Handbags & Glad Rags……….

Tags

Assessment, Happy, In Public, Transgender, Transition

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.

Rachael
Xx

And They’re Off………………..

Tags

Acceptance, Confusion, GIC, Sadness, Transgender, Transition

As My appointment draws ever closer, my brain, body and time itself all seem to merging into one confusing mess. I used the term “Surreal Normality” yesterday to describe the hair appointment experience, and I have the same feelings today, it’s almost as if my two personalities are starting to line up for the final conflict.

Mentally I am ready, I now no longer regard myself as Roy, he sits there quietly waiting for the end, clinging to the hope that, in his mind, this madness will end. It won’t. As I said, seeing me yesterday with new hair, that was just wrong with my appearance. The hair was right. It was everything else that was wrong. Seeing my partial reflection in the rear view mirror, seeing Me, seeing the woman. He wasn’t there. Buying the mirror, my mirror, the very item I despise because He was always looking out at me. He doesn’t look out of this one. He’s not there.

He still clings to the hope that His clothes will be his salvation. As long as he makes me wear them he still retains some control. Tomorrow will see the end of that control and he knows it.

After tomorrow, the choice of clothing will be mine. Be it male or female or whether it’s for me or out of consideration for the people still not quite used to who I am. But the choice will be mine, NOT His.

Time. I have a perception of time moving incredibly slowly, yet each time I look at the clock I have lost another hour. Is he clinging on to every second, knowing that today is His last day?.

I keep reading other people’s experiences, and their big moments, and wondered why I hadn’t had the big moment. Everything seemed so normal to me ,as if this is how it should be, no drama, no fanfare, just a quiet resignation that another step forward had been taken.

I think tomorrow is my big moment. Regardless of the outcome at the Clinic, I realise that my mental transition is complete, and the physical transition is beginning.

My emotions, rather than being of excitement or nerves  are filled with a sadness.

Sadness at the thought, that He will be gone. I have no regrets or hesitation as to my pathway or choices, but without Him, would I have had the strength to get this far? He has, after all, been the dominant part of my life for the 36 years of this journey. I look back now and ask myself, did he suppress me or did he protect me? And in all honesty I can’t answer that. And I don’t think I would really want to know the answer.

I believe that somewhere in the Bible there is a passage about dying in order to live. Maybe Romans or Acts, but not being of the overly religious persuasion I would probably misquote it or use it in entirely the wrong context. But the line I have in my head is;

“In order to Live, we must first Die”, on the face of it quite a morbid line, but for me, regardless of His contribution to this Journey, He has to go. In order for Rachael to live Roy has to die, and any death is sad.

And so at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning I will be at the starting gate.

Sheffield, 11 O’clock And they’re off……….

Rachael

xx

Pre-Monday Mini Update……..

Tags

Gender Clinic, Hair Style, Transition

I had my hair done today.
Done in an everyday run of the mill high street salon. The morning was, to say the least, surreal. Not in a surreal way, but in the normality of the whole thing. (Can there be such a concept as Surreal Normality? I guess there can.)
There were no hushed tones with the stylist asking me about my transition, and no embarrassment with my answers. I noticed the odd look from other clients in the mirror, and by odd I mean one or two, rather than strange. They appeared to more in interest than shock, disgust etc, etc. And there was the odd double take from the occasional passer by.
Anyway my hair has been cut and styled in a similar style to my profile pic, but with less hair at the moment, and I’m going for the same colour but in stages to allow people to get used to it.
I had to walk to nearby cash machine and didn’t get any of the expected strange looks. I then had to go to the local boots to purchase some last minute bits for Monday, and also some hair care products. (Apparently super saver shampoo, followed by non brushing and letting gale force winds naturally dry it, is not the way women look after their hair!!! Who’d have guessed?)
So at the the moment I have a (Style name unknown), with copper highlights / streaks.
I love it, and I know it will look right on Monday because it looked so completely wrong with his clothes and no make-up today.
And just to cancel out my last post, I caught a glimpse of  myself in the rear view mirror , at least I saw a good part of hair with enough of my face to see that I can do this. And that made me very happy. And that happiness could not be dented by the noncommittal bordering on negative reaction I got when I returned home.
And I treated myself to an illuminated make-up mirror, not for Monday but for me.
Anyway next installment Monday, hopefully with some new pictures 🙂
Rachael
xx

And Then I saw My Face……………

Tags

Dressing, Gender, Hairdresser

Today has been a both a good and a bad day, the good does outweigh the bad, but still…..

