I started smoking again today. This morning before bed I bought a couple of packs of Sampoerna Milds, which I used to smoke before one of my multiple on/off quits. Once again, upon going downstairs and outside for a smoke break, I realize that I hate smoking outdoors. It's as though the (somewhat) clean air outside somehow dilutes the cigarette smoke and makes it taste rancid, or maybe the wind outside reveals the true taste of cigarette smoke -- exhaust fumes. I can't French inhale outdoors, either, because of the wind. How am I supposed to stoke my own ego when I'm smoking outside if I can't French inhale? It's not like there's ever anyone outside when I go out to smoke, since I work all night, but that's not the point. I'll take any ego-stoking device I can get.
I went for a smoke break tonight with one of the coders in the office next to mine, who sometimes comes in at night and either comes down from an ecstasy trip or takes a nap. Occasionally he codes. But anyway, it was a bit chilly out there while we were smoking so I crossed my arms over my chest, inasmuch as that is still possible, what with my rapidly developing breasts. While we were smoking, I caught him staring at/talking to my chest. That's the first time such a thing has happened to me, and I can instantly see why genetic women hate it so much. This guy doesn't even know I'm a tranny (yet -- I'm not out at work yet), and I don't know if he was doing this consciously, or what, but there it was, and it made me feel fucking disgusting, even though I could also take it as flattery, but I won't, because coder boy doesn't know I'm half-a-girl. The male privilege becomes more and more obvious with each passing day. Strange how it didn't exist before, at least, not in any sense that I could detect it. Oh, bother.