Self esteem, thy name is Holly

In which I write something that has prevented me from sleeping since it popped into my brain at 3am!

Yesterday my mood could be described in many ways. Happy, stupid, elated, weird. All kinds of things for no apparent reason. I found everything funny, couldn't stop giggling. It was great. I've not felt like that...well probably ever. It was amazing.

I had been feeling good since I left the house in the afternoon to go to my group therapy session, and my mood only improved as the evening progressed. During the session I told the group (one of whom already knew) about my exploits over the last few days. I told them I had created a profile on a dating site, and that I had challenged myself and actually messaged someone. They never responded but that wasn't the point. The point was to prove to myself that I can actually initiate things like this, and that the worst that can happen is basically nothing!

On the website, the only thing people are shown initially is the picture. The profile is shown to people who have a similar personality. Although I have stated in my profile I am trans, the profile is listed as female. This means that to anyone who has seen the picture, they have been told it is a girl. So far I've had over 100 people look at my profile. 100 people who have seen that picture and thought 'that is a picture of a girl'. This in itself is amazing. To think that people have seen a picture of me and not even questioned my gender is fantastic. But I realised it also means that over 100 people have seen that picture and thought that I'm cute enough to read the profile. Now I know a lot of people who would say that isn't such a big deal. Well all those people can consume a pile of whatever thing you find most unpleasant because to me that is amazing. I have never in my life considered myself to be worth somebody else's time, but as I've been able to be Holly, I've started to change that. This has demonstrated to me that I apparently AM worth a second glance. That I'm not so unpleasant that you wouldn't even click the image!

Unfortunately for me, I have yet to have any messages. It's probably rather unfortunate that for all the straight guys looking at my profile, the first thing they will read is that I'm trans and probably jump ship. But that got me thinking about something else. My therapist said yesterday that he wondered what it would be like when I actually got a date. I wasn't sure, but I guessed it would be bad. I'm nervous and generally still worried about everything. Am I worth their time. Do they even like me. Is the whole trans thing a problem. But at 3am my brain decided it needed to wake me the hell up and teach me a lesson about self esteem.

The first paragraph of that profile says in no uncertain terms that I am trans, pre everything. I'm sure this puts a lot of people off, because let's face it, it's not what most people are looking for. I felt disheartened. "If only someone would give me a chance, and maybe see my personality" I thought. "If only".

Then I realised something. Something important. I don't WANT someone to 'give me a chance'. I don't want to go on a date with some guy who is essentially doing it because he "might be able to love a tranny" or treats me like a man who happens to be wearing a dress. I don't want that at ALL. Not only that, but I realised I DESERVE better! I realised that if I'm honest with myself, I have a lot to offer someone. I am sweet and kind, funny and fun apparently. If I had the right person I'd do almost anything for them. I would make an excellent girlfriend to the right person. But I DESERVE someone who likes me for who I am. EXACTLY who I am. Someone who looks at me and thinks "That's Holly. SHE is my girlfriend." Someone who can celebrate the fact that I've discovered myself and am becoming the person I am supposed to be! I deserve that, nothing less!

This, for me, is huge. It's the first and only time I can recall where I've been able to sit there and say "these things are good about myself". The first time I've been able to think "I deserve someone special, not whoever happens to tolerate me long enough". The first time I've ever felt confident about things.

YAY!

The one with the challenge

Holly sets herself a challenge. Ross and Chandler are busy making dinosaur puppets. Phoebe discovers she is really a vampire.


Yeah I just made myself part of the cast of friends, what of it?

So, as I wrote...yesterday? Was it? Well whenever it was, I made myself a dating profile. I've filled it all in. I TRIED to make it sound appealing. Mr J says its good, and if he thought it was crap he would tell me 'cause Mr J is a nice man who wants me to find a nice boyfriend (or girlfriend)!

But I hear what you're all shouting. "Holly" you cry "Holly. You are to much of a scaredy cat to go on a date with someone". To which I say, "Yes probably!". But that wasn't the point...well it's a little bit the point. Well actually it is a LOT of the point. I don't like the idea of dating but I have to be realistic, the chances of me waking up next to the guy of my dreams tomorrow is pretty slim (that or I have a very sad life ahead of me with the dinosaur cushion!).

So anyway, it's all filled out, I uploaded a picture and answered a bunch of questions. Now so far I've had quite a few views. Which is good, because it means that so far at least 100 people with basic accounts have seen the picture it shows them and thought 'eh, she's kind of cute'. Frankly these people could have exceptionally low standards, I don't care, for two reasons.

1. It proves that SOME people like how I look
2. It proves that at least 100 people either thought I was a cis-female or didn't care.

Which is excellent. I have stated pretty clearly that I am trans, pre-everything in the profile because frankly I can do without messaging people who disappear when they find out. I'd rather have it out of the way.

The first person that viewed my profile, actually appeared to be a damned good match. He even 'liked' my profile.  For some reason the site tells you they liked it but doesn't tell you what rating the gave it out of 5, so frankly I have no idea...I assume if it was low it wouldn't be liked? I might have to test it! Well anyway I liked his profile back and basically told myself that I didn't expect a message. Probably wise, because I haven't had one.

HOWEVER (and this is the reason this was worth its own blog post) I set myself a challenge. Now I won't lie, because Mr J doesn't like it when I say I didn't want something to happen when secretly I really did and I need to stop doing it. If I am honest, I wanted a message from him. I didn't expect one, but it would have been nice. I have NO idea what I would have done, but still, it would have been nice. But after waiting for some time I set myself a challenge. If I want that message so bad, I have to send one to him!

Then I chickened out.


Fortunately I did whatever the female equivalent of 'growing a pair' is and sent him a message! Nothing much, just saying hi and asking if he wanted to message me at some point. I don't imagine he will, and if he doesn't, it's not the end of the world, because at least it proves that I CAN do it if I want to. Of course the harder part is keeping that going and/or finding people to actually message, but one step at a time!

So yeah, go me! Dating pro!

The nights are the hard parts

In which I inform you as to why I wish I had a single bed.

Long time no write, blog people, and with good reason, I've done bugger all.

Well that's not true at all. In fact, it's a downright lie. I have, in reality, gone from being a closet girl to being Miss ******* to the whole wide universe!

I'll do the catchup quickly and move on to the next bit!

So it's not been what...exactly a month apparently, since I told my sisters and was allowed to live as the real live human girl I'm supposed to be. So to all those people who were waiting for me to say "This was a huge mistake", can I now take this opportunity to bite my thumb in your direction. That's right, I went all Shakespearian on your arses!

Anyway, the last month has been amazing. I've had some of the most amazing messages of support from so many people. I have felt better about myself every single day. I've still had bad days, and they've been really bad, but at least I started them on a high note! There is something about waking up under your nice girly blanket wearing your nice girly pyjamas that makes everything seem OK.

I've since returned to work AND choir and everyone has been great. I still hate shaving all the damn time, but hey, I'm happier than I've ever been. But more on that another time.

Today I address the problem of my bed. Or specifically the fact that I'm the only one in it. Don't let your minds run away with you, I'm not talking blue here, I'm just lonely and bored.

Friends are great. You can watch movies with them, eat junk food and generally be lazy. Unfortunately, unless you have some sort of prior agreement with them, you can't snuggle up to them while this goes on. So far in my life I've never wanted that. Now I do. So in the interests of fixing that, I've done something WILD AND CRAZY.

DUM DUM DUUUUUM.

I made a profile on a dating site.

Yes. For anyone who knows me, you will appreciate the magnitude of this. For those of you that don't know me, allow me to explain.

