Face Time

From the moment we’re conceived, there is change. It is a natural and immutable part of existence. (Yes, change is an immutable fact.) From one day to the next we are not the same. I daresay from one moment to the next we are not the same. Even if that change is imperceptible from moment to passing moment, it’s still there. You take a million of these moments, and the amount of change that takes place becomes pronounced and profound.

The fact that you will not be the same person tomorrow you were yesterday is a curse, a blessing, and a promise. We grow up, we get older, we look at ourselves in the mirror and don’t recognize ourselves. We try to think of who we were even just five years ago and it’s difficult. Trying to put yourself in your own shoes 10 or 20 years in the past is almost an impossibility. We remember moments from those times, but they are now perceived through a vastly different lens. The lens of somebody else. That is how much we change.

I think of myself just five years ago and I don’t know who I’m looking at. Any more than that is a blur. And when you add major life moments into that mix… births, deaths, the experience of new people who become a major part of your world, new jobs, new struggles, new victories… the velocity at which change occurs is heightened. These events speed us toward the next incarnation of ourselves.

While I haven’t had the change that’s instilled through meeting the love of my life or starting a family, I have other milestones that have literally transformed me. I went through the raging tumult of grappling with gender identity and my ultimate acquiescence to the acceptance that I’m trans… and then the many years of not only trying to deal with it, but trying to embrace myself and love myself despite the fact that all I had inside me was a gnashing hatred of who I was. Even while knowing that I’m actually a pretty decent person by all standards, the self-hatred you go through from being trans truly alters who you are. It is a meat grinder that some people do not escape from. It wrings out your hope and sanity and leaves you less than whole.

BUT… once I accepted the fact that THIS is who I am, I went on to address the circumstance. I sought the way to treat the horrid feelings that being trans hurled at me. I began taking hormones. My body then literally changed in wonderful ways. Not only that, but the chaos swirling in my brain was calmed, at least a little.

Then, not even a year ago, I had bottom surgery to help me feel better. And WOW did it! After adjusting to everything, the regularity of depression that interrupted my world has been not existent, and I haven’t even been down or bluesy in months. This is UNHEARD of for me. I feel like I don’t even know who I am at times because of the absence of these bad feelings. And it’s wonderful.

And now I’m having facial surgery later today. To…day. I have navigated my way to another major and monumental leap forward, and it is now on my doorstep. And this, perhaps oddly to some, especially considering my last surgery, is the scary one. This is the one that truly frightens me and has me filled with a whole mess of feelings that I’m still trying to sort out even though it’s mere hours away.

On one hand, I am SO excited to see how this goes, and I most certainly KNOW that this is indeed a step I need to make in my life… because I’ve existed in the world as I am now for long enough to know that all of the steps I have taken aren’t enough. The life I have now isn’t the life I want for myself, and I have to strive to achieve that life because what am I doing with my existence if I’m NOT heading in the direction I need to go and fiercely fighting to get there?

But it’s trippy and scary as fuck to not know what you’re going to look like at this time tomorrow. It’s kind of terrifying to know that how the world treats me in just a short time may be drastically different. It’s also awful to think that I’m going through all of this trouble, and the pain and recovery of surgery, and the staggering financial expense of it all, and there is most certainly a chance that it won’t be enough and it won’t make a lick of difference in how the world treats me. The uncertainty of it is overwhelming.

Add into this the fact that I’m about to surgically alter this constant companion of mine… my face. The one that looks back at me in the mirror every day. While it has changed very much over the years, this seems to me to be something very different. As I’m thinking of this and typing this, tears are actually filling my eyes. There is a bit of mourning here, and there was for my previous surgery as well. But the mourning is more pronounced here, because with the last one I knew that if all went okay I would at last feel right… and I do… very much so and despite some complications.

This next surgery is different for some reason. Part of me really loves my face. Part of me wants to claw it off my skull. It’s such a strange and conflicting space to exist in.

And the really weird thing is that my weight has fluctuated greatly over the years, and when we gain or lose weight, even a little bit sometimes, our faces change. Drop 40 pounds, and you WILL look drastically different. I know, because I’ve done so. Is this any different?