Having the need to be Rachael on Monday and not having suitable makeup application skills, I have as you know arranged to have my makeup done. Going into the beauticians, I had at least the moral support of my Step Daughter. Today, however I was on my own and if I was to stand any chance of getting a hair appointment it had to be done today.

Feeling more than a little nervous I approached the Salon of choice, and walked straight past.

I then turned round and headed….

Straight past again!

After mentally slapping myself a few times I went in.

Nervously I stood there and waited to be seen. I was, and I asked the question, “Is it possible to get an appointment for Saturday?”

“Of Course, what would you like doing?”

“Erm, well the thing is, and this might be a bit strange….”

The woman at this point seemed to adopt a knowing look, (or maybe I imagined it) “Whats strange?” she asked

“Well I’m Transgender and I need my hair in a more feminine style… for Monday”

Her first question threw me completely, instead of what are you looking for etc it was “What’s your name?” meaning Rachael. I told her and then started to breath again.

We then spent the 10 to 15 minutes discussing the practicalities of a hair style for someone who isn’t on Real Life Experience yet but who is (I’m not going to use the word out) openly starting to be themselves. I showed her the photo I use for profile and said I quite like this, but that I didn’t want to go completely to that style and colour yet out of consideration for my colleagues, who I would like to get used to small but significant changes a bit at a time. So that’s the way it’s going, in an ongoing over a few months sort of project.

Then feeling decidedly lifted by the experience I decided it was time to sort out my clothes for Monday, so home I trotted and assembled my minute wardrobe on the bed and decided on the skirt I swore I would never own a black top with lace sleeves, black opaque tights (My leg hair is out of control) and brown 1″ heeled knee boots

Thus decided I then set about with the slightly less pleasant aspects of my appearance.

Breast forms, hip pads and the dreaded tucking. I then dressed with more care than I ever have before (My attitude to this point has been, It’s not work, so can I get away with jeans trainers and a t-shirt)

I don’t have a full length mirror so I angled a bathroom mirror down, Wow! With the hip pads and a waist cincher I actually have a figure, from the side with the breast forms I actually thought I might be able to get away this.

And then I saw my face…….

Rachael

x

Zen And The Art Of Hair Removal………

I believe I may have mentioned in a previous post  about my adventures in the land of Hair Removal, and it’s rather unsuccessful results.

With the advent of my forthcoming appointment to the GIC I decided that it was once more time to visit that land of Nightmares. Now my decision was not based on anything said at the clinic, (I wasn’t going to go with any leg flesh, or any other flesh for that matter, showing) but purely on the basis that the time felt right for me.

So, thus decided, I sauntered into the local Boots (Other Chemists are available) to purchase, in no particular order, lady razors, Agent Orange hair removal cream and last but not least an Epilator. Now the lady razors, no reason other than it felt right and it felt like a small step forward. Agent Orange I’ve bought before, and the epilator I bought on the basis that prolonged use causes hair to grow back thinner and slower. (We’ll see)

It still took me a week to start, as I still worry about causing diplomatic nightmares at home. Night 1 =Lower Right Leg, Night 2 = Lower Left Leg, Night 3 = Upper Left Night 4 = Upper Right – No Problems. slight regrowth and no significant skin loss. The following three nights were spent on underarms (Armpits doesn’t sound right now) chest and for the sake of politeness lets just say bikini. I wouldn’t have bothered, but for the fact, that unfortunately, I have to tuck and tape (I am not elaborating) and the presence of hair in that particular region causes pain with a capital P! Enough said.

I digress, having finished the basics and removed the majority with the razors, I proceeded to apply Agent Orange  to some of the more difficult areas to reach.

Having then had a few days gap due to some unpleasant chafing, I decided to do an all over epilation. Dry is agony, in the shower is bearable……. Except the chest, OOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I will persist. Although I fail to understand, how, after the application of razors, Agent Orange and an epilator I have managed to miss great swathes of brushland.

I have other things to write about, but having read through this I really feel that possibly this should stand alone. In fact in all honesty it should probably be consigned to somewhere dark and inaccessible, but to censor myself would defeat the object of why I started this blog. So it stays; and with all the unpleasant images it conjures up. 🙂

Rachael

xx

 

What Do You Call…………

The title has nothing to do with the post.

My ability to find suitable titles eludes me. And it was always the title that came first, followed by the out pouring of litery Tourettes. However a lot seems to have happened again in a short space of time, and I fear that to not publish would result in a lapse of memory and thus a failure to record a detail that may or may not be relevent at a later date.

I have never read any of my previous posts and don’t intend to, even though this is a journal of my journey. Just to know that it has been recorded is enough for me.

