• One more time...

  ...the urge will pass whether you smoke or not.

  I have said that to myself hundreds of times now, and it is working. Today is my sixth day without a cigarette. It is getting a little easier day by day. Here I sit in relative calm, when just last Saturday night, before I got into the shower, I sat on my bed in the middle of an unexpected outburst of tears that lasted maybe ten minutes. I think I must have either been mourning my old friend Mr. Nico Tine, or I was just in a major withdrawal funk, or both.... and more.

  I have had moments of wanting to crawl out of my skin (an oddly familiar feeling) and bang my peeled head against the wall, hard. I am eating lots of baby carrots, drinking tons of water and chewing gum on occasion. I am also participating in an online smoking cessation program. I have been doing this since last Friday night and it is helping quite a bit.

  I had an electrolysis appointment yesterday. I have had electrolysis performed under quite a few conditions in the last few years. I have had electro performed while with toothache, after oral surgery, after rhinoplasty, while sick with a cold and trying not to hack and cough, while sick with a cold and a toothache, but let me tell you, electro while in the throngs of quitting smoking has been the most challenging of all. I hadn't mentioned to my lectro person that I stopped smoking, so she had no idea that I was making deals with the devil the whole time she worked.

  Beelzebub said it was good to see me again.
  "But Trish, you digress."
  Right you are.

  My GRS surgeon's office called this morning to see if I wanted to move my surgery date up as somebody must have cancelled. I had to say no because I am still completing genital electrolysis. But no worries, I am right on schedule. The end of January is not that far away.

  The dentists office also called this morning to reschedule my cleaning. The 13th is off and the 24th is on.

  I rescheduled my electrolysis appointment for next Friday (so I can shave this weekend) and by coincidence my therapist needed to reschedule for that day also.

  I was supposed to go out birthday shopping today, but that was rescheduled for tomorrow.

  ...just a minute, I am having a nicotine attack.

   

    Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..... yikes.
  

   

    Oh man... I'm okay now. Those suck. But they are fewer and farther in-between today. Musta been brought on by all that rescheduling.

  I am going to be with my son this weekend to celebrate his 16th birthday. I called him last night to say Happy Birthday. He sounded very happy and that made my day. As a parent, you tend to want birthdays to be special for your children and it sounded as though this day was that, for him. This weekend might be a doozee of a time. Stay tuned.

  I have in the last few weeks cut my Diet Coke® consumption by two thirds. I am drinking lots of water.

  Last Saturday night as I lay on the couch in front of a television set that was blasting the sounds of America's Most Wanted, I drifted off to sleep thinking, "Peggy Lee..... Peggy Lee..."

   

  Goody two, goody two, goody goody two shoes,
  goody two, goody two, goody goody two shoes.
  Don't drink don't smoke - what do you do?
  Don't drink don't smoke - what do you do?
  Adam Ant

Monday, October 6th, 2003

• This weekend...

  ...was a doozee of a time. A short overview:

  I went to Disneyland on Saturday to celebrate my son's 16th birthday. My mom and I met my son, his friend, his mom (my ex-wife) and her girlfriend there. Six of us. Actually we met at a hotel right across the street from Disneyland, the same hotel that we had been staying at for years, each time we would visit. We used to go to Disneyland once a year when the company I worked for would rent the park for the night, but that stopped happening about eight years ago when the company stopped renting, I went into de-tox, my marriage began to crumble and other fun stuff.

  Butanyway (yes, one word), we all met at the hotel at about 11 AM, checked in and then headed straight over to Disneyland where we stayed until 1 AM, when they closed the park.

  We had all of your standard Disneyland fun, all the guffaws and walking around and people watching and rides and all of that. Oh, and there were a lot of people wearing red shirts. It took a while for me to put it all together, but when I actually read what one of the shirts said, I figured it out: Gay Day 2 at Disneyland. Gay Day 2 is a specific day or weekend (promoted by a website and/or word of mouth and not a Disney sponsored event) when gay and lesbian folks show up at Disneyland in large numbers and all or most of them are wearing red shirts of some kind to identify themselves as gay or lesbian. It's a pride type event I suppose. When you think of how shitty the world used to treat gays and lesbians, it's pretty amazing that this kind of public get together can happen, with everybody mixing, having a great time and there are absolutely no problems, none that we saw anyway. I thought my ex-wife might have known about this, I mean, she was there with her girlfriend on Gay Day Weekend, but neither one of them knew anything about Gay Day being this weekend. Good timing. Disneyland rocks.

  My mom and I were spotting all kinds of seemingly straight folks who just happened to show up at Disneyland that day wearing a red shirt or jacket. We were having a few laughs about how they might have felt possibly being seen as gay or lesbian for the day. Then as we stood in line for Alice and Wonderland, I looked down and realized that the hooded sweatshirt I was carrying for use later in the evening was bright effin red. When the sun started going down, I donned my sweatshirt and the laughs were on me. Ha. You see? Good wholesome Disneyland guffaws and fun. You kind of had to be there but I'm telling you, this was good stuff.

  This is one "pride event" that I am very happy that my son is exposed to. There is no Mr. Leather running around promoting the joys of sadomasochism or bondage and discipline, no half naked men and/or women in the back of some pick-up truck dancing to a distorted speaker blaring the tune YMCA by The Village People or some mini-skirted fishnet stocking'd "Male To Female TG" lip-synching to Shania Twain's I Feel Like A Woman. There are fine places for that stuff but not around youngsters and one would think not totally in public and for gosh sakes not where you would want to try and illustrate to an uneducated public or a possibly prejudiced audience that you are just like them.

  I bought this Tinker Bell pin at the Tinker Bell Toy Shoppe in Fantasyland. It seems they have a whole lot of "pin trading" deals or something going on now so these kinds of pins are to be found in abundance. I like this one. I also bought a Snow White Statuette and a statuette of Tinker Bell sitting on her butt with a pissed off look on her face. She is always pissed. You know, it's a Peter/Wendy thing. The clock eventually struck 1 AM, we left the park and had breakfast on the way back to the hotel. Bye Disneyland. I will once again miss you and your good times. I hope it's not another eight years before I can come back to visit.

  Early Sunday morning we all got together for coffee and Diet Coke® (and for some, more food) and decided we would all go over to the new Downtown Disney for a while just to walk and look around. This area has really grown and we spent a good three or four hours walking around. By 4 PM or so it was time to say our "in the Disneyland Hotel parking lot" good-byes. I knew this was going to be difficult, real difficult, and I had known it was going to be real difficult before we had even left the house on Saturday morning. I knew that the exact right combination of events would come together to make this good-bye a bitch, and it was a bitch and continued to be a bitch all last night at home. It is also somewhat of a bitch today, although it is getting better.

  I can sum up the weekend by saying that on the one to ten scale of weekends, ten being best, this weekend rated around an eight. It would have been a ten if one of two things or both would have happened. And they are, if my son would have come home with me for a few days, or if I would have had somebody to share moments of this weekend with in a perhaps more intimate way. Next time, maybe.

  I have one dang wonderful son, and today I miss him so much. I will be able to stop by and see him on Friday when I go to therapy and electrolysis.

  For my Transition Diary entry sake, I will add that on both days I wore jeans, a T-shirt, tennis shoes, no makeup, just lip gloss and I had no problems anywhere. And when I say anywhere I am including mega busy brightly lit ultra packed noisy women's restrooms.

  And guess what money I used to buy my statuettes (not totally inexpensive) and other smaller things at Disneyland?
  "Gee Trish, what money did you use to buy your (not totally inexpensive) statuettes and other smaller things at Disneyland."
  I used the money that would have ordinarily been used to purchase my cigarettes.

  Yep, today is my tenth day without a cigarette. I was a little worried that I would be biting peoples heads off all weekend, but that never happened. All in all I have done okay so far. Sure, I have wanted a cigarette but it has not been too overwhelming. I just keep chanting my little mantras, suck on a Tic-Tac® or something, deep breathe and all is mostly well.

  It is very strange how cigarettes smell to me now, even after just ten days without them. I could detect them around me all weekend and they smell slightly foreign. This is good. I remember this from when I had quit for a few years sometime back. When I quit smoking, cigarettes just don't seem the same anymore. It's hard to explain. It must be like the first time I ever smoked a cigarette. That cigarette was definitely not the same as the fifty thousandth one. It might just be natures way of alienating a person from cigarettes so that they are not tempted by them.

  "That is a pretty whacked theory, Trish."
  Hell, I dunno.

  And when I was smoking I could not really smell another person smoking unless they were right next to me. Now, just as the last time I quit I can smell a person smoking fifty feet away. Lot's of stuff is coming back to me the longer I go without a cigarette. I am really glad that I have finally (knock on wood) quit for good, for the last time.

