Something that I have found to be soothing, is cracking a joke at my own expense.
I’ve defused a lot of awkward social interactions by poking fun at my past mishaps (of which there are plenty!).
I’m definitely not alone in this, either: Strange as it may sound, many of us are happiest when we can laugh at our past misfortunes and turn them into amusement.
How easily you can do so will depend in part on your disposition.
Before trying it, first figure out what you think is funny and surround yourself with more of it. When it’s time to laugh at yourself, be prepared for an unpleasant task: You need to list the things you don’t maybe like about yourself — maybe you’re actions in the past.
science has started to see the value in self-mockery, too. Psychology researchers have discovered that self-deprecating humor has an unintended side effect: It happens to improve our health.
A study published in "Psychology and Individual Differences," stated as people who regularly poke fun at themselves exhibit greater levels of emotional well-being.
As my life story is out there, for the most part, let us make fun of me and tell you a story that I don’t normally run out and tell people and it is the story of my transformation into a woman.
During my meth use, well, life was a joke, but as in “Pain, Failure and Misery are the Stepping Stones to success,” I tell the story of my girlfriend at the time who became so paranoid and fell into that meth induced psychosis.
It was at this time where she became a nightmare. There is nothing greater then getting high and being told that I am with the FBI or the DEA and cops were everywhere. The police had surrounded our complex, or so I was told.
One night around 2am, she was peeking out the vents in the ceiling. We were in a two story town home with a loft on the second floor. This loft had air vents where you could see outside and the surrounding complex.
After hearing this for hours, I started to question my reality a little. Shit, maybe cops are out there How do I know? If I said they weren’t, does that make it true. Maybe she is right? After she convinced me of the possibility, I decided to check it out but if they were looking at us; I didn’t want them to see me. My girlfriend couldn’t go out either. What do we do. Its 2am, we should be asleep and if the cops saw us up and roaming at 2. That was a bust.
I sat there and we thought about. Seriously considering the need for someone to go out but not us. We don’t have anybody. It hit me. I came up with the most brilliant idea possible.
I needed a disguise. I figured in my btilliant meth induced thinking that they would never figure out it was me if I became a woman. They would never know that a 6’3” female walked out of the same apartment and as I assumed that cops lacked intelligence I guess. No way they would even consider the possibility. After patting myself on the back for my great plan, I Shaved my face, jumped in the shower, shaved my legs.
This was a master piece at work. After removing my hair, owe and my armpits. This wasn’t the dead show days with woman and hairy armpits.
We had the full set up. Wig, make-up, finger nail polish, dress, and formed these perfect boobs with socks. My girlfriend and I sat down, put on makeup. Just two girls doing makeup.
During thatg time, I became an actor in many roles and I believed that this was going to give me an Oscar. I went all in with my role. I looked in the mirror and thought. I hot and I am ready to hit the town. I tried to put on her heels but they were quite a bit small as I tried to cram my feet in.
So I had to walk barefoot and was worried I would tear my pantyhose. My goal was to prove her wrong or, if I was wrong to fool them into believing some tall random girl came out of the apartment because. I never figured out that part but it didn’t matter.
I walked downstairs stepped outside and began walking the complex. I walked around probably 25 minutes when I decided that she was wrong once I reached the main road outside this complex.
I turned around and started returning to our place. It wasn’t but a few steps away from that road, a police officer pulls up. He stops, gets out of the car and I hear, excuse me sir.
I thought sir, I looked left, I looked behind me and thought, well at least he isn’t talking to me.
Excuse me sir. I kept walking. Excuse me, you in a dress. Now I knew he was talking to me since there was no other person in a dress.
I turned and he asked me what I was doing. I had to think on toes for this answer. Obviously responding with, trying to prove someone wrong in that cops are surrounding the complex wasn’t probably the best answer to give. I looked at him as my brain was churning. I couldn’t think of anything so I said whatever came out first.
He obviously knows that I am a man dressed as a woman wandering these streets at, had to be around 4am or so. What do you say? What could possible be a good answer? I looked at him and I said, this is what I do. He then asked what?
Wow. Why these tough questions? These almost seemed more difficuklt to answer then explaining the theory of relativity. You know?
Prostitution? Do I look like a prostitute? He looked, yes you do. You got runs up your pantyhose. I look down and couldn’t believe this happened. I was mad. We can send people to the moon but can’t create panthose that doesn’t do this.
I wasn’t dure what he was saying after this because this really pissed me off. I was so worried when I left the house this was going to happen. It is embarrasing when this hasppens. At some point he was almost in my face as he obviously realized that what he was saying was much less important then my pantyhose and yelled. Are you a prostitute?
So I explained to him that I was in the process of transitioning and I was getting ready to have surgery and fully transform my manly body into a beautiful woman.
I am scared of surgeries, I hate pain, and couldn’t sleep. I don’t think he blieveed me but he told me that he recommended I return to my condominium.
So I did. I quickly tried to walk with a feminine prance. I don’t know what that meant. I go to the place I was staying and got to the door. It was locked. I didn’t have a phone on me and where would I have put a phone.
I was a sexy woman in a dress. So I quietly knocked. Nobody came. I started knocking louder and finally I heard her coming to the door. The door opened as I felt a relief and then that relief disappeared.
The place we were staying was with a couple and the guy answered the door. He also recognized me which I couldn’t understand.
He said, what the fuck are you doing? Again, another question that was so hard to answer. Why was everybody asking mw these tough questions.
I told him, just checking things out. In a dress, he said. This was the peak of strangeness. Yeah, what is wrong with wearing a dress. It is freeing, not constricting. He rolled his eyes and I went upstairs.
I got up to the loft where I found her and told her that nobody was watching us but I did have a cop of accusing me of being a prostitute but it wasn’t because we were being watched.
I also told her that nobody bought that I was a woman. I was offended he called me sir. I am not a sir. I am not a prostitute.
I am a morally, upstanding woman that would never take payment for sex. What kind of woman does he think I am. She looked at me, shook her head and said can I have my panties back.
That was my life. Weird things become a brew while on meth. I have learned in sobriety, I can do those same things sober.
