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Frack Me! 12 Days!

As my mom would say, “Hot damn!”

A Tale of Two Titties by Charlize Chickens Or 20 Days

While it might have been better to post this two days ago, this title is sily enough to do the job.

First things first, 20 days. Fracken hell. Auntie gave me a phone message that Liz, the head specialist nurse for my surgery, will be phoning next week for a 40-minute preadmission phone call. As I nor any member of my immediate family has been or is currently a member of the Communist Party, I hope it won’t be too bad. Honestly, though, what questions about my health require 40 minutes to talk about? Still, I would much rather get read the trans riot act than not be prepared myself or receive substandard care.

On the slightly more personal front, I’ve nearly completed preparations for surgery. I haven’t lost all of the weight that I wanted to, but my health and stamina has greatly improved, particularly in my leg muscles. Left on the list are the aforementioned discussion, getting one more anti-androgen shot this week, filling all of the post-hospital scripts, and finishing the house’s spring cleaning. I do wish that we had a bit more money saved up, but, if everything goes well today in a meeting with my line manager, that may not be as much of an issue. I still can’t believe that surgery is so close.

The closer it goes, though, the more I am in a quandry about what to do about this blog. I am certain that there will be a number of issues to discuss post-surgery. Auntie and I already have plans from going swimming for the first time in years to finally being able to have sex without crying about it afterwards. All of which, I want to put here, but, honestly, it seems that the lion’s share of those are simply completely private.

The social transition, the “real life test,” is really the biggest change. After my facial feminization surgery, people didn’t even recognize me. It made a huge difference in my life. While I expect that life after SRS will be much more rewarding and fulfilling, it strikes me that while SRS isn’t all about it, a large part of SRS is purely about sex. Yes, I’ll get to go swimming without much worry. And no, I won’t have to tuck anymore. All of those wil be a big relief, but they strike me as relatively minor. It’s certainly not a universal, but sex is rather private for me, something that I share with just one other person and after quite a bit of groundwork is laid down (so to speak). So, after all is said and done, after I have healed up, do I close this chapter and move on? Hm. Dunno. I have another non-trans blog elsewhere and post fairly regularly to it. And I’ll be happy to give folks the URL if you email me (w3bgrl at this domain).

In essence, though, this blog is just an iceburg tip. The fundamental question is not whether I want to go “super-hyper-mega-deep” stealth or whatever the hell people call it but the degree to which I want to identify as trans. It’s a stubborn nut, I feel. If you do, then you are carrying around baggage. If you don’t, you are denying who you are. If you do, you are setting yourself up as an agent of discord in a society that pretends that you don’t exist. If you don’t, you are “selling out” in some way, neglecting other trans folk still in the community. If you do, have you “earned your stripes”? If you don’t, are you making it harder for people to go through the same thing that you did? I’d like to think that post-SRS, being trans is something like having a third nipple; it’s not really a big issue and doesn’t come up that often; when it does, it’s a little wierd, but it’s back under the radar soon afterwards.

But of course, all of this is simply the rants and raves of someone who isn’t quite there yet. I place quite a bit of faith in my own abilities; they have gotten me this far and that’s pretty darn good in my book, but here isn’t there and it’s often better to just let things be until their time has come.

Last Day of HRT

So!  Yesterday was my last day of HRT. Bye-bye estrogen!  Oddly, I haven’t had any nasty side effects as yet.  No hot flashes.  No night sweats.  I don’t think I have even been that bitchy.  It’s kinda cewl. 

However, the fact that I am 42 days from checking in to hospital has reached that Keanu Reeves “Whoa!” stage.

The First Transport Is Away

Auntie mailed The Check to Mr Thomas yesterday.  In my best (or worst) Southern accent, we are now ₤10,000 pounds more po’.  Additionally, we mailed the first bit of paperwork at the same time. 

To add a certain air of artificial drama, on looking at the calendar yesterday, I realized that it was time to start ramping down on my HRT.  Both steps have real implication, but I’m trying to not put any extra emphasis on them, wanting to keep my stress evels as low as possible.  I figure going off HRT is enough of a head-fuck.  At least I am getting the anti-androgren implant/shot on Thursday.  My GP was so easy about the whole thing, too.  I told her what was happening, when I was stopping HRT, my concerns about testosterone raging through my bloodstream, and she asked, “So, what did you have in mind then?” So easy.

Last weekend as well, we did a bit of shopping - nightshirts, cheap undies, and pads - oh my!  These past few days, the fact that all of this is really happening has slapped me in the face with full force.  To be honest, though, my mind has dwelt more on the after-effects.  I will be able to finally get on with the rest of my life, no longer … caged by transition. I can’t help thinking that I have held back Auntie as well, her surgery being completed ages ago. 

But even as I look up at the last hill of surgery, pain, healing, dialations, and everything that making it over the finaly hurdle entails, I can’t help but think that life after this physical transition must be at least a bit easier.  This road has been so hard. I’ve had some great successes, and I’m quite happy and proud of how far I’ve come.  But I want so much for it to be over.

So close… so close!

56 Days… Now With Sprinkles!

You might say that I have been less than a happy, hoppity bunny in the past few weeks, but that would undershoot the mark by quite a bit. It’s been so bad as of late that I was starting to wonder if the muscles in my neck were ever going to relax. Neck problems, back problems, feeling tired all the time, majorly depressed without the release that comes from crying - it’s not been a stellar Spring thus far to be honest.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that’s is all over, but I hope that I have at least turned a bit of a corner. Several things helped quite a bit, such as talking with Auntie, not allowing myself to work over the weekend, and knowing that this and next are short weeks, but the real kicker to it all has been deciding that my attitude had to change.

