One year on hormones. Wow. In many ways, it feels like a decade. A mostly happy decade.
First off, thank you readers. This blog began as a public journal so I could educate and explain things to those people close to my heart. Many told me I was the only trans* person they knew. More than one requested I help them understand what my life has been and currently is like.
Over time, readership has increased and many people I do not know have started to follow the blog. Several are transitioning themselves. Many others are considering transition and have reached out to me in the process. A large percentage are just reading the blog out of human interest. Your feedback and support have been the wind in my sails. Thank you all.
Now, I get to write this blog for many different audiences. They come in all shapes and sizes. Weeeeee!!!
One reader kindly suggested I take this transition thing up with, “Jesus of Nazareth”. Well, according to The Bible, Jesus’ father put us all here. My life is mine to live as it was given to me. We can tally our collective sins when this life has passed, if it comes to that. I do not claim to be without sin and, I do not intend to throw stones. Transition has kept me alive. I gladly embrace the extra time it has given me, and vow to continue learning how to be a better person in this life. Perhaps that effort and the renewed love of living afforded by transition will be rewarded in the next life. No living person knows for sure. That is why we have this wonderful thing we call, “Faith”.
Perhaps, consider the parable Jesus told in The Gospel of Luke about the man who was robbed, beaten and left by the side of the road. A priest and a man from the tribe of Levi walked right past him. It was a man from Samaria, or if you will, not a REAL Jew, who finally decided to help this victim.
While on the cross, Jesus forgave a criminal nailed to the cross beside him and promised they would each see each other in, for lack of a better term, Heaven. Jesus’ last reported words were a request to God, his father, that he forgive those who had crucified his son, because they didn’t fully know what they had done.
Jesus did not seem like the type of person who would really mind my transition, and if I ever need to take it up with him, I will do so with my head held high. Until then, I will live the life I have been given to its fullest, and I am excited to see how it all plays out. I promise to do my best with what I have been given to work with. That is all any of us can really do. If it comes back to haunt me in the afterlife, please do not gloat. Gloating is SO unbecoming.
I wish to review many of the changes, experiences, ups, downs, and all arounds that encapsulate this transitional past year. This will not be as linear as some of my posts, sometimes it will be more like a checklist. It is not my preferred style of writing but a story type post would be too redundant for my tastes. I have already told the best stories of the past year in prior posts.
Also, you may notice, I am blogging less frequently lately. There is simply less to report right now. Sometimes things happen and change at a rapid pace. Sometimes they do not. Transition ebbs and flows. Big things lie ahead but they do not all happen at once.
Time has slowed down because I have stopped to smell the roses. I enjoy life so much more now, so I do my best to pay attention rather than letting it slip through my fingers. In many ways, it is like I am a teen again. I am going through another puberty. The one I always wanted. Yes, puberty sucks. Yes, I decided to have another one.
I am getting used to this whole transition thing so I am not as amazed by every little new thing. Getting softer is not as groundbreaking as feeling soft for the very first time. Getting big boobs is not as amazing as feeling the first signs of breasts budding.
Speaking of, let’s talk boobs, shall we? They are getting pretty big. My wife took me to Victoria’s Secret to get measured and I am sized at 38 D. I bought a C, but my boobs are at least four inches wider than the rest of my upper torso. It is kind of frightening believe it or not. I always wondered if they would be big enough for my liking, now I fear they may never stop growing. Be careful what you wish for. These genes are boob genes it seems. The boob fairy has blessed me. There is a pride and a legitimacy that comes with breast development. “Oh, you think I should use the men’s room? Suck on these, bitch!”
We always find things to complain about. My boobs are no exception. They are not yet mature and they don’t exactly point straight ahead (bras help). Also, much of the fat is deposited on the side boob so they don’t look quite as large as they are. It is hard to explain. Still, boobs are cool.
They often hurt like Hell, so they are not done growing. Eeeeep! At the same time, they are just boobs. After the newness wears off, they are just kinda’ there. They are erogenous, especially the nipples and I hate to say this but, the feelings are nothing like I expected and words do not quite do it justice. I always wanted to put nipple sensation into words. Alas, not today. Not to my exacting standards of excellence. The sensations are not cripplingly good but they do venture out into the rest of the body if I pay attention to them. They are not (yet) orgasmic like some lucky people’s but they are a great addition for the good feels. They are also forgettable if I am paying attention to anything else. They are just there for the most part.
