10 Weeks HRT, Dressing up
Hello my darling readers, it’s that time again, the infamous HRT weekly update. I truly cannot believe I’ve been on HRT for 10 whole weeks already. I remember when I was planning to go onto the hormones for like a month or two and it felt agonizingly long. Now that I’m on them, however, time seems to be flying past at the speed of light. My wife and I bought our house, moved into it, unpacked for the most part, parted ways with our old apartment, she’s gotten two raises, I came out to my employer, I lost 15 pounds, and I applied to graduate school, all in the time since I started HRT. That just seems a bit crazy to me. Anyway, onto the effects of the hormones.
I mentioned this briefly in the week 9 post, but I found it truly amusing that in my week 8 update I talked about not knowing if my skin was getting softer or not, and not two days after writing that, my wife made a comment about how soft my skin was becoming (she doesn’t read this blog, as an FYI, so she wouldn’t have known I wrote about it). So, with that observation tucked away into my experience I can say that I definitely have had some softening of the skin. The chest continues to ache and any unexpected contact with the region is still jarring and oftentimes painful. I never knew how often I accidently hit myself in the chest during the span of a regular day, either with my arms, my knees, objects I carry, or stationary objects I happen to run into. Also, wearing a seatbelt has become a whole new experience because it has a tendency to squeeze and pull on the region in unfortunate ways.
Hair growth hasn’t really changed much, although operation Chewbacca No More has commenced and I’ve been taking the fight with my body hair to the next level. (I know this is likely TMI for many, so I’m going to try to keep it humorous) The battle commenced with the allied forces of Nair and my wife, which began with the onslaught of the shoulder and back region. The battle was victorious and minimal collateral damage to the surrounding environment was done (aka no allergic reaction). That night we slept with victory in our hearts, but we knew the war was far from over. The next evening the second round of the battle commenced, except this time I led the charge with Nair as my weapon and smote the dark forest which had resided on my chest for as long as I can remember. I won’t lie, seeing all the carnage was a bit traumatic, but the results of the battle were well worth the effort as the landscape was left as smooth and soft as a baby’s bum. The final front of the offensive will commence sometime this weekend as I finish off the retreating troops that have fled down to my stomach region and any rogue hold outs that were missed in the first two campaigns; They can try to hide, but their days are numbered.
Okay, hopefully that wasn’t as bad as it could have been. As you will see in the below pictures, Operation Chewbacca No More was a necessary evil, since the clothes I’m wearing are rather revealing of the shoulder and upper chest region (see, I promised I would post pictures of my new clothes). The first pictures are of the shoes I bought, the first of my three outfits, which was worn out in public (more on this in a moment), and finally of my new wig!
Aren’t the shoes just to die for? I love them, so much, even if they hurt like after a few hours. So, as I’ve mentioned previously, I was given homework from my therapist to go shopping for and as Emma. I didn’t have to buy anything but I had to at least go shopping and try some clothes on. I went for the gold star approach and bought a few outfits and some shoes that I could wear to my therapy appointment. I really wanted to surprise my therapist with how well I’d done at her homework assignment by showing up to our appointment in full lady mode, and that’s exactly what I did. I left the office a few minutes earlier than normal, rushed to her office as quick as I could, kicked down the door to the bathroom like Van Damme would, put the door back on the hinges because why did I just do that? /shrug, and commenced a much more fabulous than superman wardrobe change. The look on her face when she saw me was priceless. She grinned from ear to ear and complimented my outfit, which made me quite happy.
Oh, to wear women’s clothing again, after all these years, was amazing. There truly is no describing how spectacular the experience was. I felt so at home, and so relieved. It was like I’d dropped that millstone of denial once again and could finally breathe deep. It just felt right and good, and amazing. I was Emma, in more than just name, and I looked pretty damn good too, IMHO. It was so fun to walk around and drive around the city looking (mostly) like a woman. I felt confident and proud. I felt like a completely different person, and it was wonderful.
The only drawback to my day was my hair, which is still so tragically short. I looked female in almost all ways except for my hair and knew that if I’d interacted more closely with people than I did, most of them would probably just see me as a man wearing women’s clothing. That, my friends, was unacceptable. I wanted to be Emma and I wanted to be her right then! So, without further delay, I decided that it was time to go buy a wig. It will still be months before my hair is long enough to come close to pulling off a female look, and I just can’t wait that long to be perceived by others as a woman. After dinner, I found a wig store nearby, put on my brave pants (aka cargo shorts), and drove there without delay. I won’t lie, it was a scary drive to the mall, and it was also a scary experience to go into the store where everyone else in there was female. I felt the awkwardness of the other female customers giving me inquisitive and confused looks as I browsed through the women’s wig selection. I had to wait quite a while before the sales clerk finished helping her previous customer and had time to come assist me. During that time I decided to interact with some of the other customers by commenting on or complementing the various hair pieces they tried on. This seemed to break the ice and I was met with friendliness instead of judgment.
When the clerk finally asked me how she could help me I decided to be brave again and told her rather frankly that I was transgender, that I was making the transition to female, and that I wanted to have longer hair. She seemed to understand and even smiled at my response, which made my anxiety decrease all the more. By the end of the experience she had helped me find the wig you see in the picture and had even been so kind as to caringly interact with me as if I was just a regular customer. I thanked her at the time of check out for being so nice and understanding of my needs. She waved it off with a smile saying it was no problem, and even mentioning that she had men come in rather frequently.
With my new wig in hand, along with a Styrofoam head to put it on, I rushed back home and showed it off to my wife, who also seemed to like it (she even said she was jealous of how I had nicer hair than she did now, lol). My dear friends, I can hardly express the emotions I feel when I look in the mirror and see myself with long feminine hair. It’s like I can finally see the person who has been inside of me for all these years. Like she’s finally clawed her way to the surface to greet me, and she is so beautiful. It makes me want to cry tears of joy as I describe this right now, because it makes me THAT happy to think about my reflection with the wig on. It was almost like being punched in the gut to have to take it off and go back to being Robert, the androgynous-haired male. I just want to wear the wig all the time, to always look in the mirror and see that face staring back at me. I know that one day I will, and that that face will look even more feminine than it does in the picture above, but it’s so difficult to be sitting here at my desk, wearing my male gendered work clothes and my shorter hair. I just want to rush back home and put that wig back on to see Emma looking back at me once again. I miss her.
Maybe that makes me sound a bit crazy, but I think gender dysphoria can sometimes feel a bit like being crazy. It’s like there are two people living inside of me, this Robert ego I’ve manufactured with broken and jagged pieces to look like a regular male, and this closeted female being who is missing those broken and jagged pieces. One day I hope that the two of them can merge together to become a single completed person instead of two partial beings.
Anyways, that’s my weekly update. Hopefully my pictures aren’t too tragic. There will be more. Sorry I didn’t have time to put the two halves together for a complete image (female clothes + wig) but I will try to do it all up sometime this weekend. My new homework assignment is to go out into the world by myself, dressed as Emma and just be a regular person. The example I was given was to go to a coffee shop, buy a cup of coffee, and drink it there. I don’t drink coffee so I’ll have to think of something else, but I’m excited to go out into the world with my clothes, my wig, my makeup, and my nail polish on to see how people react to me.
Oh, one other thing! I’ve set up an appointment with a laser hair removal place for next weekend, so hopefully I can get the ball rolling on that one and I can do away with this 5 o’clock shadow nonsense.
Well, much love to you all, and remember if you ever feel like reaching out to me or just want someone to talk with/commiserate about gender issues, feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org (haters need not write).