Blessed Are The Fleek


Fresh from the tale of my badly behaving boob, I should probably advise you that I’m in a terribly upbeat frame of mind. All things considered, life is pretty good. Not perfect, just pretty good. I’m happy enough with that state of affairs.

I’m the most comfortable I’ve ever been with myself and without much effort on my part, everything else is just piecing together nicely. That seems ample reason to be in a smiley sort of mood. And to be reflecting about just how far I’ve managed to come.

Throughout my transition I’ve often been concerned with achieving notional standards. Mostly passing well enough. Am I doing it right? And worrying about that. Then worrying about how strangers perceive you and whether you’ve been “read” just going about your business.

And then, in 2017, none of that seems to matter. I look how I look, I sound how I sound and I’m definitely OK with both. There’s still a few tweaks to be made but I have years to get all my ducks in a row.

I’m really no different to any girl that’s ever been though. I’m as susceptible to and governed by media influence as much as anyone. And I have had all that stuff floating around. Looking “right”, dressing “right”, possibly too lazy about sounding” right” though. But none of it is really something worth agonising over. I’m actually doing just fine as I am. And the plan remains to just do more of that.

No amount of prayers will ever let me attain those ludicrous standards we’re all fed. But I’m thankful to be in a place where I know that and it’s still fine to just be myself. I think I’m finally relaxed enough for surgery now and it’s something I’m looking forward to. My only prayer for the moment is to try to manage an impending freakout the best I can. Although considering the response to the tit tale, you’d probably enjoy reading about that 😉


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