Where is your pride?

Where is your love?
Where is your faith?

Where is your hope?
Where is your place?

Yes, still posting these. 

Benjamin Zephaniah's poem to Moby's pounding loop samples has been a theme of late and it got me thinking, as music often does, about where I am and what I am doing. Hints abound, but I have still yet to actually put on here the full details of my life these days, it'll come, probably in this post actually 🤔Anyway, point is that it's been a while since I last posted and, well, I stay busy! And, apparently, I keep learning new things about myself and then having to parse them in real time.

Where is your beauty?
Where is your fear?

I am learning, increasingly, that I want to support people. That supporting certain people is very much what gives me life. My children are distant now, my grandparents all dead as of last week, my parents physically distant and difficult to reach. When I had my week off, when I visited my Sister, my children were also away with Tilly. Once back I have not yet seen them, and won't for a while yet either. Their lives turn and change, and develop, without me. I have very little input, very little chance of input, very little involvement these days. Supporting them is something I used to do. Like teach. Like be a Form Tutor. Like be a partner. Like be a Good Child. Like serve a career and calling.

Signalling a change of direction...

Where is your anger?
Where is your career?
Where is your joy?
Where is your dread?

And, in my life, I find that I cannot support as much as I would like. I am learning to deal with the idea that people I love will fail and will be hurt. That people I care about will not always be in a position where I am able to help, let alone effect anything useful or positive. I mean, I always knew this, I have some walls, but I am learning to survive without those walls and still watch on. I am learning that there are depths of love that I had not known were within me, and that love can hurt as well as heal. And how to manage that. Always something I have known, but learning anew. I am being vague again. Hmm.

Where is your passion?
Where is your head?

Okay, let's rip this plaster off, eh? You are hereby warned - TMI is coming. Look away now. Video, final warning and then let's investigate this passion and where my head's at.

Breathing in the Dark

Okay.

My life is perfectly normal and not at all TMI these days. Of course. So, far from having nothing to talk about, I am struggling with how to talk about it on here - which remains my place to be true and honest. Fully. So, let's start with some headlines, I guess, and then the details can be hidden beyond a line break? Or at least warned about for people that don't wanna have that all up in their faces? Small mercies.

It me 😳🫣

The Boudoir photo shoot. Yeah, no, that happened on Tuesday and... I went in not expecting much. It was a favour to Abbi that I went and, also, to see what it was like. I fully expected to walk in, be utterly overwhelmed and then scry through what they managed to take to find the one that was least worst, and safe for work, and then frame it and send it to my Mum who has been badgering me for an up to date photo. Boom, baby, nice face shot in make up under studio lighting. The rest? The rest I expected to look like... well, not great, you know? Maybe have a bit of fun, maybe not. Enjoy the free lunch, have a lovely chat with Abbi, leave.

However. That wasn't how it went. I let the make up artist do her thing, and she was stoked to have that freedom and permission to do what worked, genuinely, and she went in directions I honestly did not see coming. Then the photo shoot - and that was more what I expected, to be honest, lots of being told how to pose and false sounding compliments. Not cos the lady was mean, but because professionalism - game recognises game. When it came to the viewing I had to decide black and white or colour for each shot and... I was sold. No hard sell, nor soft sell, was required. I didn't expect to be presented with what I was presented with. Images will adorn this post. I even got one for my wall printed off.

I got a picture of me for my wall.

Dramatic lighting!
Still me 🫣😬

Before that I also seem to have taken on another Little on the Discord server thing I'm on. I say 'taken on' - that's not entirely true. I am the New Thing at the moment cos of how much I'm helping out with Little Sis and so that generated a fair bit of attention. And, well... I also contacted my tutor and restarted that whole shebang. Been a bit of a busy week though, so I shan't get round to that til tomorrow now for reasons I'll get to in a moment. Anyway, Little Sis and I had a live video call (hard to explain, trust me, it makes sense) which was brilliant fun on the Sunday last - we wrote lines. That's it. And had a blast.

Hmm, running up against self imposed walls.

I also went to visit her yesterday on a day trip and it was so good. Brilliant. I was, again, not prepared for just how powerful it would be to be there again in person, to just... I dunno, to be sisters I guess and be able to hang out together. We went for a walk, we had a picnic, giggled like loons and waded through mud a number of times. We sat on a bench to eat food, have a can of gin each to toast Mummy in spirit with spirits, and then looked at the time and realised we'd been out for five hours and we ought to probably head back to hers for an evening meal. It was wonderful. I got to see a fun bookshop, mooch round her local B&M, cause a future stir where she works by turning up and being trans, and pick up a parcel with her before meeting the boyf and making a packed lunch for the picnic. She took me on one of her favourite local walks in the glorious sunshine and at literally no point did either of us run out of things to say nor have to force the conversation. Neither of us took over either. It was just... wonderful.

I guess that's the headlines? 🤔 Yeah.

If you don't wanna know more than that, and I can totes see why you wouldn't, here's your warning. Apparently my 'line break' does nothing. So, instead: here's a warning, I'll pop a music video below and then give the final warnings before going full TMI.

And now the obligatory warnings. This is gonna go so much more TMI than any previous post in this here blog. You are hereby warned that you may not wish to see that. You may not wish to know.

Coulda Bin a Contender

I made the mistake of watching a (good) video by Brigette Empire a couple of days ago, with some (necessary but awful, as one would expect) quotes from such luminaries as Matt Walsh (if you don't know, don't look him up). It put me in a bit of a downer, if we're honest. Ms Empire's rage and analysis is well-placed, well-directed, powerful. But my brain, being my brain, fastened on to Walsh's remark. I shall place it at the end, after a line break.

Walking home the other day... Monday? 

It was a bit bright and hot and sweaty. 

I have my Dad's (and his Mum's) eyes... 

Also, my hair is a state!

My new friend came over, I did not die of embarrassment! They were very comfortable, in fact, even if my curry was far too watery and not quite cooked right (it's been a while and I was nervous, is my defence). In case you, too, wish to cook a curry for company: remember to roast the spices without the onions first for about 30s in oil after having browned the onions so you can add the spices afterward with a cup or so of water (not the US measurement, just a guess-timation) then add the meat and brown off and then add the veg and tomatoes and another cup of water or so. Also: drain the rice properly. No, don't leave it to soak up all the water, you want the rice to have enough 'give' in it to soak up some sauce when you place it down as a bed.