I HATE meeting new people. It scares the hell out of me.

But I figure, statistically, someone out there has to want the same things I want. Someone will like me for who I am, and I'm not going to find them sitting here complaining about it on the internet! Since I can't exactly go OUT and find them, this will have to do.

Will I ever respond the the unlikely event of a message? I have no idea...we'll have to wait and see.

Two down, one to go

In which I reveal the facts concerning the most important two days I am likely to experience.


I've told a lot of people about my transition plans now, and it doesn't seem to get any easier. I never know how to start. Nobody knows how to react. I never know what people will say or do. It's awful but it needs to be done.

Tomorrow I will be telling my sisters. This is the final hurdle for me as far as telling people goes. Once they know, I can live as Holly full time. Forever. This last week has been awful for me but I've made it through by reminding myself that I have less than a week to go.

Tomorrow is going to be scary. I've not told a child this news yet and I don't know what will happen. I'm really not sure what to say. I have plans and ideas but I have no idea if I will stick to them. But tomorrow they will know. Needless to say I am really worried. But telling the girls is a small thing compared to what I did today. The girls are young, they will get used to it. But today I tackled the other end of the family spectrum...

Today I told my grandparents!

I have written before about my Dad's parents and about how nervous I have been about telling them. In the past my grandad has threatened to ban me from the house for wearing nail-varnish. My dad says he is a straight-up homophobe. I've not been sure how my granny would react but since she once tried to tell me how I was a fool because 'Evolution is a lie' I was not hopeful.

My Dad was also scared. On the way to their house he nearly burst into tears for fear of 'my family letting us down'. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he really didn't want them to react badly.

When we arrived, it transpired that my Grandad was still at work. We decided to eat and tell Granny on her own. I explained the situation as carefully as I could. It would be no in no way an exaggeration to say she looked ill. She began to move things around the dinner table just for something to do.

Then she said something I feel ashamed to admit I was not expecting to hear. "Well, we'll always love you and we'll never turn you away!"

Every so often she would remind me to 'think carefully' about the situation. I think this was more for lack of better words than anything else as she continued to find random tasks with which to occupy herself. By the end of the evening I had explained to her what I needed to and she has begun to start calling me 'dear' or 'my grandchild' to help her transition away from ****** and towards Holly.

Grandad returned from work shortly after I had informed Granny. She sat at the table looking ill and I asked Grandad to take a seat next to her. I explained the situation to him. His reaction was the one I feared most, for reasons I do not fully understand. I asked him to tell me honestly what he thought, even if I wouldn't like it. He told me he thought the whole thing was a bad idea. He said he couldn't encourage it at all.

However, he agree to keep an open mind if he saw that it made me happy. He told me before I left that he would probably end up calling me ***** for a long while, but if he DID he wasn't doing it to make me feel bad. He wanted me to know that.

I still have no idea how they will take it in the long run. Granny thinks she will cry when she sees me for the first time. Maybe she will. But for the scariest thing I can think of doing, it all went really well!

Hi, I'm Holly! Pleased to meet you!

In which I smash three or four days worth of interesting things in to one blog post!


Today as I write I am fully 'dressed' and smiling like a fool! Frankly, I have a lot to be happy about. On Monday, I wrote about how I had told my Dad about Holly. I told him he was welcome to tell my Step-mum if he wanted, or we could wait until I saw her next (which admittedly would probably have been Christmas and not really the best time!). The next day I got an email from her telling me how I had her full support and saying that Dad appeared to be taking the news very well, and coming up with practical questions like how to find shoes that fit! I have asked her to keep an eye on him, but hopefully he will really be fine with it! I have no idea if my Step-sister knows yet.

When I woke up the next day I was still essentially high of my own achievement. My grandma had come over for the afternoon and we decided to walk the dog. (I'm beginning to see a pattern here that most of my important stories come from something that happened while walking the dog!) Once we got to our usual dog-walking field, I started thinking.

I was of the opinion that Grandma would be fine with my news. Others were less sure. I was feeling extremely over-confident and decided to go for it. We had a reasonably long talk about it. Turns out, she seems OK with it. I'm not sure if it is simply that she understands that in this day and age you have to accept things you don't necessarily agree with or if she actually thinks it's OK but either works. I guess I'll find out eventually.

Wednesday I told my step-dad. My mum gave me a lot of grief about the way I told him. I maintain that telling him and sitting for a solid hour afterwards with him not saying anything about it particularly was a perfectly acceptable way of doing things, but apparently not. He took it really well when I told him and then didn't speak. Apparently, so mum says, he needed to 'digest' and then wouldn't talk bring it up on his own for fear of prying into somebody else's business. I still fail to see how that is MY fault but what can you do. Either way, the next day I spoke to him again and told him if he had any concerns or questions at all that he should feel free to come up and say so.

This morning I got up and was handed a letter from him. His choice of words was a little odd in places. His decision to use the phrase "If you are man enough to go around wearing a frock then I am man enough to let you" amused me for so many reasons. The use of the words 'man enough'. The idea that he has even the slightest element of control about whether I can be Holly. However his message came through well enough. Essentially, that as long as I am sure this is what I want and I don't suddenly start breaking our 'house rules' then he is fine with it and supports me.

These are all good things and I am proud of all of them. However, my favourite two pieces from the last week I have saved until last.

On Wednesday I attended my first session of phase 2 CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy). It is a group therapy session and the only person in the group I know is the therapist. The rest of the group I have never met and historically I am very bad with new people. When I walked into the room slightly early, there was one girl already sat there. I took a seat and she introduced herself. I immediately responded "Hi, I'm Holly!".

I hear you saying "Well who cares, you said hello to someone!" however this introduction was significant to me. Firstly because I initiated the conversation. With a stranger. I have NEVER done that before and I did it with some confidence. The second reason is because it was the first time I have introduced myself as Holly. My friends, who have met me as Holly, know me already and I didn't feel the need for an introduction, so this was my first time. There was no hesitation. No thought involved. No sense that it felt wrong. It was a completely natural, comfortable reaction. It wasn't until I got home that evening that I realised how pleased I was with myself. Throughout the rest of the session I spoke to people with confidence, shared my own stories and was able to react better with this group than I had been able to with my previous group after 13 sessions!

My therapist said at one stage how pleased he was. "There was always an edge to you before. Don't ask me too many questions. Short sharp answers. A lot of underlying anger and aggression. Where has all that gone?" I cannot understate just how much better I feel in myself now, I knew this, but this session proved it. I explained how different I felt and how I was able to smile and generally emote. My therapist was pleased to be able to conclude that all of this was genuine. That I was able to smile and talk happily to other people without wanting to escape or tell them to leave.

I had initially planned to change back to boy mode for the train ride home, but after the session I decided not to. I walked back through the city towards the train station. I stood on the station and rode the train home. Every so often I would catch my reflection in something. I'm not the prettiest girl in the world...may face is too fat, I can't do make-up and my eyebrows look wrong. HOWEVER. Every time I say my reflection I noticed my smile. I've NEVER seen a smile on my face in a reflection before but it was always there. On top of that I FEEL super pretty. I don't care one way or the other how other people see me, I doubt I'll ever be the girl all the guys chase after but it doesn't matter. I felt amazing and I still do!

The second piece was this morning. Later on today my Brother, my mum and I are going to a gig. I have mentioned this gig before, it means the world to my brother and I. However I will be attending as Holly. Mum has not met Holly. I have been begging her since I told her to meet me as Holly BEFORE today because she seemed certain that she would freak out. She refused on the grounds that she would rather see it then have driving to focus on.