  "Don't get cocky, Trish. That could create a problem."
  I didn't mean to appear to be cocky, but yeah, you are right.

  Okay, I am really glad that I am quitting and I hope that I never use tobacco again. For reals.

  Better?
  "Salright."
  Cool.

  I am always on the smokers side. I was on the smokers side when I had quit for five years before, and I am on their side now. I am not and I never will be an "ex-smoker". Smokers are people and not the uncaring drooling non-thinking murderous monsters whom "the powers that be" have turned them into. This "agenda" has turned what were once regular people into slimeballs. A week and a half ago I was an uncaring drooling non-thinking murderous monster and now all of a sudden I'm not this monster because I don't have a pack of cigarettes in my purse. That's pretty weak.

  But anyway, I feel real good about the quit smoking. It is all a lead up to my surgery. Quitting tobacco is a small part of the bigger picture. Yeah babeeeeeee.

   

  There's a great big beautiful tomorrow, shinin' at the end of ev'ry day.
  There's a great big beautiful tomorrow, and tomorrow's just a dream away.
  Carousel of Progress at Disneyland
  Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman

Saturday, October 11th, 2003

• Day fifteen...

  ...without a cigarette.

  I received my new drivers license in the mail today. Wo. Finally. The picture came out not totally awful (depending on who you ask, I guess). I myself know it could have been way way worse, so I am not bummed about it. But then again I may feel different in twenty minutes. Oh well... That's Trish.

  So now I have my drivers license and it is time to start changing my name on personal checks, insurance, etc....

  The "M" on my license will be changed to "F" after my surgery in January. No worries. I had given it a lot of thought and I felt like I wanted to be honest on my license about my present physical condition (with penis). I feel that for myself, that is the safest way to go at this point. There is no reason to have any little (real little) surprises for anybody, especially the law. I don't intend on having any interactions with law enforcement, but if I do everything will be self explanatory. There will be no reason to get pissed off at little ol' Trish for not being totally honest (as far as they are concerned), from the git go. If surgery was not in my future for one effed up reason or another, that would have changed the way I feel about the "M", but I am going to have surgery (knock on wood), so I can wait four or five months.

  Let's see now....

  I masturbated on Thursday before my shower, just to get it over with.

  "Why are you still writing about that, Trish."
  I almost said,"I dunno, out of boredom?" I have been keeping my Transition Diary for so long I just about forgot that the reason I keep track of masturbation and orgasm is because after three years and four months on Hormone Replacement Therapy, I can still become semi-erect and ejaculate to a certain extent, much to my chagrin. This information might be helpful, somewhere, someplace.

  Anyway, I am sick. Stuffy nose, cough, itchy throat, shallow breathing... the works. It still has not broken completely free though. Maybe it won't. If it is a cold, it would be good to maybe get it over with before January so that it will not interfere with my surgery date. So, it's good.

  I had electrolysis yesterday. The genital electrolysis hurt a bit this time around. I think I can illustrate how it feels when it does hurt. Take a sewing needle and hold it with a pair of pliers so that the point of the needle is being heated by a flame of some sort. When it starts glowing red hot orange, insert the needle into a hair follicle located anywhere on the genitals. Now, when it starts to burn really really bad, yank it out along with a hair. Now that is what genital electrolysis feels like at times.

  Sometimes I look at what we who are transitioning go through to get where we need to be and I wonder if in ten, twenty or thirty years we will be looking back and thinking, "Damn, compared to the transition process today, that is some barbaric shit we went through." I mean, these topical painkillers whether over the counter or not have not been out all that long. Many of the women that have gone before me had electrolysis performed without painkillers of any kind. Yikes.

  Anyway, I have electrolysis next Wednesday, both my face and genital work. And since I have an endocrinologist appointment next Friday way over in that neighborhood I will be going to electro again, but this time we will concentrate only on genital work and hopefully get quite a bit more done. We have already done well. Right on target. Man, I shaved last Sunday morning, then yesterday and now I cannot shave again until Wednesday. One shave in ten days. This is both good and bad. It means that I have made lot's of progress, but I still have hair that comes out and it sucks. It's mostly good I guess.

  I also stopped by and saw my son last night. He likes to catch me up on some of the work he has done with his music and his computer. It was a nice visit. It was slightly difficult to leave him again. He is doing A-Okay.

  Yesterday I saw my therapist for the first time in six weeks. No revelations, no real heavy duty stuff. We talked a little about my dad. I wanted to tell my therapist what my dad said when he found out about my attempt at transitioning from male to female. It seems that he called my mom and after conversing for a time my mom told him about me. The gist of his reaction to finding out that his one and only child, the child he has not seen in twenty years, the child who is making such a radical change in their life, the sum total of his reply was (drum roll please):

   

  "I guess ya gotta do what ya gotta do."

   

    Oh that's nice dad. Thanks for asking about it, how I am doing, how long this might have been with me, what I am doing to deal with it, if I need anything..... You know, just some stupid little things that might concern you about your only born child.

  I was never good enough for you. You never really gave a shit about me and the fact that you can be so here nor there about something as radical as what I am doing with my life just proves it. I don't even want to write this crap here, but I think it is important. It's important because a person, especially a person who has a father who knows where that person is, and a person who has a father who supposedly doesn't hate that person would at the very least be a person who has a father who would ask how in the fuck that person is doing with such radical changes.... But nooooooo..... Instead I get:

   

  "C'est la vie."

    Thanks dad.

  At the risk of repeating myself: The reason my dad had called my mom in the first place was to let her know that he is moving. His wife (who is two years younger then I am and never wanted me in his life even after meeting me twenty years ago only ONE TIME for ONLY an hour or two the last time I ever saw my dad) took a new job position and so they are moving out of state. Well, my dad was only fifty two miles away from me for 18 years and I never saw him. My choice. Then since my divorce and my moving he has been about 110 miles away and I never saw him. My choice. Now he is moving out of state and I will never see him again.

  "Once again I think Trish doth complain too much."
  Shuddup. It's not like that. I am just writing.

  I think the reason he keeps coming up in my conversations etc is because I suppose I do resent the way he treated me all my life. I never feel good enough for anybody and I never feel I do a good job at anything. He is not the only one who has made me feel this way, but he was the first and for some reason I end up living with these types of people also, except for my mom. My mom is the only person I have been close to in my life who has never made me feel as though I am not good enough for anything or anybody.

  So, either I am a real loser, or I just keep attracting those that think I am after the first nine or ten months.... Fuck.

  I know that I am not as useless as I feel people see me as, but my confidence level is stuck in low gear forever it seems. Just the way it is. I can't move that damn thing. I can tell myself how great I am all day long, but I don't believe it at all and never will. That is core of it and I have just never been able to change. Do I owe this in part to my father? I think so.

  Bye for reals, dad. I wish you the best, because I love you. You are my only dad.

  .....and I will do what I gotta do.

   

Tuesday, October 14th, 2003

• Woof. I am...

  ...sicker then a dog. This cold or whatever it is has since Saturday broken free babee. Cough, sore throat, stuffy nose that doesn't do anything, achy body, you know the scene. I have to make a judgment call as to whether or not I should cancel my electrolysis appointment for tomorrow. It is a long day and I am probably not up to it, but I just do not want to lose a day. It's kinda like...

  ...back before I de-toxed, I had quit smoking once before. This was about, oh shoot, I think nine or ten years ago now. I was at work one night with a co-worker/friend, we were in the warehouse and decided to use this heavy duty scale to see how much we weighed. Oh man, I had gained some pretty major weight, at least for me it was major weight. That night I decided I had better start eating right and working out or do whatever I had to do to get my weight down and keep it down. I had never worked out before to keep my weight down. I had never even worked out before for anything.

  To make a longer story short, I ended up for quite a long period of time eating very few calories a day, running three to five miles a day six days a week, and light weight training (because light is all I could do, it wasn't really light to me) three to four times a week. Here is the thing though: If I missed a day of working out due to sickness or anything else, I would feel so lousy. It is like, this is a day of working out that I will never get back, ever again. A day lost. My whole day would be kind of ruined. I would feel depressed.

  This is the way I feel about losing a day of electrolysis. It is a day that I will never get back. It is a hair that could have been gone a week earlier. Some will call this addictive behavior. We have seen it. We have seen the television movies about the obsessed person who exercises themselves into an unhealthy state both mentally and physically. A person who becomes intolerable to live with over "the workout". I think this is sometimes what I must sound like when I write about "losing a day".

  But I really do have deadlines with this stuff. I definitely have a deadline with genital electrolysis, and that deadline is in January, for surgery. My neck and face is a little different, but I still feel the same way. I only have so much more life to live. As I have written before there are days that I will not go out for the hair on my face. Those are lost days of living if I am passing up activities that I might enjoy.

