I imagine it must be fairly obvious now that unlike some who undergo this op, i didn’t wake to some blinding epiphany.
I didn’t suddenly go: “yes, that’s it”. Early days were, if anything, a bit of an anti-climax.
Of course, i don’t begrudge others their own personal perspectives, because its different for each and every one of us. And this approach is how i seem to take much of life. Slowly, gradually, adding a little bit at a time.
It was good to wake in the knowledge that the op was done and i was still alive (i know: daft fear. but always there a little bit). Better when the bandages came off and the pack was out, though the swelling and blood and scars made it a bit of an alarming sight.
Day by day, things have been improving. There is still swelling, but at last the left side is starting to go down, which means that i probably won’t have a vagina that looks as though it tilts to the right!
And yesterday, another series of cheer-making discoveries. Peeing – initially a total pain, as it meant passing pee over what is still a fairly open wound – feels and sounds very different. Wow!
Still, occasionally, reaching down to adjust a phantom willy…but that will pass.
And sitting is different. And standing. And wearing clothes!
Because however hard i tried – with “magic pants” and double knickers and all the other tricks that i suspect trans women come up with over their pre-op months and years, there was still a bump. Maybe not noticeable…or maybe it was.
Every skirt i tried on had to be measured against just how elasticated the top ws and whether it was figure-hugging (and therefore bump-revealing) or ruffled and flowy. I did buy a few skirts that i liked and which went into my post-op drawer: mostly, though, i was restricted in my choice.
Ditto other styles. I loved it when i discovered the tunic and leggings look, cause the latter show off my legs nicely, whilst the former concealed any tell-tale bumps. All the same, there were moments, when i was out, of screaming self-consciousness. When, for a moment, i thought maybe the bump was visible because the top had rucked up or was too short.
Paranoid? Moi? er, yes. Though i’m sure i’m not the only one.
Which is why it was so lovely yesterday to take out some of my tighter skirts and try them on for the first time properly. As andrea commented this morning: even though i wasn’t especially well-endowed…and even less so after months of hormones…she had always, before, been able to notice a slight silhouette. No more!
Lovely, too, to sit on the sofa and see how an ordinary skirt drapes. Hint: there’s a subtle concavity, now, where before there was a slightly more pronounced mound (and foothill!).
I can wear tighter skirts (eventually). And jeans. And leggings. And i can do so with a short top. We then explained to a refreshingly innocent friend who had called round the concept of a “camel toe”. Oh, dear…she’d never heard the expression before. Bless!
Last of all – dunno if this is socialisation or something real – i find i am shifting posture. Before, i had to remember not to sit with my legs “like that”. Mostly i was good at it, although there were some blokey lapses.
Now, it just feels wrong to sit in certain ways. Although whilst i am healing the most comfortable position remains, for now, a most unladylike recline with both legs up and akimbo, as though awaiting a call from my local friendly gynecologist.
More joy. More sense of growing into my new self. Very happy.