Anyway….. more shopping, more counselling, more visits to the doctors and I came out at work (with the previously mentioned nudge from Facebook)

At this point I have to say that I may well provide too much information, and for this I apologise in advance.

Replacement jeans are on the way in a size 18 woohoo! A new jacket size 22 that  I can fit other clothes on underneath, that’s the practical parts sorted out.

I did buy a handbag and a scarf, not, however, because I thought I needed them, but because I liked them. (I don’t do shopping, but apparently now I do)

Another thing I swore I wouldn’t do is wear skirts, dresses or anything too girly. And yet I now have a skirt and a lace top on my shopping list (I am still adamant on the dresses though 🙂 )

14/02/15

I’ve put the date in because I have started to write this again two weeks after I started it. Also in the preceding two weeks I have seen a dress, (Yes I know I said I wouldn’t) that I am going to order next pay day.

I have my next appointment at the Gender Clinic on the second of March, I’m ready. My make-up skills are not however. I have found a beautician who is going to do my make-up and shape my eyebrows for the appointment. The great thing about her, is that not only was she really happy to do my make-up she made me feel like she would be proud to do it. I thought I imagined the last part but I was there with my Stepdaughter  who said the same thing. She is opening her salon for me on the Monday, which is normally closed. She is also trying to find me a hairdresser.

The other items recently arrived are breast forms, 44D or now they appear to be a 42D

I have hip forms due soon and some bum enhancers, I also have a large Brasillian elastic band (Championed by Gok Wan apparently) also known as a waist cincher. I do have a lace up corset cincer but cannot fasten it myself, hence the elastic band.

At this point I have to say that these plastic body parts are not by choice but to enable me to jump through the hoops thoughtfully provided by the gender clinic.

I want their help so I’ll play their games.

I came out at work. (I am really beginning to despise this term – I think it sounds as though you’re having to apologise for something) I really love my colleagues, they have been so supportive. “Are you happy? then what’s the problem?” is pretty much the reaction. They don’t treat me any differently, they still take the piss, only now they have something else to joke about and none of it malicious.

I posted a humorous picture from a website next to my desk the day before I went to work away. When my colleagues saw it they thought that someone from another part of the company had put it there. And wanted to take it down before I got back, till I told them it was me.

Anyway, I’m hoping to have some new photos for my next apppointment, this time with my own hair.

RK

xx

And A Happy New Year One And All…………

Tags

Coming Out, Shoes, Shopping, Transgender, Transition

A rather strange but not unpleasant festive period has been and gone, although generally I don’t partake in such things,as I much prefer the peace and tranquility and watching The Great Escape and Mary Poppins.

This year I did however, partake in the Boxing Day sales, albeit from the comfort of a sofa and the convenience of the internet.

From Long Tall Sally I purchased a denim Biker style jacket in mint size 20, a pair of lift and shape skinny jeans size 20, two tops also a size 20 one in a green hairy material that isn’t mohair and one bog ordinary in black and white and two pairs of boots size 11, one a riding style and the other a sort of suedey fleece lined long boot in grey

From Tall Girls I purchased a black leather bikers style jacket size 20 and two pairs of ankle boots both size 11, one with a 3.5 inch heel and one with a 3 inch heel.

Despite what the GIC may or may not want me to look like, I refuse to look like either Lilly Savage/ Ru Paul or Miss Marple, in fact I think I said in a much earlier post that the clothes I like are exactly the same as the clothes I wear but female.

Anyhow, success or failure? Both.

The suedy boots went back despite being incredibly comfortable, as it looked as though I may have started heading down a Captain Blood / Jack Sparrow route. One pair of ankle boots went back (3 inch heel) as they were two narrow.

Both jackets went back as I didn’t realise that I should have bought a size 22 to allow for wearing stuff underneath and the chest I haven’t yet got. The colour of the denim jacket didn’t suit me either, so no big deal there, but the leather jacket was fantastic but it was a sale item and they don’t have a 22 to replace it with 😦

The jeans went back because………. I’ve dropped another size and they were too big!! So sent back for an exchange with a pair of size 18’s 🙂

Now, I know that both these shops are not cheap but at 6′ 6″ I don’t have a lot of options, and on trying the clothes on I found that the proportions fit me perfectly if not the full item. For example, in mens clothes to get a jacket with the right arm length I have to get a stupid chest size generally 48-50″ so the jacket looks like a sack of s**te on me, trousers I struggle to find a pair with 40″ waist and a 36″” leg so I bought a 34″ leg and let the west hang round my backside. I buy XL jumpers in mens sizes to get the arm length,

Both jackets the arm length was good, jeans I can buy with a 36 or a 38″ leg and when my hips and backside reshape, will fill fit without too much adjustment or extra padding. And both tops fit perfectly and are in effect a size L. The boots…. (I am developing a thing for shoes) The riding style boots are comfortable but with no heel, the ankle boots with heels I love and I have no trouble walking in them, In fact I tend to walk more feminine in them naturally.