  When I started transition, or whatever it is I thought I was doing at the time, I had decided that I would put many things aside for a while to get all of this done. Well, it has been three years and four months. That is quite a while. It is getting old. Don't get me wrong, I am not stopping, not even close to that, I am just saying that I do not want to lose any time. I do not want to lose a day. I don't think that is obsessive.

  In the last few months, there have been people all around me who have died. Both public figures and quite a few people in my personal life. The average age of these people has been seventy years old. That is only twenty two years away for me. Sure, twenty two years may sound like a long time, but it isn't. Ask any seventy year old how long twenty two years is. I can guarantee I know what they will say and the last part of it would be, live for every day.

  I cannot live for every day until I can live like anybody else.

  ..and I cannot lose any days.

  ...and I hope my lectro person will not be sore at me for showing up sick. Speaking of sore, my chest for the last seven days or so has been more sore then it has ever been.

  "Damn, Trish... Now that was a segue. Sore and sore, good one."
  Thanks.

  My chest has been the kind of sore that causes a person to instinctively attempt to protect it. Like an injury that forces you to favor certain parts of your body to protect others. Anyway, no biggie, but interesting that it has been so sore after I quit smoking. I wonder if that could have anything to do with it. I was told not, but....

  And speaking of smoking, this is my eighteenth day without a cigarette.

  "Trish!!! Another kick ass segue!"
  You need to relax.

  The no smoking is going well. Yesterday it all of a sudden hit me that I had actually gone close to six hours without thinking about smoking one single time. Believe me, this is good. There are times when I do want a cigarette really bad. They are mostly fleeting moments of habit where for just seconds at a time I desire a smoke, realize I cannot have one, become pissed off like there is no tomorrow and then it passes. Nobody around me even knows. It sucks pretty doggoned much, but these moments pass pretty quickly and they happen less frequently with every day that goes by.

  I was thinking about going to a DVD store on Thursday to get a membership card. I had also wanted to go to the library to get a card. These are just two little things I wanted to do after I received my new drivers license. It's kind of like when I had turned twenty one. I went to the last place that refused me an alcohol purchase because now I was able to whip out that drivers license and say "Screw you mistah, I am legal" and get my booze (Oh, and by the way, as an aside, he didn't ask for my license, the jerk).

  It is kinda like that. As Trish I was never refused anything because I never even tried to get anything under Trish's name. It would have never gotten past square one because my name wasn't legally Trish. But it is now. Another step towards normal life. Anyway, I don't think I will go this week because I am sick. Next week.

  "Um, Trish. Normal life? Just what is normal life? Is there such a thing? Isn't one persons normal life another persons abnormal life?"
  Listen you, don't start that shit with me. Do NOT start that shit with me.

  Everybody has their own idea of what normal life is. I have found that it is probably for the best if I just take what my idea of what a normal life is and just go attempt to live it. And I am getting there.

   

Tuesday, October 21st, 2003

• Here are...

  ...some things that have bummed me out in the last seven days:

  A. My cold/flu has kicked in royally and I have felt really terrible. I mean really awful.

  B. I have not slept well for days. This time around due to the cold, and.....

  C. ...my body has been itching like no tomorrow. My whole body. If I feel an itch, I go to scratch it and boom, another spot where I will itch for hours. It is torture. I haven't been sleeping, I have been scratching. I will be doing something like, oh, typing up this entry and all of a sudden I will realize that I am scratching a part of my body into a bloody (literally) mess.

  D. Oh, and take a guess which spot has been as itchy as anything else. Think healing from aggressive electrolysis. Think base of penis. Think testicles. Think fa-uh-huh-huh-huck.

  E. The weather has been hot hot hotter then all get out. Having a cold in this weather sucks bigtime.

  F. The weather has also been totally dry and this too plays Hell on a person with a cold, and really plays Hell on a person with dry and itchy skin.

  G. Last Thursday when I opened my eyeglass case, I discovered that my eyeglasses had broken and I have not been able to read or see important things without them.

  H. I am sick of honey lemon cough drops and sugar in my mouth in general.

  I. I have had days of being completely cranky and irritable.

   

    Here are some things that have not bummed me out in the last seven days:

  A. Just ninety-nine days until my (GRS) surgery.

  B. This is my twenty-fifth day without a cigarette. I am thinking about wanting one less and less and less.

  C. I have gained maybe four pounds (if that, knock on wood) since quitting tobacco. Carrots and water, babee.

  D. THIS IS MY TWENTY-FIFTH DAY WITHOUT A CIGARETTE.

  E. Yesterday I had my eyeglasses repaired, for free. I can see again.

  F. Last Friday my endocrinologist wrote out a prescription for antibiotics for me, for my cold.

  G. The script was made out to, Trish Xxxxxx. The very first in my new name.

  H. I discovered yesterday that Halls® makes menthol cough drops in *strawberry*.

  I. I also found some anti-itch cream. I have had two nights of less itchy sleep.

  J. I have not shaved in four and a half days and there is very little hair to see on my face or neck.

  K. I found out that I get to go spend Halloween down at my son's house. He is having a party and a spooky display in the yard. This will be fun. He is really good at such things.

  L. My electro person gave me a little jack-o'-lantern pin that I can wear. It's one of those new fangled ones with the eighteen jillion little lights flickering on and off and off and on all over the place. Festivities are what you make of them and little things like this make them just that much more............ festive.

  M. Fortunately I was alone for all but one of my cranky irritable days.

  N. ..and last but not least, Johnson's® Baby Oil.

   

    I went to my endocrinologist appointment on Friday. All is well. My records have all been changed to reflect my legal name change to Trish. I let my endo know that I had been approved on all fronts for GRS. He seemed genuinely happy to hear this. That surprised me a bit as I really don't think we are all that close. We communicate well enough, but it just doesn't feel close at all. I got two smiles from him. The first one being when he asked about my legal name change progress and I produced my new drivers license for him, and the second upon the news of surgery approval.

  He said to me, "It has been a rough go for you at times. I am glad that it is all working out for you." He says this and we have not even communicated that much at all. I replied that "Yeah, it has at times, and there are some things coming up that I feel real goosey about, but, time will tell." I mean, I still have employment to face. This might be a real bitch. I will work again. Everybody works and with the exception of the recent past, I always have. But anyway, the endocrinologist front is well.

  My next endo appointment is for February 20th, 2004, post-op, unless as my endo said, "....something comes up that would require my assistance before surgery."

Monday, October 27th, 2003

• Saturday I went...

  ...down and got the BLOCKBUSTER® movie rental club card in my name, Trish. It was rather uneventful. I guess that is regular life. Good deal. I didn't even rent a DVD or video tape. I just wanted the card, and now, I have it. I do like to look at it. Next up, Hollywood Video Rental and a library card.

  On Friday I had my teeth cleaned. That felt really good. I am loving my new teeth. I also had all my records changed at the dentist to reflect my name change. Unfortunately, I still have nothing to hold and look at for that one. But when the next "This is to remind you that it is time for your teeth cleaning and exam" postcard arrives in the mail, I will have something to hold and look at. And my next cleaning appointment is on January 26th, 2004, just a few days before my surgery. I want to have my teeth whitened, but I inquired about the price and I cannot afford it.

  I have several phone calls to make this morning regarding my name change. I can finally do that because I am feeling much better, my cold is subsiding. Man, that cold is some shit. I felt so terrible. But I think I am (knock on wood) doing pretty much better now.

  A good friend of mine gave this T to me as a gift when Trish became my legal name. I love it so much. And I will have it forever, just like my name. And just recently my Mom gave me a pen with Trish Marie Xxxxxx engraved on it along with a datebook inscribed with my initials. I love them, and I love them, very much. Thanks yous.

  This is day thirty-one without a cigarette. Yesterday and the day before for some reason were very rough. But I am hanging in there. I am saving money like there is no tomorrow. I sure would like to breathe deeply, but I had/have that cold, and now the smoke of the California wildfires...

  The wildfires are kind of scary today. They are close. People all around our hills are preparing for possible evacuation. It is a long shot (again, knock on wood), but it is a little frightening. Everybody is taking pictures of their homes and belongings for insurance purposes. The smoke is kind of heavy in the air making the lungs a little itchy. The phone has been ringing off of the hook for two days, people asking if we are alright and fire progress updates. And our phone lines have been cutting off abruptly. Mom and I have been discussing what it is we will grab should they say it is time to leave. Me? Pictures, files, computer backups, all firearms, all leather for said firearms and my animals. What else can ya do.

  ...and to think that some of these fires are set on purpose. Holy shit.

