My Gifted Life

I’m going on five years this coming Fall on HRT. October 2013 is when I first swallowed a small purple 1mg pill of estradiol and I haven’t stopped since. It reached a peak at 4mg and when back to 2mg after surgery removed the testosterone production equipment.

Astonishingly my body still is changing in small ways even now, five years later. Quite remarkable when you think about it. But that’s not what this entry is about, it’s just an aside.

When I was first full time it was important for me to be relatively careful about having makeup on and I felt somewhat overtly feminine clothing. I didn’t want someone to wonder what gender I was trying to project if they looked at me and weren’t quite sure from appearances.

It didn’t take long after going full-time for my beard to stop being an issue, and my face rounded pretty quickly, although it is still subtly changing. These days I’m not working or I would wear day makeup for work. Mind  you, day makeup for me is mascara, blush and lipstick (optional) at this point. I don’t really need foundation.

I do still wear makeup if there’s an event, I like putting on a full face, but I wouldn’t want to have to do it daily.

As far as what I wear, I vary it a lot. In warm weather I favor skirts or dresses for their ventilation. I also think they look nice and dresses are the easiest, laziest piece of clothing to put on in my closet. Over the head and no matching, done.

Otherwise I wear jeans, women’s jeans to be sure, but jeans. I’m not concerned with whether I have a particular look, outerwear that had been banished is back in use because it is warm and practical. When it wears out or gets old I’ll replace it with the woman’s equivalent, but I’d feel stupid throwing out a perfectly good EMS fleece just because the tag says “men’s”. Nobody is looking at my tag, not even me.

I suppose this is because I’ve reached a happy place. I’m no longer threatened by these minor assaults on my self image as a woman. I’m not going to break down and turn to mush or a puddle because someone screws up my pronoun, although I might arch an eyebrow.