I guess there’s something more to it when you’re talking about altering and shaving down and sculpting your skull. Maybe it’s the permanence of it all. But even with that, the passing of time is somewhat permanent as well. 45-year-old me has a face that has permanently been altered from 25-year-old me, and that’s just through the passing of time (well, and some hormones thrown in there too).

For some reason, and somehow, I’m both wildly excited about this next leap forward, but I’m also filled with a sense of sadness about it. Right now, with it racing up on me I’m just trying to hope for the best and stay positive about it all. After all, this is something I NEED to do with this life… I mean EVERY inch of me is telling me this… but it doesn’t mean that it’s not scary.

It’s been such a strange year, and it’s about to get way stranger. Though strange does not equal bad. That’s something I must keep in mind. 

Now my job is to stay optimistic, see this as a finish line of sorts that I’m crossing after a decades-long marathon, revel in that, and keep this mindset and the joy of completion with me.

Okay, I’m ready.

Goodbye old face, and long live the new one.

Much much love to any and everyone who has gotten me to this point. I’m thankful beyond the scope of words. 


Wishing you all the most happiness you can squeeze from this existence.

 

Facing Forward

I have huge news. Really, really huge news. I've been trying to come up with something to say about it for the past month, but the right words elude me and don't want to come out. I can't seem to write about it because there is just too much. But here I am, and I'm going to give it a shot.


The path life takes you on sometimes is a strange one. You feel compelled by forces seemingly beyond your control to do things you never thought you’d do. You take irreversible steps in your life because the universe drives you in that direction. We’re all being pushed and pulled upon by these unseen energies that act on us every day.

This past December I had bottom surgery. It’s the biggest decision and leap of faith I’ve ever made in my life. While ultimately it has been AMAZING for me, my psyche, and my soul, it hasn’t come easy after. There is just a PROFOUND amount to process with it, and I’m still doing so some eight months later. There are times where I feel astoundingly happy and at ease… and at peace. And then there are times where the world comes at me and places me back into the box I appear to be in to those who can't see ME, and it hurts even more than it did before because physically I am different.

But I’m also the size of an NFL lineman, and I’m big for a human being, let alone a woman. So people are going to see me the way they do no matter what I wear. Even if I hung a sign on me in all caps screaming at people “I AM FEMALE” they wouldn’t see me that way, and then, because some of our society is oh so loving and accepting, the comments and the ridicule would begin because I look like the stereotypical “man in a dress”. It’s ever so fun.

So, to correct this, and since I can’t change my size (though I can lose weight, which I am fighting through the process of), the only other outward thing I can do at this time is to have my face changed. To have my face feminized. It’s a common thing among transwomen who can afford it (though, by all means, not every one of us goes through this, nor should anyone ever ever have to). I feel like I have to, though. I feel like I have to try it. I feel like I have to do everything I can to present myself to the world as the person I know myself to be. This is my personal need in my personal journey.

And so, coming this fall to an operating room in Boston, I’m going to be having facial surgery. By this winter, I’ll have a new face.

It’s beyond crazy to think about.

"Facial feminization surgery" or "FFS" are the monikers for it. Essentially, it's a series of procedures designed to make my face look, as my surgeon put it, "unquestionably female." It's incredible what can be done today.

What's going to happen when I go under the knife is my forehead will be resculpted and my hairline lowered just a bit. My jawline and chin will also be recontoured, and my Adam's apple will be shaved down to something that is, hopefully, unnoticeable.

I'm doing all this in hopes that, in spite of my size and any other "male" characteristic I may possess, that people will somehow see ME, or as close to how I perceive me as the available science and my financial situation will permit. And while there are aspects of my face that I do like, there is so much about it that I, quite adamantly, detest. It sounds awful to say such things about yourself, but it’s just the way it is, and it’s what this “being trans” condition makes me feel.

I'm doing this because every time I look in the mirror, it hurts... it literally hurts... because my face is not the face of who I truly am. My face is of someone else... someone who I used to be... or, more accurately... someone who I used to fill the role of because I thought there was no other recourse.

What's to come is scary, and trippy, and exciting beyond words. I mean, in a little over a month and a half I'm going to have a new face looking back at me in the mirror. After this is over, my life is instantly going to change, and I have no idea to what degree. How the world sees me WILL change… something that did not happen at all after bottom surgery. It’s staggering to think about.