  I am still itching. Dry skin city, But the anti-itch cream is helping. You needed to know this.
  "I did?"
  Yes, you did.

  Genital electrolysis is going pretty well. I have had seven and a half hours done so far and we are just about finished clearing the entire area that needs to be cleared, for surgery. It will be completed way before my surgery date arrives. It's pretty wonderful to be free of hair all over that area period. It just feels clean, cleaner. Nice. Maybe pubic hair is a pet peeve of mine anyway. I prefer very little. And genital electrolysis has not been the horror show (for me) that so many have presented it as, thank goodness. Maybe having completed genital electrolysis for some folks is another "tranny badge of honor", and the more it is talked about as pure evil, the more of an honor having endured it is. Hey, it's no picnic, but I am a coward and it has not killed me yet.

  And speaking of horror shows.....

  This coming Friday is Halloween. I guess lots of "TG" folks use Halloween as a cover for getting out in a dress and makeup. I never did that. I never wanted the clothes and makeup to be a costume for me, and to treat it as such would feel...... funny...... ugly. I never really defined it like that out loud, it was just a feeling, and I guess that feeling kept me from even thinking of putting on a dress and makeup on Halloween. Those undefined feelings, or instincts were with me for all my life. I never knew why, I never even thought about why, I never even thought to think about why, they were just there.

  It's like, nobody could see that hair on my tummy, but I rid myself of it regularly just the same. Why? Because *I* knew it was there. Nobody else did, but *I* did. I never "dressed" on Halloween because I knew it was not a costume, everybody else would have thought that it was a costume, and to me, that is ugly.

  "Why do you care what anybody else thinks? Trish, sometimes I think you like to shoot yourself in the foot, cut off your nose to spite your face."
  What do you mean.
  "Well, at least it would have gotten you out of the house, dressed as you prefer to dress."
  But I would not have been seen as a woman. I would have been seen as a man dressed as a woman for Halloween. That would have felt very uncomfortable, ugly.
  "But you could have worn women's clothing out in the open, in the fresh air, out of the closet."
  Out of the closet? Are you kidding? That would have just been an extended........ torturous........ closet.
  "I just don't get it."

  Of course you don't. You are not saddled with this bullshit. Being "in the open, in the fresh air, out of the closet" would not have been out of the closet. Out of the closet is when people know the real reason behind your actions or behavior. Out of the closet is when people know the real you. It is not looking like one thing when everybody thinks you are another thing. Out of the closet is when you are not lying.

  To wear a dress and makeup out on Halloween to me would have been one big lie. One HUGE ass lie.

  And life is so much better now without the lies, the cover-ups, the Halloween type deals.

  Anyway, no dress for me on Halloween unless I am asked out on a date to a non-Halloween related event, and that ain't gonna happen. Besides, as I wrote before I am going to my son's house for Halloween. I am really looking forward to it. I really do love Halloween, a lot. But I like Halloween for the scary stuff, the atmosphere, the fun.

  I don't love Halloween because I can wear a dress. I can wear a dress any day that I want to. I have taken the chances. I have put myself out there. I have done the footwork. I can wear a dress whenever I want. And ya know what? I haven't worn a dress in ages. Oh the irony. Ha.

  ...and don't think that I don't feel very lucky that things have turned out well for me in some areas. I do feel lucky. But I have worked pretty hard. I have done things that others who say they feel the same way about themselves as I feel about myself have said they would not do. For whatever reason, even if the opportunity is presented to them free and clear, they would not do them. Well, I did do them. And I deserve some credit, some happiness, and some fulfillment.

  ..and I deserve a date with Johnny Depp. So Johnny.... Babe.... call me.

Saturday, November 1st, 2003

• Uh-oh...

  ...my electro person cancelled my appointments for last Wednesday and yesterday, Friday. She is sick. I say uh-oh because I hope she is not pissed at me for possibly giving my cold to her. Uh-oh. I will find out next Wednesday.

  So as long as my electrolysis appointment was cancelled on Wednesday, I took the opportunity to go to the credit union I belong to and have my account, my sharecheck card and my personal checks changed to reflect my name change to Trish.

  "This is getting old, Trish. I know you are changing your name on everything now. Do I have to hear about every little thing?"
  I know you that know it and you know that I know it and we know that we both know it. I am just trying to keep the timeline going in my Transition Diary.
  "Oh."
  Oh. Sheesh.

  Again, I had no problems there, at the credit union. It went as smooth as smooth can be and I don't think anybody even knew that I was physically male. There was no acceptance, there was no patronizing and there were no clichés, it just was, because nobody knew and that is the way. If anybody knew, they sure were keeping it a good secret. I guess anything is possible.

  On Monday I made those phone calls that I had written I was going to make. First I called Triple A (The Automobile Club of Southern California) to have them send me a new card in Trish's name. That card will be mailed to me in seven to ten days. I called my 401K/pension folks. They will send a form out to me to fill out and return, then they will reflect my name change on my account. I called my car insurance company and my change of name went into effect on Tuesday. The new "proof of insurance" card will arrive within a few days.

  Things went well with those phone calls. I was addressed as female before they even knew why I was calling. Some days things just work and some days things just don't. Monday they worked.

  Welp, with electrolysis being cancelled this week, I was able to shave whatever hair I had left on my face up until yesterday, so Thursday I again took advantage of the opportunity and went down to the public library to get that library card. Man, what a cool library. They have books (duh), they have books on tape, VHS tapes, DVD's, Compact Discs, just everything. It is so cool. I am going to be spending some time down there. So I finally got my library card and that is so cool.

  I also located a Hollywood Video® store and got a membership card there. It may seem like membership overload, but these are all the places I wanted to join once I had my name changed. Actually, I am kind of just catching up as I had a lot of this stuff in my old name, except for the library card. Soon I will start hitting all the gaming casinos around here, not to gamble, just to join. Why? Because I CAN. Because I finally can. It feels so free.

  "What do you mean, free Trish?"
  I mean free as in most anyplace I go now, there are no cover ups, no fibs, no trying to smooth one thing over for another. I am totally legal. Free.

  I know that things will pop up that will catch me off guard regarding my name, but I have been totally pleased at how things have been progressing, how easy it has been (after all the court/lawyer shit). I have the bulk of everything taken care of. Of course, there is a male name paper trail all over the place and stealth would be impossible at this point, but for everyday living, things are doing very nicely. My birth certificate and the "F" on my drivers license will be taken care of after my surgery in January (knock on wood).

  Day thirty-six without a cigarette. Over a month. Wo.

  And now, please permit me a bit of a rant.

  "Another one?"
  Hey, don't read it then.

  The other day I ran across a website with something very, VERY close to this wrtten on it, just about word for word:

  "Being 'trans' is cool! Many many young people are warming up to the fact that to be trans is like being in a really cool secret club. While trying to impress peers lots of young men and women are confessing their secret trans desires. Don't bother with gay, goth or punk, trans is now and forever!"

  Are you fucking kidding me? No, really, are you fucking kidding me? A "cool secret club"? "Impress their peers" with "transsexuality"? Choose "transsexuality" over gay, lesbian or for gawd sakes goth and punk? Do these people not have a fucking clue?? Wait, I will answer that: NO THEY DO NOT HAVE A FUCKING CLUE.

  This is exactly why younger people or people under eighteen years of age period should not be seeking information on the Internet or anyplace else without being monitored by a responsible adult or professional. Presenting "transsexuality" as a club, a cool hip club or a "choice" that is even cooler then being gay, lesbian or goth and punk is just plain irresponsible. They could really screw up some lives. Being like this is not cool and it is not a choice. The only choice we have is whether we act upon it or not and even that is totally debatable as some of us feel we have no choice but to act upon it. And round and round it goes, but choice? Get serious.

  They have one thing half right. Gay, lesbian and "TG" are forever. They are for life. I don't know where in the Hell goth and punk come into it and I give these people no credit for getting anything even half right as they don't even understand what they themselves wrote.

  ...and before you jump on me...

  "Jump on you? Who is going to jump on you."
  You still here?
  "Jump on you? Who is going to jump on you."

  Anybody... before anybody jumps on me, I cannot speak for gay or lesbian but I will speak for myself when it comes to "TG", "gender dysphoria" or "transsexuality" issues. These issues will not go away. They are for life, or at least they will be if you do not deal with them. In my humble opinion, you do not have to be "gender dysphoric" or "transsexual" for the rest of your life. Once you deal with these issues and take the appropriate actions, you do not have to live with "gender dysphoria" for life, but if you never deal with them, again in my humble opinion, for life it will be.

  Be goth and punk if you want to be, but if you are not transanything
  then you are not and never will be transanything.