Breasts are no joke. There is no real hiding them anymore. They are far more sensitive to the slightest touch than my male chest ever was.
If my boobs were to vanish tomorrow, I would notice immediately and long for the missing sensoral feedback they provide. They feel like me now. They are my new, floppy, bouncy appendages.
What else? My skin is much thinner and has smaller pores. It is translucent so it has a different coloration than it did before transition and you can see more of my veins and arteries. Yuck.
Muscle atrophy is real. Without testosterone I am becoming much softer and weaker. I embrace this change but it does come at a price. I still think I am as strong as I was from time to time only to learn I am not. My changing strength is something I am still learning to gauge.
I love feeling soft. Male clothing is sometimes too rough for my skin now. I thought women wore soft things because they were just, well, feminine. Not exactly. My skin often needs softer fabrics now.
I am getting some serious junk in the trunk and back fat around the hips. I can’t tell where my old butt used to end. It is getting pretty big. Male pants fit differently now.
My complexion has totally changed. I am much less greasy and far less prone to zits and acne. Yay estrogen!
I smell like I am female. I have a vastly different body odor and it is WAY less stinky.
I cry happy tears. I cry sad tears. I cry while laughing.
I frequently seek out the company of females and now more easily relate to them, while I frequently struggle to continue relating to men.
I am far more open, honest and loving.
My dysphoria has completely lifted.
I am doing much better in social situations now. I am finding comfort in my new skin and care FAR less what others think of my transition. They don’t like it? They can pick a boob and suck it!
My junk has shrunk more than if I had just done the Polar Bear Swim in Alaska. That may disturb some readers. Not me. It makes tucking WAY easier. That shit used to be SO uncomfortable. Now, it just… well, it just is.
I am embracing being non-binary. That means I enjoy being male at times, female at others, and in general, far more androgynous. I am currently gender non-conforming but I am still moving towards female. Who knows if I will get there, or just decide to stay somewhere in between? I know this is confusing to many people who only see the world in male or female. How lucky they are…
Then, there are are other things about being Female that I am growing to hate.
Every single man I have just met, who thinks they can ask me about, “The surgery” before getting my fucking name. Buy me a drink first! Seriously!
Makeup. Grrrrrrr! It helps SO much but it is a royal pain in the ass at times.
For that matter, getting ready for anything takes forever. Sharing one bathroom with another female means that going anywhere together and showing up on time has become an exercise in futility.
Removal of body hair is time consuming torture. It does not matter how you do it. Feeling smooth is worth it though.
Bathroom lines SUCK! Especially when someone waiting with you may not want you in their line (this especially seems to happen when I am in front of them and “taking their place”). Look at it this way: why would I wait in a damn line, if I truly belong in the express lane?
Bras are extremely uncomfortable in most cases. All my life I wanted to wear them. Now I need to wear one and I just long to take it off. The grass is always greener…
I now understand why so many teenage girls are fucking nuts. Female emotions take time to understand and live with. You think women are emotional? Watch it from my side. It does not matter where I am in my hormonal cycle, all my decisions and reactions seem logical and sound until I look back at them and go, “Wow, I was really running low on estrogen that day!” or, “I had just had my shot! No wonder I could not stop crying!”
My body hair is reducing but not fast enough. My chest hair is like 80% gone. My belly hair remains. Back hair has vanished. Leg and arm hair has become female. Pit and pubic hair has changed in texture and thickness.
My metabolism is female now. It has slowed to a crawl compared to before. Fat goes to new squishy places. The only reason I seem to burn fat at all right now is my body is changing so rapidly and that does take energy. Teens eat and sleep a lot, and that energy is put into puberty. I am like that right now.
I crave weird things. I think it mostly comes down to salt. The medication I take to block testosterone also makes me need more salt and need to pee a lot. I crave pickles, soup, chips and hot sauce. All these things tend to be very salty. I also crave SPICY things more than ever before. It is weird. I crave my next meal while I eat my current one. Om nom nom nom!
Dreaming has changed. Dreams are now far more realistic, more current and yes, I am female or in transition every single time. I do not remember being male in a dream since before transition.
Reading this back, my most profoundly significant changes are sensory. Things look different, taste different, feel different, smell different, and yes they even sound different. From the inside of my cranium, my senses have altered. Wild.
There you go. My one year update. Transition is weird.