After this surgery... from that point forward... I will literally be showing a new face to the world. There will be no masking of things. No clothes covering and hiding. This face… this new, more feminine face… will be what I present to the world from now on. It's going to be out there, and it will be exposed for all to see. How fucking mind-warping is that?

Part of me thinks I'm not ready for this, and part of me thinks this should have happened many years ago… but I don't want to dwell on the regret that is birthed from the passing of time. I want to concentrate on what's to come. I want to be hopeful that this will be a massively grand and amazing step in my crusade to present my best self to the world, and, more importantly, that it will allow me to feel more at ease in my own skin and heighten my internal peace. 

If it has the same kind of impact as my last surgery, and I'm STILL realizing and processing all the good I've gained from it, this next surgery is going to be well worth the pain, and the trouble, and the ridiculous amount of money that it's costing me, even with taking out a loan to pay for half of it because not one cent of it is covered by insurance.

But this is where my life and my soul has brought me to. My last surgery pushed me all in, so now I have to play my hand to the best of my capabilities. In this instance, it means being bold and brave and letting who I am at my core guide my actions, even if that means having a new face and entirely new interactions with the world come November. And even if it means having two incredibly life-transforming surgeries in less than a year. 

I spent over a decade mired in a type of stagnation. Now I'm caught in an avalanche of forward movement, momentum, and progress. I'm terrified and I'm exhilarated. There is a GIGANTIC unknown waiting for me on the other side of this surgery, and all I can do is hope I made the right decisions and chose the right doctor. 

Outside of surgical complications, my biggest fear is that I go through the pain and expense of this and nothing is different and everyone says, "You look exactly the same!" On the other hand, my mind races with thoughts that my face may look so feminine that people will start "miss" and "ma'am"ing me, and I strangely question how I'll even handle that. Most people I bring this up to, however, all tend to say the same thing—"You're more than ready for that to happen!"

Well, if that's the case, then let's make it so! Let's do all I can to make myself as happy and at peace as I can be, and I'm hoping everyone else is doing the same bold, terrifying, and wonderful things in their own lives.

This journey I’ve been on, while insanely difficult, has certainly been different and has certainly been interesting, and for the first time ever I’m starting to appreciate it rather than being only pain-ridden and distraught from it. It’s funny how when things start happening and your life REALLY quickens that things get more enjoyable. And as scary as what awaits me is, my life and my transition are becoming both fascinating and, dare I say, kind of fun for once. Let’s see if it gets even more so when I’m wearing my new face.


The absolute best to you all. Always.

Here I Am

Talk about leaving things in a cliffhanger. I mean, I post over five months ago about how I’m going to have THE surgery… about how I’m getting ready to take THE biggest and most profound step I’ve ever taken… and then I don’t write for almost half a year.

Well, you see, the thing is… it’s taken me that long to even BEGIN to know what to say about it.

I had surgery on December 27, 2017. It went fairly well. I mean, I’m still healing, so we won’t know final results for another few months or so, but at this point in the process and with what I’ve gone through so far, I’m pretty, amazingly happy.

There have been some complications, but nothing all too major as far as I can tell. Mostly it’s simply about dealing with the simmering frustration that comes with recovery. You finally reach a point where you almost feel back to normal, but you’re not quite there yet. You’re just on the wide periphery of healed, and the closer you get to the core of fully better, the more the impatience nags at you.

All that said, I still really don’t know what to write about. I don’t know how to sum any of it up. I have so much to say about it to the point where I can’t get anything out. It’s like a tidal wave of thoughts are trying to escape my brain through a keyhole, and it’s so excessive that it just gets dammed up.

What I do know is this…. I’m happy that I’ve had the surgery. In fact, I’m beyond ecstatic. I can’t even describe how much better, and clear-headed, and content, and giddy, and confident this has made me. Even with the complications. It’s like someone has been screaming at me for the past few decades and it’s finally stopped. Know that car alarm that goes off for WAY too long and it starts to drive you slowly insane? Imagine that going on for DECADES… then imagine it stopping. THAT is how I feel right now. A thought that constantly entered my mind in the first few weeks of this new experience was: I don’t know how to be this happy.

I truly didn't, and I'm still trying to figure out how to be.

