Second outing

Sorry folks, but I think that this is going to be a long one – congrats and thanks to those than continue :)

I had a lot to think about today with my second therapy session as Stace.  Most of it was even good…

I worked today, and so had to get changed from a friend’s house, rather than going from home.  This meant that my ruck sack was sitting my desk all day full of my stuff.  I know that no one would, but I was worried about someone looking into it.  I would have left it in the car, but it also had the car documents and my work things in it.

I left to get changed, my friend was already there (good job as there are sets of doors in his block of flats and I always get it wrong by one).  I went to the bathroom and started to get ready.  Nervous didn’t come into it.  I had kind of figured that the nerves would be less the second time around.  I was quite wrong.  Especially getting reading in someone else’s house.  I did yell to him that it was strange to be doing my nails there…  Seeing as I am going to be going from there most weeks I guess I had better get used to it :)

Finished getting ready, and was actually reasonably happy with the results for once; though with the heat my hair collapsed almost immediately…  Right…  Time for the third person who knows me to see Stace…  I went for the plaster approach, took a deep breath, walked into his living room and said ‘Tadah!  This is me, what do you think’.  I got a nice compliment back. We sat chatting for a while and then it was time to leave.  I managed to walk to the car, load the boot with all my bags of stuff (I’d done a Lynn and taken two outfits in case I lost the nerve to go with the new one I brought this week).  Thanks Dave, it was much appreciated

The journey there went much smoother than the first time I think.  No nerves, and I could actually use the clutch immediately and the airco was working today.  Half way there I was overtaken by a car full of yoofs who were looking in my direction laughing with big silly grins on their faces.  Crap.  Then they went past and kept the same stupid grins, but were no longer looking at me.  A quick glance and I saw a Ford Mustang Shelby Tried driving on the motorway slip road which is what they were looking at.  When I got there I was amazed at how many people there were around.  This was going to be no walk in a near empty street as last time.  Parked.  Eventually.  The only space was a little longer than the V50, and I have never been good at parallel parking.  I may have worn out the power steering pump going backwards and forwards but I got in.  Problem now was the group of teenage lads that made me decide not to use the closest parking machine last week were standing one car in front of me.  Yes I was nervous.  Swapped my shoes and went to the parking machine.  That was broken.  This meant that I actually had to walk past the group of lads to go to the machine I turned down last time.  Got a ticket suddenly feeling really obvious and a more than little exposed.  Walked back past the group to put the ticket in the car; it was about this point that I realised I hadn’t actually seen anyone take notice – I had made myself walk with more confidence that I really had.  Head high, shoulders back and walk normally.  Locked the car and walked to the therapist’s office.  I’ll admit I was walking there worried about what would be done to the car whilst I was gone.  Nothing, thankfully.  As Mrs Stace pointed out considering it was on the street of my therapist, who deals exclusively with trans people, I am not the first transwoman to have walked there.  And also made me realise that maybe I need to leave behind the place I grew up in and maybe have a little more faith in the world.  Then again when a friend of ours did that she had her bike stolen whilst she was taking putting her son on the ground after taking him off the bike.

Had a great session with the therapist today, he complimented handling the things above.  Though did laugh at my parking.  He hadn’t realised it was me, and assumed it was the mother of his neighbour going backwards and forwards.  He called me Stacy when answering the door.  He’s the only person who calls me that, even when dressed.  It’s nice to hear :)

There were a few points to think about leaving today.  One is my weight.  He complimented me on my photo in my passport.  I hate it, I look fat.  He disagrees.  He also pointed out that trying to get back to the weight I was when I was 18 is not healthy (I know that, doesn’t stop me wanting it), and that a BMI of 20 (OK actually I want 19) is at the edge of healthy, not optimal and that 22.5 is what I should be aiming for if I want a target.  I know that too.  That would be another 5 or 6 KG’s less than I am at the moment.  Something, that I had not really considered, is what happens in the future.  *If* I decide to transition I need an amount of body fat for the hormones to do their thing.  Getting down to 55KG would mean that there would not be enough body fat for things to develop as they should (that’s whole body, not just the obvious).  I guess I need to remember that and try and aim for 22.5 and stay there.  In case you can’t tell from the text I am not completely sure of that, but I have to try…

 The other thing that stuck in my head is something that had not crossed my mind.  Ever.  I was wearing a new outfit, trousers, top and jacket.  He noted that I had trousers on, and that there was no bulge.  He asked what I did to stop the bulge, as he was concerned I had read up on ways to hide it which include doing things which sound far too painful for me to even consider.  He went on to explain that, again, if I transition then they need good quality material for the op.  Using some of the methods on the net, or making everything too tight, damages blood vessels, nerves and other things which makes surgeons lives that little bit more interesting (read difficult) and so I was warned against it (I’m not going into details, but I don’t do those things), and that these complications sit on top of normal health implications of doing this.  Who’d have thought there were reasons for sticking with skirts for now?

The trip home was fairly uneventful, the car was still in one piece, the roads clear and no neighbours again thankfully.  (I say thankfully as my therapist thinks I am doing enough to progress without having to deal with neighbours just yet, if it happens it happens, but not something to wish for at the moment).  As it was still nice weather we decided to eat in the garden, which meant changing back into male clothes and taking my face off.  Before I started doing that I looked at myself in the mirror and had one of those rare moments when I was actually really happy with what was looking back.  Really happy, I ended up staring I have to admit.  I took the make-up off and surprised myself again. I was still happy (not with any gender association) with what I saw, for once I looked good. And with nowhere to go :)

Didn’t last long of course, by the time I went to bed it had gone.  But at least I had it for a while…