On Monday, I opened a new Facebook account under my girl name; and on Tuesday I requested that they close the one under my old name, which I've had for years. It will take 14 days for the closure to take effect. Later that day, I discovered that the new account had been suspended; they didn't say why, but I later learned that it was because my identity was unverified. Subsequent exchange of emails make it clear that this can only be cured by submitting documents that do not currently exist. With some effort and time, I think I might be able to create them; but, frankly, Facebook isn’t worth the trouble. There are only two people I contact through that medium, and both of them now have my email address. So, so long, Facebook.

Getting rid of my old name, my “name assigned at birth” (NAAB), has become increasingly important to me. I still have to deal with it at work, in situations where my legal identity is relevant and when interacting with anyone to whom I don't want to out myself; but I've started to erase it where I can. On Tuesday evening, I renamed my PC, which was named using my NAAB; and I renamed myself as a user/administrator. Now, when I turn on my computer, it says, “Ann.” I love it.

I ordered a keychain on Amazon that bears the name “Ann” in silver and a nice script; and I bought a DIY bicycle plate at Walmart and created an “Ann” plate to remind me who I am. It may seem silly, but it isn't. When there are so many forces pulling at you to think of yourself as who you aren't, you need some others to remind you of who you are. Besides, the truth is that I've always hated my NAAB. On Wednesday, I went to the post office and had my new name added to the list of people eligible to receive mail there.

I was sitting at my desk at work yesterday when the stud in my right ear fell out. It’s supposed to stay in for at least two weeks, and it fell out after six days. I did find both pieces; but, when I tried to get them back in my earlobe, I dropped one of them in the bathroom sink. Yep. Down the drain. Someone told me recently that, with freshly-pierced ears, they would not feel comfortable removing the studs for more than a few hours at a time. The place that had pierced my ears has very restricted hours; it would be several hours before I would be able to get in for replacements. So, I grabbed a paper clip (small), unbent it, swathed it in hand sanitizer and tried to put it in my ear – this time, from the rear. It slipped right in. Thank heaven.

After I got off work, I discovered that the piercing place would be closed all day. I couldn’t leave a paper clip in my ear for 48 hours; so, I did what I always do when I need down-and-dirty help on a moment’s notice: I called Walmart. I had to buy new studs, but the jewelry department put them in my ears for me. Saved.

I wore one of my new camisoles to work yesterday. I love the spaghetti straps; they make me feel so feminine. They also sometimes slide off my shoulder, but not often. I kind of like having to reach in and pull them back up. I love being a woman.

While at the mall, I stopped in at a shop selling eyeglasses. I asked the salesgirl if she had any frames that were androgynous, that could be worn by both men and women. She knew they were for me, and there could be only one reason I would ask such a question. She seemed amused, but I didn’t care. I just don’t care so much anymore about strangers knowing. Most people who know me, however – I’m not there yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if I were there soon; things are changing quickly.

The reason I don’t care so much anymore is that I need to shop for myself as the woman I am; I can’t sit around worrying about what people, especially strangers, are going to think of me. That’s childish. If they want to mock me or regard me with contempt, that’s their problem. This attitude that I have about this is something quite uncharacteristic; formerly, I could not have imagined shopping as I do. I’m still a little nervous in the ladies departments of department stores, but I’m getting over it. I was in JC Penney’s today and wanted to ask a salesperson about purses, but didn’t see one.

Oh, and I wore lip gloss when I went out, again. I’m kind of proud of it. Now, that’s immature. Some part of me wants to flaunt, and that’s immature. But that’s not the primary reason I wore it. The primary reason I wore it was to say, “I’m a girl!” to myself, and to anyone else lucky enough to notice.