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.