Yes. I do seem to be suffering from a surfeit of initials right now.
And the day otherwise started so well. Helped out at school with the swimming lesson (mostly consisted of helping the boy to change and attempting to put a brush thru his hair after the swimming lesson). Then down to London by train for what should have been my LAST pre-op electrolysis.
Last, that is, in respect of “down there”. Sara was great, as always…but by session end i was close to tears – and not, this time, from pain.
I set out in good time…arrived early into London..and then, disaster. Kings Cross tube is closed and there are loads of police and fire engines outside. Apparently it caught fire or there was a fear that it had.
So? A helpful officer suggested i make my way to another station, which meant messing around with busess in the middle of the day. On the bus, i watched my time margin slowly ebb away.
In desperation, i abandoned at Portland Place and found a tube. Then another. And a train (far too manhy connections) and reached my destination nearly twenty minutes late.
Then rush, rush, rush.
And i was so looking forward to this. The genital hair seems to have packed in almost entirely: we are now down to the last few wisps that might adhere to what will eventually be new labia. SO i was looking forward to a lengthy go at chest hair.
Which Sara sort of managed. But it was no good. All that expectation…and the let down. Thanks LU…or whoever set the alarm!
So Sara was nice…and understanding…and sympathetic…and…the nicer she was the worse i felt.
In the end, i just asked her (politely) to stop being nice because another word and i’d have burst into tears.
What IS this? It certainly isn’t how i used to react to tube delays. Sara’s diagnosis – the moment she knew i was off hormones – was that its equivalent to PMT.
Perhaps it is. I know i was never this much of a damp rag when faced with adversity. And that doesn’t quite describe it, either. Because if anything i’m better at just getting on and doing stuff nowadays.
Rather, i get these…downs! Episodes of helpless weepiness when mostly all i want is to curl up and be looked after (which is where the suggestion of tlc came into it).
It does seem to be associated with the days since i came off oestrogen – and i don’t think its all psychosomatic.
I feel like i’ve lost my “sparkle”. Funny one that.
Government is so keen to regulate every sort of illicit substance that crosses its path…and no-one has noticed just how wonderful a substance is oestrogen. Maybe its the side-effects that stop men abusing it in greater numbers. On the other hand, even if i wasn’t transitioning, i can see the merits of abusing it.
Does this happen? Are there people who use oestrogen purely for the “high”? Or is that a politically incorrect question?
Dunno. What i do know is: its Evening Primrose for me tonight!