This is all just SO very different, and even I have a difficult time wrapping my head around it. At times I don’t even think it’s real. It’s like I think I’ve somehow fooled myself and suddenly I’ll be reverted back to what I was. All my life I’d imagine SO intently what I SO desperately sought… I’d visualize it to SUCH a degree that I could almost fool myself into believing this blissful lie. Like if I concentrated hard enough, I could pretend I was already fixed.

But then, sooner or later, reality would come crashing in and destroy this illusion I so desperately tried to get lost in.

But… this time…. this time it is real. This time the illusion is that I’ll revert back to that painful feeling. This time the illusion is that I’ll ever have to feel that way again.

THIS is what this experience is like. It is SUCH a hard thing to encapsulate, and I try to even do it a modicum of justice with my description on this page.

Yet, with all of this said, there’s a bad side to it too. You see, I still very much and near unmistakably look like a man, even when I try to present as female. Now, I’m not the most girly of girls, and to be honest, I really prefer jeans and t-shrits over anything more fancy. I’ve always strived for comfort more than anything else. And what would be read as “comfort” on other women, gets read as “completely male” on me.

And even if I play it up… even if I throw on a dress and try my best to appear as “feminine” as possible to people who meet me, I still come across as male.

This makes me hide. Because it’s easier to hide than to deal with the disparity between my perception and the world’s. If I’m not trying, then it hurts less than if I try and still get the same treatment. It’s like my mind can justify it by saying, “Well, I’m not trying, so it’s not as bad.”

And so I hide. Both in the way that I dress, and in the fact that I barely leave my apartment and have become, for all intents and purposes, a shut-in.

My hiding has become even worse since surgery. Because when I’m here, alone, at home, I am INSANELY happy. When I’m not dealing with what the world reflects back at me, I am INSANELY happy. It’s like a drug, and all I want to do is feed that addiction and live in this altered state of reality, because the other version, the REAL version that lurks outside my door, is so very much more painful and biting.

Before surgery, I still had the pain of feeling wrong, so I would hide but still go out and do things to try to deal with and distract myself from this pain. Now that this pain doesn’t exist, it is VERY difficult for me to try to move in and around other people. I don’t even leave the house to go to work, because I can work from home pretty much any day I want to… and lately it’s been every single day. I haven’t been to the office in weeks. I’m telling myself that I’m going in tomorrow. I see even just telling myself this as a sign of progress toward eventually getting out into the world again… but we’ll see if I leave the house tomorrow morning.

Maybe this is only a temporary thing, though. Maybe I just need to be with this and with my new self for a time and process it all. I’m not certain, but I know that I’m still planning for the future and trying to find a way I can move more easily in the world… so that’s good, because at least I’m still looking out there. Maybe someday soon I’ll be a part of it again.

Until then, I shall stay in my happy little bubble.

Things could most certainly be worse.

All the best to you. Always.

Before the Dawn

"Growth is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong."
                                                                               – Mandy Hale

There seems to be a lot of debate and thought lately about what makes us who we are? What truly defines us? Is it our appearance? Our genes? Our DNA? Our mind? Do they all play a part, and if so, how important is each part?

As someone who is trans, the thought of identity and what makes us who we are is a constant. Part of that is because I feel in eternal discord, so I am trying my best to rectify that, and how do you fix something you don't understand?

And so I seek understanding.

Another reason I'm bombarded with these thoughts is because I insanely read comments on trans stories on the internet. People cry out that no one can be trans and we're all mentally ill and unstable because of DNA or genetics or <<insert reason here>>.


All that said, I come FIRMLY down in the camp that we are who our mind says we are. Our mind governs what we do and how we do it. It governs what we say, how we act, and really, isn't ALL of that who we truly are?

With that in mind, I have been out as trans to everyone in my social world for years now. I have received a host of reactions to it. Thankfully most of them have been good.

The thing that's strange about it is that I think many of the people in my life accept the fact that I'm "trans", but there's no real thought as to what that means. It's like, "You're trans and I support you," and while I appreciate that immensely, a step seems to be missed.


By saying I'm trans, I'm basically saying, "Yeah, I look like a guy, but I'm not. In fact, I'm not at ALL what I appear to be. My brain is female, and to me that means that I—who I am at my CORE—is female."

It took a loooooooonnnnnnnnngggggggg time and a massive amount of agony to come to that realization, and even more time and agony for me to learn to start embracing it. It's not that I didn't explore other options. It's not that I didn't scream and cry for it to be other things. It's not that I didn't go to seven different therapists to try to find out what was really underneath it all and why I was having these feelings.