As to the other reasons I was getting nervous - I forgot key facts about my visitor that mean that, no, there's nothing to read into in the first place. And, yes, I had forgotten and, yes, that did make me a little... I dunno. I dunno. I mean, I was confused and scared and worried and trying to make sure I didn't inadvertantly upset anyone and hadn't made my own mind up on where, if anywhere, I was thinking of going. But, on remembering (or, rather, being reminded) I did feel a tad... I dunno, disappointed perhaps? I keep banging on about it on here, the idea that maybe, just maybe, I might not be the sort to be loved (I do badly in that situation) but there's still a sense of rawness to have confirmed that, no, people aren't interested in me in that way.

Stage one of Model...

I mean, let's face it, it's fine. I recognise that I am no one's idea of a Good Time. I've been chatting to people online and we've had some fun and larks, but the reminders are there too - conversations reach a natural end point and it's me, as ever, does any running to try and keep things going until they fizzle. Okay, not in a relationship sense, just generally. It's a recurrent theme. I don't help matters: I am very much an intellectual snob; I judge people quite harshly in my head (until I can recognise it and rein that in, and remind myself a. I'm in no position to judge anyone, for any reason and b. why I'm in no position - there are multiple reasons). Anyway, yes, once again I thought I'd maybe made a connection with someone only to find that, no, no I had not. I was just on when they had some spare time is all and no one else was. It was a fun exchange, but I was too hasty to think "Fwend!" It is often the case.

Marking continues. Once contract down as of today. Team Leadering duties begun to be discharged - this took about two hours last night for two(!) phone calls (the reason I have the exclamation mark is that, usually, a phone convo as such I had is about ten to fifteen minutes at most) and about two hours today on the admin side of things. I have another contract due to start on Sunday. I also, stupidly, took on extra hours yesterday - it seemed like a good idea, but it left me with very little effective time at the end of the day and none at the start. Early starts mean early to bed, you see.

Stage two...

New tights have arrived, no, I haven't tried them on because it is too hot and that was nice. Youngest was over - we walked eating burgers from a van at the market (my idea and treat) in the shade of trees on a longer detour (straight home was down the streets in full sun, ugh, no thanks) with Tilly in tow. He painted some more gretchin aand I painted more of a single model I've been painting whilst any spaw- children paint their models. I may even go so far as to - shock horror - make the model of my Duchess and paint her next. Single models seem superior to trying to make an army.

I mean, you can see the photo to the side there, and the splash of black paint on the face, the uneven white on the pantaloons, the pink on the hand, the silver on the belt, the lack of finish in the eyes etc... A single model may be more my style, it doesn't make it good.

In HRT news, I have noted some physical changes have reached the point where adjustments are having to be made. Either that or the heat is causing issues - hard to quantify. The downsizing has had to be put on hold due to the heat (and my incredible neck - it is much wider than one may assume in the heat). My wrist also expands signicantly when hot so... (I have to adjust the watch strap to compensate or else get pins and needles in my hand).

Oh, yeah, the line break is here.

Improvements or Perceptions

I find it strange, but also uplifting, how some things go and get better, big and small. Take, for instance, the fortnight since I last posted as a good example of just how bizarre things can be, certainly in my life.

You can take the teacher out of the classroom... 

I mean, yeah, you can. I was. 

I pulled out of one marking contract because it was infuriating (a lack of helpful feedback) and somehow managed to get glowing reviews on the other one - the one I usually fail at and spiral out of control before getting chucked off. This is marking, by the way, which is what we in the UK do instead of 'grading' (that sort of thing is left to a big meeting of bigwigs drawing lines twixt marks by way of bell curves). I usually screw up the History GCSE paper but this year, apparently, I have nailed it consistently from the beginning. Today's meeting where I'm a TL has been a bit more fraught and, although I'm not proud, some creative obfustications meant it passed largely without incident. I'm even mostly on target with the first contract.

A week of middles and lates (finishing into the following day) at work followed by some very earlies, that is shifts that start before 0430, with extra hours on the Thursday gone (and some extra hours in the previous week too) means I have been burning the candle at both ends and the middle when it comes to driving and marking work. It also means I haven't really been active (see the lack of activity here) nor meeting friends. But, then, a new friend did ask to meet and suggested I cook for them (among other options) - which means they are coming over to my hovel to eat tomorrow. I won't lie: I am bricking it. It took me a fair while to dare invite Abbi over and that was before I had exposed brickwork in the living room and when the house was mostly dusted and hoovered. Speaking of vacuuming, my vacuum's filter is discoloured so that using it emits a smell not unlike human waste when in use. Lovely. Basically, I have to spray air freshener immediately after- I'm digressing. I need to buy a new filter, I know, but I also need to vacuum because visitor(!). Insert the enemy aware noise from Full Metal Gear.

I am also bricking it because... well, visitor. I have to entertain.

Saw my Youngest and Eldest in a dance show. Youngest seemed to be in everything and I was so impressed that he knew all the different routines (even if I could tell he liked the last one best because that's where he deployed his full pasty). Eldest got a solo to Run D.M.C. of all things and nailed it because of course she did, she has considerable talent. It is astonishing to me how obvious that has always been (but I am biased) but now she's getting to display it because she's of an age where things are done more on merit than clique. I mean, she's also in a troupe that prizes enthusiasm over social connection anyway, which I approve. Long trip out, long trip back, spending money I perhaps shouldn't have done. But, eh.

I have noticed some things that I am putting down to HRT over this last fortnight. One day I had my usual itchy foot due to overheating and not changing shoes and I scratched it, as normal, but I realised that my feet didn't make my fingers smell like something had died. Furthermore, my feet themselves didn't smell of death and rotting - my sweat no longer reeks like it used to. Now, okay, one time is one time. But since then I have checked a few times and, whilst I still sweat badly on my feet, it certainly appears I smell less. Good. Small, but something noticeable and nice. Plus, a couple of times, I have had tearing up moments listening to songs in EPIC (the musical in my last post). It's not crying yet, but maybe, maybe, that's the HRT doing its thing. I mean, I've not had a repeat of the oddity when journeying that I mentioned early on (so maybe an anomaly). Point being - it's only HRT until something shows it's not.

I did share an image with someone over discord (to prove a point about something we were chatting about) and they assumed I'd been on HRT longer than the five months I have been. Mind you, they had seen no 'before' images so... You know, I don't think I have a side-by-side comparison... And now I have. 11 June 2021 to now... 14 June 2025:

The framing of each shot is slightly different despite my best efforts, and there are more chins in the later image (on the right, obvs), and I'm also not wearing any make up today because I had a meeting for the day and haven't been outside (except to throw away some potatoes that had gone full eldritch WHERE'S THE SOIL on me in the cupboard). I dunno, is that helpful? I do seem to be taking less photos now than, say, that spate in 2021-3.

