Transition

Lost In A Moment

Well, there you go. Hurtling towards January 1st 2016 and I’ll have finally hit the two years mark. And it feels like the milestone it ought to.

Both of those years have torn past me at mach speed but equally, I’ve enjoyed almost every single second. Except IPL, that just hurts. It would be an outright lie to say otherwise.

But I’m living quite successfully as a female now. With a minimum of fuss or confrontation. Things I was terrified of a few hundred days ago just never materialised and the world turned out to be better than I thought. And I turned out to be a stronger person than I initially believed. Which is still difficult for me to accept.

I’m still astounded I’ve managed to get this far so quickly. When I took my first fulltime female steps into the world I had no idea how confident I would eventually become. It’s almost worth everything for that alone. And I’m thankful for everyone that helped that confidence emerge. You have no idea how much you helped me.

Usually this is a time for resolutions though, but I’m already trying to change what I can. I think maybe I’ll just keep doing more of that. I do have one real change I’m planning to make though but that’s for next time around.

Realistically, I am already looking at 2017 before surgery will be a viable option. That’s just to accommodate hair removal really. And that’s fine with me. I’ll need another year to wrap my head around the utter enormity of that decision and maybe finally get the lady voice perfected. Seems like a sensible plan.

Anyway, where are my manners? Best of luck to you in 2016. I hope it’s your year.

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Transition

A Little Christmas(ish) Cheer

Today is my third Christmas spent without my brothers. Always have a little hope this will be our last year apart , but I know they’re doing fine and waking up to enjoy a day with the people they love. I can totally live with that. Mine will instead be spent with some of my oldest friends and some very excited children. Family that choose to spend it with me as much as I am overjoyed to spend it with them. For every door ever closed, another was thrown welcomingly open and life this morning is pretty good thanks to the friends I have. Bridged more than one gap for me and I’m particularly grateful for the one being bridged today. However, it’s now Christmas and a time for joy. I hope you and yours have a fantastic day and that you all made it onto the Nice List. Done blogging for the day, I need to get ready to eat, drink and be Mary x

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Transition

Sparing A Thought For The Unfortunate

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You might remember I was getting online grief from a guy back in September. It hasn’t ever stopped and I’ve genuinely lost count of how many profiles this idiot has set up just to target me. The photograph was Monday’s contribution.

But I’m finding it difficult to hold on to any anger I have about it. Although it does make me somewhat angry as I have no idea what his obsession is.

It’s still in the hands of the Police and things are apparently progressing. I can’t fathom why he would persist when he knows about the Police involvement and each time is multiple separate charges.

But I sort of pity him. The kind of person who repeatedly abuses someone for no reason clearly has their own issues. And his appear to be plentiful.

Fingers crossed that he has enough decency to maybe give me a day off at Christmas. But I’m holding on for the New Year. At some point he’s going to be getting a knock at his door and 2016 will definitely not be his year.

I wish nobody any harm at this time of year. It’s a time for being happy and letting things go. But just maybe, I’ll let him be the exception that proves the rule.

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Transition

No Mr Bond, I Expect You To Die

Every now and then it occurs to me that this blog is sort of documenting my transition. So I should probably do some of that.

As well as being the proud owner of the world’s smallest boobs, there has been significant progress with my hair removal. Something I’ve seen as a chore. Because IPL hurts.

Make no mistake, when the lovely NHS lady zaps my philtrum I would gladly sell you and everyone you know into slavery, just not to endure it again. And I am an entirely rubbish person in that moment. Because the pain is fleeting but beyond what I’m happy to tolerate. I say this as someone who survived a burst ulcer. A pretty decent barometer for pain.

But this week I realised I’m already two thirds of the way through my facial treatment and maybe some gratitude is due. While not perfect, my hair growth is severely diminished and shaving is but a 30 second inconvenience. That’s somewhat awesome, now that I think about it.

My skin is also pretty decent as a result so rather than view it as an ordeal, I’m going to try to start appreciating my sessions. Each one is a little step closer to where I want to be. And I’m getting this free on the NHS. This isn’t the case everywhere.