I was unable to persuade her that this wasn't a good idea. However I did alter it a little. My sisters are not coming back to our house after school so I can be Holly all day. So when I got up, I picked out my outfit (which looks fab by the way!) got dressed and went to see mum. I made my brother go downstairs first to find mum and stand around with her. She took it really well. She still sees 'the same person', which frankly is what I want. I AM the same person, I just look how I want(ish!). She likes my clothes, and thinks I look a bit like her (well go figure!). But she wasn't weird about it and she seems happy enough. I'm really really pleased with this result! She suggested some mascara would help balance out the eyebrows so I'll have to figure that out later! Then we had a chat about how to deal with my illusion-breaking voice!

She also isn't convinced I can rock a hair bow, but I think I can so I'm going to! Even my brother thinks I look nice.

Daddy's girl!

In which I explain the reasons that my Dad has earned more respect today than in his whole life combined.


Today I told my Dad my plans. I tried my hardest not to freak out before hand. I plunged myself into skyrim for a few hours to try and take my mind off it. Before I left the house to meet up with him I felt a surge of confidence (or possibly adrenalin). I was all kinds of early and kept begging my brain not to let the random confidence boost fade away.

Dad arrives at our meeting place and immediately offers to take us for some food. I suggested it might be wise to hear at least the first part of what I had to say. We sat and I offered him my opening line. "Dad, as soon as it becomes possible to do so, I intend to live the rest of my life as Holly". I don't believe I said it quite as rehearsed as it comes across, but the point was made. I have agonised about how he will react. A few people have suggested I prepare for the worst. As I noted previously, Mum had made it quite clear I should expect a bad reaction.

Dad took it like a champ! His initial reaction was exactly what I expected. A shocked look, a few words and a big hug. He asked me how long I'd felt that way and a few other things and I explained to him. He remained calm the whole time, although I don't think he quite knew how to react. We decided to go and eat anyway.

During our meal, I explained to him the transition process. We talked about what he thought of the whole thing and he made some jokes. He decided that the hardest part for him wouldn't be the new name, or the look. The hardest part would be that in his head I would be his "little boy" and it would take a long time to change that. He explained that for whatever reason when he thinks of my brother and I, we are still little in his mind. I don't know why this is and neither does he. It's a trait we share with him! People never seem to age in our heads! I am quite happy with this, he can take all the time he needs. The important part is he recognizes that fundamentally I will ALWAYS be the same person he has known and loved since I was born.

We discussed how we might break it to his parents. He even offered to be the one to tell them. This offer amazed me. I had thought, quite wrongly, that Dad might try and suggest I just don't do it around them and keep it hidden or might try and not take a side, or edge towards their side. But no. He chose a side. MY side. He is prepared to look his parents in the eyes and say My son is becoming my daughter and I support it! I hope you do too! and risk whatever the backlash is.

At one point he nearly burst into tears. Not because of what I had told him but because of something he had done to me. He says he regrets it more than anything else. He didn't let me come to his wedding. I had forgiven him for that long ago, but we have never discussed it at length. He told me how awful he feels about it and how he cries when he thinks about it. I know my Dad, he is like me. It takes a LOT to get us crying. If we are crying about something you bet your arse it is serious. He even asked "Do you forgive me for it?". If I hadn't forgiven him, he had more than made up for it during the course of our conversation. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was more than forgiven.

We talked for a while longer and he gave me a ride back to the train station. As I said goodbye and got stepped out of the car, he simply said "See you soon Holly!". I don't think I need to explain how amazing those words felt. I almost fell back into the car when I heard it. All I could say was thank you. I've had a smile on my face since then that shows no sign of going away.

I don't always know best and neither do you!

In which we discover that sometimes advice from others can actually be USEFUL!

You know how sometimes someone says "well why don't you..." and you come up with a million reasons it's a bad idea? How many times did you ever actually try it? If you're anything like me, the answer is not many, if you ever tried it at all. In this case, the advice in question came from my therapist. It concerned what he called the "balance of power" between my mum and me. Specifically, I thought that she knew I was bisexual because she had obvious privacy issues and went through my room once. Now I still don't know if I was accurate in this assumption and I don't care. But my therapist advised me thus:

"Just tell her. Then you don't have to worry about IF she knows. You KNOW she knows because YOU told her."

Now I came out with many reasons not to do this and put it off for a while. Frankly, after her reaction I really wished I hadn't bothered but after thinking it through over the course of a few weeks it turns out it was a good thing to do. I didn't have to worry about her finding out.

Now this issue obviously came around again in a much more serious way. I can't help but notice I dealt with it badly when I told mum, a mistake I don't plan on making again. As I have noticed over the last few weeks, work has been difficult. Not because my job is hard or I don't like it, but because I feel like I have to suppress Holly. I don't know why. It was starting to affect my work because I spent a lot of time worrying about it. What if the family I work for won't let me work any more? What if they hate me for it? Today, I took my therapists advice. After all, eventually they would find out. Eventually, when I can be Holly inside and out ALL the time they will HAVE to know. So I told the father, who shall be known as 'Nils' from here on out. I have spoken of Nils before and wondered where his thoughts lie on such things. I have known him to use some very un-PC language, some downright derogatory. But I thought to myself, even if he goes for the worst and says I can no longer work for him, I would rather know about it now than when I have to deal with everything the changeover brings.

I'm going to take this opportunity to thank my therapist, who will never read this most likely. Thank you!

Needless to say the advice was good. It wasn't 'inspired' or 'complex' or even something you need training for, but he got me to trust him enough to take it seriously. It worked.

I told Nils, and his reaction was great. I opened with "So as soon as it becomes possible, I intend to live the rest of my life as Holly!". To which he said simply "Oh, really?". He then told me how brave a decision it was and how he could be sure that they (his family) would stick by me. He is very fond of telling people how when it really comes down to it, you find out who your real friends are. I am pleased to discover he is one of ours. At one point he questioned if he would be able to employ me after the change because of social services. Then almost immediately he said "Hang on, that would be backing down like a coward AND discrimination! Sod that, you stay!"

I don't expect most people to react this way (although currently the majority have) but it is nice to see that those people I care about have so far been able to see through a complex issue and identify the important parts and still care about me!

Hey Dad, you know how you always wanted a daughter...

Where I either:
-analyse how to break the news to my father OR
-write an incoherent mess of thoughts...
...really it depends how calm and collected I can stay while panic writing.


Soon my father shall return from his holiday. I see the man once a fortnight at my grandparents house. To start with, I'm going to give some facts about my father in order to give you an idea where I am coming from with my concerns.

Dad has, in the past, attempted to use me as a control mechanism. He would make my life unnecessarily difficult in hopes that when I followed his instructions it would demonstrate the behaviour he expects from my step-sister. This eventually led to a period of around 6 months in which we did not speak. Or rather, I refused to speak to him.

My grandparents were always very religious. No TV on Sunday, evolution is a lie, that sort of thing. My dad insisted on taking us to church every week when we lived with him, so I can only assume that at least part of him is also religious. Having said that, as far as I know he has not been to church since he moved to his current house. I don't know if he is religious but doesn't express it, or isn't religious and just goes through the motions with his parents. It has always been a mystery and currently is a source of fear.

When I told him I was bisexual, he immediately hugged me. He thanked me for trusting him and said that my grandparents would "just have to deal with it" when they found out. This suggests that he understands the basic argument for accepting that which we cannot change.

