Gloomy Monday

It’s Monday morning, the skies are grey, rain is hammering down on our dirty little attic skylight, and now seems as good a time as any to express my inner demons…

I have learned a lot about my condition since I set up on Facebook anew as Eleanor and started connecting with transgender groups. One in particular has been an invaluable source of information – All Wales Transgender – where members have shared information on many topics relevant to the transitioning individual, including medication, voice training, hair removal, FFS-

And what the hell is that when it’s at home? Glad you asked…

“Facial feminisation surgery – such as thyroid chondroplasty/tracheal shave (reducing the size of your Adams Apple), rhinoplasty (nose surgery), facial bone reduction (reducing the jaw line) and blepharoplasty (eyelid surgery)/facelift.”

Treating Gender Dysphoria – NHS Inform

As one quickly finds out in researching this condition, there are many obvious and subtle differences between male and female facial anatomy. The Adam’s Apple is one of the most glaring – especially in the case of the over-active ping-pong ball I appear to have swallowed – but also the jawline, heavy brow ridges, etc. Bluntly put, men look more Cro-Magnon, and I can see it traces of the Stone Age all too clearly in my own bone structure.

So, the good news is that most of this can be fixed. The bad news? The NHS does not fund FFS, as it is not considered to be part of the essential treatment for Gender Identity Disorder. While one can understand the conflicting priorities when it comes to spending public money, that still makes me want to punch mirrors in abject frustration…

So why not go private, then? I would love to, but I cannot afford to. Get a better job? Unfortunately, like many UK graduates, I also suffer from being chronically over-qualified in an essentially useless field (English Literature), which just puts off prospective employers. Retrain with more useful qualifications, then? That means college fees and dedicated focus for at least a year ahead, and since I have to marshal what few resources and what little mental stamina I have left to see my transition through, it’s just more stress and expense I can do without.

So, even if I am approved to fully transition, I probably face a lifetime of wearing neck scarves, heavy makeup, and probably a long fringe to conceal my jutting Neanderthal brow as best as possible. Even then, I doubt I will attain that “passing privilege” that most transwomen crave, though others claim not to care what strangers think of them and their gender. I cannot imagine ever being so insouciant, personally. Being able to step outdoors and never once being assumed to be anything else than just one more woman among many… If only.

Second thoughts about transition? No, and to be frank it’s getting late in the day for those. I have started developing breast tissue, I have fried a portion of my facial hair with electrolysis, and I have come out as transgendered to all and sundry. Being addressed by my new name and gender feels right, as does presenting in as feminine a way as I can. Moreover, I love the physical changes I have inflicted on myself, and I have no desire to reverse them.

I just wish they could be more…