After all of that, it became clear I was having these feelings because I'm trans. I was having these feelings because I'm a woman, but yet I look the way I do. It's enough to cause self-hatred and depression to envelop you like a shroud. It's enough to make you want to die. Literally. It's nothing that anyone would want for themselves, for it's just a magnificent amount of pain.


Okay, I don't mean to get all morose with this post, but I need to establish that this is not something I dreamed up overnight. This is not some fanciful whim I flew off on. This is DECADES of self-examination. And now I'm here, trying to find a way to be at ease with who I am, and have those in my world feel the same.

Yet I'm assailed with reminders that people can't let it go. That people can't see me for who I am. That people still call me the wrong name and say the wrong things about me. That people assume that I'm some guy and that I'll get all the "guy" things and have no idea about the "girl" things... whatever the hell that genderist bullshit is. That some dude will come up to me to tell me how "hot" some woman is because, I don't know, this is what dudes do (or creeper dudes do at the very least)? It's all fucking maddening.

But, outside of that, there are people who see me for who I am despite my appearance. They get ME. They understand ME. And they want to do right by ME. So there is hope, and things on this front get better every day. This is something I need to hold onto and keep in mind.

However, even with these people doing right by me, there is still the pain I feel every single day. There is still the discord. Nothing is in harmony with me. Everything is off kilter, and it's a terrible way to go through life.

And so I seek to get that harmony. I seek to match my outside with who I truly am. And this is happening in a major way just two weeks from now, because I'm having surgery. I'm having "the" surgery, as a friend recently put it. It has a lot of monikers: SRS, GRS, GCS, bottom surgery. Yep, that one. I'm having it. I couldn't be more excited about something, and I also couldn't be more terrified.

I think the excitement aspect here speaks for itself. I know this isn't going to cure all that ails me as a person, but it's a pretty big fucking bit of medicine for my soul. It will help. Immensely. I will no longer be cursed with feeling constantly wrong. A big part of me will be fixed. I will be able to just sit and watch TV at night and relax and not be in mental pain about my discord even while doing something so supremely mundane. That will be beyond amazing.

I'm terrified because it's surgery, and I've never had surgery. And with surgery you can have complications. You can have things go horribly wrong. There's a lot of trust with this, and you just have to hope and pray that things go well.

But even without that, there's the pain of recovery. There's the reliance on other people (which I am SO not good with) while I am healing. There's just the thought of SO much with this that it overwhelms and staggers.

On top of all of this, in preparation for surgery, I had to stop hormones two weeks ago, and I have been on them for over 12 straight years with no breaks. My brain and body forgot what it was like to be hammered with testosterone and not filled with estrogen. In short, I'm a catastrophic, emotional, hormonal mess. I cry basically every day, partly because my body chemistry is SO out of whack right now, but also because ALL of the awful feelings I had before starting hormones—before getting my body in tune with my head—is all coming back at me with a vicious ferocity. My skin feels different, my brain feels different, and my hair is already coming out in clumps again. I feel like all of the progress I've made physically in the past 12 years is rapidly being eroded away, and throughout all of this, I feel like I'm completely alone in contending with this horribleness.

I know people love and support me and they will be there to help me out, and I'm SO thankful. But this is an every-second-of-every-day thing with me now, and no one can keep up with that, nor would I want them to, because they have their own lives to live, and I need to find a way to muddle through mine.

Thankfully these feelings and this physical catastrophe that I'm going through should only be for a few more weeks, then I can get back on track feeling immensely better about me, my identity, and who I am as a person. I just hope I don't lose ALL of my hair by then.

It's overwhelming to think of this thing I've wanted for so long—to feel right—is only 14 days away. It's almost like, what do I want out of life after this??

I know there's more to go with my transition and getting me feeling better and better, but when something you needed has been SO out of reach for SO long, when it's finally on your doorstep, it's almost too much to process. And yet I'm doing my best to. Every minute of every day. The thoughts have swallowed me.

I think that's all I can say about this tonight, but my brain is going MACH 5 since this has been scheduled, and I get that out through writing, so I may just pop up on here a time or two before the big day.

