with Annals of Absynth - Entry One. Serving as an introduction to the blog, it’s my most viewed blog and draws the line in the sand. I simply state what I have planned ahead and a little snippet about who I am.

In Annals of Absynth - Origins, I get vulnerable about where I was when I first realized I might be a girl. Some of those first longings and the lengths to which I was willing to go to have a taste of being femme.

Annals of Absynth - Pencels is a stance against the what I dub the Pencels, a group of angry artists and trolls who think they own what art is and that somehow being able to draw with a pencil is essential to that endeavor. It’s not.

Annals of Absynth - Closet is another tale where I speak about another of those moments of euphoria and longing I had while working in a porn shoot house full of sexy clothes and the magical closet I helped keep clean and organized.

In Annals of Absynth - Girdle of Femininity I get a little nerdy about the cursed item in Dungeons and Dragons I always wanted. Not for a character, but for myself.

I delve into finding balance in my trans journey and in my life in the Annals of Absynth - Balance. An ongoing series I will be updating with another entry soon. The 2nd part in the series is Annals of Absynth - Balance 2: The Search for Libido I speak about starting HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy).

Annals of Absynth - The Artist I explore whether I’m even an artist? What is an art? Why is an art? That sort of thing. Also, I talk about my process a bit.

I ask a good question in Annals of Absynth - Are you even real? That is whether I am in fact a meat popsicle or perhaps a rogue LLM. Totally not a rogue LLM.

And lastly I wanted to highlight Annals of Absynth - Visibility where I talk about some of the difficulties dealing with being visibly trans and how I feel like no matter how uncomfortable I might be at any moment I need to be myself unapologetically and out loud.

I’ll continue to write about my journey, my art, and my life in the coming year. Thank you all for reading and for your support.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is a cozy piece for looking back at the year. The outfit is fairly accurate to reality.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

I looked under the bed.

I went through the trash to see if I accidentally threw it away.

I’ve looked - everywhere.

It’s gone into hiding.

I swear by the Goddess it was here just a few months ago. In fact, it was quite active. Now?

Nothing.

Barren.

Dried up.

It’s my libido. We had a good run, but it’s over.

In my first Balance Substack, I talked about reaching a recalibration point in my journey. At the time I was just about to begin a very powerful part of my transformation - HRT. For the uninitiated that’s Hormone Replacement Therapy.

I’m on the girl-juice, E, the ‘mones - if you will.

And I can proudly report my first three months on HRT have been great. I’ve never felt more like myself than I do now and I’m more certain of this path than I ever was.

I was well aware that my libido would hide for a time while my transformation was taking place. But there’s a strange dichotomy going from having the only way in which I could celebrate my femininity being through a sexual outlet to having almost everything else but a sexual outlet (or at least the desire).

I don’t have to wear women’s clothes in secret anymore, I just get dressed and go to the store. Of course getting dressed as a man and getting dressed as a woman have been very different for me. The effort I put into my appearance is much greater and of more importance to that ‘balance’ than I ever realized it would be as a woman.

And I am grateful for it.

How could I ever expect that dressing up secretly could ever be enough? Knowing what I know now, with the UI and perspective improvements? Who I’m shifting into is so affirming, so invigorating. The small hits of affirming dopamine I was chasing cannot compare to the flood of wonderful feelings I get just being me.

I feel great and I’m generally in a better mood. Generally. And so, the journey continues.

Wait? But what about the physical changes?

Right. Well. First off I’m in the ‘use it or lose it’ portion of the game. That is to say any and all spontaneous erections have (mostly) disappeared. To that end I’ve had to spend time relearning my changing body. Having a wank ain’t so simple.

And while I still consume porn (sometimes even my own) I engage with the material differently. There’s a separate story in my head and I’m more involved in what sensations the femme partner is having, feeling. I think back on my own varied sexual encounters and replay them for myself with the visual aid.

Previously, visual stimuli alone was sufficient. See hot stuff, get hard, get off. Repeat as often as necessary.

Now, I really need to engage my slut-mind. I imagine the tastes, smells, body sensations throughout differently than I was. Part of that is I’m more comfortable with my role. My perspective feels... right.

I’ve tried an interactive game to some effect but I think I need to take the advice of the community and get some real nice smut. The written word already excites me.

What else?

Let’s talk tits. I had a wonderful moment of euphoria just this past week. I was reaching across my body with my arm crossing my chest. And my breast got-in-my-way. I absolutely giggled about it.

I’m definitely developing still and I’d say so far I’m a solid A cup. And I can’t relate how happy it makes me. I’m enjoying the bounce as I dance around the house on a Saturday night.

And yes, they’re sore. And it’s lovely.

Smaller but still important improvements include softer skin (but also my skincare routine has improved by miles), softer hair (haircare too), ass filling out (ever seen a tricked out dumptruck?), face slightly fuller (maybe). All really amazing.

It’s been quite a year for me. I’ve worked hard on myself mentally, physically, and professionally. I’m elated by the results in a short time and I’m excited for the year ahead. And I’m more in balance in this moment than at any other time in my current incarnation on this plane.

I am Absynth now and forever - and no one can ever take that from me.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

Today’s image is based on an idea from the first Balance blog of imagining myself in high heels balancing on a silver disk on a set of giant scales. The disk has gotten smaller and I’m more confident in my heels.

I’ll continue this series as I document my journey on HRT.

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

Pandora’s Box is open and we’re living in the world after.

So start acting like it.

This technology exists and while it is largely advertised by the big corporations - and I’m one who uses the commercially available AI’s too - I’m interested in the tech. Obviously. But that’s only part of the story. We also have open source LLM models and means of running A.I. art programs on a decent gaming PC.