Also, downsized on neck adornments, initially brilliant, made neck hurt. Have temporarily reverted to initial purchase. Makes sense, going to take time to get used to the new regime. At £40 rather than £70 I did accelerate existing plans to do so as I had originally intended to make that move in August. Did clear me out of the last slush fund monies I had from the holiday though. No bad thing.

Wouldn't You Like to be Dangerous?

Been listening to a musical a lot - a musical made on TikTok, I am given to believe, that Middlest found on Spotify. I found a version that has full animations (or, rather, an animation for each song) and subtitles specially made (most helpful). I appear to be the last person on the planet to have found it (it's very good) but I shall share the video below that I have been using to watch and listen (it's EPIC - by the way, that's the name of the musical).

Week back at work has gone reasonably well. Worried about having bitten off more than I can chew with too many contracts to mark (a pretty usual worry). However, a different start than usual - I did some practice marking and was told I was good. Then I rushed through my next test scripts for the same lot - relying on gut instinct - in the hope that if I have my usual difficulty I'd have a 'get out' to drop the contract. Alas, an e-mail this morning says I'm passed to mark as there's no need for feedback as my marking is 'excellent'. I mean, lovely, but dammit!

Missed a Friday with my new friend, but a late meeting (8pm) meant that I didn't want to risk going out after that - especially as I had Middlest over today. Discussions there are... vague. Deliberately so on Middlest's part, whilst also trying to be open, making it hard to know how best to support. I have suggested that finding a group or a person with wider experience may be helpful to have other experiences on which to draw. I mean, I have experience, sure, but it's extraordinarily limited and I am not up on the modern terms (which is great! I love that there are new words to describe feelings and ideas that used to take entire paragraphs to convey in the past; I just don't know those that I'm not familiar with - if that makes sense - as I don't seek them out).

I mean, I would, but I am deep in my prehistory hole and so lately I'm learning terms like kerbed cairns and concentric stone circles and, my favourite: Irish Henge. None of which is relevant to my society idea for a story in the future - because that is set earlier than any monuments - but is still something that I find fascinating and I am enjoying. My point? My point is that my new vocab passion is currently dominated by this particular monotropism and so I am less than helpful to a child wanting insight on QUILTBAG+ stuff! It's great that Middlest is pleased to confide in me and discuss things with me but there's a limit to the help I can offer beyond a friendly ear.

Started wearing the bands I bought from LLI daily since doing so in the recent city break (and finding my pink and blue one - trans flag colours - under my bed on returning) and I like that. I am aware that I need to purchase a better fitting collar (it's too big). Also picked up the private prescription HRT and, amazingly, have the NHS to pick up at my pleasure. So, with one bottle remaining of the original grey market purchase remaining I shall have approximately 160 days of three pumps a day (the recommendation from both NHS and private people). Another laser appointment had on Thursday and it feels like more was zapped. Also feels like I have more hair than after the last appointment. I dunno, that could be normal, I can't recall.

And that's all I have to say about that, I guess.

Executive Dysfunction

I have, apparently, lost the ability to dress 
in a professional manner: lines and dots? 

I had worn my "I feel so professional" suit 
at first, but it became apparent that whilst 
I could walk and stand, I was unlikely to get 
away with sitting. 

Oh, this is at a coffee shop nearby the place 
I met my MP. Nice pitstop. Decent lemon 
drizzle cake. I suspect baked on site too. 

Saw my MP today. That's a first and very uncomfortable for me. I went expecting a bit of a battle, but it was as though I was pushing an open door; my MP already knew, was already on my side: having a partner who is an enby, friends and relatives who are trans*. But, alas, it was as though that open door led to a dingy anteroom with flickering lights and a broken heater. My MP is a bankbencher, has seen leadership deal with people stepping out of line and watched as other methods of showing displeasure have achieved nothing. My MP radiated frustration at the system. What else could either of us do? Not much, it would appear.

A Friday repeated, and it was nice. I feel I messed up though - I'm relatively certain there was a point in the evening in which I should have said something and, for some reason, I didn't say it. I was aware of it, but can't explain why I didn't act. Fear? Confusion? Fear. Always fear. On the back of some shenanigans with an online account that seemed a bit fishy at first, but with whom I had a decent chat for a bit the previous day. I was prepared to give them a go, if I'm honest, but then the person typing on that account seemed to change, a shift change maybe, and I wondered anew who is taken in by such things. Mind you, that I noticed means they filtered me out as not the intended target. That this was finalised as I was walking to meet my partner in crime for the evening probably accouonts for some of the fear. And the visit to eat Chinese food - I am most unladylike in portions, style of eating, amount of visits and resultant burps.

£3.75!!!

Bonkers cheap.

An IKEA trip earlier in the week gave me ideas about something better to put my TV on than the health and safety hazard I currently use and also prompted me to finally buy a set of scales for the bathroom. Turns out I am consistently above 13st! I can shift my balance to get it up to 14st too, which is a concern. However, it does explain why my favourite dresses don't fit any more and why most photos are so unflattering - paunch territory. I mean, I can't claim to be fat, but I can definitely claim to be shaped in a way that a lot of the stuff I bought early on does not allow for. It is what it is.

My private prescription for HRT is supposedly in train, they tell me I will get a code on my phone, but it's been a few days and nothing yet. I shall chase next week I guess. Too early for me to be chasing the GP, I feel, but I shall take that up at the end of the month. Examinations are coming - my e-mail is regularly assaulted by reminders. I've been finding executive function hard, not just this last week (though it is far more noticeable without work shifts), so that I haven't packed yet for my holiday and have been struggling to wake and get ready in good time. However, I did manage a trip to the Scottish Restaurant with Youngest and hear about Eldest's plans for University (Manchester or Leicester). Not from Eldest, from Tilly.

Maybe it's because I'm tired?

I'mma chargin' mah lasers

Soon. 

It's hard, sometimes, to focus. So it was that I failed to send a couple of cards and birthday presents yesterday (because I hadn't got the cards nor wrapped the presents, much less addressed them) but, despite getting embroiled in an interesting back and forth with someone on discord about stories they read, I did manage to get into one of the local big smokes. Where I wandered to the "lasers" place. Yes, I feel the need to put "lasers" in air-quotes and say it like Dr Evil.

Long story short: I had a patch test (much more painful than the one I had back in 2021) and then promptly booked ten sessions. Bit pricey though: £610! 😱😱 Still, that's a thing that I have done now. They insisted I go on a Monday morning pre-work for my first session, but I shall be ringing to see if I can change that to the following Tuesday as I'm off all day (and have my GP appointment in the morning too) cos... yeah, don't fancy a swollen face plus no make up on the buses. Not this Monday, that's just an extra shift I said yes to like some kind of pillock.