Dad, much like my brother and myself, is stubborn as all hell. He is also not fond of discussing 'feelings'. There is a chance that he will take the news and do nothing with it. I have no idea how this will manifest. I don't know who he could talk to about it, so it would stay in his head. My brother and I fear that due to the past incidents of not talking, Dad will force himself to pretend he is OK with it. Eventually he will be unable to continue. I do NOT want that to happen.

I do not know my step-mum even half as much as I probably ought to. As such I have no idea how she would react. I assume that she would be fine with it. It seems like the kind of person she is. HOWEVER. I don't know how that extends to 'advice' and being able to talk someone down. Would dad even discuss it with her or seek her advice? I have no idea.

I am certain there is more in my head that could help, but I think these or the most important parts. Now the questions remain. How do I tell him? Where? What will he do or say?

I think it is fair to say that while I can usually gauge how dad will physically react to a situation, I have almost no idea what goes through his head. It also occurs to me that this is in no sense of the word one of those 'normal' everyday situations.

The where is reasonably simple, or at least getting a set of criteria is simple. Somewhere we can be reasonably isolated. Somewhere faaaaaar away from my grandparents. Somewhere I can get home from easily. The list is simple. I don't know how he will react. Could he be angry? Sad? Indifferent? Mum says I may have to accept that he won't want to speak to me for a couple of weeks. Could this be the case? Who knows.

How is more tricky. I could just go to him and tell him the same way I told my friend the other day. "As soon as it is possible to do so, I intend to live as Holly." I can elaborate from there when it is required. I was all set to write a "But I should consider..." paragraph but actually I won't. From my perspective (which I grant you is somewhat biased!) that is as plain as I can put it. If I explain my reasons and answer any questions, I have theoretically done my part.

How will he react? This is the part that worries me. More than anything it worries me. It worries me for two reasons. Firstly, because it is going to suck. I am hoping that he is more reasonable than she was (yes I understand her reasons, but she cut very VERY deep), but mum insists he won't be. The second is that however he reacts, I can fairly safely assume his parents will react worse. It is not something I am looking forward to. Part of my thinks he will be OK with it, that he won't understand it completely, but he won't go off the handle or start making cruel remarks. It hopes he is bigger than the stereotype mum is pushing. It thinks that Dad will be dad and that mum is just saying bad things to make her reaction seem better. The other part of me suspects this isn't true. I know I can't FORCE him to accept anything or to see it my way, but somehow I have to. I have to persuade him it's not a bad thing. My brother thinks mum should be there when I tell him. She is certainly in a much better position to do it now, but could I do that? Would I end up sat in a room with both my parents barely discussing a situation neither of them are informed of enough to pass judgement on? I don't know. Mum says at the very least he might need a hug, but "YOU might not be the one to give him it".

A big part of me thinks that mentioning the subject of telling dad to my mum was a mistake. I wasn't worried before, and now I am. I know all the things she says are potentially accurate, but to talk about it with her seems like denying the possibility of a positive outcome. To her eye, it seems, there is no WAY he could accept the news better than she did.

Oh well, we shall see how it goes...

The power of the mind

In which I discuss just how powerful the mind CAN be, and why I hope I'm not making it all up!

Today is one of those days that will either stay in my mind forever or I'll forget about completely, and it all depends on one man.

Today was a day like any other. I had gone to see Mr J, Mabel and Soos and was in full Holly mode. I was in an especially good mood because today I got new hair! It's so soft and pretty! It looks good on me, or at least I think so. We opted to take a routine trip to the shops for some snacks. The only difference being that today we would deposit some items at the charity shop on the way.

As we walked towards the shop, I decided to avoid going inside. As of yet Holly has not been fully released upon the world. Because of my little sisters and my mums concern about their reactions to the news I am supposed to keep it secret. But who would recognize me? Surely not a man I haven't seen in 2 or 3 weeks who I barely know.

Out from the shop come my friends. As we walk Soos suddenly begins to apologise. "I'm sorry! You've been outed!". Not the most appropriate of jokes but there you go. I play along. "No, really...he kept saying 'Thats *** isn't it? Is that ***?"...". I realise at time of writing that I neglected to enquire about his tone of voice. Was it merely curiosity? Was it one of disgust? It doesn't matter particularly but it would be interesting to know. When we were walking towards the shop I had become convinced the man knew. I even said as much.

For some time after that, I found myself giggling. Mr J thought to ask if this was good or bad. It could demonstrate panic or confidence. I wasn't sure then and I'm not sure now what the correct answer to this question was.

Two things have become apparent to me from this incident. The first relates to the way I look. The second to how I respond both internally and externally to the reactions of others. Both of these things will be hugely important probably for the rest of my life, and they will be key for the next few years.

In regard to how I look, my initial thought was one of concern. The man could identify despite the wig covering some of my face and the complete change in clothing style. Initially I felt this was a bad thing. All sorts of thoughts buzzed through my head. WHY was he able to identify me from such a distance. I could not identify other people working there who I was not expecting to see, so how could he have spotted me? Was it my face? My size? My tattoo? Do I not pass as a woman yet? I don't know the answers to these. I just about pass for a woman I think...however I'm sure I will be corrected. There are lots of things I need to do to pass better but they are not currently within my power!

I am currently torn about how to interpret this. On the one hand I could worry that I just don't pass. That instead of seeing a woman and thinking "Hang on, that's ***", did he look and think "That's *** in a skirt!". On the other hand, part of me thinks that it doesn't matter. Holly isn't a disguise. Holly isn't my attempt at erasing my past or moving away from 'me'. Holly is me. If he sees a woman and recognises the person he knows as ***, is that a bad thing? Does any of that make sense? Perhaps I'm just grasping at anything that could put a positive spin on the experience.

My second thought, as I stated, was to do with peoples reactions. There are so many things this man can do now. He might not care at all. Just accept it and move on. He might look upon me in disgust next time I go in to work. He might recall his experience to a work colleague! How will THEY react?

This thought is arguably the more pressing. I cannot worry myself about any of them. Firstly, because I cannot be certain which, if any, he will go for. Secondly, because if I start to worry about it, the pressure will build. I can worry about the reactions of family. Some of those will be difficult to deal with but I am certain deep down they are all good people, capable of seeing past any misconceptions or prejudices they may hold. But this man I barely know. If I worry about the reactions of strangers I open myself up to a world of unnecessary anxiety. Does it matter how he reacts? No. Not really. I'm a volunteer in the shop, he is an employee. If he, for whatever reason, decided to make life difficult, I can leave. I have no obligations. If he tells the other workers and it becomes a prime piece of gossip in the sorting room (I'm SURE it isn't THAT interesting, but who am I to judge the worth of gossip)? Does THAT matter? The answer, still, is no. Previously I may have made what my Mum would call "a bullish remark" about it. Something to the effect of 'If they don't like it, F**K 'em'. Holly is a happy girl, of that there is no question. I don't need to force anyone to accept it, nor do I need to hate anyone who doesn't. For my part, I continue as normal. Not 'normal' in the sense that I carry on male-mode. Normal for me. I carry on as Holly. I continue to be happy. If someone makes life difficult there, I'm protected by discrimination acts and company policies. But I shouldn't NEED them. I hope I won't. If someone takes issue to something that has made me truly happy, then they are trying to take away happiness. I don't know many people who would revel in making someone unhappy, especially those giving there free time to help others.

Will I experience bad reactions in the future? Almost certainly. There's a lot of arseholes out there. There are also many more people who just don't understand. Who have never considered it. If I need to get technical then fine, but for now I aim to just prove it does what I say it does. It' makes me ME. It has made me HAPPY. It has made me the person I want to be.

