Yesterday was the day! First, I could finally take a T shot after over three weeks without. Then, I had my appointment to take off the huge stack of bandages I had wrapped around my chest and got to see my results for the first time. Here’s how my surgery and recovery went.
It is done. I has surgery today to remove my breasts. At the moment, I am completely wrapped up in bandages and will be for a week. I know the surgery was done–I went to the hospital, I met with the doctor and a huge team, I went under, and I woke up in recovery with my chest covered in bandages. But until I see the change when it is revealed in my one week follow up appointment, my brain can’t process it. So, it is like under the bandages I both have boobs and don’t have boobs.
This week, I hope to post a lot as I recover. I’d like to report out on the whole top surgery process so far and I’d really like to talk about doubt and certainty. So stay tuned. I’ll try to post pics, too.
God, what a god-awful week. The election result caught me off-guard and reminded me how fragile trans progress is. I don’t know what will come in the next four years, but it feels utterly bleak. Not just for LGBTQ people, but for immigrants, Muslims, and people of any color other than lily-white.
But I won’t miss my nine-month progress report. I had a week where I traveled abroad recently and where I was able to go semi-stealth. This was in Central America, and while I passed perfectly, I was called “joven” a lot, so I probably passed as a 12-year-old. That’s fine.
I noticed a small regression this month in how often I was called “sir” overall. Could be due to layering up as it gets colder. Could also be due to weight gain. I’ve been stress eating a lot this month.
This will be the last month with me having to wear a binder to pose! Top surgery happens in T-minus 10 days. I’ll post separately on that a few times and also on my experience traveling. Comparison pics and video after the jump.
In the once great land
there was a television
And a red-state map
And a picture of the world gone to crap.
And there were two little queers sitting on the couch
And a whole lot of despair and pulling out hair
And a mean little louse soon in the White House .
And a box of tissues
And a soon-to-be lush
And an inner dread now whispering, “Hush.”
Good night, land. Good night, map.
Good night, world gone to crap.
Good night, rights and all of that.
Good night, queers. Good night, couch.
Good night, despair. Good night, hair.
Good night, little louse. Good night, White House.
Good night, tissues. Good night, issues.
Good night, nobody. Good night, lush.
Good night to the inner dread whispering, “Hush.”
Good night, stars. Good night, air.
Good night, progress everywhere.”
As of yesterday, I’ve been on testosterone for eight months. My belly is getting very fuzzy. Of course that doesn’t show up in the pictures. I have to shave my face more frequently, and my stubble prickles my neck at night when I’m falling asleep. Aside from a little more hair, the changes I see from month-to-month now are so minute they don’t seem worth mentioning. But they must make a cumulative difference; almost everyone called me sir this month, if they chose to address me.
I’ve been bad about working out now that I don’t have easy access to a gym. I have a goal to be in decent shape before my surgery. I will be off T for three weeks around the surgery and want to minimize the dysphoria from that. I won’t be able to work out for eight weeks following surgery and don’t want to start off excessively soft. I also want to be able to look at myself post-surgery and see satisfying results. So looking at my body in my skivvies this month, I feel a bit self-critical. Pics and video after the jump.
Coming out is both a personal milestone and a political act. It is not a one-time event, but a lifelong process. There is the first time you come out, often haltingly, to yourself. I’ve done that both as an adolescent and an adult. There are the intimate family comings out, and the big world-wide comings out. There are the awkward daily comings out (choosing pronouns to describe your partner, deciding whether to correct someone’s gendering of you).
And then there are the missed comings out. The family members who passed away, the friends from your youth you suspect would have had their own coming out to share, the bigot on the street you didn’t have the guts to say something to. Finally, there are the ones who choose never to come out – maybe not to themselves, or maybe just not to anyone else.
What I like most, though are the bonding sessions with other queer people over their coming out stories. Feel free to post yours in the comments. Happy Coming Out Day!
I was getting a hair cut and the barber lathered up my sideburns and the next thing I knew there was a straight razor against my skin. My heart pounded with bliss, living out a fantasy of masculinity that I didn’t know I harbored.
I have to get something off my chest. There’s no easy way to say this–but it’s time for us to part ways. At times like this, people like to say, “It’s not you, it’s me.” But, Boobs, I think it’s both of us. You really are great, I can say that now more than I ever could before, but it’s just not going to work out between us.
(Some NSFW pics after jump.)
I’ve been so negligent on the blog due to the crushing weight of real-life obligations. Oh well, I’ll try to do better, I promise! This month has felt pretty much the same as last month. Not much new is going on physically except that my belly is getting kind of furry.
I have on and off days for being gendered correctly. I wish I knew what makes the difference. But it’s still steady progress.
This month I’ve had so many med appointments for various reasons, all involving bloodwork. I’m starting to feel like a pin cushion. Next week I’ll get a readout on my current T levels. (Haha, one of the one times large numbers aren’t a bad sign on a blood test.) Last time they were still below the normal male range, so I’d like to see them a bit higher. I’ll also (hopefully) get a clearance from a hematologist that will let me schedule my top surgery.
Pre-T to seven months photos/video after the jump.
A milestone and a tipping point! This month, as you can see from the ma’am/sir graph, it is far more common to be called sir than ma’am (even on the phone), and with my voice approaching barritone levels, three people have corrected ma’ams to sirs after I spoke.
I keep eating like a horse and gaining weight. I know I have to do better for the sake of my cholesterol, but the testosterone turns me into an eating machine. Other than that, the physical changes continue to be gradual. My legs are hairy, my arms are not. I haven’t shaved my face this month to get an idea of how my beard is coming in. As you can see it’s a bit…underwhelming.
Photos and video after the jump.