Next year will be the larger hurdle of “downstairs” IPL. If I can offer you one piece of advice, be wary of answering the door to men travelling in black vans. I’ll give you up in a heartbeat.

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Transition

Hold Me Closer Tony Danza

I’ve been meaning to use this song for my blog for some time. Not just because I love it. It’s inextricably linked to times with friends. Always good times.

And it’s part of one of my favourite movies, Almost Famous. The scene it’s used in illustrates friendship and that sense of family perfectly. If you’ve never seen it, you should really rectify that. An immense movie.

But with the end of the year almost upon us and extended weekends heading our way, the thing I’m most looking forward to is just seeing people. From spending two drinks to two days together, I’m determined to catch up with as many people as possible.

Because it’s all too easy to let it slip. And no pun intended, Christmastime really is a gift horse. I might even hug you unexpectedly. I’m much more comfortable with that nowadays. Consider notice duly given.

On a separate note and because this is a transition blog. Spotted Caitlyn Jenner has gotten into trouble for basically saying that obvious men in dresses make people uncomfortable. Although I think she is an abominable thundercunt I’d have to say this is mostly true unfortunately. She just has a way with words that makes most of what she says sound privileged and unpalatable. But society largely likes it’s men in dresses as devastating drag queens or faux femme fatales. It’s easier to accept than a 6ft trucker in a too short dress. That’ll change over time I believe. So I’m not defending her but she did have a poorly illustrated point.

And although he’s not talking to me, I can’t not mention it’s my middle brother’s birthday today. Hope he’s being spoiled. I’m going to buy him a cake. Then comfort eat it.

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Transition

Bitch Tits

I could check back through the pages of my own blog but I’m far too lazy. Let’s just presume that I have previously mentioned how painfully slow the process of hormones and transition is. Good, we’re all on the same page.

And then there are brilliant little moments and you start to see the change you’ve been so impatiently waiting for. And it can’t really be seen up close or on a daily basis. It just doesn’t ever seem to work like that.

It’s just catching your shop reflection or the changed face in the mirror, whilst shaving your ever decreasing facial hair. Or it’s complete strangers choosing to address you as a female. And those are all milestones in themselves.

But regardless of any future mangling of my original parts, my favourite moment to date has only just happened. Or rather, I’ve only just realised. I have actual boobs. I won’t be getting any “glamour” work any time soon on account of them. But, Holy Fuck! I have boobs.

OK, they’re still in the A range of things but even without breast forms, I am considerably further forward to filling a bra without outside assistance. And a whole lot happier as a result.

I’m not after anything ostentatious, I’d ideally settle for a B cup. But that’s definitely in the lap of the Gods. For now, I’m just ridiculously happy because as small as they are,  they represent progress. Something that’s hard for me to see. Finally, I can.

And because this blog’s traditional end requires a pithy comment, those of you that know and tolerate me can rest assured. It’s not the first time I’ve felt a right tit. Just first it’s been my own.

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Transition

A Fine Time In My Life

If you know me in real life, this post is old boring news. But I’m going to persevere. Because I want to illustrate how confident I’ve become.

During this last week I had another difficult public confrontation about my gender. I’d like to clarify, it wasn’t remotely difficult for me. Rather for the unfortunate souls who chose to single me out for further examination.

I was simply going home on public transport. Someone felt the need to point me out very vocally to their companion.

Their first mistake. Little did they know I have no intention of being the sort of girl who just allows this to pass. I found myself staring down this couple till the point when they had to acknowledge me and then look at the floor. Embarrassed to fuck at being caught out. And rightly so.

What a difference two years has made. I am currently feeling reasonably socially invincible as a result of realising just how confident I really am.

If you are transitioning, I cannot pretend that this is easy. But it’s totally possible. And I am even able to be proud of myself. I got here. How dare anyone publicly comment on me. I will not tolerate that without some kind of a fight. Although I’ve managed not to hit anyone yet.

And just to be there in my life feels pretty good. You will get there too. Believe it. But not every one of these instances is an ordeal either. Sometimes it’s amusing, sometimes it’s supportive. And overall it’s actually OK, once you learn to differentiate between them. There are worse things in life than the beady little eyes of strangers.

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