If all that fails, and people are still bad, should I worry? No. Will I? Maybe. Another of my friends told me yesterday "Be careful. If out school years proved anything it's that peoples words hurt". He isn't wrong. But hopefully with the techniques I've learned in my CBT group and the support of people who DO care about me, I won't need to worry about the others. Did any of that make sense? Who knows, but I feel better for having written it.

On an entirely unrelated note another thing became clear today. I really wish it hadn't become clear in the way that it did, but still. I made a joke I've made many times before. Mr J told me to think long term about something political. Specifically to think 30 years in the future. Without thinking, I went to my go-to line. "Eh, I don't plan to live that long!". Homer Simpson said something similar once and it stuck with me. Of course until now, I have never thought long term. One of the downsides of depression is that you don't feel the need to plan anything. What's the point! Mr J got angry for reasons I won't be going in to. I didn't fully appreciate why at first, and even when he finished I admit I didn't feel much different about it. However within about 10 minutes I felt bad. Really bad. Not JUST because I had hurt my friends feelings. No. What made me sad was when I realised the full extent of that joke and its implications. For as long as I can remember, it has been completely accurate. I never had planned on living that long and I certainly didn't think I ever would. What makes it worse is that I don't feel that any more. At all. I don't wish I was gone. I don't feel I'd have been better if I wasn't born. I don't want to remove myself from this cruel world. For once I'm happy. I have a good future ahead of me, even if I don't know much about what it will involve. I don't HAVE a plan, but I could MAKE one. That made me feel worse than anything. The joke doesn't even make SENSE any more and I said it, and made a friend angry and sad. Which sucks.

Witty title, serious content

In which I tell of how Holly interacts with Mr J, and other such interesting stories!

So today we study Mr J. Mr J and I have been friends for over a decade now. He's one of my best-est best friends on this whole planet of Earth! Yesterday he met Holly for the first time in person. See he lives quite far away now. We talk every day on-line, he was the first person to know about Holly and has helped me no end, so yesterday's meeting was quite exciting. I'll get to that in a moment, but first I'm going to splice in some words of wisdom Mr J has given me in the last few months, and if I think of any more I'll add them later.

Mr J: Take responsibility, bitch!
Historically, whenever I've had a goal that took any effort, it might go something like this:
"I'm going to do something...nah just kidding, can you imagine?! Pfff that's crazy!"
I would say it out loud, pretend it was a joke then pretend I never said it. Obviously nothing ever got done. It was a convenient way of expressing a desire to do something, then not having to worry about whether I managed to do it or not. Every time it would be an easy get out. This was not helped by the fact that it boy-mode I have absolutely NO motivation to improve myself, I've always thought 'well why bother'. Not the case as Holly, but old habbits die hard.

I recently expressed a desire to lose weight. I need to lets be clear, but no matter how many times a medical person says "You might feel happier/better if you do" it never has any effect on me. It just gets annoying. Losing weight also happens to be the easiest goal to quit on because it takes SO much effort to see any results quickly. However in this instance, the goal was different. Instead of 'I should lose some weight', the goal came from a thought I had that made me feel weird and fuzzy inside. I expressed this thought to Mr J. "One day I want to be able to wear a bikini and feel good about it!". I had an actual goal in mind, not just 'lose some weight' but look good in a bikini for my own sake! Now having said it out loud, several things sprang to mind. 1. It will take a long time. 2. I imagined myself hiding behind a towel. 3. It's so much EFFORT. I expressed the second of these to Mr J and jokingly brushed the goal aside "Nah, I think I'd just end up hiding under a towel, I couldn't do that!". Old habits kicking in to destroy my goals. Then Mr J turned round and said: No! Stop doing that! You can't lie to me, you want that and you KNOW you want that. I think you WOULD go around in a bikini. I think you'd LOVE it! You've made a goal, now own it and work towards it!". It may seem that what Mr J said was just common sense, but as it turns out when you spend as long as I have pretending that goals aren't really a thing and that working towards something is setting yourself up for the inevitable failure, you forget all of it. I've tried my hardest to embrace this idea since then and I will elaborate on it later.


Back to yesterday. The last time I saw Mr J (as I believe I have mentioned before), he acted weird for about 10 minutes. As it turns out it was because I was smiling. Properly smiling. Now since I started to realise ' Holly' I've been happier than I can ever remember being. I remarked yesterday that at times it has felt like my eyes were sparkling lasers! Smiling is not something I am used to, or something my best friends are used to seeing on my face for extended periods of time. This would be the first time Mr J saw 'Holly' in person and I would be smiling. I would be happy. I would be me. There are all sorts of sentimental mushy reasons why Mr J meeting Holly was exciting for me and I wouldn't know where to begin trying to describe them. Needless to say it felt like a combination of butterflies in the stomach and the feeling you get just before the BIG dip on a roller coaster. I hope that makes sense to someone reading this.


Interlude 2! Advice: Mr J Style.
Ever wanted to give advice to a friend? Try it Mr J style. Think the compliment sandwich but in reverse. You may read this and think it sounds mean. It isn't. I mean it might be, but that's the way we do things! See Mr J and I are firm believes in the idea that criticism is not a bad thing. If it helps you improve and reach your goal, ultimately it is worth knowing, even if it feels bad to hear. So when I heard "Holly, you hug wrong!" I won't take that as an insult, because what comes next will help me overall. "Arms lower down, near the lower back, and don't pat!". When I hug, I hug BIG. Wide arms up by the shoulders and if you don't hear something break you're doing it wrong. Not very lady-like! The thing is I don't KNOW these things. I don't ever want to be the 'perfect lady' at the expense of myself, but I do want to be a girl. I almost pass until I talk or DO something that is overly male, and my hug is overly male. The next hug was exactly right according to Mr J. This advice style works because it demonstrates something to you. If you get cross with it, you know it matters. If you really REALLY don't care, then it doesn't matter. It helps me decide what is important to me even if I can't work it out or accept it myself. So when I hear "Holly, you've GOT to do something about your eyebrows!" I know why...and eventually I will!


Aaaaaaaand we're back to yesterday. After about an a hour and a half of sitting and chatting, being told I wasn't sitting correctly and throwing a fake boob at one of my friends I had to leave for work. I'm not out as Holly at work so I have to re-male. The difference was shocking. I've not walked out of a room hearing how happy I look one minute only to return to the same group telling me how grumpy and miserable I look before. It was unpleasant. I know I didn't feel great. But the apparent difference in my expression was concerning to say the least.

Now it's not the clothes or the hair that makes me happy. It helps, but that isn't it. If I know from when I get up in the morning to when I go to bed, I won't have the chance to be Holly outside and in, I can deal with the day. I can smile and get on with things. It's not great, but it's not the worst thing. When I can be Holly fully and then I have to stop, then it changes. Even though I know in my head I'm still Holly, by being basically forced to take part of that away for the convenience of others feels horrible. I hate it. I don't know why it feels so bad exactly. It just feels like at one moment I was whole, and then I'm pushing myself aside.

On my return from work another thing became clear. Every so often my Mum will ask me "How do you know this isn't a phase?". The simple answer is 'I just do'. The long answer I'm fairly sure I've covered, but I might not have. Maybe I'll write about it, who knows. When  returned from work I had my answer. When I'm Holly, not necessarily dressed up but when I'm sitting here as I am now, thinking as Holly and not pretending to be something else, I can get things done. I might occasionally think about clothes or how I'm ever going to find a nice pair of boots, but things get done. It is just like  NO! It IS normal. It is exactly how normal should be. When I'm at work or out with people who don't know and I feel I have to push it down just in case I let slip, all I can think of is how much it sucks. I'm not thinking of new shoes or places I can go. I'm not thinking of my uni work or my dog. I'm standing there thinking "Why why WHY can't I just turn around and say NEXT TIME YOU SEE ME, I'LL BE HOLLY!" One day it will happen.

