'It's Time'......Or Is It?

It's been a while since my last post but a lot has happened so I think I'm off the hook. Life tends to get in the way sometimes doesn't it. The truth is though that if I don't post then things tend to be going well. This is only really a quick post because I had a dream last night. I dream most nights such is my over active imagination but last nights dream was special somehow. It was my first dream about the operation.

     I was in the hospital although I can't really remember seeing any other patients. I'd been in for a month for some reason and one night I got woken up by a nurse who said simply 'It's time!' I got dressed (for some unknown reason) and put my phone and purse into a safe that was embedded in the wall above my bed. There was a keypad and a key and the code for the keypad was printed on the side of the key. The safe itself was tiny. I'm not sure why the small things like that are so clear, dreams are strange things. Anyway, at this point I got a look around the ward. All of the other beds were empty. The time was around 5am although it wasn't dark, just dusk like. I asked the nurse if I could go to the loo and she said 'yes, of course. Be quick mind because you're to go down at 5:05am prompt!'. I quickly went to the loo and sat down in the cubicle. At that point I realized that I hadn't had any hair removal or even shaved at all down there. I began to panic so made my way back to the ward. For some reason I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans with a hospital gown. The nurse was in the nurses station emptying the fridge into a bin. She was throwing a lot of food away. I said to her 'I've not actually seen a surgeon yet, are you sure it's my time?'. The nurse smiled and said 'No one sees the surgeon love, you'll be fine.' Then she led me down stairs, down flights of stairs. The last thing I remember before waking is a set of turquoise swing doors in front of me with a white light emanating from them.

   I awoke and for a moment reality took a second. It seemed to boot back up as I realized where I was and that the dream wasn't real. Despite the strangeness and coldness of the dream I was actually really disappointed to wake up. Anyway, that's the reason for this post. I will do a proper update in due course, so much to tell you.

My 20's, The Decade That Made Me - Part 2

22 Years Old - 2004
When I was 22 I did my first stint abroad. I had gotten a job working in a restaurant in the Spanish Resort of La Manga Club. I'll never forget my leaving do in Widnes and as I left on that rainy Sunday afternoon, I left with a very heavy heart. I had made a lot of friends there and most are now Facebook Friends. I think that one of my biggest regrets is that I didn't stay in Widnes longer. I was there for 14 months and should really have stayed for a few years. I can't say that I left for a worse place though as La Manga was a great place. I can still remember how nervous I was about it all. I had left home over a year earlier but moving countries was a different kettle of fish. Pretty soon after arriving though I was settled and once again I made loads of friends. I had to play the male role but I had a good time. Summer was hard work in the restaurant but I played hard too.  I'd often get in as the sun rose but I was young and I don't regret any of it.

     Moving to Spain meant that I had to give up 'dressing' for a while. It was hard but the work kept my mind off it. In June my Granddad sadly passed away. I can still hear my mum telling me over the phone and it hit me really hard. I hit the drink a bit too much and actually flew back for the funeral. I flew home on the day before and flew back on the day after. This actually gave me the chance to retrieve some of my female clothes and take them back with me. That also meant that I could indulge in my dressing a bit although living in a shared, I had to be very careful.

     The original plan was to stay in Spain for the Summer. This changed though and I decided to stay on. I guess I'd gotten myself settled and I'd made a lot of friends. The winter was different to the Summer though. It was quieter and although this made work easier, it meant that there was nothing to do on your day off. It got colder so the pool and the beach was a no go. I began drinking more as that was literally all there was to do. The business picked up again on Christmas week but as soon as the New Year came and went, it was back to nothing.

     One day at the end of January 2005 something snapped and I walked out of my job. While everyone went out for staff tea, I packed up my knives and had it away on my toes. I ran up the dirt track behind the restaurant to a bar called Q Bar where I popped onto the internet and booked a flight home. Then I began drinking. The Head Chef found me and had a bit of a chat but my mind was made up, I needed to be back in England. Two weeks later that's exactly where I was. I must admit to feeling a tinge of sadness as the plane lifted off. I felt like I was perhaps leaving too soon as though I had unfinished business. What I didn't know at the time is that I'd be back again to tie up the loose ends.