In the meantime, thanks to all who have helped me or someone like me to get to this point. It's a hard enough journey as is, so it's nice to have some pals to help you along the way. Many thanks and much love.

And now I grit my teeth and continue trudging my way through this last bit of darkness before the dawn. I'm hoping for a glorious sunrise.

All the best. Always.

Plans, and Signs, and Trust, and Faith

"Any change, even a change for the better, 

is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts."

– Arnold Bennett

When I was 27 and in the early stages of getting my head wrapped around this whole troubling gender thing, I decided to quit my job, uproot my life, and move from Philadelphia to Palo Alto, California. It seemed to me that this could be a good way to take a step back from everything and see just who it is that I really am, and to find just exactly what I wanted out of life.
 
Now, at the time, I'd gone on a few family road trips—the longest being a couple treks to Florida—but I'd never actually driven anywhere close to that far. Even on the trips to Florida, I was still a kid, so I didn't do a lick of the driving. The furthest I had actually driven by myself at that point in my life was the six hours it took to get from Philly to Pittsburgh, so tackling the entire country solo, while exciting, seemed just a bit daunting.
 
On the night that I set out, I had maps and all the rest pointing me in one direction. "Just get on that road and drive," I told myself. "If you keep going along that road, you'll eventually get to where you need to be." And it really was that simple. I reached Interstate 70, got on, and just drove. I'm talking good 10-hour days of driving (at least). The scenery changed as I drove, sometimes by immeasurably small increments, sometimes magnificently and breathtakingly quick. The world looked more and more unfamiliar, and for as well as I knew the land and country that surrounded me, I could have quite literally been driving in circles and been none the wiser.

Maps laid the framework for my plan to traverse the country, but the only real guidance I had along the way... the only thing telling me that I was actually going in the right direction and not getting hopelessly lost... were the small signs that intermittently peeked out at me from the side of the road that simply read 70 WEST. As long as the signs told me I was going in the right direction, what choice did I have other than to believe it? 

And so I went on, following the signs, turning where appropriate, and four days later I arrived at my destination.


Now the trip I described above is only a short one compared to the huge travel arcs that occur in our lives; and I'm not talking physical distance here. I'm talking about the trips as a person you take throughout your life. Whatever it is that you want to do, be it losing weight, quitting smoking, saving money, starting a business, or, you know, changing your sex, it truly is going to be a long, tough journey (as anything worthwhile usually is). 

On these quests we often have to step outside of our comfort zones and change our lives and even the way we live. These changes can vary from mild annoyance to excruciatingly rough. And when it gets rough, there is nothing more detrimental than to start thinking that you're on the wrong road, and that you're putting yourself through pain and discomfort for nothing.

It's in times such as these, when you feel that you're going in circles and that you're not making any progress, that you need to remember your plan, your basic guideline of what you want to do. Then you need to start looking for the small little signs that are telling you that you're heading in the right direction. They're not as easy to spot as signs you see on the highways, nor are they as frequent, but they are there. We must know to look for them, and actively do so. 

And when we do see them, they may not be obvious, they may be subtle, and they may not be representative of the progression we were hoping to see. It is then that we have to trust ourselves enough to know that what we are seeing is progress, and that this progress is the result of the plan we have made, the work we have done, and the change we have initiated.

When you see the small signs telling you that you're going in the right direction, even though you may feel lost and tried and cranky from the trip, trust yourself enough to know that you're reading the signs correctly and that you ARE headed in the right direction. 

Additionally, you have to have faith in the process. If it has taken you to the point where you see real signs of progress, and you know that you'll get to where you need to be if you just keep plugging away and going in the same direction, trust that the road you're on will take you there. Trust in it to the point that you know it. What choice do you have other than to believe the signs that life is showing you?


I bring all of this up because a couple months ago I embarked on an overhaul of my life. I'm suddenly doing a lot of things I thought I'd never really do, and a lot of these things are causing me discomfort, pain, and even a nice bit of sadness. That being said, during this time I've not had a single cigarette, lost close to ten pounds, and have been able to put some cash into my savings account for what seems to be the first time in years. 

So as much as this overhaul is regally sucking, these giant signs are telling me that I AM heading in the right direction. If I keep going along this road I will get to where I need to be. I don't just believe it. I know it.

Here's to hoping that the road you're on in life is easy and well marked.
 
All the best.