  Yesterday for Halloween my Mom and I went to my son's house. He did a display in the font yard, actually the whole dang front of the house. It rocked. Fog machines, strobe lights, graveyards, special effects torches, ravens, all kinds of stuff. It was really cool. He invited friends over and a lot of the time they would just take off leaving my Mom and I to the trick or treaters. It was great. We all had pizza and those fifteen and sixteen year old boys, are they ever rowdy.

  We didn't stay overnight. We got home about 1:30 AM. Oh, I wore a black T-shirt that has a silhouette of a mean looking Bart Simpson and crossbones on it. It looks like a Simpson's version of a skull and crossbones. It says "bad to the bone" on it. It is my scary movie watching and Halloween shirt that I found some years back at a thrift shop for fifty cents. I also wore that little jack-o'-lantern pin with all the little lights on it that my lectro person gave me. Everybody tripped out on it and just as I thought, it made Halloween seem just that much more festive. Little things, ya know?

  "I don't need to know about your Halloween stuff, Trish. It has nothing to do with your transition."
  Au contraire dear friend, as my therapist once said, "Everything has to do with your (my) transition."

  My son still does not know all about Trish. I will tell him in the next few weeks. There is no way and no reason for him not to know everything now. Everything will have to fall where it may. I am keeping my fingers crossed and hoping for the best.

Thursday, November 6th, 2003

• It cost...

  ...me a total of $508.00 over the last three days to get my car to pass the smog test so I could register it for this year. What a scam. A total scam. Without the smog test it would have cost me a grand total of $58.00 to register. What a scam. Throwing $450.00 away at this point in time is not good.

  BUT, at least I was able to write the Department of Motor Vehicles a personal check in my name, Trish. My checks came yesterday and my Visa® Sharecheck card arrived on Monday. The form for my pension and 401K arrived a few days ago. I filled it out an returned it. Now all I am waiting on is my Triple A (Automobile Club) card and my proof of automobile insurance card and I am good to go for a while. I am legal babee.... totally..... one hundred percent..... solid gold..... Trish..... legal.

  So some people still feel that they have to let me know that I am self-absorbed and selfish. I quote myself from "She wants BREASTS??? ", Thursday, March 28th, 2002:

  "....we feel we need to transition. This decision and it's required actions can be perceived as very self centered, and when children and wives are involved, perception is not always wrong.. I see no reason to expect our wives to buy into it. We cannot let our imaginations run wild thinking that this is "normal" to them just because it seems that way to us."

  Now, what part "very self centered" do you think that I do not understand. I wrote the damn thing. Do you think that I am saying that this does not apply to me? "...we need to transition." We. WE need to transition. We, us, you, me, both of us, a lot of us. ME ME ME. Hell yes I think about myself a lot, a damn lot, and I have said that more then one time.

  "Yeah, Trish. I have heard you."
  See? This person backs me up and this person whoever in the Hell they are doesn't even like me.
  "Who said I don't like you, Trish?"
  Just go with the flow, Murgatroy.
  "Oh believe me, I am... I am..."

  Now, I am going to be self-centered, self-absorbed, selfish and whatever else for some time to come, so if you don't like it, just go away. All of this is what transition requires to some extent. It might appear to be the way I am being many times even when it is not the way I am being because I am not going to sit around and tell you what I did for somebody else or what charities I donated to or who on the street I gave a dollar to or some shit like that. It is about my T-R-A-N-S-I-T-I-O-N, not my charity work, so go away. And no, I am not angry, I am just saying go away, and I smile while I do it.

  

  Now then... Ahem, that's out of the way........ again.

  Now, if you will allow me to ponder. This is going to be one of those "difficult to communicate" ones I bet.

  On the way to have my car smogged this morning I saw a woman on the street. I once again thought about how great it must be to grow, mature and develop as a woman without any outside influence such as Hormone Replacement Therapy or surgery, etc. You just grow, and when you have grown, abracadabra: Woman (don't pick this apart, just take it for it's surface meaning). Then I got to thinking a little deeper...

  "Don't hurt yourself, Trish."
  Don't be a cornball, you.

  ...and goin "DAMN" to myself. "Damn damn damn." Some "TG" folks do not care about this or feel this way at all, but for those of us that do, we hurt because we will never have that "God given growing up time". If we choose to make changes in our physical appearance, we will have only what medical science is capable of doing for us, if we can pay for it, and it doesn't work out great for every individual. Yes, we have our insides, we have what we are inside, but unless we are lucky as hell we have to for the most part "transform" ourselves to appear to be on the outside what it is we feel we are inside. God won't do it babee, no matter how hard we pray, no matter how many times we pound the floor, no matter how loud we curse the sun, no matter how long we hold our breath, no matter anything. The jury is in: God ain't gonna do it for us.

  All this pondering got me to this point... There have been genetic born women who've said the following to me:

   

  "You can do whatever you want, but you will never, ever be a woman."

   

    Whatever their motivation for saying this is, it hurts. And why does it hurt? Because on a certain level(s), in certain contexts, they are totally correct. I won't from a young age grow up as a woman socially and otherwise. I won't menstruate or have the opportunity to bear children. I won't pay the dues and have the pains that women have endured. I won't many things I cannot even think of(see?), and my reply to them is always this; "I can only do what I can do."

  "So ya think being a woman is so great, huh?" Look, I didn't say it was great to be a woman, or maybe I did sometime back, or maybe not, but just maybe I should attempt to clarify it as it stands now. What I mean is, it is great to finally be able to be seen, live and breathe as what I feel I should have been in the first place. It is fantastic to be in the skin that is fitting me better as I progress along in transition. Being a woman, great? Yeah, you could probably say that. Being who I feel I am? There's the ticket. There are a million words and no words to describe it.

  Again, I am just thinking. I am not obsessing on this (too much). I am SO thankful that I live in a time when something, anything can be done about the way I feel about/see myself.

  Perhaps sometime, I will write of the trials, tribulations and general suckiness of growing up and being male. Being a man is not all it is cracked up to be, lemmie tell you. Just as a for instance, look in the news right now and see what men are doing to each other. You want to (in many circumstances) have to be a part of that? Be my guest. That shit is all over the place. Men cannot escape having to be the tough guy, anyplace. Hell, you might even have to kick ass for me sometime. And I smile when I say that.

  

  "I would not 'kick ass' for you, Trish."
  What are you, some sort of a pantywaist?
  "Don't call me that. Kicking ass is barbaric."
  Hey, with that attitude, get used to being called pantywaist.

  Okay, being called a pantywaist is full on juvenile, but I have to tell you, as a man, you run across quite a few fully grown juveniles and you will never know when an ass kicking is in your future. See? SO much fun.

  I am afraid that so much of what I have written over the last few years sounds like, "The Tranny Script".

  "Tranny Script?"

  The Tranny Script are words and phrases that a person learns. They can be found in books, chat rooms, personal websites, just so many places now-a-days and the main reason The Tranny Script exists is to impress peers, and more then that, much more then that, it exists to parrot back to your therapist in a effort to get those letters for what you "need", whether it be hormones or surgical procedures. Just the right words. Just the right phrases. The Tranny Script is deceitful. The Tranny Script is evil and has messed up more then one life. And, The Tranny Script is obvious. After a while, you can read a person like a book for their Tranny Script recitals. Most of the time they do not even know they are delivering it on a silver platter for all the world to see.

  The Tranny Script was not written knowingly and not by any one person. It has been written by many who have gone before us and it is just what it is, the words of those who have successfully transitioned, their experiences and descriptions of what worked for them. It is totally innocent until it is in the hands of a hungry actor.

  You will just have to trust me when I say that I have never intentionally used The Tranny Script. And I certainly have no reason to use it now. I have what I need to further my physical transition about as far as I can go and I done it (bad grammar and all) the hard way, and the right way. The Tranny Script would be funny if it were not so dangerous to the real as well as the actors and actresses who have searched it out.

  And for the usual and necessary disclaimer, I am not saying that I am better then anybody else. Maybe to some I am an actor. We all do things differently, but I have been totally honest and that alone makes the outcomes more rewarding for me. And I know that what I am doing is right for me. Tranny Scripterers cannot say this. Oh they do say it, but that is because it is on page three, paragraph two, line four of The Tranny Script. And no I don't have that memorized. I had to look it up.

  Romeo.. Romeo... Wherefore art thou....

  Day forty-one without a cigarette. Take heart fellow quitters, it only hurts once or twice (or three or four times) a day now. It is do-a-ble.

  On September 12, 2003, John Ritter of "Three's Company" television fame, died unexpectedly after suffering from aortic dissection, an unrecognized and undetected flaw in his heart. He had been taping his newest television show and was not feeling well. His producers et al took him to St. Joseph Medical Center in Burbank, California where he died a short time later. This was a total surprise and heartbreaking. You just never thought.....

