Sorry for not replying, Anastazja. I'm more forgetful than I use to be so I guess that's age catching up.
And yes - anxiety
Another five months have passed - a very busy five months - which makes a total of 21 months on HRT. Maybe another update might be useful to someone, so more ramblings from a middle aged woman in male drag.
My12 laser sessions have finished, and most of the dark stuff has gone. The white hairs are still there, and I will start electro before Christmas, but with a clean shave and a bit of foundation I cannot cover up the most of it.
I've bought some D cup bras because the Cs were getting too tight. Still no real hips to speak of, although there is more far being deposited there. That might just be the 5kgs I've gained since the spring
I gave up on my hair growing back enough, certainly in the immediate future, so I cut it back quite short, which means that wigs sit better.
Lost some more muscle mass, and having been quite bulky after a final male fling with weight training a few years ago, I'm now well built for a girl and fairly slight for a guy.
None of this gets me male-failed, but I have been described as androgynous lately. Life goes on as a bloke without any real problems.
Last week brought the last few days of the summer break, and I had some time to relax, reshape my makeup skills, try out a few clothing combinations, do some stuff with my hair (wig of course), and fight off the urge to show myself to the world with the disappoint and heartache that was likely to bring me. I couldn't, so three consecutive nights I went out and sat in the car, went out again, scurried into a convenience store and came again again, and went out and had a walk around town. No danger, no abuse, no s->-bleeped-<-s - so far so good.
Yesterday afternoon I got the urge to go shopping, so I drove 100 miles, parked in the mall, chickened out and left the mall, bought some coffee at a nearby convenience store, drove back to the mall. There then followed another internal struggle, until the part of me that thought 'Who am I living this life for?' won on points and I stepped out to face the world.
The world responded with supreme indifference, which was exactly what I wanted. An hour and a bit wandering around the shops, coffee in Starbucks, a few groceries at the supermarket on the way home and I was done. Seven hours as me. Beautiful I ain't, but I guess I was blending in as much as a 6'2" person of different skin colour in largely racially-homogenous country could. If I was getting read then nobody was letting on, and that is good enough for me.
The realisation that I would never be able to pass, and the uncomfortable life that would mean for someone as diffident as myself, is what had made me put the dream away and give up on full transition. Now I have to decide what to do next.
