Angry Mood Swings and "You, sir, in the glitter and the kidskin loafers!"

Last Friday I took a shot a day earlier than I was supposed to since I was going out of town for the weekend and didn't want to bother with losing an $80 vial of golden boy serum to an uncompromising TSA chump. Maybe it's just that visiting Las Vegas made me a ball of nerves, but since the shot (and since coming back) I've been either a bit of a downer or a seething pile of vague rage (, I'm speaking in hyperbole to a degree, you must understand; I'm not actually that angry, just more angry than I usually have been, which is to say angry at all.) Granted I haven't done anything violent--just a lot of very forceful housework (you should SEE our refrigerator!) but I'm getting tired of it. I almost miss my depressive anxiety over this new active impassioned kind. It only gets worse, too, because I get frustrated with myself for being mad, and then it just turns into a feedback loop of listening to country music and scrubbing dishes and yelling, "I mean, COME ON!" Any thoughts on how to be calm? I've never had to work at it before.

There were some amusing passing bits this weekend, I suppose. I had a nice 100% success rate of airport clerks and officials calling me "sir" even as I was handing them my ID with the big F on it. I've always said I would start using the men's as my default bathroom (I usually only use it if the place seems especially queer-friendly) if I ever got hassled in the women's, and lo and behold I got a dirty look as I was putting on pink liquid eyeliner in the ladies' room in the Vegas airport when I first got in. I did use the women's a few more times since that incident--some guy was taking FOREVER in the stall at Caesar's Palace and I didn't want to wait around to sniff the outcome of his labors--but when I got back to the airport in Vegas, I boldly strode into that gross, frightening men's room with all the confidence of an effete pubescent teenage boy.

A brief PSA: I'm at the point in passing where I don't want to talk about it when it happens. It's less and less of a surprise or an accomplishment in and of itself, and when you say "That waitress totally said "he" about you!" or when you give me a knowing glance when I get that "Sir" in line at the airport, it just makes me feel self conscious and patronized. I know it may seem like a double standard since I have this whole damn blog dedicated to chronicling the minutiae of who sees me as male and how often, but I'd like you to trust me on this. I don't want anyone to walk on eggshells with me and never ever mention my gender either--that would be silly--but maybe try to keep it in the realm of actual conversations about gender, and not just bring it up all the time, if you could? Kind of nitpicky, yes, and I'm very lucky to have people around me who are excited for me to pass, but if I can't peeve here where can I?