     In the meantime I'd managed to secure an interview at a hotel in Bakewell. It was The Rutland Arms Hotel and had a job for a Chef De Partie with live-in. I'll never forget standing at the bus stop in Chesterfield, waiting to catch the bus to my interview. It was snowing and all I could think about was that in La Manga it'd be a nice warm day.

     I got the job at The Rutland Arms (after a morning trial) and in mid February I moved into the staff accommodation. It felt really odd, that first night. I'd been allocated a small box room and it just didn't feel right. Although I'd only call that box room home for a short time, The Rutland Arms Hotel in Bakewell would be home for 3 years and would play an important part in my life.

23 Years Old - 2005
     I settled into The Rutland Arms pretty quickly. The Head Chef was a big Irish man called Bryan and he loved his radio 2. He also had a deep rooted Irish heritage as his menus showed. Every dish seemed to be served with a form of mash potato! The 2nd Chef was a short South African called Jimmy. I was Chef De Partie alongside a guy called Stuart Pearce and another young guy called Mark. We were a pretty close team and I fitted in really well.

     During those early years I enjoyed a drink and I always searched out a place I could call my local. It was important for me to find a place I could belong and I found that place in The Red Lion. It was just over the road from the hotel so was ideal staggering distance. The owner had arrived in Bakewell a few weeks before me and was called Gary Roberts. He was a lovely man, always up for a sly after hours drink. He was also pretty crazy but that was all part of his charm.

     During that 1st year in Bakewell, Brian left as did Stuart as did Jimmy and Mark. In fact 7 months after I started, I was the longest serving Chef! More chefs were brought in though in the form of Matt (Chef de Partie) Josef (Breakfast Chef), Howard (Sous Chef) and Brian (Head Chef). That was possibly one of the best teams I worked with in terms of the laughs we had. We also worked damn hard.

     Outside of work I tended to frequent The Red Lion and even got to the stage where I could ask for my usual (Corrie style). I became friends with Gary, the landlord, and even built up a bit of social circle. Of course the year couldn't go completely tragedy free as the joy of my younger sister giving birth was quickly replaced by despair as little Ruby died.

     It hit me really hard and on the day of the funeral I headed back to Bakewell. I spent the evening getting drunk and I ended up in a pretty bad way. I'd only seen the baby once and I couldn't understand how something like that could happen. It just seemed so cruel. Towards the end of my 23rd year, I began organizing a Sponsored Walk in aid of a cot death charity. I had the help of a man called John who I got to know. That man though is pure proof that you don't really know anybody.

The Only Thing Different In Bakewell

To celebrate my birthday I'm writting up some posts to tell the story of my 20's. I'm hitting the big 3-0 you see and my 20's have been pretty huge. Anyway in a few posts I'll spend some time writting about a time of my life when I resided in Bakewell. I spent 3 years living and working there between 2005 and 2008 and it's a time which I can look back on with a certain amount of fondness. Tonight (almost 4 years to the day when I left) I went back.

     A friend called Sophie had been in Bakewell during my time there. A while ago she moved down to London and last week I noticed (via a post on Facebook) that she was popping back to Bakewell for a few days. A couple of messages followed and we arranged to meet up tonight in Bakewell at my old local, The Red Lion. I'm not going to talk a lot about my time there before as I'll be going into that in some depth within the next few posts. The Red Lion was my local though and I spent a lot of time there in my previous life. 

The Bridge into Bakewell.

     From the moment I woke up I was terrified. I experienced a constant nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was entering the lions den and in so many ways I was right. Despite being full-time for nearly 2 years, none (bar 2 people I saw at a wedding at work last year) of Bakewell had seen me in my present living state. Many had heard on Facebook and I'd had a favourable response on there. I knew Bakewell though and I knew how little it changed. I knew that I'd see the same people who I saw 4 years ago and some wouldn't know about me. This feeling of terror continued right up until I drove into Bakewell. The familiar road wound down into the little valley and as I rounded the last corner the church spire came into view. I drove over the small hump back bridge into the small town and drove towards the square. Bakewell is made up of a couple of main roads that all connect at the Square. It is a small roundabout with the big Rutland Arms Hotel (where I used to work) beyond. I turned left at the square and headed to the main carpark. After a quick text to find out where my friend was I headed to the Red Lion. This meant a short walk of about 3 minutes through the back streets of Bakewell. It seemed so strange to be walking through Bakewell, past familiar shops that I hadn't seen in 4 years.

