And To All A Good Night!


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


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.


A shoddily edited Christmas wish


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.


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.


Can You Feel The Glove Tonight?

So, the truth about being Post Op is genuinely far stranger than fiction. I never ever doubted that my surgery would be life changing. I did, however, kind of underestimate just how much.

I don’t mean that I was naive. I honestly wasn’t. I knew what I had signed up to but the reality bites significantly  harder than any preconceived notion you might have given yourself by doing a little presurgery reading. Google did not even come close to informing me on what I’d actually be facing though.

Which is that aftercare is fairly time consuming and not really terribly exciting at all. At present I’m expected to dilate three times a day. Doesn’t really sound too bad does it? But any day of the week it amounts to about an hour and a half of your waking life. You could say it’s a pain in the butt but you’d probably want to check your dilation diagram if that was the case. It is a little tiresome though.

You might spend ten minutes setting up. You then spend ten minutes apiece with Little and Large and an awkwardly angled mirror. So far so good. You then still have to douche and properly clean yourself before dressing is even an option. It’s a major commitment to yourself. And ultimately your future happiness.

But it is pretty boring. So I thank God and the Baby Jesus for YouTube (other streaming services are available) as I have no idea how one would cope with the mundanity of meddling with yourself thrice daily otherwise. Don’t quite have a regular theme tune yet but today’s music choice a definite contender. Living the dream though kids, living the dream! Time permitting.

Scottish football humour in-joke


Always Tomorrow

I really don’t enjoy this time of year. It represents an entirely unnecessary anniversary that just continues to deeply sadden me. This coming Friday, November 17th, will mean it’s four full years since I spoke with either of my brothers. But I’ll be damned if I ever give up on either of them.

Like it or not, they eventually need to accept they have a brother who just became a sister. I often wish they’d just get the fuck over it already. Although truth be told, I didn’t really need them to make it here in any case. I had enough surrogate brothers and sisters ably taking their place. However, that’s still no reason for me to carry anger towards them. They seem to have enough anger to power the situation forward without my help.

But they perhaps quite legitimately feel how they feel. Although it still remains something of a mystery to me as they’ve yet to take even 30 seconds to have their say in any respect at all. Ultimately kind of sad not to have merited a minute between them. But I still have the choice to care about them. And I absolutely do. Always will.

It’s a difficult enough anniversary though, put through an additional wringer by November 18th marking 20 years of our Father passing. A time I’d love to speak to them both more than ever. But it just won’t be. And you do sort of make a kind of weird peace with that. I stand by the notion that enough time can maybe heal most things though. I made a similar post last year. No doubt I will again next year. Despite all of it, I intend to stubbornly cling to the world weary idea that there is always tomorrow. Because that’s all I’ve ever really needed to manage to get by. Day by day by stupid and sad day.


Instruction Manual

Ever since I started this blog the posts that traditionally do best have been the ones that show me in a terrible or embarrassing light. So in that spirit, let’s talk about the reality of Week One of piloting a brand new vagina.

I had never harboured any notion of being Sportsperson Of The Year previously. But if being able to pee with great precision against your own leg/legs were to become an Olympic sport any time soon then it would appear I have the potential to be a World Class athlete. Sponsored by Tena Lady, I might just be unassailable by the competition. Unless Iceland happened to be fielding some sort of incontinent ringer.

There remains the possibility that this deft little skill is but a temporary blip as things settle down but I do have nothing else to base my opinion on. My previous arrangement was just much simpler by comparison. It was also pointable. Something I had not often appreciated fully, now that I think on it.

And yet, I’m not distressed at all. The complicated alchemy that has turned lead into gold was never going to be without some difficulties. More than anything else I really think it’s a sense of humour that’s going to be needed most to see me through the months ahead.

A steep learning curve does lie in front of me though. But I look forward to every little educational step on that journey. And if I am going to share the triumphant moments here then it’s only fair that I’m also open with you whenever it’s monumentally rubbish. Which, as it happens, is quite a bit initially. Although if we were to be betting on leg versus bowl, it would currently offer significantly better odds than roulette for example. Every cloud Ladies and Gentlemen, every cloud! 😉

Hydration is awfully important