  John was currently starring on a show entitled "8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter". It was a really funny show as sitcoms go and I watched it faithfully every week. It was about a newspaper writer who lives with his wife, two teenage daughters and a teenage son. In his children's eyes he can never do anything right and they "hate" him, or at least it appears that way

  It seems that the network has made the difficult decision to carry on with the show. I am jaded, but even I do not think this was a money decision, not in the short term anyway. It is a gamble but John Ritter was really loved. The last show to air incorporated John's death as a heart failure at the market while buying milk for the family and it's effects on them. The next few shows will be along the same theme. Nobody is expecting super great shows, they are simply being done in the name of John, for the love of John.

  In this hour long special, the first one to be taped after John's death, just about everybody in the family had said something less then flattering to Dad before he left to pick up some milk at the market. They all felt like total shits after the news of his passing.

  I don't write well.

  At the service for John, his boss from the newspaper expressed to John's wife his interest in running the last article that John had written, as a tribute. A day or so later after a painful, melancholy search through John's computer and belongings by his family, the column was found and printed out.

  The family all lay in bed at the end of the show to read it aloud. The final column that John wrote for the newspaper told of this freedom that his children feel around him. He wrote that they do not fear him as he had feared his own father in a different time. John's children felt free enough to express the "I hate you" and the "Dad, you are such a nerd" comments because they took for granted that he loved them, and that he would take for granted that they truly do love him very much. But, that was the problem. They took this for granted and they all felt SO bad for what they had said to him before he left for the market and subsequently dying.

  But after reading John's final column, they knew as they lay together as a family that it was okay. They all looked up at the ceiling and right through it to say out loud, "Thank you, dad. Thanks for the sign." Now they knew, he loved them, and they knew that he knew that they loved him. Shit, I cannot write this stuff very well, but let me tell you this is some tearjerking shit and the fact that John is really gone..... Oh man..

  Early Wednesday morning before I left on the long ride to electrolysis, I gave my Mom the usual hug good-bye and her me. I said "I love you" and her me and then it hit me that this is what I got out of "8 Simple Rules" the night before. It's the old message delivered in a most effective way. Let em know it and let em know it often. Signs don't grow on trees.

  I love you, son.

Sunday, November 9th, 2003

• Had it lasted...

  ...today would have been my 19th wedding anniversary. I didn't even remember it until just now. It's water under the bridge as they say. Things worked out for the best. My divorce has been final for just a few days longer then a year.

  Something about that reminds me that at this point in time, I have not had sexual relations for seventeen years. Sometimes I laugh when I hear somebody speak of being unhappy with their sexual..... "dry spell".

  "Yeah, it has been so damn long. Six months, maybe even seven."

  Wo, you better do something about that before you lose your sanity. As I have said before, I am living proof that a person can live without sex and still keep their wits about them.

  "Um, that might be going out on a limb, Trish."
  Yeah, you're right.

  I am living proof that a person can live without sex and still... still.... a couple of things I guess. I think that seventeen years without sexual relations of any kind does start to qualify me for the "Two Decades Without Brain Melt" award. Starting maybe mid next year I might see what I can do to possibly disqualify myself for that stinkin trophy.

  And this is important: I didn't say have a relationship, I said have sexual relations. Relationships come with too much baggage at my age. I just want some body warmth and attention. I just want to give some body warmth and attention. Not sleep alone, when I am right.

  It used to be really embarrassing for me to admit to anybody or for somebody to figure out that I had gone for so long without "getting laid". I think it might be a guy thing. Virility and attractiveness and all of that. You ain't "getting any" and you ain't either of them things and maybe more, or you are quite possibly gay. Gay? Oh shit. Busted.

  That embarrassment for me had been replaced a long time ago with, "Who gives a fuck." I don't know, maybe it is just a getting older thing. The need to prove anything to anybody is for the most part...just not important.

  This is day forty-four without a cigarette for me. Let me tell ya that the cravings can get real bad... real bad. Fortunately it only lasts for seconds at a time, but during those seconds, look out anything within striking distance(striking distance is just an expression).

  Yesterday I went to the bookstore, I finally found a couple of books that I was looking for. The first is a book on recovery from smoking using the twelve step process. The second is called A Woman's Way Through the Twelve Steps. Two fantastic books. As a "recovering alcoholic", I am never far from my Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book. I don't know if the AA Big Book is a mystery to you or not, but it was to me on my first semi-coherent day of recovery in detox.

  My copy of the AA Big Book is a nondescript inch and a quarter or so thick book with an unmarked dark blue cover. Actually there is a title on the front page, embossed, but you have to look pretty darn hard to make it out. The Big Book is anonymous. The Big Book contains The Twelve Steps, inspirational stories, spiritual guidance and it is just an overall reference book of sobriety and recovery. When I travel, it is with me. When I sleep, it is within reach. It is that sober friend when I am feeling like that is what I need. It is the memories of detox and recovery and those whose paths I have crossed on my journey to sobriety. The AA Big Book is my companion and plays a huge part in maintaining that sobriety.

  I am not preaching Alcoholics Anonymous here and I am not doing the brain wash bit. I am relating what has worked for me and the AA Big Book is such an important part of that. I am hoping that the twelve step recovery from smoking book will be the same for me. These three books will be with me always.

  The Twelve Steps can be grueling. I do not have a sponsor in Alcoholics Anonymous and I did not complete all of the steps as they are traditionally completed. But over the last seven years and five months of sobriety I feel that I have lived them.

  "Next."

  Okay, I also wrapped up what I had wanted to do with regards to fun memberships since my legal name change. Oh, there are more to join, but for now I have done what I wanted to do. Yesterday I joined an Indian gambling casino. It was great. I received a card with my name on it, and as the representative was telling me about all the cool advantages of membership, he kept handing me stuff. One of the neat things he gave me was a deck of cards that had been used the night before. On it the dealer had written the date, the time of day/night it had been opened and what table it had been used at. When I lifted the flap of the cards, on the inside the dealer had handwritten "Hope" and drawn a smiley face. Perfect.

  I have to admit, the gambling casino allows smoking and it did bother me. There is no way in Hell that I would want them to ban smoking, I am not saying that, I am just saying that it really bothered me. This is good. Fortunately, they had another smaller casino that was non-smoking. I imagine in not too many years they will reverse that and the smokers will be relegated to the smaller casino. I personally think that sucks for the smokers.

  But anywho's, what is really cool is that in the smaller non-smoking casino they have penny, yes I said penny slots. Yeah, I gambled for almost an hour and with only two dollars. Oh man. It was great. Penny slots. I told my Mom about it and she wants to go back there with me, just for fun. Twenty dollars goes really fast when you are playing nickels, dimes or quarters, but pennies? Pennies rule. Hey, I know you don't make any money with pennies, but I didn't with twenties either, back in the day.

  Anyway, my fun memberships since legal name change are for now complete. There will be more, but the memberships I wanted to get for sure, the library, the two video rental stores and a casino have been membershipped.

  A day or two ago, I read the online diary of a person who considers themselves to be transsexual. They stated that RLT, the Real Life Test ("living in the female role for at least a year, to demonstrate the ability to function as a woman") is not valid at all unless you are holding down a full time job. You know what? I can pretty much agree with that, but it is the only Harry Benjamin Standards of Care item that I have not followed to a tee because the employment front is just not working out that way, so I say fuck that.

  "But... but... but... but but but butbutbutbutbut, Trish"
  Oh man. Fuck this. I am not going to address this right now. It is not the right time.

  I will in a few months, when the shit is either hitting or not hitting the fan. I need to wash some dishes.

  Yeah, I am concerned about a few things, all external. But that will not stop me from getting what I feel I need.

  Sometimes you just have to let the chips fall where they may. I feel I am doing the right thing for myself. I know I am. The chips are just going to have to fall where they may.

  I am going to stop now. This has all been done before. Over and over. Many, many times. It is not needed.

  I am who I am and if life is going to kick my ass for it, then I am just going to get my ass kicked. I may whine when it happens, but at least I will be whining from a better place.

Saturday, November 15th, 2003

• I had forgotten...

  ...to write that the "proof of insurance" for my car in Trish's name came and on Wednesday my Triple A card arrived in the mail. So that kind of wraps that up for a while.

  I do not like to write about myself in third person. I am always saying stuff like, "Oh Trish's this came" or "Trish's that came" or "So and so now knows about Trish" or "This finally arrived my new name." Trish is not my new name (except legally), and I am Trish. It is just that I have to write it that way sometimes or everything is out of context and nobody knows what in the heck I am talking about.