The Red Lion in Bakewell.

The Square and The Rutland Arms.

     I rounded the corner and headed towards the front door to The Red Lion. I paused for a moment, almost hesitating. I had walked through these doors so many times before but this time was different, so different. For a moment I thought about turning round and walking away but then my decision was made up for me as some came out. He held the door open for me and I walked into the Red Lion. I spotted Sophie straight away and after a quick hug and introductions to the other people on the table we had a bit of a chat. It felt so strange to be sat in this pub again. I had spent many a night here in the past, many a night sat at the bar nursing a pint of bitter. Despite the owners, the pub looked just as it had 4 years ago. While we were sat there, some people came in. I recognised them straight away and I could've been witnessing a scene from 5 years ago. 

The Wheatsheaf in Bakewell

     After The Red Lion we went to The Wheatsheaf. The 'Sheaf' was essentially my 2nd local in the past. I used to watch the football there and they did a good pint. While there another friend I used to know, a girl called Tracy, came in. I used to work with her father at the hotel and I asked her how he was doing. Some one else I used to know, a man called Andy, came in. He didn't recognise me at first although I'm sure he did by the end of the night. While in the Sheaf I answered a few questions that Sophie had. She wanted to know all about my transition and I told her all I could. 

     Soon the end of the night came and I headed out to my car. Sophie and her parents (who had come to give her a lift back) were parked near me so I walked out with them. Just as we were leaving the Sheaf though Andy beckoned me over and with a bit of a hug he said 'you don't need to be shy, we're all ok.' Now for him (a phil mitchel look-a-like) this was acceptance on a huge scale. 

     After saying my goodbyes to Sophie I was soon in my car and heading back home. I really enjoyed myself although it felt too strange at times. Bakewell really never changes. I saw loads of people who I knew from before and all of them were doing exactly what they did 4 years ago. Some of them were even wearing the same clothes! I will always have a soft spot for Bakewell but I am so glad that I left when I did. I certainly wouldn't be on my present path had I stayed. I would also probably be doing exactly what I did 4 years ago and that is a thought that terrifies me. I am so glad I went back though as I got to catch up with old friends. I also realised why I left Bakewell and I'm so glad I did. I will be back in Bakewell at some point and I'm going to make a point of catching up with Sophie again soon. 

     

My 20's, The Decade That Made Me - Part 1

In a weeks time I'll hit 30 which means that I'll be bidding goodbye to a decade of my life that's been the making of me. I think that the 20's are important in anybodies life. It's usually the period during which you settle down with someone, buy your first house, have your first child. It's also the period in your life when you tend to grow up and see the world differently. My 20's has been a bit of a crazy time. I've not settled down, brought my own house ans kids are definately not on the horizon. I have grown up though and I have changed. Ten years ago I was a 19 year old chef. I was still really confused over things but I'd found a good middle ground. I had a small collection of clothes and dressed up whenever the time allowed. It wasn't very often but it was enough. Anyway, here is the review of the decade that made me who I am today.

20 Years Old - 2002
The 20 year old me was different in so many ways to the me that's writting this blog. He was shy and unconfident. He was naive and a dreamer. He was also a few pounds lighter and he was a he. He was a chef at The Ringwood Hall Hotel and had just completed his NVQ in Catering. Right, I'm going to stop referring to him in the 3rd person now. I had just completed my NVQ in catering and I guess I was pretty settled in things. I was reasonably happy in my job. I had a small collection of clothes hidden in my bottom drawer. I wasn't really sure of who or what I was. All I knew is that something wasn't quite right. One thing I didn't know though was that in 10 years time I'd be living as a woman.