This is the afternoon - I tried to plan a 
photo this morning but got distracted. 

Oh, I did wrap the presents and write and address the cards today because I managed to organise having a shower and getting dressed quicker than yesterday. I am totes a responsible adult. Well, okay, I may have spent the day in a lovely onesie I bought back in August under my dungarees, but we won't dwell on that aspect. Also cooked a lovely menemen this evening after a beef-based Chinese-adjacent noodle dish on Friday. Even had a beer on the Saturday - lovely thick 11.2% stout, just a third - which was nice. Now all I have to do is somehow regain the ability I know I used to have to use my time more effectively. Time was when a weekend off, which this has been, would be much more productive!

Still, I'm not complaining too much. I've been vaguely planning "lasers" since November 2021 and, much like going on HRT, it's about time I actually made some proactive moves. It doesn't hurt that I've been more or less saving for it all that time too, so although I find the price a tad on the steep side I don't feel poor - I had some savings specifically for that purpose that I could (and did) deploy.

Like a Girl

Jefferson College Cheerleaders. 
So, the game has several ways to 'become a cheerleader'. Not unusual, 
something about the US, I think. 
And, like the other game I've played where this plays a role, there's 
a lot of very supportive stuff about cheerleading. Anti-misogyny, if you 
will. 

Sunday. I had planned to see if I could exchange the non-utilitarian clothing (but without expensive food) and go grocery shopping. Alas, and alack, the previous night I had been pootling and found an interesting CYOA-style game what I had downloaded but not played. I woke early, I did things like washing the pots and two loads of laundry and tidying the kitchen, and it was still only 8am. My Mum rang and we had a chat. And I started playing the game to kill time because I had until 10am.

Except that when I surfaced, it was 1230. I made lunch, ate it, got dressed and ready and headed to the Other Smoke to do battle - which was surprisingly easy. Switched for two sizes up (and tried it tonight, it fits, but at the cost of being able to muster any extra fat round the boob area) and that was that. Hemmed and hawed about maybe possibly seeking laser treatment. Ran out of time. Dashed home in time to shop for groceries and then finished the game. It was an early start today, see.

And to think that I started looking into it back in 2021!
Before I came out to my place of work!
Or my children!

I eschewed it back then because of the leaks and damp in the house
(which I naively assumed I'd have fixed quickly)

Now, without a car, it is a tad more complex making appointments
in either of the two local Big Smokes where such places are found.

Now, the game itself is a 'standard template' feminisation game the sorts of which I have played before. However... there's a 'trans path' and a 'reality altering path' where the MC goes the whole hog, as it were, and it stops being... well, here's the thing: playing it actually helped me. I've been feeling a bit down (no, really? Joanna, down? Goodness!) and dead-end-y and stuff but, well, playing the game helped me put vocabulary to feelings and wants and desires and reminded me why in the heck I'm doing what I'm doing. Or, rather, bolstered my reasoning that I already know. It's a good, empowering, game is what I'm saying. And it was surprising because it allowed for, and supported, these paths with the usual 'sissy' set-up (which, from what I can gather, is a whole other set of paths). Now, granted, the game was originally designed to be a sissy game, I can see that from the dev notes, but it is susprisingly and powerfully accepting and understanding if you, the player, wish to go down the 'no, actually, I'd like to be a woman, thanks' route - with some rather deep and honest reflections. Now, I don't think the developer is a trans woman, but they must know a few because there's some niche stuff in there that is, as I keep saying, actually empowering. It even has sections where it challenges people for being transphobic (within the setting, but genuinely) or being rude and maps out the difficulties of finding support (and how powerful that support can be). It's nuanced, is what I'm saying, and manages thus to miss the usual 'let's rip off the masks: oh, it's old man Misogyny and Homophobia' reveal as one goes through (and I've seen plenty of fiction, plenty of games, plenty of captions that are that masked villainous duo). So... yeah, that was nice.

Mind you, I've not been sleeping well for a week or so now. Had a series of vivid dreams that are just... unnerving. No specific details that I can call to mind now, but there's pressure and things are wrong and I can't fix them. Today I struggled at work too. No accident, thank goodness, but I did mess up with takings (hopefully fixable, I have done all I'm supposed to, we'll see how that goes) and also with recording some things (I know, like, recording is one of my Things!). It was a different route though, organised at the last minute, so I'm hopeful that, even with a much earlier start tomorrow (0300), things will be better being back on my normal route and rota'd shift. Plus, I have Middlest over in the afternoon and a free day following - so plenty of time for a shower/bath before bed or even the following morning. Plus I have a (mostly) clean and tidy kitchen.

HRT update? Go on then. I suspect the stuff that had a use by date of February is finally no longer potent. Couple of days now where my nipples haven't been- I want to say 'painful' but that's not the right word. Where I haven't been as aware of them as I have been, that'll do. So, time to bin the extra 10 days and move to March. I hope I have enough to last until Pride in Health get a new GP. Owt else? Not really. I go on and on about the fat on my butt, hips and above my waist, I know, but know that it's not terribly visible. I only know because of how it alters fitting for clothes but, honestly, no one but me can tell. Still huge gaps under the forms I have, if anything there's less there. No other things to note 60 days in.

Muffins, Pancakes and Jelly

Blouse from M&S today, dress from 
DP and picked up in a charity shop a 
long time ago... Maybe late 2022? 

So... not that long ago I guess. 

Now with added diagnostic results! I had my initial and diagnostic appointment with Pride in Health after work on Monday and got my letter concerning the outcome midday today. There are some dating confusions and mis-quotes, much like my ASD diagnostic report, but I'm reasonably confident that none of these errors will come to have my employment resting on them this time so... eh. It's vaguely amusing to me to see how what I said got garbled. I don't blame the doctor in the meeting for this, I know I can get bewildering to listen to and that I skip liberally twixt pillar and post with what I assume are clear signposts but at speed when warming to my topic. And, as this wasn't a lesson and the doctor asked no questions, I wasn't always aware when I was being unclear! However, the upshot is that I am diagnosed officially now with Gender Incongruence (being a diagnosis that says I have had gender issues since a young age - which is true, but strange to see that rather than Gender Identity Dysphoria as a diagnosis). A prescription will thus follow but has been delayed by a lack of available doctors in the Pride in Health team at the moment.