So next time I will actually go the shop to try on.

The other strange but very positive side to the festive period has been my relationship.

Not one single solitary cross word, no arguments. Nothing. I bought the clothes without my wife’s knowledge as I didn’t want to provoke any trouble, but in fact the opposite was true. She helped me try on the clothes, was very objective about which ones suited me and which ones didn’t told me how the clothes should fit and therefore which ones were the wrong size. Told me I should wear the shoes round the house to wear them in and to practice walking, but said that in general my posture and walk were good. She has also been helping me with my make up to a level whereby her daughter came round and didn’t even notice I was wearing any. (She did notice the boots, but didn’t laugh at me walking)

And to think that less than two months ago I thought things were that bad I would have to move out…

My Stepdaughter has offered to go shopping with me help me with make up etc on those occasions when  Mrs R isn’t able to or those times when it is too difficult psychologically for her to help.

Now a word of warning. Facebook has pretty much unilaterally decided to out me, granted it’s pretty late on that score apart from Work.

A day like any other got home from work when “ping” message from Facebook, check message It’s from the guy who sits opposite me in the office wishing me a Happy New Year but with a kiss. Strange, I thought he’s sent a PM to me by mistake and was just replying when it struck me. My phone is now set up to all Rachaels accounts and not my male accounts (I’m moving towards Rachael full time) Shit!!!!!!!!!! Oh Shit!!!!!!! and more Shit!!!!! busted.

I went into the office the next day wondering if anything would be said, publicly or just a comment privately or even snidely, nothing. Nothing for the rest of the week.

On the Saturday I had to find how he had sent me a message as my privacy settings are supposed to allow only friends to message me.

When I asked him if he often chatted to random strangers and how had he got my account his reply floored me. “You sent me a friend invite”

I bloody didn’t, nor did I send one to my Stepdaughter who also received a friend request from me.

My colleague doesn’t have an issue with me, (I came out to him) but we both think that I had better tell my boss sooner rather than later before Facebook does it again. My Stepdaughter already knows so no problem there. The best thing is that neither one of them recognised me from my profile piccy and both said I pass well, (Although I think they may not want to offend upset etc at the moment, so pinch of salt) but It’s made me feel good anyway and boosted the confidence somewhat.

But Facebook, bloody cheeky!!!

So 2014 ended well and 2015 has started well so at the moment I am one happy bunny

RK

xx

 

Ho Ho Humbug!!!!………..

Tags

Gender Identity Dysphoria Gender Clinic, Gender Reassignment Therapy, Transgender

How strange the passing of time is. It hardly seems five minutes since I was waiting for my first appointment at the clinic.
Bang!!! Now five more weeks have passed, I apologise to all those who left comments after my last post, that I  never replied to. It was rude and there is no excuse.
The last five weeks have, however been quite eventful, I am now smoke free, (well almost. I had one two days ago, but I had extenuating circumstances) So four weeks six days without a cigarette, a small lapse which was bloody awful and hasn’t made me want any more.
I had a week working in Korea which surprisingly went without problems, the jet-lag did for me for another week. Since the trip to Korea things at home have calmed down greatly. We are still not talking about the situation much, but there does at least seem to be more of an air of acceptance.
After being told by the clinic that I would have to wait for between six and eight weeks for a second appointment, I actually waited only five, and had my second appointment on Monday.
This was with a different Psychotherapist, who went through my history again, this time asking how did I know I was Transgender and why had I waited till I was 46 to try and find help.
One statement that sticks in my mind was her saying “and you want us to help you transition?” I wasn’t said offhandidly or anything it just seemed like a loaded statement/question. The point of which seemed to become more apparent at the end of the appointment, when she pointed out that I was dressed androdginously and for my next appointment would I be prepared to present as female. This was then followed up by asking if I would travel to the appointment dressed or would I prefer to change when I got there? Again they felt like loaded questions with the real meaning being are you really ready to transition yet?
I realise that resources are limited and that priority should be given to those who are ready to transition fully.
Am I ready?
Yes I am!
Neither having the appointment presenting or travelling there is a problem, after all if I’m not ready to present to the people I want help from then I’m probably not ready to transition.
Then I had a smoke………
Not with the prospect of going out publically dressed, but with telling my wife that effectivley the waiting was over and I was going to start activley transitioning.
However there was no problem, as long as I was happy and sure it was the right thing.
So again, there is supposed to be a six to eight week wait for the next appointment. Take Christmas out of this and the fact that my last appointment was only five weeks, I reckon I’ve probably got four weeks to sort out hair, wardrobe, makeup and walking in heels.
I will also have to come out at work straight after the Christmas shutdown so changing appearence not a shock there.
Can I do this?
Yes I can.
And on that note I will wish each and everyone of you a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!!!!
Take care everyone

