I always feel a bit rotten about writing a new post when I have so many posts from others to catch up on. I still don’t have a clue where the time goes or how, so many new posts appear on my to read list without me noticing.
Forgive me readers for I have sinned it’s been a month since my last post and therefore a month since I last read. What jogged me back into the world of bloggery was a Happy anniversary notice from WordPress. A whole year, gone. Wow!!
I think my last post was about my last appointment at the GIC, well expecting another six to eight week wait I was surprised to get a letter telling me of a further two appointments a week later. The appointments were both for the 28th March, one with a Psychiatrist (I think, but forgot to ask) and a Nurse.
I’m still having problems getting the hang of make up and as much as I liked my hair I couldn’t get the hang of styling it like my hairdresser, (I can run wires into nearly impossible places, contort myself to fit sensors into places designed for goblins and I can do these things left or right handed. But can I wield a hair dryer and hair brush simultaneously? Can I hell!!), and my next hair appointment wasn’t until the day after the GIC appointments. Bugger!
To compound things, I had to go away for work and wouldn’t be back until the night before and the first appointment was at nine o’clock with an hours drive in rush hour. Yippee!
Now, I normally take my make up with me when working away, but getting the enthusiasm to practice make up after a twelve hour plus day is usually non existent, so I wasn’t holding out much hope.
Seven thirty on the Friday arrived and I awoke to the realisation that I had thirty minutes to perform a miracle. The miracle wasn’t going to happen, so I settled for shower, double shave and an attempt at a blow dry.
I kept the breast forms and hip pads but omitted the waist cincher and tucking. Jeans, three inch heeled ankle boots and green fluffy baggy jumper to hide my stomach.
Despite the double shave by the time I got to Sheffield the five o’clock shadow had decided to join me on my day out. Oh Joy!
The appointment was another assessment, this time with a psychiatrist (I think) going over the same ground as the two previous appointments. It seemed to go well, and I still had the feeling that an extended assessment wasn’t going to be required.
I then found out that the second appointment with nurse had been cancelled, but could I come back on Monday? Yes. I said.
(Sheffield GIC has a policy of one failure to show equals finished, two consecutive cancellations or an unspecified number of non consecutive cancellations equals finished. So I say yes to everything then arrange work and domestic round that. I haven’t come this far to get bumped now) Oh and they’re still looking at the possibility of me going fulltime by the end of June, although no mention as to whether this would be the start of my Real Life Experience or not.
Driving home I realised I had to go to my hairdressers to sort out what I wanted doing and also to the beauty salon to sort out an appointment for a make up lesson. As there’s a carpark in between them both I didn’t think it was worth going home to get changed first.
Six foot nine in my heels, no make up and my stubble revelling in the spring Derbyshire air………….
I was not going pass, no really I wasn’t. But the thing that struck me was not how self conscious I felt (a bit, but not much surprisingly), but the fact that I didn’t actually care. I felt comfortable, I felt happy and I felt like me.
I went to both salons and didn’t just dive in and out again, I stood and chatted as other clients came and went. And the more I did, the more comfortable I felt. So much so, in fact that I decided I would stop and have a coffee in the cafe next to the car park.
Conchita Wurst may have been a laughing stock to many at Eurovision, but dammit you can be Trans, have stubble and still feel comfortable in public!! And let’s face it at six foot nine I’m not going to fool anyone anyway 🙂
The other great revelation of that day was handbags. I love them, how the hell have I survived without one all these years? (I do still think man bags are wrong on so many levels, but each to their own 🙂 ). Everything in one place, no scrabbling through loads of different pockets, it’s brilliant. My wallet looked wrong in there so I have had to buy a purse, which is also brilliant, far more practical than a wallet.
Monday’s appointment was at half past ten, but I had still decided to go without makeup. I have a new hair do, solid copper with blond highlights and cut into a style that I can manage.
Final assessment appointment. Height, weight, blood pressure, various medical questions and a multiple guess psych questionnaire on paper then ninety questions online. Again I felt really positive about not getting an extended assessment.
Maximum six week wait now for the outcome of the panel and my next appointment, which hopefully will be to start on the hormones.
So, in the last month, I have (hopefully) finished my assessment, outside of work I pretty much dress all the time now (granted mainly jeans and tops), my underwear is exclusively female now, I paint my toe nails (what a rebel!) And my make up is improving, although not to a level I would go out in public yet.
So many little things, that overall have made such a big difference.
I really feel I’m moving now, but best of all I’m beginning to feel like me, and that is making me happy at last.