I finally had a chance for a long sit down with my new boss about both short and long term business issues. It is not like this is a new relationship we have known each other for ten years and worked together for eight.
During our informal planning session he mentioned I should go back to wearing my hair in my usual "ducktail"/ rockabilly style, "that is the "A" I know. I said yeah well I am not really sure what I should do with it at this time. Don't wait to long otherwise you will look like a fag was the response
Sure I was a little taken back but more worrisome was the seed of doubt it planted in my mind about my planned coming out to him in six to eight months. What if he fires me, oh god I couldn't start again, more delays. The prospect seemed unbearable. Unlike the Biblical Jacob I do not have the patience or time to start again. Depression is however more than patient and is always looking for a way back in, I quickly found myself curled up and unresponsive in its suffocating grasp.
I don't believe that he meant it as a way to hurt but simply the typical banter between heterosexual guys. "J" says take it as a compliment, clearly he senses a change, the hormones at work, but cannot put his finger on it.
To return to the micro level, why does the idea of cutting my hair (delaying having my ears pierced) seem like such a retreat? It will grow again. Sure I am reluctant to give any ground on even the flimsiest signs of progress but perhaps more than that is that the old "A" no longer exits. To go back to pretending to be him would be both painful and false.
Some exercise and talking with "J" helped me gain some perspective but I am not out of the woods yet.
I was lucky enough to get out again on Sunday night but this isn't the time for those pictures. So instead I give you the car gals way of measuring snow fall. Oh and return visit from the Raveonettes:
