To The Edge of the Nether (And Back Again)

So at long last, after 18 months of waiting, I had a GIC appointment. How was it? Meh.

Let’s re-cap: I live on the South Coast, but I used to live in Yorkshire. When I signed up for the GIC, I signed up for the one in Sheffield, as it was the nearest one with the shortest wait time. I can’t transfer to another one. So I have a hell of a journey getting to it.

My solution was to come stay up in Yorkshire for a bit and have a sort of mini-holiday. This meant I was able to make something more of the trip. I made this decision with some hesitation, as I was less than enthused about visiting my hometown, a place with a lot of bad memories and baggage. So I tried to balance it out by arranging some fun activities around the week. One was getting to meet up with the lovely Ruth, who I know some of you will also know from here on WordPress, while also meeting up with Evie, a friend from Twitter.

It was nice to see two friends, as well as spending time with my partner’s mother, but the headline event was the long-awaited GIC appointment…

 

Appointment #1

I found it very amusing that I was traveling to Nether Edge, the location of Sheffield’s Porterbrook Clinic. Nether Edge sounded to me like something out of a high fantasy novel. I was traveling to the edge of the nether, to finally access the legendary and mysterious gender clinic, a fitting quest for my journey North (…yes there is a nether regions joke in here too somewhere, but I’ll leave that one to you).

I traveled down to Sheffield from my partner’s mother’s flat, which I’d arrived at the day before. This meant grabbing a taxi, then a train ride, and finally another taxi. So not quite a straightforward journey, but certainly easier and more practical than going from home, 250+ miles away. Read More

“Are You a Boy or a Girl?”

I realised today that without noticing I’ve entered a strange stage of my transition.

I’m in a place where I’m read as female, male and sometimes, a big metaphorical question mark. This isn’t much of a new development in itself, but the how, why and when it happens has changed. Most notably, I’m losing the degree of control I have over it, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

I’ve been on HRT for 7 months now. The changes to my body have gone from subtle and personal, to obvious and noticeable. I should stress, there hasn’t been any hugely climactic shift nor am I expecting one. I still look like me, as I should but I’ve been nudged in a more feminine direction. On the surface it’s as if I’m becoming my own sister.

Parts of my face are still traditionally masculine and always will be, but other parts have changed. My face is softer now while my silhouette has shifted. My hips and buttocks are fatter, giving me a curvier shape, certain items of clothing now hang differently on me. My transition is no longer something I talk about as having just begun, or going to happen, it’s happened and is continuing to happen now.

Mirror, Mirror

This thought first occurred to me recently, when I wanted to pop out to the shops one morning. I just wanted to pick up some food and break up my sleepy day off work. As the weather was average and I was only going around the corner, I threw on some black skinny jeans and one of my old t-shirts, a black boxy unisex thing, but with a cute and amusing cartoon Ewok on it. Once I was out I ended up wandering into a local clothes shop, just to browse. Read More