I never usually stay in touch with ex-girlfriends but, in the case of this one, I was always prepared to make an exception. We shared a house together and planned to spend the rest of our lives together. It didn’t work out, but I still hoped we could be friends because she’s awesome. Anyway, I saw her a couple of days ago.
So I’ve just got back from my third appointment at Nottingham Gender Clinic – and it’s the best possible news. The experts there agree I have gender dysphora and, subject to my blood tests being OK, have agreed to prescribe estrogen. *Punches air*
They say that everyone has a book in them but, me being me, I reckon I’ve got two. So I’m gonna write ’em. Please go out there and buy ’em! :o)
I’ve just had a photograph of me copied from a dating site and pasted on Twitter in a transphobic post by a notorious TERF. I mean, what the actual f*ck?! It’s time we put a stop to this. Here’s how.
Butterflies seem to be an important part of the symbolism of being transgender, especially for those about to transition, leaving that ugly caterpillar body behind, entering a second-puberty chrysalis and then emerging as a beautiful creature at the end of it all.
It’s time to move on. Annie and I have not been getting on too well of late, putting it mildly. But instead of getting bitter and full of rage, I’m going to reflect on a few positives from the whole relationship and its aftermath.
I began writing this post many months ago (I didn’t get past the headline) and I still don’t really have a definitive answer about whether I’m really non-binary or whether I’m kidding myself. Hopefully writing this will give me some clarity.