I’ve felt … completely out of control - helpless in so many ways. I can’t change the fact that we are going to incur more debt because of my surgery. I can’t change the fact that I might loose my current job when I let them know that I have to take so much time off. I can’t change the fact that I am pre-op now and that to finish this phase of my life, I have to go through a surgery that is going to take some major healing afterwards. The one thing that I can change is my reaction to it.

It seems odd to me that I would be going through this now. I have a bit of a turbulent ride to start my transition, but after which, I felt quite positive about my life. “The important thing is that I am still making progress,” I used to say, even when going through hours and hours of conventional electrolysis, even when I lost my job, even when I looked up at the mountain of getting out of debt and then saving more thank $40K for my facial surgery, even when I was forced to spend my days in the wrong gender role. Odd, I suppose, but then I suppose we all have the ability to dig for the pony or despair at all of the shit we are surrounded by.

I’ve been in much worse situations than the current one, having much less reason for hope than I do now. After all, in just 56 days, I’ll be on my way to check-in at the hospital. Just 56 days! I *have* been working out daily. I *have* been emotionaly preparing for it. We *do* have the money to pay for it. And I have a wonderfully supportive partner who has been through it all her herself.

When I got into work today, I asked myself, “So, what can I do to make this week as fun as possible?” It’s been ages since I asked a question like that, ages since I thought like that. It’s such a release to do so again!

Securing the Future

Auntie and I completed the sale of one of her cars today.  Although the money for the sale went into our account last Friday, the car was only driven away today.  We even had a bit of a scare yesterday when we, with the very nice help of a friend, finally managed to get the rear lights working.  All of this would be just a minor (ha!) footnote in my book except for one critical fact: the money we received from the sale of her car is going to pay most of the cost of my surgery.  It’s finally going to happen.  Granted, we still need to save a bit more for living expenses while I am off work, I need to loose a bit of weight, and the date for surgery is still a ways off yet, but it finally feels like it is definately going to happen now.  It finally feels real.

When this is all as over as it can be, I am going to have sooo many people to thank.

Ugh

Okay, it’s not a *really* bad one, as I am still able to have at least some perspective on it, but I am having a total crapper of an emotional day.  I’m chalking it up to uncertainty about paying for my surgery.  Basically, it goes thus: we are making enough at the moment to make ends meet with a wee bit extra.  But, we need to sell one of Auntie’s cars to pay for my surgery.  If we can’t then we are probably looking at some obscene debt levels, nasty credit card payments, and the like.  Or course, there isn’t much I can do about all of this at the moment, as she is the one who needs to sell the car.  It’s all out of my hands and therefore a bit stressful.  In a word, fuck. Auntie is right about one thing, though.  If we can get through this, we can get through just about anything.

More Laser and a Tentative Timeframe for Surgery

As my beautiful partner pointed out, it’s been weeks since I blogged and quite a lot has happened on the transition front, let alone others.

First things first, I finally met Mr Thomas, my chosen SRS surgeon, at Sussex Nuffield Hospital in Brighton on 16 December. Auntie picked me up from work at midday and we drove down to the south coast. Luckily for me, she was driving while I got to take a nap. After locating the hospital with the faithful GPS unit, we hopped over to Brighton itself, completed some shopping errands downtown, and then headed back out with plenty of time.

The staff and such at Sussex Nuffield were quite pleasant, even the ones who were frazzled from their work week. In fact everyone I met at the hospital was quite nice. As for the meeting itself, Mr Thomas is known for being a bit gruff and short. I kept things to a business tone and things seem to go quite well. We agreed on a May timetable and that the best things that I could do to improve my outcome from surgery would be to have some pubic hair reduced with laser treatment and loose about 35 pounds.

Auntie and I had a long talk in the car. So the next week, I started walking to and from the train station, working out on the bike, and such. Later, I managed to get through the very difficult conversation with the woman who has been administering my facial laser treatments. “The thing that I find so hard is that the one part of my body that I hate and that I most want to change is the one that I have reveal.” I have my first treatment 4 Jan. At least I know I’ll be wearing a skirt one day next week. Oh and I have already lost 5 lbs, even through Christmas.

Hm… time for another countdown timer!

Second Laser Session

It’s hard believe it’s been four weeks since both my last post and my last laser session. The latter is going extremely well. In fact, I would say that I was stunned at the efficacy. To be honest, I am much less … well, hairy than I was before. Other than the fact I don’t get razor burn anymore, the biggest benefit has to be the fact that I can use a reasonable amount of foundation in the morning before work. I can even go without on weekends if I am feeling so inclined. It’s such a relief!

I guess that is the same mental space that SRS itself is occupying in my mind at the moment. I keep thinking that it’s going to be such a relief to not have to tuck, not not have to worry about becoming untucked, about being able to go swimming again, about not having to worry about the clothes I am wearing, and about being able to enjoy being intimate with my partner.

Just one more hurdle… just one more…

The Very First “Laser”

So I had a bit of laser work on my face and chest on Tuesday; the effects of the alexandrite laser were much more noticable much more quickly than the ruby-based laser I had previously. At the moment, most of the hairs are in that “stucking out but not falling out and generally being irritating as a last gasp before they disappear” stage. I’m thankful for the weekend; it’s allowed some extra healing time as well as time to work out. Mentally, I am trying to approach SRS the same way as I did FFS, trying to get into as good a shape as possible so I can get the best result possible. Hopefully, I won’t let my weight get as high as I did after my FFS. At any rate, I have some work to do for my company in the States, so I’d better get on.