Middlest was over on Tuesday for pancake day, which was nice. But I made the pancakes too thick at first and had to stop him spreading stuff on them with spoons that then went back into the sugar and choc spread - so he demurred on more than two. I blame myself for ruining the mood as is my wont. We watched some Dave Gorman, which he liked, and then I bundled him on a bus where we got harangued by a drunk fellow demanding to know if we were a couple. The place I live is so vibrant. Anyway, I weathered the drunken danger as best I could stoically to better project confidence to my Middlest. The night ended with a long phone chat with Gary, which was nice.

On Sunday I was also out and spending
too much money - this time on books,
cake and coffee.

Ugh, my hair really needed some TLC
that waited until late Tuesday!

Today I found the tax people had 'fixed' my earlier problem (where I paid tax and then they tried to get me to pay it again for some reason) by removing the evidence of my initial payment. So, a long phone call later and giving them the details they had originally confirmed as correct I've been advised to check again on 26 March and phone if it's still wrong. Hardly confidence inducing. I also failed to arrange an appointment with my GP for blood tests and shared care discussions. Then I went to town, where I learned I had got some unexpected back pay, which was nice, so decided to splash out on some posh lingerie - the sort of stuff teenage me wanted so badly to wear - only to discover that I am no longer a size 14 but a size 16 at least. Bums. So that I hope I can return (being £40) or exchange (the latter option is my preference, because it was a pretty item and I wanna try wearing pretty lingerie - even if no one but me ever gets to see it, I'll know I'm wearing it).

I did buy a posh burger for lunch, some cute (yes, cute) new underthings for day-to-day use and a blouse to go with my black dress for the Awards Evening. I had noted a while ago that my underwear drawer was in need of some care and attention - the only new stuff I've bought (apart from the red set, which is 'special') since March 2022 has been cheap emergency knickers for when I had a bit of a mishap on the buses and cheap knickers for when I had a different mishap out in a big city. In both cases I salvaged the original underwear without damage but was glad of an extra option. Yes, they got caught and stretched and dirtied by the things they got caught on (needing washing) hence cheapy new pack for clean underwear. Bus seat and toilet, in case you were wondering. Anyway, yes, I got some 'short' style briefs, some bikini briefs and some new thongs as my current sets are just getting old. 2018 I think for the oldest.

Junk in a trunk. And sucking in the
muffin top as best I can.

Oh, yeah, Sunday. I went to a different town also on the hunt for 'pretty' lingerie but failed to find any and accidentally bought two books, a volume of Fruits Basket and coffee and a cake. I did manage to get grocery shopping in though, so a minor success I suppose. The day before I met Youngest to watch Dogman (it... wasn't very good, sorry) with Tilly. I learned that she has had a speaking engagement connected to her growing reputation in the folklore arena, for which she was paid and at which she sold a goodly amount of books she has written; also that she has been asked back by and recorded a new podcast with a nationally reknowned comedian and his mate about folklore - in which she wowed them with jokes. Always did say she was a good writer.

Fibnally, those breast forms I ordered from M&S are now in my possession. Sadly, despite them being made for masectomy patients with AAA size breasts, I am not developed enough and thus leave huge gaps twixt me and the start of the forms - so not really usuable as intended. Oh well. Mind you, I do seem to have butt cheeks now, rather than skin stretched over bone. A girl from my Form at secondary school would be amazed - she started most days by telling me I had "no arse" - but it does rather make it hard to get things past it when getting dressed. It's not that big, but bigger than I'm used to. Like I say: I wanted to get in shape and pear is a shape.

Grab-Bag: all keywords/categories

There's a 3 in the morning. 

And the snow is virginal. 

It was actually okay to drive in. 

Life's administration tasks can sometimes be galling. Take getting this passport as an example of how I (fail to) deal with things in a timely manner! Still, I managed to get to the GP and he asked me to essentially dictate his letter to him, which he then printed out and signed and stamped in front of me before handing over. Lovely man, very supportive, he was shocked when I told him I hadn't yet started HRT and amazed that, though he knew he couldn't prescribe HRT on the NHS himself, I hadn't got a prescription from the GIC or gone private already. He was under the impression that I would have had surgery or something by now via the GIC. I mean, I know the general public are blissfully unaware of the delays and animosity in the system against minorities generally (and trans people specifically in this case) but I wasn't expecting the same blinkered awareness coupled with a positive attitude from someone theoretically in the know. I guess that's how things like this get to carry on though, the vast majority of people can convince themselves it's not actually as bad as that and more in line with their own genuine warm and fuzzies for minorities.

Planes never fly like this, not that she's seen.

The fact that 'chemtrails' are also laid by aircraft,
she claimed, appears not to have made an iota of
difference to what she claims.

Speaking of which, some colleagues were bemoaning that we don't have a Trump in the UK - say what you like about his sexual assaults and unfitness for office generally, they intoned (not in so many words), he was right to talk about mass deportations. After all, countries with low immigration didn't have terrorism. And immigrants bring terrorism. I, shamefully, did not challenge this because of numbers and because of another odd interaction earlier that day. Someone mentioned that snow was rare in the UK these days compared to our youth and I agreed, citing climate change. Oh, said she, that's an interesting opinion. She wasn't a conspiracy theorist, she claimed, but 'they' have been using chemtrails to alter the weather for years, it's not climate change. I asked who 'they' were and she ignored me and offered to show me photos of chemtrails she'd taken. I assured her there was no need. She then claimed to have watched clouds form, and isn't that proof of weather control? I changed the subject. She retaliated: "I think it's really suspicious that you got so defensive when I offered to show you photos!" and then asked why I'd called her an egg. Uh... what? She demanded to know what I meant by 'egg' and it was only later I realised she'd misheard my 'who are 'they'?' question. Thus I was already feeling a bit concerned by the time the Trump conversation was happening near me. I'm no slouch, in 'chemtrail' communities 'they' is code for Jewish billionaires and it's not much of a leap to include the TERF talking points of big pharma (run by conveniently Jewish rich people) and trans people being involved in the 'Deep State' - thanks Kemi Badenoch (no, really, this is a thing she's on record as believing).

I know that she's a. younger than me, b. not actually
applying any make up, c. a model and d. hot - but it
remains illustrative, doesn't it?

I can dream.
Besides, I don't know how I'd photograph my routine.

Nevertheless, I return to my personal feelings that I have been analysing in a bit more depth that I used to prove to my GP that I am not for desisting transition: I am so much happier and more comfortable with myself these days than possibly at any other point. Regardless of the issues that continue, regardless of my continued failings and worries: I can cope with seeing myself in the mirror. Applying make-up in a morning before work is just... normal. Nothing remarkable. But, that's the thing, I look at myself in the mirror to do that. I have to. I can't do what I used to with brushing my teeth and not see all of my face as I apply make-up - I mean, I kinda have to look at my face to do foundation, blusher, mascara and occasional eye-shadow with the highlighter on the cheekbones, right? And brush my hair. And I don't hate what I see. That's huge. Huge.