After work, we went to the shops. We needed food. A girls gotta eat! Now Mr J has been really helpful. In addition to telling me to accept that I really DO want to lose weight and in his words "Be able to stand on a beach next to MABLE looking amazing!", he has helped me come up with some form of diet plan. It resembles many diet plans I suppose in the sense that it cuts out a lot of the good things in life and involves eating healthy things, but damn it, I want my bikini so I'm going for it. Now we spent a lot of time thinking of things I can eat to lose weight, so if anyone reading this who knows me in person sees me eating too much or something that's not good for me and it ISN'T a Friday, tell me! Either way I had to try 'quorn' which wasn't bad at all!


How to compliment like Mr J.
Transitioning is a weird and wonderful place. I get to do things that come naturally to me, and learn some others. Other people get to see the person they've known for years suddenly acting girly! This is where the Mr J compliment comes in. I must state for the record, that no matter how bad this sounds when I write it, it makes perfect sense for our friends group! He's really wonderful, not an arsehole I promise! <3
"Do that again! Do that little arm thing you just did!" (and there was much laughter!) "Now you did another one! HA! What? It's cute! Do it again!" At this point I mentioned I was getting self-concious (not a phrase I've ever used before) and I could feel myself blushing. To the untrained eye, this is cruel. Laughing at the actions of a friend. However, what Mr J has done is identified something I have done naturally. Something that IS feminine. Not something I've learned from someone else or I've read up on, just a thing my body has done naturally that it has NEVER DONE BEFORE. By pointing it out, he's made me aware of it. Not so I can feel bad but so I can realise the progress I have made, which otherwise I would not have noticed. By laughing he's made me feel comfortable with it. It IS unusual to see me doing things like this because I'm not usually expressive. But I know that laugh comes from seeing me inadvertently express something, By saying it was cute. Well...tell me I've done anything cute and you've made my day! Later on I was checking to see if the colour had run on one of my favourite skirts. Again, laughter. I ask him what it was. He explained that when I had picked things up in the past, it is very careless. He demonstrated by picking up a t-shirt with a fist, this is exactly what I have done in the past. "But THIS time..." he told me. This time I had picked the corners of the waistband between the thumb and forefinger of each hand very carefully, and examined it. I had been gentle and treated the skirt with care. THIS as he so rightly pointed out was completely different to what he is used to seeing, and I had done it without thinking. Laughter seems to be a good way of dealing with the unfamiliar.

The best thing that came from yesterdays meeting was one throw away line. I was sat in boy clothes on my bed. No wig or boobs or make-up. I was Holly-in-my-head as I often am at home. Mr J happened to turn around and say "It's so weird without your hair! You're in male clothes". Acceptance bitches!

Holly. X

P.S
A quick note to Mable, Soos and Dipper. Don't for a moment think your contributions to this whole thing are not worthy of mention, they are. You guys mean the absolute world to me, but this was buzzing around in my head and needed to come out! You'll get your blog post soon enough! <3<3<3

Who can I talk to?

In which I discuss the reason my Mum felt the need to beg my forgiveness!


Since telling my Mum I'm trans, she has made one thing perfectly clear. The only person she wanted to talk to was my Aunt (her sister).
There are several problems with this as far as I am concerned.

1. I've not told my Dad yet and until he knows, I'm not telling anyone else
2. It's not her place to tell my Aunt, it's mine
3. I don't know if I can trust my Aunt to keep it quiet (even though Mum swears I can)
4. I don't know how my Aunt will react
5. I don't know my Aunts level of experience with issues like this.

Now I have explained to my Mum previously the issues I have with her 'thinking it over' in her head. She has no information. Her ideas of trans people come from media stereotypes and a "guy who wears mini-skirts and hairy-legs in tights". She also had an initial gut feeling that it was wrong. She admitted once that she thought it was a mental illness that required "fixing". I told her it didn't matter how many times she went over it in her head, if all her information was negative then all her conclusions would be negative. She could go over it until the end of time but it will always go the same way.

She decided talking to my aunt would be the best solution to this. However after a series of arguments in which I explained how my aunt likely had no more experience in the area than she did it would not necessarily do me any favours. I, after all, have no desire to have mum come back with her negative ideas compounded by the empathy she found from my aunt. This left her with no options. Which led to her begging my forgiveness while we were walking the dog.

I think I've done something very bad. I'm so sorry! I did something you expressly told me not to do. I didn't know what else to do and I had to!

These were Mums introduction. I don't know what brought this apology on, other than she felt guilty. We hadn't been talking about the issue as far as I can recall, but apparently it got to her and she had to confess. I asked her what exactly she had done.

I know you told me not to, but I ended up talking to (friend) about you!

She paused for a moment, possibly expecting me to react and yell. I said nothing and continued listening. I should point out at this stage that the friend in question I do not know very well. I've met her a few times but I know nothing about her except she has a daughter who is friends with one of my sisters. Either way, we have no relationship that could possibly be ruined by her knowing and thus I wasn't hugely bothered by it. However, what came next I was amazed by.

See she lived in London and you see all sorts of people in London and I thought if anyone would understand it would be her! So I told her about you and she said ... "That's fantastic! I'm so pleased he's found out who he wants to be and is comfortable with it! When we were in London you would see all sorts of people every day so you learn about how different everybody is!" ... I asked if (her daughter) knew about (trans people) and how she had explained it because I was worried about how to tell the girls! ... "One day we were on the tube and these two ladies who were obviously guys got on (Holly's note: Although I'm not 100% pleased with how she phrased it, and nobody else should phrase things that way when talking about trans people, I'll let it slide for the purposes of the story!) and (my daughter) said something about them and I just said 'they used to be men. sometimes people are just born in the wrong shell' and she accepted it and moved on.

Every so often, Mum would look at me, and appeared to be almost anticipating an explosion of unbridled rage from me. She would pause every so often and look to see how I was taking it. By the end of her story/admission she had explained that this friend had offered to take her and the girls on a trip to London a few times when she felt ready to tell my sisters in order to get them used to diversity (we are a fairly non-diverse area unless you hit the nearest city). She said that she would always be there for her even if Mum's other friends decided they wanted nothing to do with her and that she and her daughter would be happy to be there for moral support when Mum told the girls.

Mum continued every so often to throw in the words "I'm really sorry!" and the alike. She was terrified that I would be angry that she had broken my trust.

I explained to her that she had done the most sensible thing she could have done. She decided to ask help from someone who could provide a positive, tolerant and informed view on the subject, even though they didn't necessarily know about it first hand. She picked a friend who would be able to tell her that it's not something to be worried about or that it will be the worst thing ever. She is now able to go to my aunt and talk to her and in her own words "bring her on to MY side" - in other words, if my aunt isn't as capable of accepting the situation as Mum thought, she can now persuade her it's a good thing.

Ultimately, while I did tell her it wasn't her place to tell anyone, I think she did a great job of handling the situation and has now found herself in a position where her foundations for acceptance are based on positive thoughts. No longer is Holly the unfortunate evil side-effect of a mental disorder. Now Holly has a chance to be the wonderful daughter! Next step - Dad...that'll be fun...

