At my latest appointment with my transition doctor my pleas were heard. Since my second visit I’ve asked him to increase my dosage. I’m old and in a hurry LOL. Of course, I asked in a joking manner… I don’t tell highly educated doctors what to do. He’d look at my labs and say ‘no, you are where I want you to be.’ Well I’ll be damned if he looked over all my lab results this time, nodded gently and said ‘your testosterone is excellent, but I think we can up your estrogen.’ I squealed a little bit, embarrassingly so. He raised my dosage by 50%! Now we’re getting somewhere.
Had a horrible experience recently. If you’ve read my blog you know I am involved with various ministries in the Catholic church, and have had some minor and major battles with priests, their homilies and the Church’s stance. At the church I am currently a member I happen to be the head of the bereavement committee. When a parishioner dies I lead the process from notification to creating the mass booklet to the funeral mass itself. I’m not done until dirt is being thrown on the grave.
So on Tuesday i saw through a funeral mass. As usual, due to too much practice, everything went perfectly. I take pride in making things run smoothly… this is a process to honor a deceased’s life and is important to the family to remember their last pubic appearance of their loved one.
At the after-mass luncheon the family and friends gather to share a meal and memories. We on the committee take part in the meal. So I’m sitting at a table with my co-members shoveling down some home cooking not my own (always a plus) when one of the family members approaches us. This is a normal event. The family likes to thank us for our efforts at this difficult time.
“I just wanted you to know… i find you a disgrace. I’m disgusted you had anything to do with my mother’s funeral. I hope you’re happy.”
Stunned? Yeah. Speechless? Absolutely. Angry? No. Only angry I don’t pass well enough to have no such scene. I’m rarely spoken to quite so directly, though. When my ex-priest spent four homilies decrying the destruction of the family by those ‘men in dresses’ I simply left that church and moved to this one. I’m not a confrontational person.
Those two events intertwine. Hopefully my transition will improve enough that someone may say to themselves ‘something odd about that ugly old woman’ but feel no need to ask me why. Then I can go about my life quietly without incident. I have no desire to do anything other than live my life quietly and in peace.
A while back I posted explaining to the person I love the reason for my — shall we put it mildly and call it distrust — of men. Not A Pretty Story. (Trust me… don’t read it.) I had the pleasure last night of discussing my first books (T-Girl in the Office) with a friend who had been reading this 9-book series. As noted before this is a romanticized version of my life. So she asked if one of the events was true. The scene of my near-castration at the hands of a gang of assholes. Sadly it was true. We talked about it for a while and I explained it had finally been figured out that I suffer from what I consider a mild form of PTSD. I’ll leave that diagnosis to those military types who have suffered real, actual trauma, not my piddling little panic. Nevertheless, it affected me and my life ever since. It has defined me. The result was a recurring nightmare. I’d wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. My dog doesn’t even wake up any more hahahaha.
In talking about this with her it slowly dawned on me: I have not had the nightmare in… I can’t recall the last time! I cannot recall!!! And I don’t want to think about it other than to note its demise. I can attribute this to one person and one person only. My love. I will call her Kelly here. My Second Life wife. Through her love and her love alone, her caring nature, calming demeanor and the fact that I know had I been with her it never would have happened. She would move heaven and earth to prevent it. I now realize that not all men are assholes who want to hurt me for no reason other than that I am different. Kelly would stand between me and any attack… physical or verbal. There is not a doubt in my mind. My darling, I could not love you more. Thank you for being in my life, SL and RL.
I learned over the 2015 holiday season that book sales reeked. Badly. I was very discouraged at that time. I was following what was a weekly publishing of a new book. So in self-defense this year I took a two-month sabbabical. Nothing new came out in November and December. The result?: I have been astonished at how much people continued buying or reading my old books. This has proven to me the value of having a decent catalog. Every doggone one of my 58 books have been either bought or read at least once. Not only has this done a lot for my self-esteem but hasn’t hurt my pocketbook any either. Kudos to Reed James, a prolific author FB friend of mine who currently has a catalog of — can this be right? — 881. Wow. Anyway back when I started and was complaining about meager sales he told me to write, publish, and grow as big a catalog as possible as quickly as possible. Like all other advice he’s given me it has proven valuable.
That said, time to swing back to work. A 4-book series that sold more than once during this time was Her Hot Futa Wife. Hot wives must be appealing to lots of folks LOL. Naturally, then, I am working on a new series on futa hot wives. Look forward to my usual nasty, sexy over-the-top erotica to come out next week.
December 14 marked the one year mark of my HRT. Before that I was working hormone-free, just soaking in the testosterone poisoning and being a girl. Found a doctor to prescribe my medication then he dies in an accident. Found a replacement and am very happy that I’ve begun my journey.