21 Years Old - 2003
21 was a big age for me and a huge year. I had just moved up to Widnes and was working at a hotel  there. This meant that I had left home and I really enjoyed the independance that this gave me. It also gave me the opportunity to really explore my feminine side and it's something that I did with gusto. I purchased my first wig and shaved my legs for the first time I also added to my fledgling wardrobe and finally discovered that I wasn't alone. In July of that year I purchased my first laptop. I had begun doing my NVQ level 3 in catering and thought that a laptop would help me do the paperwork. Getting that laptop was possibly one of the most important things I did. It meant that I could access the internet for the first time which meant that I could find others like me. I discovered the support forums and worked out a place on the spectrum. I liked to dress in womens clothes and I loved to feel feminine. It wasn't a sexual thing for me, it never has been. It's just something I did. Towards the end of my 21st year I began to think about working abroad. It was something I wanted to do and by the time I celebrated my 22nd birthday I had a job pretty much in the bag.

To be continued.......

HRT Changes, Unexpected

When I began taking hormones back on the 10th August 2010 (amazing how certain dates stick in the mind), I knew all about the physical effects I could expect. I knew that I'd develop breasts and that my skin would soften. I knew that my hair would grow thicker and that my features would soften. I was also aware that my bodily fats would be re-distributed to give me a more feminine figure. I also knew of the various side effects I could experience and I was aware of what would happen were I to stop taking the tablets. The thing that I didn't know much about was the personality changing effects I could experience.

     One of the main personality changes has been my approach to football. There was a time when I loved the sport. I would live by the Saturday afternoon results and the results of the Manchester United games would effect me for days. I actually cried when they won the European Cup in 2008! I would spend hours playing Football Manager and used to love the Fifa games on the PS3. I was also an avid Fantasy Football participant. These days though the game passes me by. I couldn't tell you the top 4 in the current league table and I don't even know the score in Manchester United's last game. I'm just not interested in football anymore, instead gaining a mild addiction to the soaps. Some people would put this down to my true personality coming through. I don't have to live in that male world anymore so I don't have to pretend anymore. I can be honest and admit that I did a lot to fit into the male stereotype. I listened to certain music and watched certain films. I read the Sun (even pausing on Page 3) and drunk bitter. I 'fooled' a lot of people. I did genuinely love football though and I count that as a true example of personality change due to HRT. Another example could be as regards to my sexuality. 

    My sexuality has always been a bit up in the air shall we say. I was never gay and would never have gone with a man in my previous form. For the past 8 or 9 years though I've classed myself as bi-sexual. I guess that it was the easy middle ground. I had enough on my plate as regards my gender issues, I didn't need to sort out my sexuality as well. I did have relationships with girls, a few physical. I still have fond memories of a few of those times in that it was the closeness I enjoyed. I enjoyed the cuddles and kissing in bed and just found the actual sex really awkward. It never felt quite right to be doing it in that way, it just felt plain wrong. Of course now I know why and when I look back it all seems rather obvious. I was playing a part that wasn't written for me.

     These days I'm quickly starting to figure out my sexuality and now I'm kinda starting to see myself as a straight girl. I'm pretty sure that I see myself with a boyfriend in the future rather than a girlfriend and I would love to get married one day. I do find women attractive but it's more of an admiration than actual physical lust. I do think that this shift in my sexuality is down (at least in part) to the HRT as I've heard about this kind of thing before. It is definitely a good thing though that I'm sorting out the rather big issue of sexuality. 

