The symbol that seems to be often associated with a transsexual woman, certainly at my local support group, is the butterfly, and it feels rather apt to me. Since puberty I feel like I have been imprisoned in a chrysalis, a male
shell with a female persona wriggling gently and unknowingly to all beneath the skin. In 2012 that chrysalis split, and a butterfly started to emerge – last year my wings were fluttering, I felt alive… and now I am ready to fly, to live life as fully as I can… EVERY day…
…and that is because in the past hour I have shed the last piece of male clothing that I ever intend to wear, for tomorrow when I awake I will begin life full-time as a woman, as me, as Andrea.
So as a result, there are a lot of things I don’t intend to do, ever again, such as:
- Never wear another piece of male clothing.
- Never use a male voice.
- Never look into the mirror any day and, at least when I have my face on, not be happy at what I see looking back at me.
- Never buy a piece of male clothing… unless it is for a relative, friend… or partner (well, a girl can always dream).
- Never have a stubbly face.
- Never carry a wallet.
- Never wear my nails without colour on them… and thus never worry about having to remove varnish from them.
- Never worry about removing every trace of make-up from my face… always in the knowledge that the next day it will be back on again.
- Never use the male toilets – I only did this twice this year, and that was while on holiday with daughter.
The only possible exception to the above would be if my daughter suddenly wants to consider accepting and meeting with me, in which case temporary, two day spells with some of those points on old… but considering last week she told me that she doesn’t want to see me that does not seem likely anyway.
This week I came out to six more people at work… and the rest will be handled now tomorrow by IT and HR managers while I am off work for Friday and Monday while employees digest the news about me. Monday I told an Italian guy I have known for years (who said “Great! I’m so happy for you”) and a lovely Indian guy who works for me… and as he lives in Amsterdam he has come across all manner of things a lot more strange than this. Tuesday I told a lady I have done work for off and on for 15 years – she was great, and at the end of our chat gave me a hug, a big squeeze, a kiss on the cheek, and the offer of being there for a chat whenever I need it. Wednesday I told a guy who commutes from Northern Ireland to Dublin like I do (though he stays down during the week), and he was fine… and has offered to take me out to lunch next week, even though he has no idea what I look like. And today I told two more people, another guy I have known in my department for years (he was fine), and this afternoon a (generally) fashionable girl who was FAB, she also gave me a hug, and offered to teach and advise me about anything I want, such as wearing and tying dressy (i.e. not woolly) scarves… which I always have a problem with. She was also very eager to see a photo of me, and I showed her the selfie in my previous blog post and she said “Wow!”, “There is nothing male in your appearance at all” and “You’ll have a man in no time”!
This evening I went to my physio, as I have been a bit wound up and tense what with the rejection by my daughter (see previous posts) and planning all of these coming-out discussions… and at the end of the session I told him as well, because I said that if I was to come again then there was something I needed to tell him. He was fine with it, and he thanked me for telling him in advance rather than just phoning up when I wanted another session and then telling him… but who would do that?
Wednesday evening I went for coffee with my BF and had a good chat, followed by us getting together with Michelle at support group HQ for more good chat… but I did not mind removing my make up or nail varnish at the end of the short evening, because I knew that within 24 hours my male life would be finished… said she, tapping away with her newly varnished dusky pink glittery nails that won’t be coming off… until the next time they need varnishing!
SOOO, this is the last blog post where I should have to refer to my male life EVER again… because life after ‘him’ is finally here!!!
Thanks for reading.