What I’m not happy about is my progress. I have a simple wish… to be able to walk down a street without seeing people elbowing their companions and pointing at me. How small a fucking town do I have to live in before I’m comfortable? I’d move to a cabin in the woods but I’m afraid my heels would dig into the dirt paths LOL.
I went shopping yesterday. Needed some retail therapy to get out of a funk. I bought some very nice stuff. Then I remembered when I was trapped with other townsfolk due to hurricane evacuation I had no male-type clothes to wear… I went en fem, sort of. Sloppy but me. So yesterday I actually bought jeans and a few shirts. Just in case. I can’t tell you how depressed it made me to think I may have to go back to them. I held them up and looked at them, tears in my eyes. I would hate it.
I’m giving myself two more years. My doctor said I’d reach full effect after three years. Fingers crossed. No matter how I’m dressed… how ugly I am… how unlike the many transition photos I see on Reddit that I’ll never be able to attain… I am a woman. <sigh>
Sorry. Holiday depression starting to set in. Happens every year around this time when I go out and see all the excited families shopping, laughing, enjoying the season. Will I ever get over this annual funkfest? Heehee <sigh> No
My only high point has been my discovery of Second Life where I’ve been able to start a life, find a love, and now even plan a wedding. Thank you Kelly Cross for coming into my life. Hope my downer of a post doesn’t scare you haha. I’ll be fine as soon as I see you log on.
My General Practitioner just called me. To remind my readers, after the doctor who treated me for my transition died in a car accident I was in search for a replacement before my prescriptions ran out. The obvious choice was my GP since it was a matter of picking up the script. He refused saying he had no training in the field and it was more complicated than just reissuing prescriptions.
I found the specialist in Atlanta, a five-hour drive. Well worth the effort. Meanwhile just last month I had my semi-annual check-up with the GP. After his exam he asked how the “Atlanta treatment” was going. I told him everything and we discussed the tests and results just so he’d be aware. After all, he had to drop one of my medications because it conflicted with the HRT. No judgment, just good doctor care.
So maybe ten minutes ago he calls. In an oblique manner he asked “do you recall the question you asked at the end of last year?” That could only mean one thing so I said yes. “I have a patient who came to me with the same request. Would you be willing to give me the name of the doctor you see in Atlanta?” So by the time I stopped squealing I said sure, just let me look it up.
THERE IS A TRANSGENDER SOMEWHERE IN MY TOWN! Besides me, that is. I wonder if I’ll run into him/her (the doctor didn’t say whether it MTF or FTM… wouldn’t make a difference).
Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to have coffee with? Share a noontime sandwich? Just talk mutual concerns. <sigh>
I’ve been thinking a lot about SRS ever since the article I posted concerning the possibility of military vets deserving surgery benefits (Be Still My Heart). After all these years would I take that step? It’s the logical move after years of therapy, being on HRT, living the life, isn’t it?
I identify as a trans woman. Whenever anyone is rude enough to ask me what I am — as if I’m a species different from them — I say I am a transgender woman.In my heart and soul, I am a woman. It took decades to realize that truth. Now that I’m on HRT my hormone levels indeed match that truth. I’m a happy camper.
In the event I have SRS… that I remove that bit of flesh that insists on messing up my tight clothes to require special attention to disguise, I would finally have the body that matches my heart and soul. A woman in all ways.
And therein lies my self-analysis. As a trans I feel unique. Different. And I sort of revel in that. If I had the SRS I would no longer feel that uniqueness. I would join half the population as female. It’s an odd quandary and I’m not sure what to think at the moment. Am I nuts? I honestly don’t think anything will come of it. The government paying for the operation? Pshaw. (Is that a word?) But would I want to join the sea of women or stay something only a few claim?
I don’t know. Babbling, I guess. Just food for thought. I’m an odd person.
I have to laugh. This is the absolute worst review I’ve received and I can’t help but shake my head in wonder. This is for “T-Girl in the Office Book 1: The Beginning.” This is my story, basically, of my first steps as myself. The whole series is based on events from my life, from working in a law office to moving to Florida. It is a nine-book series … my longest to date. So someone picked it up and decided the following:
October 1, 2016
I can only assume the man is a closet flag. He should’ve just apologized and said it’s not my thing.
First, I’m pretty sure I’m not a ‘closet flag.’ I may wave in a stiff breeze but still…
I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who simply did not get the point in any degree. A trans woman meets the man who becomes her great love. He learns to look beyond the superficial and see a beautiful, intelligent woman beyond her penis.
I wonder exactly what this reviewer thought he was going to read from a book who’s very title shouts “T-Girl” as the first word and has the universal transgender logo on the fucking cover. <sigh> Maybe he doesn’t know the meaning of the term.