  This past Wednesday was kind of rough. For some reason things seem to catch up with me. I don't know if we hit a nerve in electrolysis or what, but in the afternoon a "tick" of sorts started on my left cheek that went on until four thirty AM Thursday morning. You know, those little ticks where you can see your nerves jump? Very bothersome at fifty to one hundred and ten little ticks a minute. Plus, after nine hours of driving, being right behind a double fatality car accident, waiting for two hours to move (while counting ticks in your left cheek) as they closed the freeway to clean it up, an hour and thirty minutes of electrolysis above the neck, thirty minutes of electro in my crotch and numerous other dodgings and loud noise, I had an anxiety attack. I had a panic thing the likes of which I have not had since my early twenties.

  I was in the fast lane and did my best to keep it together. There were no exits. I was changing lanes the best I could to set myself up to get off whenever I could find a spot. I rolled all the windows down as fast as I could to let all the cold air rush in. I was passing out and I was cold sweating. As it turns out, there never was a place to pull over and I managed to get through the attack without missing a driving beat. Dangerous.

  Just as I have no idea what brought on my very first ever anxiety attack some twenty seven years ago, I really don't know for sure what brought this one on. They just come from nowhere. Stress is all I can figure, but this was not a whole lot more stressful of a day then many others. I have had many small panic/anxiety attacks over the years on an almost daily basis, but the huge ones are a little more rare. You learn how to deal with the small ones.

  I had my first anxiety attack when they were not even known about. As a result I had glucose tests, electroencephalograms and other crap done. Nobody could tell me why this was happening to me.

  So now the time comes to start almost from scratch to work to avoid these attacks again. There are certain things that I cannot do for sure or they will bring one on. For instance, I cannot drive holding the steering wheel with both hands positioned at the bottom. This is will bring one on. For twenty seven years I have not driven with my hands holding the steering wheel at the bottom. This is just one of the things I cannot do or I will have an attack. I believe this is because I was driving and my hands were positioned this way when I had my very first attack. Oh well, you try not to think about it too too much. It just makes it worse. You can talk yourself into having one.

  It has been one year since I have used a men's restroom. It was a year ago that I said enough is enough. In this year, I actually did use the men's restroom one time. It was when I was with a person that I was not out to. It was just unavoidable. Going in there was humiliating. I just did my best to keep to myself, get in and get out as fast as possible without being seen. Come to think of it, it was very similar to the way I used to do things when I first started using the women's restroom. As it turns out there was only a man and his little boy in there and the man was busy zipping his little boy up and so they never looked at me.

  I was thinking about this the other day and I now understand one of the things that bothers me the most about having to ever using a men's restroom again, I mean, besides the obvious, and that is:

  What if go in there, somebody takes notice of me and they don't say,
  "Hey, this the men's restroom, lady."

  Oh well (again), using the men's restroom again ain't gonna happen. It's just wrong.

   

    This is day forty-nine without a cigarette. Last night I drove my Mom over to visit a friend in the hospital. I waited in the car. After that we went over to a shopping mall and looked around for a birthday present for a friend, a little Thanksgiving gift I wanted to get for another friend, and Christmas stuff in general. We were out for about six hours and on the way home, in the car it suddenly struck me that in all that time I had not craved or even thought of a cigarette even once. This is great seeing as how I used to light up after every store visit. Oh, and we ate a small meal too and everybody knows about smokers and meals. I didn't even think of the after dinner cigarette. This is progress.

  In my "Recovery from Smoking: Quitting with the 12 Step Process" book it talks about something called "HALT". It is an acronym for things to avoid when quitting smoking and for staying off of nicotine. HALT stands for:

  H - Hungry.
  A - Angry.
  L - Lonely.
  T - Tired.

  What, are ya kidding? I am always hungry. I am angry a shitload of the time about one thing or another. I am lonely. Tired? Yeah. I have all the time I need to sleep, but turning off the brain is another subject. I guess it is a good thing I bought this book because now I really know what it is I need to work on to stay off of nicotine for good.

  However, if I had come up with that HALT thing, I would have spelled it HALTH. And the last H (or the first one at certain times) would stand for Horny. Or maybe I would have called it HALEH for Extremely Horny. Or better yet, HALTEFH for.....

  In three short months I will have had gender/sexual/genital reassignment surgery some two weeks prior. I am pretty doggoned scared. Even more then that I am pretty damn excited. I put it out of my mind or I won't even be able to sleep and that just flies in the face of HALTEFH.

  My therapist and I have discussed "The Candidate Syndrome", or at least that is what I call it. The Candidate is a movie about a man who was running for President of The United States. The whole movie was about his running, the planning, the campaign, the handshaking, the speeches, the hype and the hoopla and nothing about what he would do if he were to be elected. You know, just about like real life. When he was finally elected, the last scene in the movie was of him, all alone, sitting on a bed in some hotel room and you could see that he was thinking, "What now. What in the Hell now." Anyway, I have not seen the movie in years, but this is how I remember it.

  It appears that many people have worked so long and so hard at transition with surgery being the ultimate goal and the crowning glory that there are no plans made for the future, life after surgery. Not much thought is given to, "What now". Well, I am giving thought to my "What now". I am not sure how it will turn out, but my therapist would never even have thought of approving me for surgery if he knew that there were a good chance that I would fall prey to "The Candidate Syndrome".

  There will be more on this in the future, after my surgery (knock on wood) if I keep my Transition Diary active. I have a long way to go but I am not sure when it is that I will wrap this diary up and say, "The End".

Monday, December 1st, 2003

• I am having...

  ...a lot of anxieties. It sucks. I am a little concerned. I am not sure if I am not feeling well because of the anxieties or if I am having anxieties because I am not feeling well. That is the nature of the beast. As I had written, when the panic monster grabs you again in a big way, it is almost like starting from scratch in learning to deal with him again. You have worked really hard to keep the bigger monsters away, and when one gets through, your defensives have failed and you must learn how to build them up again. It is scary.

  I will not take "fat building personality taking away" anti-depressant drugs. I could not afford to pay for them or have them prescribed anyway. But that is really besides the point as I will never do anti-depressants again unless I am ready to just sit in a chair and watch television twenty-four hours a day for the rest of my existence or they put me in the coat with rusty buckles. I have seen the buckle coat crowd up close and personal..... pretty freaky and as long as I can see it as freaky and not something I can relate to, no anti-depressants for me.

  There are some family/ex-family dynamics presently at work that are a little frustrating. This too is adding to the mix. I am not going to write of them out of respect for everybody's privacy.

  On Wednesday November 19th at 8 hours and 30 minutes of genital electrolysis, the required clearing for GRS has been completed. Now we just go back over it all killing any stray hair and perhaps widening the cleared area a bit just for good measure. My electrolysis person says that it never hurts to have a little more cleared then is required.

  Genital electrolysis for the most part did not pan out to be the Hell that it has been portrayed to be. I know for sure that everybody is different, and I am just different enough that I have a really low pain threshold, but electrolysis on my upper lip averages out to be more painful for me. Oh sure, genital electro is having it's moments but it is not the torture factory for me that I had heard about. Thank you to the Great Whoever for that. Take heart friends, Hellish suffering may not be in your future.

  I also had therapy on that same Wednesday, the first in about six weeks. It was good.

  I have been showing my frustration to others a little more lately when it comes to the use of proper pronouns, especially in public, the he's, the she's. My Mom for one, although being one thousand percent supportive and trying, for the most part just can't seem to get it right. After all these years of me being a he to her, the die seems to be cast. We have agreed to be in public together a little less. It is getting just a little too "not good" being outed all the time. It is difficult emotionally as well.

  Hmmmm... How do I say this. If I am in a situation where I am not going to be addressed as female at least in pronouns and manner, I need to start taking myself out of that situation. I am at that point in transition where I must start doing this. It is not a snobbish/unthankful thing. It is a staying safe, mental health and "what the Hell am I doing all this for anyway" thing.

  I am going to try and not cuss in my Transition Diary so much. I do not cuss in real time like I do here. I cuss, but this place would have a person believing that I used the word "fuck" a hundred times a day. I don't. Anyway, I am going to make an effort to cuss less.

  My son was here for a few days over Thanksgiving. I am thankful that it is working out that he is here during the major holidays. It looks as though he will be here for Christmas as well.

  Today is day sixty-six without a cigarette or nicotine. It has been pretty hard lately. Surprising that it can be more stressful at times now then it was in the first week or two, but it has been. I will hang on, for surgery. After that, I may start smoking again. Oh, and I have gained approximately seven to ten pounds. This is not acceptable so for the last several days I have not eaten but a snack or two here and there. I will not gain weight. This cannot be stressed enough. I will not gain weight. I don't have all that much in life, I don't ask for a whole lot, but I do ask to never be fat and I work hard to not be that way.

