Today for work, I saw someone spell fisticuffs as "fisty cuffs" and a) that is adorable and b) it also makes me realize what a strange word fisticuffs is!

So naturally I looked it up.

c. 1600, fisty cuffes, from fist (n.) + cuff (n.) "a blow", with the form perhaps in imitation of handiwork.

Well! That's such a boring etymology, but... nice to see the spelling returned to something more like the original!

I said this on fedi and a friend's response has been delighting me ever since:

I always misread it as fishticuffs, so always had an image in my head of some kind of betta fish boxing, complete with gloves over fins

That made me giggle. They're an artist so I asked if they would draw this some time. I am wondering how a fish gets boxing gloves on its fins...

I didn't write here yesterday, but what I said on fedi last night was 'Tomorrow is going to be an absolutely disgusting day at work: stressful meetings, grim topics to dwell on..."

The stressful meetings weren't as bad as I expected. Though they were tiring. Lots to think about.

Then some other stuff happened that inspired a household conversation about logistics. All fine, very glad we can do the things we can do. But, more to think about.

Then I got a letter inviting me to my first in-person PIP (UK welfare benefits for disabled people) assessment in a decade.

It's next week, on the day of an important work thing.

At 9 in the morning.

In a part of the city I don't know at all. I don't want D to drive me but I'll have to do a practice run myself if I want to get the bus there. They always pick weird buildings that look like all the other buildings, or some industrial park miles from anywhere, or something inaccessible.

Anyway, back to work: I now have to spend the afternoon paying close attention to the Government's spending review, which is bound to make me angry and frustrated.

The other day I overhead D telling someone that I now naturally have the voice that I put on for my character in our D&D game a couple of years ago.

I was an orc barbarian, heh.

I was delighted to hear this because I hadn't consciously been doing a voice for Bulrik (I went through dozens of orc names I hated in one of the online name generators before finding one I could live with at all, only much later realizing it's most of the name I chose for my self!) and I didn't know that's what I sound like all the time now! How delightful.

I haven't done any conscious voice training at all, just let the testosterone do its work. And I didn't record my voice at any point with the intent of tracking the change, which I guess is a norm in some online cultures. Both of these choices have been conscious decisions made to protect my mental health and I feel really good about that, but it does mean my boundless self-absorption has nothing to work with here! So it's nice to have some external observation.

The other stuff I've been meaning to write about is gonna have to wait; I'm too tired now apparently.

Last month I met someone whose visa has just been approved and who started T today.

What a good day.

I was excited to meet another trans immigrant... so much that I immediately behaved as if there was a kind of intimacy between us that does not in fact exist: I teased him about how he only had a few hours left until he started being stinky...and then as we were leaving he asked me "wait, so about that smell thing, was that serious, because I've been wondering...."

oh no!

But! It worked out okay: I saw him again a fortnight later, and he made a point of telling me I was right about the stinkiness. Which made me smile but also gave me a chance to apologize for saying something that could be so easily misconstrued. I tried to explain about the false sense of intimacy I immediately felt when

He said it was fine, it was funny. To be understood as I'd intended was a relief!

He told me that the person standing next to him, an acquaintance of mine, someone he had been draped over all evening, has been counting his facial hairs.

As of that day there were eight of them.

It was so heartwarming and delightful to see early transition so intimately documented like that. Especially for a masc person; the loving detail is something I'm so much more used to seeing from trans fems.

Every afternoon this week, I reach a point in the afternoon where I stumble away from my work computer and end up in the kitchen, and there on the countertop I see a handful (or more!) of strawberries, which V has harvested and washed.

And I try to only eat half (which was easier today because they ended up telling me they'd already eaten half of what they'd picked, and they'd finished off the blueberries in the fridge along with it; basically that was their lunch), and it's just the thing I need to get through the rest of the day.

Strawberry season is the best season. And I'm so grateful that don't even have to pick them myself!

As someone who, 99% of the time, has to listen to something (usually a familiar audiobook or podcast) to fall asleep, I am finally trying one of these Bluetooth sleep headband things that always get advertised to me.

My needs (or expectations) are not great here. Back in the days of rigid Walkman headphones with scratchy foam over the earphones I would fall asleep lying on my side with them digging in to my head.

But even so, this has been a success the last few nights. If a little warm for my hot head.

It's funny: it's clearly meant to be an eye mask too, but I can't stand not being able to see at least a little light when I open my eyes, so I actively dislike this. I'll wear it at an awkward angle, I don't mind! I hate the dark so much.

Unexpected benefit of this contraption is I can continue my habit of listening to a podcast (to get my hit of extrovert energy) while I'm getting dressed in the morning, without disturbing my sleeping boyfriend still in bed. (I know this would be true of any Bluetooth headset but I'm not used to them, plus the fabric fits the soft and cozy gentle start to the day that I'm always aiming for.)

My bedroom is even close enough to the bathroom that I can leave my phone next to my bed, go brush my teeth, and no interruption in me hearing strangers chat about baseball or whatever.

Can't tell if my biggest exercise achievement this evening is

1) the (new, temporary) instructor saying "that's the strongest plank ever!" about mine (plank is usually a weakness, all I normally hear is "Erik get your hips up!")
or
2) me absolutely booking it out of there the second our cooldown finished, knowing I only had a chance to make the bus if I hustled -- effectively addring ten minutes of cardio on top of the hour-long circuits session! -- and getting to the stop just as the bus did.

I was so wrecked by the time I got home though. Especially because the bus driver didn't let me off at the stop I wanted (I guess I stood up too late and despite getting to the front of the bus just after another person exited the bus and the doors were still open, he insisted on ignoring me!).

I was so tired that, when I went to eat the lovely dinner that my lovely boyfriend had made for us while I was out, I had to consciously think it's time to open my mouth, muscles! once my hand had brought the spoon full of chili and rice to my lips.

I did my split squats today and didn't hate them!

Split squats always get a groan when our trainer tells us to do them, no one likes them, but I've found them a particular trial during ankle recovery. They've so good for me that lunges (which are similar) were a formal part of my physiotherapy. But that also meant they were hard, no fun, and not terribly rewarding!

I've always been fortunate that my recovery hasn't featured a lot of pain, but that almost made it more difficult to monitor, and cope with, the intense weakness in that ankle (and the knock-on effects, like my already-atrocious balance somehow got (and remains) even worse?!).

Feeling okay until my leg just didn't hold me up properly can be unsettling!

I've patiently stuck with it, doing regular bodyweight lunges in circuits when other people are doing walking lunges with the biggest dumbbells available to us there (not very big, but still!) and having to tuck myself into the squat cage for split squats at lift club so I could hang on to the bars to keep my balance.

And now I can do (very slow, increasingly wobbly) walking lunges, and I can do split squats without hanging on to anything -- except a little kettlebell! And I might have to go up to the second-smallest size of kettlebell next time actually, I was thinking today.

It's nice to feel like I'm at about the level where I would have been starting if I hadn't broken my ankle almost immediately into taking up exercise as a hobby. I mean yes it'd be nice if it hadn't taken me a year and a half to get that far, but as with so many of the other changes in my body in the past year and a half, I try not to get caught up in what-ifs and wistful regret, and I think I am doing okay at that.