Blissed Oot!

Had a lovely wee weekend in Ayr. Especially enjoyed the spectacular wedding of a great friend’s daughter. An illegally attractive family, I’m just glad I was sensible enough not to be in any photographs with them. Well, maybe one group one but they’ll steal that too.

Only my second wedding attended as a female but found out I am much more comfortable in my own skin than I realise. Probably helped by being in the company of some genuinely lovely people.

Did manage to answer a few questions though. Which is something I actually enjoy. Being transgender is no big deal really. If you let it be. People respond to the way you are, not any preconceptions they might have had.

But still, a fantastic weekend. A beautiful couple in a stunning venue and I hope their day was as magical for them as it was for their guests. Congratulations Mr & Mrs D, to your health x


Left Speechless

Randomly remembered that I was waiting on a second referral to speech therapy. A quick phone call to the Gender Clinic and my notes confirmed that this should have been sent away in November.

Except it wasn’t. I’ve been patiently waiting on an appointment that was never ever going to come. But that’s ok. People are human, mistakes happen and it’s not like the lack of a lady voice has really held me back much, if at all. My transition continues to bobble along remarkably well.

I am assured that this time they will refer me back. A little more patient waiting on the cards perhaps but I’m getting really good at that. It’s not like I’m not kept busy in any case.

Got enough to keep me going with work, volunteering and just living a mostly happy little life. I see little point in getting angry or bent out of shape about a simple error in communication and I’m sort of a work in progress at the best of times. Anyway, in Glasgow it’s not like I have the roughest voice of all. Thankful for that small mercy.

All things come to those who wait though. Even that elusive lady voice will come in time. That’s going to be an interesting learning curve for me and mine. God help us all.


O Brother, Where Art Thou?

At the turn of the year I may have said I was done with missing family. Wishful thinking at best. I’m so not able to do that. And I don’t think that’s because of hormones. I just don’t plan on stopping loving them.

But today is my youngest brother’s birthday. It’s unthinkable to me not to acknowledge this. I’m not allowed to contact him, send a card or pass on my best wishes in any way though. This is chiefly because he is a dick of truly biblical proportion.

And remembering that sorts of helps. Missing the notion of him is one thing but wanting him back is perhaps another.

Despite being sent to Coventry in the worst possible way, he did me a favour in the long run. I learned independence. Not in a way I would ever have wished for but I found independence all the same. And I’m stronger for it.

And my life is now pretty much devoid of that level of anger, ignorance and prejudice that seems to drive him. I don’t miss that. At all. For one second.

Instead I just feel increasingly sorry for him and choose to keep missing that boy that grew up in the same house, with the same parents and our other brother. And most importantly, the same values. He has lost them with the same certainty that I’ve lost him. And that’s beyond sad. For all of us. Our Father would not have been impressed at our estrangement. And he should know this.

But for today, I just hope he’s managing to be happier than the angry little man I last looked upon. That’s all I’ll ever want for him. Even angry little men deserve a Happy Birthday.

This is mostly me venting in the worst possible way however. Despite anything I might put across, I love both my brothers very much. Regardless of where we are just now. I live in hope that enough time will rectify everything and nothing lasts forever. Not even banishment. And for my part, the door is wedged firmly open. Patience, I was brought up to believe, is a virtue. I have little of it. Which totally blows. There is always tomorrow.


I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Weird little week. Was merrily rolling through life when my online abuser showed up again. For almost a month he’d apparently moved on. And life was good.

And then at the weekend, like that proverbial bad penny, up he rolled again. Opening gambit was whether my Father had abused me. Upsetting but not necessarily his lowest point in our one sided contact.

But he has now graduated to threats against me. And the Police are back in my life. Except this time it won’t be so casual. Now we are talking using phone masts.

All I ever wanted was to be left alone from uninvited abuse. I informed my abuser of police action and simply asked that they stopped contacting me.

Too difficult apparently. I do understand why though, I am awesome. And I jest. I don’t know how to make sense of unsolicited and unwarranted abuse, even when he knows of Police involvement.

I just do my best to get by day to day. That’s all any of us can hope for. But I genuinely look forward to the day my life is bereft of this idiotic abuse. Mostly homophobic comments, I’m not even sure he understands I’m not gay.

But still, he has picked on the wrong girl. I am as strong as steel. Been through too much already to buckle at a 50 yard chant. And should I see you in court? Which I will, the longer you provide evidence. Know that I will end life as you know it. My Father’s memory and my self respect demand it. And you will know how it feels to wear a badge. You just won’t like what it says.


Baring My Necessities

Today saw me taking my biggest step towards actual surgery so far. Finally made a proper start on the Pre Surgery IPL.

There are a number of situations in life when humans might be comfortable sharing their genitals with relative strangers. One night stands, nudist colonies or perhaps the sauna if you’re a free and easy type.

This isn’t one of those acceptable situations though. But equally it’s not as embarrassing as you might tend to think. Well, it is but I’m reasonably battle hardened to folk staring at me. Just that they aren’t usually staring at my junk. Or armed with a laser.

Anyway, it’s essential in order for me to progress to where I want to be. So I’ll happily endure a year or so of awkward little moments. It might even be character building. If I can learn to do social niceties while my special place is lightly seared then future public speaking should pose little difficulty.

Every cloud folks, every cloud. But at least we’ve finally begun. And I’m a tiny step closer to the endgame. Which is terrifying enough in itself. Something notional has started to take it’s own form. But that tiny step did feel amazing too. I’m really doing this and all feels well with the world. Not bad for a Wednesday.


Is That All You’ve Got?

Well, my online stalker is back with a vengeance. At least January was free from his grubby little clutches. But back he is. And it’s back to the Police for me.

I’ve had unrelenting filth and abuse from this sad little clown from over 20 different profiles since September last year. He appears to never tire of it.

The worst part is I’m not even angry. I feel really sorry for him. Clearly an unwell individual, obsessed with a particularly fantastic transsexual in an unhealthy way and apparently nothing better to do. That’s no kind of life. At all.

He’s determined to get caught though and the more he does it, the more likely that becomes. And again I feel sorry for him as the penalties are pretty harsh. He won’t just get charged with being a wee fud.


Scottish slang term meaning pussy, vagina, muff, cunt

“You’re a fud” 
“I rolled over in bed and accidently kneed her in the fud. She woke with a scream and punched me in the balls”
(For the clarity of non Scottish readers)

I plan to continue reporting him and hope it’s all worth it to him when he eventually has to explain himself. But I’d take no pleasure in him ruining his life. But maybe that’s what it takes for some people to deal with their demons. And when you go to this amount of sustained effort, demons you have!

But I’m still a Glaswegian transsexual. I deal with far worse than this idiot regularly. Face to face in the real world. And my response is pretty much the same. Shrug and give them nothing. Then get on with living. And that’s really all it takes to successfully manage idiots. Best advice I have to offer.


With A Little Bit Of Cluck

Hurtling into a well deserved weekend that involves a hen night on Saturday (Bachelorette if in US) and likely losing Sunday entirely to sleep.

Been looking forward to it for ages and was nearly derailed by a bout of feeling ill but it’s all systems go, fortunately enough.

Might not seem like much but just being asked along is hugely accepting of me. And that’s something I appreciate very much. And also something I don’t take for granted.

It’s quite comforting to find yourself taken as “one of the girls” and I still feel privileged for the kindness of the people I’m lucky to know. The effort they continue to make to accept my transition makes the whole thing feel easier than I can explain. But I’m constantly grateful to them.

Going to finish this particular post here though. I only have a few hours to change all of my available bank balance into single digit notes.