A Catch Up With Friends

Yesterday I popped over to Nottingham to pay a visit to the Nottingham Chameleons. I've mentioned Chameleons a few times but for those who don't know, Chameleons is a trans support group based just off junction 26 in Nottingham. It's one of the oldest groups in the country I believe. It's base purpose is as a means for support from like minded people. It's at a safe venue which makes it ideal for those venturing out for the first time. It's also a group which has really began moving with the times. I went a few years ago (about a year before I went full-time) and it was nice. The thing that struck me though was that it seemed to mainly be attended by middle aged transvestites/cross dressers and at 27 years old I guess it maybe wasn't my thing. These days though it seems to be attended by a more diverse group of people. Although I'm still one of the youngest, there's a wide range of people right across the gender spectrum. Some of it's members have even began venturing to the pub afterwards which is great. It's all well and good meeting in a community centre but that doesn't beat going out in public. I'm full-time so I'm out in public all the time but for a fledling cross-dresser, going to the pub is a huge undertaking but something that kinda has to be done. It's almost like the last great barrier and once you've crossed it you really never look back. For some, dressing behind closed doors is enough but I'm of the personal view that the only way that being trans is ever going to become the true norm is if the trans community makes it's self known.

     Anyway, so off I went into Nottingham. I've made a bit of a compromise in that I'm not going to involve myself too much with the scene. I'll still support the monthly Nottingham Invasion and I'll still attend Chams when I can. Attending Chams is good though as I can now go as a supporting member. Last night I caught up with a lady who I've met a few times there. She's due to start her RLE in a few weeks time and is actually attending the Notts GIC. It was great for me to offer my experience and advice and I hope that she will benefit from that. I do think that that is where my immediate future regarding the community lies. I have a true experience of how to transition successfully and it's important that I can help others to transition. There are also a few others who are in the initial assessment part of the diagnosing process at Notts GIC and I'm actually quite enjoying offering my advice to them.

     After the Chams meeting a few of us (well 4 of us to be exact) popped over to The New Forresters in Nottingham town center. It was reasonably busy but we still found a comfy spot to sit. A gay guy came over at one point and started asking questions. He aimed them mostly at Lynn (of YATGB (Yet Another T-Girl Blog fame) and Maddy, thankfully leaving me alone. He did actually take me for a natal woman which definitely did the ego a service. To be fair though, I do pass really well (18 months on hormones have definitely helped) so it's a rare thing for me to be 'read' anyway. One question that he did ask Lynn and Maddy was regarding whether they've had or were planning to have the op. Should it really matter what's between our legs? Is that the basis for society to exist? In all fairness he was very drunk so I guess that you have to give him the benefit of the doubt. He did remark that I looked very pretty so he was alright in my book at least (I refer to the fact he was drunk though lol).

     This is the 2nd trans thing I've attended since I had the problems regarding where I saw myself on things and it's kinda proved that I can still attend these things as a woman. For me it's about seeing friends first and foremost. I like to think that I've got a nice circle of friends now (people who I wouldn't have met were it not for the community). We don't judge each other and to me they are women. I remarked how surreal it was to see Tiff as a man after the Notts Invasion a week ago and even now I still she her as a woman. It's a really strange thing I know. The truth is though that these people are more feminine than a lot of the natal females you see on the street. It's great that we can chat about normal things. Me and Maddy had a great little chat about the upcoming super hero movies for example before the conversation moved onto 80's comedy (a little before my time I might like to add lol). That's what it should be about though, friends catching up and talking about normal things.

   

To Young To Be Diagnosed?

Recently a story broke about a little boy who's now being raised as a girl. Not only that but he's been diagnosed with Gender Dysphoria and is the youngest child in Britain to have received such a diagnosis. Now there are obviously a lot of ethical questions being asked, the main one being that he can't know what he wants at such a young age (5 I believe). I knew at 6 that I wanted to be a girl. I can still remember the dreams I had and the crying I did in the dead of night. I used to pray that I'd wake up as a girl, that I'd be allowed to wear pretty clothes and grow my hair. I knew at that young age what and who I really was. Now, at nearly 30 years old I'm living as a woman, developing as a woman and soon I'll be complete. I do think that it's perhaps a bit early to diagnose at that age but the child should be allowed to dress and behave how she feels and wants. She should be monitored closely and if she still feels that way at 10-11 years old then puberty should be postponed via injections. 

     I do think that there is a lot of fuss about nothing though. Just because she's been diagnosed doesn't mean much at the moment. She's still along way from any kind of surgery and if she is gender dysphoric then at least she won't have a ruined childhood. She'll be able to have a childhood that so many who transition only wish they had and that's surely not something that we should be looking to prevent.