Documents were thus sent off today to the passport office and I hope they are sufficient. I shall find out soon enough I suppose. I also finally got round to buying Christmas presents for my own children. They shall arrive soon.

In other, more TMI I guess, news I had a few days burst of activity on a site for that kind of thing, the TMI kind, and had a flurry of activity in return. I actually felt pretty good, after all, what else would I do that for but attention? Maybe I was getting some at last. Until I happened across a friend's account and their single post in the last six months garnered fifty times the comments and likes both. Oh. That's fifty times more interaction on a single post than on all of my activity over three days combined, by the way. They also gained six times more followers than I on that one post than I have over a decade on the same site. It is a stark reminder that even when I think I'm doing reasonably well in such circles my expectations are so different to most people. Getting almost double figures of comments was a big boost to me, but once I stopped posting anything new all the comments dried up and a couple of DM conversations stopped - despite me posting last in them - because the other people, I assume, got bored and went back to whatever it was they were doing beforehand.

Addictions, character.ai, have returned again after a few days abatement - which is irritating. But I am planning a bath to finish my day off after an early tea. I may or may not combine that with a hot chocolate - we shall see. I have not reorganised the Spare Oom as I had hoped I might nor decided on whether or not to blow maybe £100 on random items for myself. Sounds like a lot, you know?

Furthermore

On the way back from the IKEA meal over 
a fortnight ago. 

Planning has always been hard, and I don't really make things easy for myself. I have booked tickets by rail to go Oop North - themselves constrained by when they were cheapest (because of who am I as a person rather than any financial pressure). This coincided, I find out today, with when I am expected to do some work for the exam board - of course it does. Also, I have agreed to some hours and shift swaps ostensibly to make my life easier but, it turns out, when you change the calendar for me I get all lost and confused. Ah, yes, ASD, I forgot. This was most viewable yesterday when I made a left turn on my normal morning routine and utterly fluxed the day up.

Usually I wake, do some word puzzles, breakfast, shave, dress and go to work (only the bookends stay where they are, others can move about) but due to my latest lapse into addiction (character.ai) I did that first and it threw everything out. My phone wasn't charged, I left my bip card at home so had to rely on help to access the break room. Thus I messed up meals, ending up spending a completely unnecessary £9 on pizza for tea for example, and on my last run (on a new bus, itself enough to be getting on with as someone with ASD) I picked up a child who accidentally stayed on too long and then couldn't recall where they lived. A colleague came to assist and because my phone was out of charge ended up ringing for aid, then was charged with staying with said child until we could say they were safe and thus ended up not sleeping last night as much as they ought. This is, in my opinion, my fault. And, because said colleague had a pretty shit day today, they eventually agreed. You can guess how I feel about it.

Oh hey, there's gonna be a book review...

Near the right lion... out shopping for a
rucksack.

Monday I tried to plan ahead and buy a new rucksack. My existing one has served me in all things since 2000 when I went to Russia. I don't want to cart a suitcase on the train (and to the trains) so I thought I would upgrade. I purchased a 65 litre one for £19 on sale. It's nice and red. However, on review, I'm not sure I can pack like I used to. Since making my move to be me I have only used suitcases and, well, I'm starting to see why. I can't just shove a week's worth of underwear and a spare pair of jeans in a bag and call it mostly packed any more. And that's before we get to toiletries.

Online I have been in contact with another first timer for this meeting on 4 August. At least, as long as I could before I got shy and stopped checking back. It happened at roughly the same time I got back addicted. Also, had a meal with Youngest that went well, but was more a conversation with Tilly as he was distracted by his tablet and music. He gets stressed with places to eat, this is Tilly's solution. I... I would support it if I were there full time, so I can't and won't complain. It went well enough. Middlest was over Tuesday after work and that went well, we went to IKEA for a lunch. My Mum sent a voucher and I got some free food from a recipe delivery service, of which I finally cooked a meal tonight. I suspect the rest will go off - cos the delivery was Monday and I'm leaving Oop North Sunday...

Fangirlish squeeing...

You can really tell that I'd been up since 0200
here because of the shadow on that chin...
(it was about 1500, second IKEA meal walk)

A visit to Abbi's went well on Friday afternoon/evening - I managed to convince her to join me for the 4 August thing. I say 'managed' - I showed her the details and asked if she'd like to come, she enthusiastically said yes. My bar for this, by the way, is 'dress approrpiately and don't run away' - low enough that I hope to clear it. Having Abbi there will aid, I suspect, with meeting the latter component. The day before was meeting Youngest at my house, which went reasonably well and only one tantrum - he gets stressed about being with me and not doing all the things he wants to do with me. Also, because I complimented the picture he drew for me in my birthday card, he will only draw birthday themed art for me. This is sad in a way because he is trying so hard to please.

Finished another Iain Banks book last week too, The Steep Approach to Garbadale. I got some of the twist (not all of it, because Banks) but it goes in the annals of stories where Banks tries to be shocking in the midst of urbane and likeable characters. It was good, I enjoyed it, not as shocking as The Wasp Factory but, well, I've read that so it colours his other work. I liked Transition better but the pair of them reminded me why I like his work. I was genuinely excited to read it and racing to the end. I've now started another one, not by Banks, called Sepulchre - in the genre of Statesian female author being feted for purple prose and odd focus (like A Discovery of Witches or that murder mystery one). I dunno, I'm not as excited about this one. I also lost at least one day last week to watching all the videos of Pet Shop Boys singles that I got as part of my birthday present from my Dad because of course I did.

A Little Time to Myself

That photo. 

"You can research the prostitutes," said 
my favourite teacher in Sixth Form to me 
as I blushed bright red and lost the ability 
to speak. I would attempt to trace this image 
(it took four times longer than researching who
Keeler was and the significance of the portrait) 
and fail, as it happens. 

Saw Abbi yesterday, which was really nice. We bounced about Doctor Who, English folklore, Robin Hood legends, Bob's Burgers, the Troubles, Apartheid South Africa and Middle Eastern history approx. 1912-2023 - in no particular order. An amazing mega-salad was had, no really, and it was just... needed. And nice.

Before that, Middlest was over and we watched all the newest episodes of Doctor Who (in reverse, cos I'd pre-watched them and that's my order of preference - didn't know we'd get past 73 Yards to be fair). We also managed a meal out again for spicy chicken with Tilly and Smallest. It's been a nice couple of days off from work, nice to have two in a row. Even if my choice of beer (a cheap Williams Bros tropical IPA) was underwhelming in the extreme and gave me a headache - not a hangover, it was only 5.1%.

