Transition

And To All A Good Night!

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Not actually the official Singlewhiteshemale Christmas tree!

“Twas the night before Christmas,

And Chrissy had said,

“I’ll wrap all my presents,

And head straight to bed”

Then Prosecco happened and that plan was fucked!

A huge thanks to anyone who has ever read a word of this blog. It’s always appreciated. Hope you have a fantastic Christmas and that 2018 is full of everything you deserve. I’m on a festive break for a few days. Eat, drink and be Mary 😉 Xx

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Transition

Do Not Open Until Christmas

A little too early for a truly festive post but if my blog has taught me one thing, it’s never too early to talk about the downsides of my transition. And I’m an obliging sort.

Dilation remains the bane of my life but it is getting easier. Not throwing a sausage up a close kind of easy (hotdog up a hallway is the closest US term) but certainly not as difficult as it once was. I feel somewhat weirdly blessed.

I’ve apparently also conquered peeing, although I’m reticent to jinx it by stating it as a fact. Let’s just say, it’s all very much a work in progress and I once again thank the Baby Jesus for any intervention provided in that regard. I maybe didn’t get gold or frankincense this year but there’s already a little Grrrrr! as things begin to purr into life.

I am honestly agasp at how successful my surgery has actually been. It’s very early days but that sound ringing in my ears isn’t jangling little bells, it’s the gentle thrum of a clitoris starting to turn over. To be fair, it might also be my jaw clattering off the floor at just how fantastic a job my surgeon seems to have done.

I’m reasonably sure it’s nowhere near roadworthy at present though, just being aware of it so soon has to be a phenomenally good omen however. Admittedly this feeling of awareness usually sits somewhere between a phantom boot in the balls and being stabbed with scissors. Last night was relatively mild, it was merely like having fire ants in your undercrackers. But my point is that you can’t have everything all at once. It will take time to come into it’s own. No pun intended for a change.

To get back on an almost seasonal track, it’s already a bit like Christmas Eve. It feels like I’ve been allowed a sneaky peek at a future favourite gift. And things genuinely seem like they are starting to work out. So although I don’t wish to put all my eggs in one basket just yet, my outlook for 2018 is definitely looking more Fabergé than Kinder. Good enough to make it onto my Nice list.

Chrissymasses

A shoddily edited Christmas wish

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Transition

Be Careful What You Wish For

Approaching 6 weeks post op and almost everything is better than I ever dared hope for way back at the beginning. Lost in the heady mists of 2013 as those hopes are.

But now, here I am, entirely finished with the physical process. And yet barely out of the gates as a fully fledged woman. It has been one enormous, terrifying and gratifying journey since the day I started.

Sometime in 2013

You may not but I remember that fella so fondly. Everything I have is because of him. My friends, my home and the life I have today. None if it happened without him. I’m reasonably confident I don’t mourn him alone. And I’m incredibly indebted to him.

Sometime in 2017

To think that I got to today feeling intact is something I am grateful for every single day. I got to live the life I dreamed of. And it was worth every second, no matter how difficult some of them may have been. Traumatic even. But as we approach a new year, if there are changes you want to make then make them. Then never look back. Nothing is entirely impossible. And that’s as positive as I get for 2017. But here’s to Chris. That boy done good by me and I owe him everything.

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Transition

It’ll Be Fun, They Said

Accidentally not blogged for a couple of weeks. And somehow, without really noticing, I find myself more than a month into my new reality. That “Time flies when you’re having fun” adage is, however, a crock of shit. 

Not that I have any real complaints. At best minor irks. I supposedly knew what I was getting into. Or so I genuinely believed but it turns out there is a lot more to having a new vagina than the relatively mild concerns of regular dilation and peeing like a wonky lawn sprinkler.

I had absolutely no intention of ever sitting awake in my bed at 3am, fully aware of every second of my suture lines starting to tighten. Nor would I ever have suspected that different types of sanitary towel could irritate my new flower in ways you’d never ever normally have cause to imagine. Although, on the plus side, I’m wholly up to speed with all of that now. 

But I still wouldn’t change a thing about how things are panning out. It is what it is. It’s not necessarily as simple as all that I expected but it’s chock full of experiences. Some good, some not so much. And it’s really just one day at a time now till I can sort of say that I feel recovered. Until then, my best advice is buy shares in bagged ice. They’re about to hit an all time  peak.

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