Last week I had my six week follow up for my vaginoplasty. I wrote this a couple days later about this stage of my transition. Comments are appreciated.
A speculum is a bad way to start the day.
"Welcome to womanhood."
I think there's a metaphor in there somewhere.
Like womanhood is a cold metal instrument
That opens you up to the world.
Like womanhood is being uncomfortable,
Is being vulnerable, is being put on display.
Metal stirrups in a cold room, legs spread
Poked and prodded, evaluated, inserted,
A passive receptacle being told to relax,
When there is no reason to.
"Relax.
Miss tight pelvic floor.
Relax."
Well, I just came through the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
I watched my hard work start to dissolve in front of me,
Cried for three weeks straight while my hormones did backflips.
Confronted my worst fears in a hand mirror four times a day.
So this is only easy in comparison,
Which is to say that it isn't.
It is only less hard.
But still,
"Relax."
"Be patient."
"It should heal in fine."
"We'll have a better idea at six months."
"We can always do a revision."
"Your depth is really good."
Well, thank god my vagina has good depth!
But what about the depth of my mind, my thoughts, my ideas?
The depth of my pain, my fears, my struggle to exist?
The depth of my anger at a world
That taught me that I should hate myself?
Is that all going to heal in fine too?
But hey, at least I have good depth.
Isn't that all that really matters?
That I can get >-bleeped-<ed?
Isn't that what's really important?
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