Out

I just watched a wonderful video of a high school student coming out to his classmates during a school assembly. Maybe you saw it too, it was all over the Internet.  He was receiving an award for his talent as an actor, and during his acceptance speech, shared that he was part of the LGBT community, and now he didn’t have to act straight anymore. 

She's a Lady

While not quite Lady Dowager's status, 
it's very affirming nonetheless.

The Pain I’m Used To

It’s like taking a lit cigar and burning my face, over and over again. As it’s happening, I twitch, sweat, and tear-up, but the pain is fleeting.  The heat only burns dark hairs, not my skin, that is unless you forget to remove your makeup, and then the laser burns your skin too, that happened once.  For those who have tried laser before, you know first-hand, the unique sensation of the intense heat searing hair follicles to their root; it’s like burning a hole in a leaf with a magnifying glass and the sun.

Flammable part 2

Before I knew it, I was sitting in a cozy and trendy restaurant in Portland.  With the wig drama in the past, the night off to a fabulous start.  My new friends and I were having fun, telling stories, enjoying a few drinks, and getting to know each other.  After a while we decided to try a new place for food, more drinks, and to stretch the evening.  At a nearby grill we huddled together, like old friends, waiting for a both to open, and within minutes, we were set.  We continued to enjoy each other’s company and ordered dinner.  Suddenly, a stranger was sitting opposite me, joining us in our booth.  That was odd.

Flammable

I was finally going out.  And while it wasn’t technically a date, a girl can dream.  I was going out with a fabulous woman and her cute gay cousin for dinner and drinks.  It was Friday night, girls’ night out.  In my new life as Gia, I haven’t had the opportunity to experience that unique event yet, and while tonight wasn’t that grand, there certainly was to be more drama than I was used to.  It was Portland, Maine, on a cold January night; it wasn’t exactly an episode of Real Housewives.  If there were spray tans and fake boobs, they were difficult to spot under layers of fleece, flowing scarves, and wool hats.

Year of the Squirrel

Along the two million strides I ran this year, there were certainly unforgettable views.  From the dunes of Cape Cod, mountains of Vermont, corn fields of upstate New York, inlets around Deer Isle, parks in Atlanta, up and down Heartbreak Hill, Portland’s Back Cove, and the daily runs from my home in Kennebunkport, which is lined with farms, pastures, nature preserves, ocean views, marshes, small homes, and even a Presidential mansion; no two runs were the same.