RK

XX

As Yet………(Untitled)

Tags

Gender Clinic, Gender Identity Dysphoria, Transgender, Transition

I had my first visit to the Gender Clinic today. I don’t know what I was expecting it to be like , but it certainly wasn’t like this.

Apparently, today was an intake assessment. that is to say an assessment to see whether I would go forward to be assessed for being Transgender.

I am happy to say I will now go on to be assessed. This involves a minimum of two, one hour sessions with psychotherapists to assess my Transgenderism and to go through whether I am ready to start treatment and what treatment.

I now have to wait for six to eight weeks for the first of these sessions and then a further six to eight weeks for the second session and then who knows how long for the next meeting with who knows who? I don’t even want to think how long before I might start to get the Hormones.

I’m not complaining, I’m just getting impatient, although I am happy that I have got through the first Door.

I have a new Counsellor that I have been seeing for three weeks now, and while she is not trying to do the work of the clinic she is helping me to join the dots from a lot of events in my past, which is helping my mental state a lot.

I missed a session last week as I was supposed to going to Korea for work, and I will miss this weeks because I am going to Korea, but I think the time away will do me some good as the situation at home is definitely getting worse, with fifty percent of the time not talking about what is happening and fifty percent just not talking following rows that were not even rows, just some perceived transgression by one or both of us.

Due to this state of affairs I have not gone any further with makeup practice or voice training and as such I do feel in a bit of a state of Limbo.

I am also three weeks into a stop smoking program run by my surgery and I have cut down from thirty to forty cigarettes a day to four in the whole of last week, this week I hope to stop completely and also cut down the nicotine strength in my e-cig with the aim of giving that up too

And I am now down to less than 110Kg which is a third of the weight I want to lose in total, and stopping smoking has increased my cravings for sugar or chocolate, so although I have not lost as much weight as I would have liked in these three weeks I haven’t gained any.

So overall things are not looking to grim and there may even be a glimmer of improvement showing.

Oh and I’m still trying to catch up with my post reading, 🙂

RK

 

XX

Are There Really Such Things As Coincidences………..?

Tags

Blogging, Gender Clinic, Writers Block

You may remember in my last post how I extolled the virtues of my GP. She really is amazing. She got the reply from the GIC stating that the waiting list for a first appointment was 51 weeks no exceptions, which would take me to the 4th Feb 2015.

Now, I know she requested information about how to prescribe a bridging course of hormones, but lo and behold less than two weeks later I received a letter giving me an appointment for the 17th of November… This Year!!!!

Which by my reckoning is only 39 weeks and 6 days. Coincidence?

Anyway, I have another appointment with my GP next week and I’m still going to go for the bridging hormones as it could still be another 6 months through the GIC.

Needless to say, I have an elevated mood at the moment, despite  the fact that the 4 week wait for a counselling session will have turned into a 9 week wait as of today.

In other news, I looked in the mirror this week, (Not something I do often, due to high cost of replacements) and I’m developing hips, not the best but I can see them now, the effect is then spoiled by the tractor sized spare tyre  I’m carrying round my waist and that after my last bout of chemical warfare against the body hair I now resemble a white cactus with black prickles. My hair is growing out nicely and should be ready to venture to a Salon soon. (Courage & nerves permitting)

I’m two weeks into my first module for my degree with an assignment due next week, and I still seem to have Thinkers Block never mind Writers Block.

And finally, I’m still trying to catch up with all your posts, and it doesn’t matter how many I read each day I’m still on posts that have a 1m time stamp on them, with more arriving each day. (I so want to steal MsMonsterfuls Rawhide gag)

It still amazes me how many emotions I can go through just reading through your posts and the journeys that you are all going through that it makes me feel like a real whiner at times. I really do admire you all so much. I would like to leave more comments but the brain just won’t transmit to the keyboard at the moment.

Thank you all.

Rachael

X