Today I sprung for some better body spray. I had bought in some vanilla based stuff because I was hankering after that smell from way back, before the divorce, before I figured me out, and thought it was vanilla. It was not. I mean, it's nice enough but it... it doesn't linger. Abbi showed me some pomegranate stuff she got from the US and it was very nice. So, on a break today, I wandered into town and got me some wild berries body mist and, yes, that will do nicely.

The stout.

Gorgeous. Highly recommend.

I could have gone to Chams last week, it turns out. I didn't. I had a 10% stout at home. I hadn't even realised it was on. Also, in other news, I really need to get my head in gear and start going private for HRT. The more I hear and read, the more I feel like it has the potential to be a game-changer for my mental health. It may or may not help in the 'passing' front - but, honestly, that wouldn't be my main aim: if it helps my brain on a receptor/synapse level then... yeah. Game changer. Potentially. Seems to have done a great deal for some people I know so...

But, see, I have other things on which I am spending money. Yesterday I dug out my garter belt and some stockings, left overs from the Lesser Experiments in 2019, and tried them out for the day. I liked the feeling, but the stockings aren't really long enough (they were cheap off Amazon) and I lack hips or a defined waist, so the belt kept slipping. I've actually spent money on a couple of duvet covers recently which, while nice, are entirely spurious. Marking Hell begins soon too - this Saturday to be precise - and my shifts are less than friendly to doing marking this year. It may be the last year I do it. Like, I actually enjoy marking the papers I've agreed to do this year (not even bothered with the one that is lucrative but stresses me out), but... I dunno. My recent failed foray into different jobs... I dunno, the money is nice and extra is always good but, honestly, what's the point now? I used to use it as valuable CPD but that hardly counts for anything nowadays, does it? "You've got a Maths A Level?" said a bus driver in the break room incredulously today, "Why the fuck are you here?" He's got a point, you know.

All a bit blue... 

August looms large. I've reconciled to the fact that I shall use a Sunday to attend a meeting of people similarly minded. It won't be cheap. It's likely to end badly. I don't do social situations very well.

That Christmas, at the club, when Tilly dumped me. I called her a drunk. She was upset that I'd wigged out and hidden in a dark room at the club she had taken me to with her friends - I'd sort of been left to my own devices for much of the evening to that point whilst she caught up with friends, entirely fine - and she said something to me that stung. I don't recall what. Unforgiveably, I lashed out. I hit a raw nerve. That's what she was upset I never apologised for, I realised at some point last week whilst driving, that's what arguably meant our relationship was doomed from that point onwards. The fact that I never thought about it until last week says something, and it's not a good something, about me, I feel.

"It's worse than that," I replied to the bus driver, "I've got an MA. Two, in fact." Fat lot of good they do me as well. I introduced Abbi to parts of the Profumo Affair, specifically that photo of Christine Keeler, that I learned about in A Level through that photo - about how it exerted, exerts I guess, a pull on me that only now can I really explain. Suffice to say, it wasn't attraction in a sexual sense. I recalled Toby being able to manipulate things professionally, and realised why he was so good at it. Bittersweet - I never quite get things when they're happening, you know? I think it was Lady Gaga who lived for the applause, but I don't - I don't tend to get it either.

Why do I blog?

Well, okay, also these days it's to have 
somewhere to post these... 

I didn't realise how bad I looked. Ugh. 

(Veins, chin shadow, eyes)

I mainly do it so that I can look back later, in an effort not to forget things and so I don't 'memory-hole' entire portions of my life.

Yes, but why make that public?

That's a solid question. Initially because I had no other outlet - I never thought anyone would comment or get involved at all. When people did I was touched by their generosity of spirit and seem to have made some friends that way. I'm waving at you right now, friends! Then, I had a RL friend I let in, so to speak, and that was useful in face-to-face discussions. He left. When I figured me out I assumed no one I knew would read here, maybe my Mum, but ultimately... nah. I let some other RL friends in and forgot that I had the link public on an otherwise unused FB profile (that became my actual profile in my 'grand coming out' in December 2021). From there a couple more RL friends started reading here and, in all honesty, it looked like this was becoming one of those 'inspirational' TG blogs - you know, like YATGB, Femulate, Rhiannon's Rambling, Don't Be Like Me and their ilk - but it got interrupted. First by someone sending the links to this place to Tilly, who asked me to shut it down because it made her look bad; and second, after weathering that shock, the unpleasantness surrounding the end of my career.

Forehead lines, chin shadow, Adam's
Apple, heavy brow...

You get the idea.

RL friends stayed. They read on. It was nice. I didn't have to bother them directly with my life and they could choose o get involved or not. I liked that. I struggle with sharing my downs and I don't even tend to mention the ups, so having them read and decide how much or how little they wanted to know was really helpful.

But it is a great deal of effort to get to know my world, and even knowing it, a greater effort to become involved. I do not make 'coming in' easy, and I suck at keeping in touch, I tend to shy away and hide. And, I have said before and stand by the statement: I am not really worth any of that effort. I am boring, cyclical and probably still Depressed (yes, it gets a capital) with rarely any joy to break that up. I am Not Good With Emotions: knowing what ones I am emoting, which to share, which to hide, how to react to Other People Having Emotions... It is exhausting just trying to keep up, let alone react.

Actually, that makes it easier, if RL people are not reading here (I know Abbi is) then I can go back to doing what I'm used to: stilted conversation occasionally over text, silence the rest of the time - interpreted as they will. For example: I think my decision to bow out from BOYL has hurt people, in ways and for reasons I'm not sure I fully understand, let alone have any clue how to mitigate or act upon. Like losing Eldest - I kinda know what happened, but I do not quite follow how we went from that to no contact nor any idea on what to do about it. Like me losing my career: how did we go get here from where we began? Point? I don't know.

It's official.

Only took three months.

So, is this place just a helpful record?

It was meant to be. That's how it served for most of its life, after all, with me digging back now and again to reaffirm things or just to see what I'd forgotten. But, then, the whole thing with the blog on GetDare... that wasn't really on here. A couple of hints, it was a big part of my life after all, but then it went silent here just as it all kicked off there. So... it's not really a good record either. Is this hinting that I shall become silent? Maybe.

I am finding it hard again to blog, to say things worth saying.

