A milestone:Yesterday marked 4.5 months since I started HRT. I've changed so much, both physically and mentally since then. Prior to that, I'd dreamed of being a woman, of having a woman's body but I'd been unable to allow myself to do anything about it until I started taking phytoestrogens about 6 years ago. That led to a blood clot, which led to only taking finasteride which, ironically, had more of an effect on me than the herbals. This led to my egg cracking, coming out to my girlfriend and starting HRT in less than 3 months' time. I received hair transplant surgery about 18 months later.
Recent developments include electrolysis (about 1 year), facial feminization surgery, round 1 (4 months ago), Retin-A for age spots wrinkles on my face (just a couple of days ago), and changing gender markers and name on file with doctors, pharmacist, etc.
Despite all of this, I'm out to less than 100 people. I go out once or twice a week as Courtney, spending the rest of my time closeted. But at home, I present in increasingly female-gendered ways, wearing clothes that make me feel good, putting a bit of makeup on, wearing underwear that feels right (and bras which are necessary). It seems I should do more to pursue my truth but this limited exposure feels right to me. Trans people are more vulnerable to attack than ever before and I'll admit that fear does affect my ability to live my truth.
This could have been very different. I knew I wanted to be a woman right around puberty. I desperately wanted to steal/take my girlfriend's birth control pills around age 20. I envied trans women and found myself attracted to them, which turned out to be a manifestation of my desire to be a trans woman myself. I turned to trans erotica, fiction in particular, in order to live out transition fantasies in my head. I read posts on Susan's about hormones, body changes, social changes and so on. Hard to avoid wondering what would have become of me if I'd taken those birth control pills...
But the fact is, this happened when it was supposed to happen, no sooner or later. It would have been difficult, even dangerous to transition in the very early 90s. I could have ended up broke, unhoused, alone or even unalive. Nowadays I have the privilege of being able to move between two worlds without much fear, cost or inconvenience. But I'm old now, and I image how my face might look if I hadn't been poisoned by testosterone for so many years. Oh, well. I do think I like very good for my age, but like so many of us, I'm sad that I never got to be young and pretty. I mourn the young, fresh-faced Courtney that never got a chance to exist.
But I'm grateful for all of this. I've gotten an opportunity few will ever have. I didn't like who I was and I was able to change it. I'm trans. I have trans friends. I love my body. I've had amazing experiences, with more to come.
Thanks, all, for coming along on this ride with me.
(I had quite a lot of stubble on the bottom of my chin when this photo was taken the other day, as I was getting ready to head out to my electrology appointment, so I tried to touch that up a bit. Otherwise, the photo is a pretty good representation of where I'm at, and the lighting isn't doing me any favors!)Link to the top I'm wearing (wore it out to my electrologist appointment):
https://a.co/d/0gwyAPUd 🔗
🔗 [Link: ibb.co/pr5HSqWm/]