Step 2: Fingers off the PANIC button

In which the part of Mums brain I approve of wins over for a while.

There is something about walking a dog that lends itself to meaningful (or sometimes pointless philosophical) conversation. Today, after discussing the fate of a family we are friends with, the conversation turned, as it often does, to how I am feeling.

As it happens, apart from being ill, today I felt good and I said as much. So instead I asked about the date of a show we would be attending soon. I knew it was in October, and I had high hopes of not having to go out in man-mode. Ordinarily it wouldn't matter too much (although it would be disappointing) but this one is special. Allow me to explain.

In 2005, I went to my first music festival. I saw a band there who I was well aware of at the time but didn't fully appreciate. I came home and immediately told my brother and they have been our favourite group ever since. The next time we saw them my brother had managed to get us 'Meet-and-greet' passes. We saw a sound check set, met the band, got some things signed and got a photo taken. Since I saw them first, we have seen them play around 15 times. This is their final UK tour and we planned to take those photos to get signed. Becoming Holly fully is a huge step in my life and I can't think of anything I would like more than to have them sign the old picture of me but sign it to Holly. I'm not sure why it just feels right. Like the new chapter linking to the old. I'm not good with emotions...maybe one day I'll be able to explain it better!

Anyway as it turns out the gig is three weeks away. I was thinking it was towards the end so I could give Mum some time to prepare. I didn't say anything but apparently I looked pretty miserable when she told me. After a little while, Mum asked what the matter was. She gave me her usual "what did I (not) do?". I told her.

"When we go to the gig, I'm not going like this!" I gestured to my current 'male' attire.

What happened next was suprising. Mainly because it so clearly demonstrated firstly how Mums brain works, but secondly how capable she is of reason (something she seems to forget often!).

"I'm not ready!" she declared. This made me sad for obvious reasons. I fully expected her to say it and ideally I would have given her longer. I was just about to explain to her that it was important to me when she said "How will I tell the girls!?". This was when I realised the problem fully and was able to point it out. I never expected her to tell my sisters this early. I don't fully expect HER to come to terms with it completely by then. I told her this and she said "But I have to talk to my sister about it! She needs time to get to grips with it so she can tell the others" (my uncle and cousins". This demonstrated to me a problem. If anyone is telling ANYONE about this it will be me. I don't WANT my aunt telling my cousins or anyone else for that matter. When I want people to know, they will hear it from me. She suggested that I clearly wanted to be able to go to my aunts at Christmas as Holly. I have no illusions of my life being that easy. I would LOVE to be able to dress up nice and attend but it's not going to be that simple. I'll be suprised if Mum is comfortable with it by then, let alone comfortable enough to allow that.

Then she said something I wasn't expecting. She brought up how when she was a nurse, one of the Gynecologists "decided to be a woman". I explained how 'decided' wasn't the ideal word and then questioned why she kept bringing up how people have reacted to things like this. She explained to me that everyone she knows from her generation seems to have reacted in a gossipy way to things like this. "I'm worried that I just think well I want you to be happy but everyone else thinks something else!". Now Mum did not appreciate what she had just said here. "I want you to be happy". In the middle of one sentence she had expressed concern that her thoughts on the subject didn't match those she thought other people might have. In other words, she though against the perceived 'norm' in my favour. I gave her a huge hug immediately although she had no idea why.

After I had explained what I expected and how little she actually needed to do things calmed down. I offered, if it would make it easier, to go somewhere with Holly before the gig so she wasn't freaking out so much on the day. She is considering this.

At this point she did react how I expected. "I might have to vet your clothes so I know I can be seen with you!". Despite how badly this is worded, this is Mum talk for 'Please don't dress slutty!". Unfortunately her only experience with this type of thing is media stereotypes so her brain has nowhere to go even though she knows that's not who I am. For her sake I will show her my wardrobe (after all, I intend to be wearing it a lot more often soon!). I will be making it very clear that under no circumstances will I be getting rid of ANYTHING she doesn't approve of. I don't feel I should have to do this, but I really want to get rid of this idea that trans people MUST be doing it for some sort of sexual kick or that they all dress like slags!

The rest of the walk turned to jokes. I don't remember any of them except they were light hearted and vaguely related to my situation. But they came from a good place. It wasn't the type of nervous reaction I have had in the past from her. The jokes weren't being made for a lack of anything else to say or the fear of an awkward silence. They seemed genuine. Theoretically, Mum has made a big step towards accepting me for me and I'm really happy about that!

The first step is acceptance...

In which I describe the way I broke my mothers brain and how she chose to deal with it.


Yesterday was interesting. Until around 3:30 I was pure Holly and I felt amazing. Then my sisters came home from school and I had to change. This apparently left a visible level of disappointment on my face which my mother picked up on while we walked the dog.

"Are you OK?" she asked, as she often does when she feels she knows what the problem is but doesn't really want to talk about it. I shrugged and vaguely answered. Obviously not being OK.

At this point I should say that not being dressed was not the only reason I wasn't feeling great. Primarily it was the fact that since telling my mum I am trans, she has not mentioned it once. Obviously I don't WANT her to turn around and say 'not in MY bloody house' or something, but for her not to mention it suggests to me that actually it doesn't have the sense of urgency that it should do. As it turns out, she did not say anything to avoid an argument but I have since managed to prove this isn't a wise move. Anyway...

"What have I done?" she asked. Her go-to phrase when someone is upset. "Nothing". I replied. "Alright, what HAVEN'T I done?" she said. "Nothing" I responded again. "But that's exactly the point". I explained to her my concerns that I had no reason to believe that she was taking this seriously.

After a long LONG discussion/argument I managed to get her to admit that she thought the following:

• I had told her this to 'rebel' against something
• I didn't really mean it
• I was going to destroy the family
• Holly won't be a good person
• I will look SILLY and therefore I shouldn't do it
• The girls will be bullied
• She could possibly learn to TOLERATE it in time

I tried to counter these points and was left with her usual response. If you ever get into a debate with my mother you can expect the following discourse to take place:

MUM: Makes a point you disagree with

YOU: Counters that point with evidence

MUM: "OH FINE WHATEVER" Conversation over.

This was very much the case. I tried to explain to her that basically what she was saying to me was that because she didn't understand it, I was doing it to provoke. That I should suppress a fundamental aspect of myself because she didn't like it. 

Before I go on I want to address the final point in the list in more detail. Mum would be able to 'tolerate' it in time. She seemed to think this was an acceptable solution to the problem. I asked her in more detail who on earth would be willing to sit there knowing full well that they are merely being tolerated. She found this difficult to take in and proceeded to ignore the rest of the conversation so we moved on to a different part of it. This was about the most hurtful remark I think I've ever heard from a person.

She also told me to stop getting angry.

Angry. Don't get angry with me. Stop frowning. I don't want to talk about it because you'll get cross.

I explained to her that I got angry because it mattered to me and from my perspective she wasn't taking it seriously. In the end I had to go with the only argument I could think of to get her to understand. "If I tried to tell you that you had to stop being Christian because I didn't understand it, and that if you refused I would just about tolerate your existence, would you not be angry?" Of course she insisted that she wouldn't be angry but historically whenever a conversation turns to religion she decides I'm trying to convert her or something and shuts the conversation down!

Throughout this discussion mum kept telling me that I shouldn't expect miracles and that I can't expect to just clap my hands and have her immediately say "OK, from now on you are Holly!". This is about the only fair comment she made during the process. I don't expect miracles, I don't expect to speak to my grandparents again after they find out...it will hurt like hell, but I have to prepare for it. I tried to make it clear that I didn't need her to understand fully WHY I feel the need to be Holly. Just that eventually she will accept it and not feel so ashamed by the idea that she "can't possibly talk to anyone about it" (even professionals!). 