  I live in the mountains and there is no place I can get a good aerobic workout, like walking. I am still looking at my options.

  Not much has happened in the last weeks. I am just trying to bide my time and not have a heart attack, car accident or break my leg or something before surgery. *Knock on wood* I of course had previously made a deposit to reserve a surgery date, and now the first half of the payment for the surgery is due next Monday. Three weeks after that, the balance will be due.

  I am feeling that all may not peachy in the Land of Trish. It could be the monster.

Thursday, December 11th, 2003

• Being ugly...

  ...or less then attractive sucks on some days a bit worse then others. Today is one of those days when it really sucks. I hate the world today, and the world hates me.

  "Awwww... It's going to be alright, Trish."
  That is so damn patronizing. You don't know it is going to be alright.
  "...but"
  You don't know a damn thing. I have always been ugly and I always will be ugly so shut the fuck up.

  This is the way it is. It is just easier to accept on days that are not today.

Friday, December 12th, 2003

• I'm still...

  ...hating it. I can feel it in my bones. God is fucking with my health to keep surgery from happening. I have been having heart palpitations for the last four weeks. I have had them before, but not like this. They are one after the other now.

  I have no appetite. In the last two days I have had a bagel. This sucks.

  And my mom is pissed at me for not eating for two days. People around me for any length of time always end up pissed at me. Every time.

  Back before I was approved for Gender Reassignment Surgery, I thought these would be great days. These should be some of the happiest days of my life. But they aren't. They suck.

  Why the hell can't I enjoy ANYthing.

  Why the fuck can't I just be happy. I am so afraid that things are going to be taken away from me that I cannot just sit back and enjoy them, or the prospect of having them.

  I am really pissed these days that I cannot drink alcohol, that I cannot get high on anything, and that I cannot even smoke a GD cigarette. So I just sit here in my space, alone, and sit, and sit.

  And if I posted a picture on my website, of what I really look like... No wig, no makeup, no nuthin, just me, you would see how truly ugly I am. Not just ugly for a female, not just ugly for a guy, but ugly for a human being. I mean just plain fugged up ugly. The only thing that has stopped me from posting that picture on my website is that I don't want you to know for sure how butt ugly I am. When you know it, it is really going to be true. At least this way, on occasion, I can lie to myself.

  I had written in my Transition Diary when I moved here to my mom's about a year and a half ago, that I now have just about every chance at being happy that I could possibly have. Well, that is still true so I am really starting to think that if I ain't happy now, I will never ever be happy. Whether by my own hand or the hand of somebody else, I just don't think that I will ever... be... happy. It is a scary prospect and I can't figure it out. I really try to be happy.

  "Waaa waaa waaa, shallow shallow self-absorbed Trish."
  Fuck you.

  I am so frustrated, but mostly I am freaked out that surgery will be cancelled the morning before it is supposed to take place.

Saturday, December 13th, 2003

• Still...

  ...hating it.

Saturday, December 20th, 2003

• These are...

  ...the first hormones prescribed to me in my name. I know, big deal, but still very cool for now. I refilled this estradiol, but not the spironolactone. When I stop taking hormones on January 7th 2004 in preparation for GRS, that will be it for spiro the "testosterone blocker". No more spiro. There will be little testosterone to block. Praise the Lord. I had therapy on Wednesday. My therapist has a way of helping me out of my bad spots more often then not. And he did this for me this week. He gave me some direction, some things to focus on rather then trying to take it all on all at once. This is helping a lot. I still suck and I am still ugly. No, my therapist didn't say that, that is me talking. (But he probably thinks it... Heh heh..)

  You know? There are people who think that I go to a therapist so that I can get permission to "crossdress" and shit and have them push me down that road like it is what I should be doing and also so that nobody can tell me that what I am doing is wrong because "My therapist said it's not wrong and so I can do it... Nah nah nahhhh nah." This cannot be further from the truth.

  "Hey, another very very cool long ass sentence there, Trish."
  Oh thanks. Hey, where've ya been, I've missed ya.
  "Oh sure, missed me like the plague."
  Well....
  "Well yeah..."

  My therapist has never told me what to do. As I have stressed before, he only attempts to safely guide me along the path that I choose for myself. If what I desire to do is not safe or a good idea, he lets me know. But he has never said, "Trish, you are such a girl you could not possibly live as a guy" or anything close to that. If I wanted to live as a guy now, he would explore it with me, and if that was the path I wanted to follow, he would help me go down it. He has never, ever pushed me into anything or told me what it is I can or cannot do. His concern is not only for me, but those close to me.

  If my therapist said, "You go girl!", I would punch him and then run away! Very fast...

  Last Tuesday the card came in the mail that says Trish is now registered to vote. Yes. This too is very cool. I am going to be a voting fool. I will probably also be called for jury duty soon. Oh man. It is my duty as an American and I have done it before on more then one occasion, but this would be bad timing.

  This is my 85th day without a cigarette, and it has sucked for the last two or three weeks. I am not trying to discourage anybody from quitting. It is very doable, but difficult at some points. Very... very... difficult.

  I have gained some weight. My metabolism is changing as losing weight is different now. I didn't eat for a few days and lost no weight at all. I am up to 138 pounds. So all in all, since my weight fluctuates I have gained about 5 to 10 pounds. I am still watching this very closely. I will not get fat.

  After electrolysis on Monday I am going to pick my son up and bring him back here with me. He is going to be here for Christmas. I am not sure for how many days.

  The first payment to my GRS surgeon was sent and receipt has been acknowledged. The balance was sent in today. Surgery is all paid for. My bank account is shrinking but I am not going to think about future money concerns at this time. It would be non-productive.

  All required Health and History forms, all required paperwork has been completed and received by my surgeon's office.

  I am never sure what to call the reconstruction surgery that I am about to undergo. I usually say GRS(Gender Reassignment Surgery) or GRS(Genital Reassignment Surgery) or SRS(Sexual Reassignment Surgery) or what the hell ever. It seems that nobody can agree on one title as they all have different meanings/definitions to different people. It is impossible to please everybody. I am not sure that I like any of them. Reconstructive Surgery is good I guess. But nobody would know what I am talking about if I said I were about to undergo RS. "Huh? R what?" And I don't plan on talking about it a lot in the hopes that it will be assimilated into "Trannie Terminology".

  But RS kinda of makes sense to me. My genitals are not what I feel they should have been so we are going to reconstruct them to be more like what I feel they/I should feel like, look like, be like... Again.. whatever. I imagine somebody is going to have a problem with RS also.

  Transgender community? They can't even agree on a name for... for... for... whatever it is.

  The one that I detest is "sex change". Anybody uses this term around me and I am on the bus to Tune-Out City, ticket in hand.

  Sex change sounds so 1955 Playboy® to me. It sounds so uneducated. It sounds so fetish. It sounds like something you would hear on a construction lot:

  "Hey Big John! Look at Baaaaaarrrrrnnnnneeeeeyyyyy! He can't even lift that box!
  What are ya, some kinda fag, Barney??
  Ya gonna get a sex chaaaannngggeee, Baaarrrnnnyyy???!!!"

  I reaaallllyyyy dislike the term, "sex change".

  But anyway, nobody will ever come together on this stuff. So... if you are lucky, you do what you need to do, silently if you can, and as best that you can and just live your life and none of this shit matters anyway.

Tuesday, December 30th, 2003

• I am not...

  ...even going to attempt to catch my typos in this quick entry.

  I have a major toothache going on in a tooth that I had already had a root canal in not long ago. I didn't sleep last night. I called the dentist this morning to try and get in to see him. I spoke to the receptionist and she was going to call the dentist. It is the holidays. They have so far not returned my call. I am so close to surgery (GRS) that I have to get this cleared up and get this cleared up fast.

  And this is the day that I am supposed to stop all medication (except for hormones) in preparation for the surgery.

  I have just four more lousy weeks to get through.

  Day ninety-five without a cigarette and I am close to hating every minute of it. If I were rich I would say, "I am going to start smoking again as soon after surgery as I can." But I am not rich. I am very far from rich, so I will just say, "I am going to maybe start smoking again after surgery." Chalk me up as another victim of Rabid Ex-Smokers With A Cause taxing the shit out of cigarettes... Oh, by the way, where are those tax dollars from cigarette purchases located now-a-days. Oh, in The Bank of Up Your Ass? That's what I thought.

  I want a cigarette real bad.

  Anyway, lot's of good stuff going on too. If it is not sabotaged, I will write of it soon, when I am not throbbing.

  "Hey Trish..."
  What.
  "What if the good stuffs are sabotaged, will you write about 'em then?"
  With zeal, bud. Now go away. I am throbbing.