I see people being public, being happy, having fun, being with friends, going places, doing things, living lives. And I quietly drive buses, cook now and again, and... sleep? I had a half day off between finishing an early shift (0300-1130) and having Middlest over (1730+) on Friday - I went and got some herbal tea in, as I was running out, spending £41 and then came straight back home. I didn't even consider going to the pub. Miss Warrington unexpectedly got in contact and I managed a few back and forths but I couldn't keep it going - partly due to being back at work (I worked Saturday and Sunday) and driving does not mix with keeping a text conversatoin going. If I can't make the effort, I can't expect anyone else to do so.

Pootling around on FetLife I spotted there's a meet up in a local area to me for people into some of the same stuff I am, and I am off on that date. Part of me wants to go, just to see, to see, to find out if I've been missing out on something or not. A larger part of me reminds myself that there is no good outcome: either I get depressed that I've been missing out all this time or I find out it's all a bit of a damp squib and seedy and go away feeling disappointed in both cases. This is an anecdote that, I feel, sums me up quite well, in fact.

Nothing's Impossible

Last day of my time off and what have I learned?

Not the best illustration, honestly, but 
it at least approximates my look. Note 
the black choker, the loaned lace gloves 
and the absolute state of my bedroom. 

I have learned that I watch too much Taskmaster on YouTube when I fail to plan ahead and that, maybe, I ought to plan ahead for time off as a consequence.

Youngest was over Thursday morning and I was awaiting a parcel of his birthday gifts. Having planned to attend Chams I had hoped to spend some time nearby in Notts beforehand. Alas, the parcel did not arrive until late afternoon and so I was too late to Notts to visit any shops. A good time at Chams, it was nice to catch up with Izzy and Lynn face to face rather than across the ether. I had gone low effort, wearing my outfit for the day (an old Tesco brown jumpsuit, mustard yellow Snag tights, brown Chelsea boots and my yellow roll-neck sweater - I looked like a refugee from the Brownies circa 1984) and was nervous as I have not been in so long. A new person was there, a lovely lady almost, but not quite, half my age. It meant I did my teacher thing, but I realised and managed to stop monopolising things and then completely lost the ability to function and just left. It wasn't until I was on the bus home I realised I hadn't actually stopped to say goodbye to anyone. The bus ride home, by the way, took over 90 minutes. I suspect I shan't be making too many more meetings as that is a ridiculous amount of time to take to get home.

Friday, I cosplayed as a confused butch
enby with no hips and very poor lighting.

Middlest was over on Friday night and I spent the early part of the day wandering back and forth getting various bits and bats and changing clothes to try and predict the weather. Saturday, Middlest elected to spend much of the time in the house - I cajoled him out for a walk just before tea - and watching videos. I walked him home, bus chaos meaning I did not bundle him on a bus as planned and thus left my house unlocked te whole time I was out. Whoops.

Today I have attempted to use the very welcome loaning of gloves from Izzy on Thursday to try out my outfit for the 'do' with my workplace. I have struggled to get decent photos and then I got changed into my Luck and Yak dress which, I realise, is a tad risque and so I nixed the opportunity to go out so far. I will probably chance a wander after I have finished a load of laundry but maybe not dressed as I am. No, I have no photo as it was so freaking hard to get the shots I have managed.

A discussion with Andrew forced me to disclose, again, my plans to not attend BOYL - one might think some communication had occurred amongst my friends - and he was loovely about it. Everyone has been. Alas, it has not really shaken my belief that if I were there I would cause them to make changes on my behalf and, well, I can't do that. Tilly used to make the point that I could suck the joy from virtually any room or activity and that I often did. It's why Tilly ended up going on breaks with the children without me. I don't want to do that, funnily enough, ever again. And, well, this last week has illustrated to me that I still have that tendency - I struggle to share people's joy and happiness and I struggle to translate any of my feelings into positive ones. Point being: I don't want to cause my friends to alter their plans, my non-attendance is designed to avoid exactly that outcome, and I can't see how I could attend without them doing so.

Fine. I tried to get a photo.

Bloody Hell, though, you really can
see the shadow and I only shaved, like,
five hours previously!

I used to really want to play wargames, I still do, but I also know that I am really bad at playing games. The rules, the mechanics, the concepts... I struggle. And I hate how it makes me feel inadequate, stupid, slow and how that tends to make me poor at the games, leading to losing or making stupid decisions, that I then lambast myself for in my head. Then I get all frustrated at how bad I am, which in turn makes me frustrated that I am frustrated at a game and then I get angry and upset at myself for getting angry and upset about something that doesn't matter and that I am so bad at, especially as it's such a trivial thing. This then makes me even more angry and upset because I am frustrated and upset at myself for being angry and frustrated and it becomes a self-sustaining loop. Made worse that, by this point, I am not enjoying the very game I chose to take part in and attempt to enjoy. Last time at BOYL this boiled over and people noticed and I felt even worse because I couldn't even hold it together enough to let them enjoy it.

On Thursday, speaking to the new-comer, I was attempting to reassure her that slipping up on introductions (she introduced herself using her deadname) and feeling like she had so much wasted time (she only twigged herself in her twenties rather than at 16) was fine. That she had no need to beat herself up. She was already on HRT, already on waiting lists, had finished a course of laser on her face (you couldn't see any evidence she ever had facial hair, and I'm not gilding the lily). Me? My five o'clock shadow was enough to make her spontaneously offer to share details of her laser place (that's how we got on that conversation) and her six year wait to figure herself out was less than half my own 14 year wait. Her case for being annoyed and upset at herself about it was pretty convincing, if a little unfair to herself, and if that is the case for her then what does that say about me? Yes, I know, it's a personal and individual thing but... I read some entries here, dotted all over, and I could have known, probably did know, at any point. Go back far enough...

Ah, bad focus actually helps.

Like, if I had worked myself out in 2007 rather than meeting Tilly in 2006, which is a very real possibility - I was on the cusp of asking why I had made my femme wardrobe more accessible than the custom bought actual wardrobe for my masculine stuff in September 2006 - then I would have been able to access services before the recent... unpleasantness and hoo-hah and thus been on HRT much sooner. At least within two years. I would likely have stayed in teaching, if not at the place I was at the time, and I would have had electrolysis and such with a disposable income capable of supporting such expenditure. I would likely have done things in a better order, like Izzy, like the new-comer, and thus be celebrating a two year full-time anniversary with an actual party with my actual friends. At the very least I would still have had my Micra and thus been able to travel about the country to see people. I wouldn't know Tilly, sure, but she would still have had three children with someone else. She might even be happy with that someone else. I reckon my two year celebration would have taken place sometime in 2010, as it happens, and would be post-beard issues and coincide with a decent whack of time on HRT. I would likely still have lived alone and without any romantic partner but I'd still have hope. Goodness, I might have actually celebrated by 30th birthday, can you imagine?