We’re in the game now. Our world has already changed and the past cannot be clawed back. It might be mimicked or remixed. The variables change but the echo remains.

We’re in another industrial revolution or internet explosion or whatever this is. And the battle for control of this technology is now. The potential for it to brainwash what’s left of the thinking masses - the last vestige of people who can read, have a longer than 12 second attention span, and are still able to see the boot coming down on us.

We may be the last people who can do anything about it all.

But, if we cede the technological advantage to the billionaires, the fash, and the idiot corps who want to own everyone and everything, we will lose.

I know there’s a lot of folks who are worried about jobs, money, stealing of material. The concerns are valid, but when the trap encloses on us and the police state wipes out what’s left of the free thinking... what then?

Here’s the deal. The empire is falling. If you have to ask which one, you’re not ready. But we can be ready. Like the psychopathic billionaires and their sycophantic hangers on, we must not let the coming crisis go to waste. When the masks are ripped off and the awful truths made light, the people need to take control of the system. Not to smash it, but commandeer it instead.

Do that, and we can utilize these tools, to the best of our ability, for the betterment of all our fellow humans (and anyone else under the yoke of oppression). Anyway, that’s how I see it.

The future won’t back down. You either rise to meet it head on or get steamrolled.

Seize the means of creation.

Seize the apps.

Seize the platforms.

Seize the infrastructure.

Seize the ballroom.

Seize the billions.

Give it to the people - for the good of all.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

(Today’s image is cyberpunk Absynth, with a little - um - motivational poster.)

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

I know, hard to believe.

What can I say? Testosterone is a hell of a drug.

I almost never got angry any more unless it was at someone on the road, or something dumb I’d forgotten. I am, for better or worse, harder on myself than on others. But, those times could be bad. And it was worse when I was younger.

After aggressively passing someone and visibly angry my partner asked “What are you so mad about?”

And I really, really had to think about that shit.

What was my issue anyway? I mean there’s a few - but after close and careful scrutiny it was obvious. I was not happy about the way I was living my life. And whenever I’d get angry at the traffic in my city (to be fair it’s like Mad Max here) I was letting a little of that bottled up angst loose into the world.

Because I wasn’t living authentically.

I was wasting away.

Drifting.

Not with like the car - oh nevermind.

See, I already knew the problem, but was too scared to face it in real life. It was just a fantasy. A fetish, right? Lots of non-trans people watch trans coming out content- what’s that? Oh? They don’t?

Well, shit...

That’s when the avalanche of evidence crushes you. And when your egg cracks and, like humpty dumpty, no one’s putting you back together again. The caterpillar becomes the butterfly or moth and cannot be a caterpillar once more. Bread becomes toast but cannot be untoasted. Thanos shows up in your head with a gender reveal party half a century late and says “You are inevitable, girl.” and that snap echoes, bitch.

I may be paraphrasing.

So, I was so mad.

About me.

I was the problem. And I hated that.

Do I still have a road rage problem?

Not so much.

Am I being myself?

Fucking finally.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

(Today’s image was created using the Grok image generator using an older Midjourney prompt. I thought it embodied the rage my true self felt while all bottled up and hidden.)

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.

Sure, you can read about it. There’s tons of stories here on Substack, YouTube videos, TikToks - many of which I’d seen prior to transitioning.

But being perceived - there’s a visceral reaction, where the fight or flight instinct kicks in and, if you’re not managing that in some way, it will kick your ass and exhaust you.

But. That’s the only way through. It’s cringe, it’s clocky, it’s bricky.

There’s no real alternative.

It’s a journey that can’t be taken in one leap. And it would be difficult enough on it’s own. But then there’s - you know - the hate, the ongoing culture war, looming collapse of all norms.

Thrust to the front lines (cause those who should protect us don’t find it politically expedient to do it).

We fight to exist.

Really.

I just want to exist, make art, play games with friends, fuck, and laugh.

Of course, perhaps if things had been that easy, I wouldn’t be writing this.

Because, for me, visibility is important. And I didn’t realize why until I’d gotten some wonderful feedback from my community.

Girls who’ve transitioned, are transitioning, and wish they could transition see themselves reflected in Absynth. The sisterhood I’ve found in the year I’ve been online as myself has been great. Like, the best. I love hearing from fans of my art and writing, sharing stories with folks, sharing art, and sometimes just chit chatting. I’ve made lots of great new friends.

And it’s made me realize how the visibility of the brave and outspoken trans women who blazed the path before me allowed me to even understand I could exist. Because without the belief that it can happen, it never will. Their stories gave me strength, hope, a vision of how things could be better.

Maybe I can do that for someone out there. Maybe I can tell you that the world may hate us but it’s a world built on lies that can only be met with truth and authenticity. Refuse to give it anything else.

I know I put a target on my back when I leave the house. I understand there are eyes on me. Not necessarily negative of course. Still, I stay wary. I could go out stealth - boymode as it’s often called. And there are definitely times when that’s the right play. Traveling in certain areas of my country I keep a low profile. Not everywhere is safe to be visible.

It’s scary.

But. What I’m not going to do is live in fear in my daily life. Going to the grocery store, the pharmacy, the pizza shop -wherever. I’m going to be me. I choose to live. I choose to be free. And no matter what happens from here. I choose to be visible. I hope one day you’ll be able to join me.

Existence is Resistance

Absynth

(For today’s image I wanted to use something that captured my essence and projected my confident goth baddie energy. This is one of the first pieces of art I ever posted remastered through an intense year of practice with stable diffusion and Invoke)

My Linktree has links to my socials and my art and comic on Patreon.