Alternatives

Top 10 alternatives to "36 days left until surgery:"

1. 36 days left until I get to stop freaking out all the time
2. 36 days left until I never have to take anti-testosterone meds again
3. 36 days left until I won't have anything to talk about
4. 36 days left until I have a legitimate reason to sleep for 18 hours a day
5. 36 days left until I get to watch ALL THE NETFLIX
6. 36 days left until I have more blank space on my Gcal than boxes (for the first time since coming to Stanford)
7. 36 days left until I have something new and exciting to talk about on SOSAS panels
8. 36 days left until I am completely surrounded by people who love and care for me
1. Corollary: 36 days until the people who love and care for me have to help mom calm the fuck down since she won't be there herself
9. 36 days left until my outie becomes an innie
10. 36 days left until I have a clitoris

Boom! Longer post coming soon.

Why We're Here + Opening Thought

Hi friends!

So I have been having ALL THE EMOTIONS about my upcoming transition surgery. I figure that I should get them out, since I have the world's worst memory and won't remember them in a year, and also because it allows me to be honest about this experience without having to awkwardly start talking to someone about my junk. (I wonder if that would be awkward in a trans*-only space?)

I'm making myself the promise now that I won't feel guilty about not posting, and that I won't be one of those blogs that posts prolifically for two weeks, goes silent for four, then has an apologetic post about how more updates are coming, and then dies. I write when I write and if I don't write it means I don't got nothin' fit to say. (Suddenly I'm speaking like I'm in a Joss Whedon production)

I'll be talking pretty graphically and explicitly about my experience. If you're squeamish or don't want to know the nitty-gritty, then this probably won't be for you. I'm not saying that I'll always be talking about how my left labia is feeling on a particular day, but I'm going to be honest. I owe myself that much. (omg the implications of having labia, cantwaitcantwaitcantwait) (also the text editor on Blogger tells me what the text colors are! YAY COLORBLIND ACCESSIBILITY)

So as I write this it's Thursday, February 2nd, which means I have 54 days left. I tried to find a witty list of things that take less than two months to accomplish, but Lady Google failed me, so instead, here's a thought:

I will be able to have vaginal sex before I can order a cocktail. (yes I deliberately said 'cocktail')


...Woah. Do you realize how goddamn mindblowing that is? I, a MAAB person, will be able to have RECEPTIVE VAGINAL SEX before I can have an overpriced drink with a frilly umbrella and maybe a fruit slice. (and we all know how much I love my fruits)

That. Shit. Cray. I'm so incredibly privileged to live when I do and where I do--if I'd been born two or three years earlier, Stanford health care wouldn't have covered this procedure during my time here, to say nothing of being born ten or twenty or fifty years earlier. (I know that pre- and post-op trans* folk get a lot of shit from transphobes about how our identity isn't valid because SRS is a modern medical procedure, blah blah blah, but honestly if you're one of those transphobes I have no idea how you got here, so leave.)

Speaking of my time here, it's now February 3rd (53 days left) so I am going to bed.