The conversation ended for a while and continued slightly later. Mum found me in my room and we started it up again. She asked if in the future I intended to be known as Holly all the time. I said I did. "But not any time soon, right?". I answered honestly, that ideally it would be soon. She repeated her question. This time I just said yes and moved on. At this point I used the word "transgender" with her for the first time. It was obvious at that moment that she really hadn't appreciated just what I was telling her. She repeated the phrase "But you're not really, are you!" over and over for a while. Eventually I got bored of saying 'yes I am' and the conversation moved on to her grasping at every straw she could.

Part of my brain found it fascinating to observe how mum desperately tried to cling on to any scrap of the child she knows that she fears would disappear completely. Another part was deeply disturbed by the cruel ways she chose to do that. Fortunately I know well enough how difficult it must be for her to take this in. It IS hard. But since she won't willingly express her concerns or give me a chance to correct any misgivings or provide her with information I can't just sit and let her get away with it.

After 5 minutes of the weakest possible arguments for why I shouldn't be Holly, she changed tactics. Mum ran out of straws to grab and chose to make something up so she didn't have to accept she might be wrong. A fascinating mental reflex! "Well obviously you're just doing this to antagonise me! You are enjoying watching me struggle with this! You like seeing how I can't take it all in!".

While I cannot deny I love observing how people react to things, no part of me is using this experience as an experiment. I don't enjoy it. It is interesting for certain, but it is not my primary motivation. I explained this to her. I then pointed out that she needed to either talk to me about her concerns or talk to a professional about what was going on in her head. Either way it's happening. 

She left rather abruptly after I explained in length how I couldn't and wouldn't beat myself up about the reactions of others to this news. I explained that I have always been a good person. I will always be a good person. The only difference will be my appearance and that fact that I will be happy. She tried to tell me again how the only women who are as tall or big as me are unattractive or awful people. This argument disgusted me so much I could write a whole blog about it on its own, but I won't! After this she left.

------------------------------

SKIP TO THIS MORNING

------------------------------

This morning I got up, once again sick as can be. Mum walked up to me and immediately apologised. She detailed how she would try her hardest but it needed to be a managed approach. A managed approach to TELLING PEOPLE. She wanted to get her head straight before the girls knew (something I have encouraged from the start). She said she would try and read about other peoples reactions and the book I found with information for parents. She asked if perhaps I could try and organise a paired therapy session to help her, or if she could just ask my therapist to see her about the subject.

I am going to be optimistic and say this is genuine. That perhaps part of her brain has realised I will always be the person she knew, but I'll be her amazing daughter instead of her amazing son. That I haven't died and been replaced by some stranger, just that I've changed externally a bit. Fingers crossed!

Completion!

In which I explain the reasons for the stupid grin covering my face.


This morning has been rough. I went to bed late (which is my own fault). I've had a migraine since about 1am. I've barely slept. I've been vomiting. Me head, eyes, neck hell even my TEETH hurt. I've got a really bad cold. My voice is deeper than ever. My dog ate the last part of my shoes so now I've had to buy new ones. A rough morning.

But still I'm sitting here with a smile the likes of which has never been seen on my face before. I can FEEL the smile in my eyes. For someone who has suffered depression for their entire life its a strange and wonderful feeling.

Why am I smiling? Because today I'm a step closer to completion. Today I got a parcel!


I saved it until last. I opened a couple of hair bands and a signed book insert for Neil Gaimans 'Fortunately The Milk' but I left this one until last. I knew what it was already. In the box sat a pair of breasts! (GASP. SHOCK HORROR SHE SAID BREASTS OMG!).

I'm not sure how to wear them. They don't fit right in this bra. They look a bit funny if they move the wrong way. They're not perfect, but they're mine and it feels wonderful! If I wasn't sure before, I'm sure now. This is how I am supposed to be.

Hopefully I can figure out how to make them look right before I need to go anywhere! But until then I can wear them around my home and just feel good about myself!

Holly.  xx

PS. If anyone knows how the heck bras or makeup works please tell me 'cause it confuses the hell outta me! :D

To BE or to BE WITH

In which I tell of my adventures with a man who is certain I will marry and have children.

This morning I spent with a friend of mine. He is a lovely man with a big family. As such he is keen to tell anyone who will listen (who doesn't already have a family) how wonderful family life can be.

Today we went to meet some people who had done work for him in the past. On the way (and on several occasions before today) he has told me tales of how good looking these young ladies are. This amuses me since I rarely if ever actively 'check out' anyone, at least not to the extent he seems to think I might.

During our visit he introduced me to each of the ladies as and when they turned up. After each one left he would turn to me and say something to the effect of "I told you she was nice bit of totty" or "If I was ten years younger".

Which led me to the most amusing realisation of the morning. All I thought was "Wow, I wish I looked like that!".

Turns out it's quite amusing and a little difficult to sit there and agree politely to these things when in reality I'm thinking something completely different!

Mum, I'm a woman!

In which I tell of the third argument about gender issues between my mother and I.

This evening my family returned from their weekend away. As expected, my mother strolled into my room and asked me if I was OK and if I had enjoyed my weekend. I told her that my weekend was excellent but didn't really respond to how I was. She asked again, and I shrugged. She continued to press the question.
In retrospect it is my own fault, I could have said 'Yes I'm fine' and been done with it but I'm tired of having to hide myself away for her sake. I ended up hugging her for about 10 minutes in complete silence almost in tears.

Instead I chose to tell her. "I'm not sure if I'm OK. I feel great, but I'm not completely OK!" I told her. Of course this made no sense to her and she became worried. I told her to shut the door and I would try and explain.

Instead of explaining I spent about 20 minutes staring at nothing. In her direction but not 'at' her, more 'through' her. Eventually I decided on a starting point. I asked her if she remembered our previous discussions. It became clear very quickly that she did not. She could not remember what she had said to upset me or even the subject we were discussing. She certainly could not recall what I had asked her to think about in our first argument. It was at this point I very nearly broke down in tears. My whole body was shaking and I felt awful. The last three weeks have been dreadful for me as I have tried not to bring the subject up to give her time to process the idea or to let her deal with it in her own time. To have her forget was hurtful and insulting.

I reminded her of the things she said. I reminded her that she had never asked a question since it began. It was highly unpleasant. Eventually she decided we had been talking about cross-dressing. She explained how she didn't understand it and told me how "They all look awful! Why would you want to make yourself stand out like that?". After a while of arguing she told me that I was just talking in circles. "I don't understand what you're talking about. You keep talking in code and you never answer anything. You never talk about anything relevant!"

At this point I realised I just needed to come out with it or this argument could continue forever. "OK relevant. I'm fairly certain I'm a woman!" I said, somewhat more forcefully than perhaps I intended. I tried in vain to explain that I wouldn't talk about some of the reasons (nobody wants to discuss body dysmorphia with their mum!) and others I couldn't really explain easily. It was then that she asked me how I knew it wasn't just a phase.

How do you know it isn't just a phase? A long phase perhaps!?
How do I know. This is one question I see coming up a lot. I asked her what she thought I should do if it was a phase. She told me to ignore it. This response caused me to answer her question with another question. "How long is a long phase? How long do I wait?". She had no answer for this. She actually got angry at me for asking it. She claimed I was avoiding the question. I explained to her that I could ignore it for 10 years and still keep telling myself it's just a phase and I would get over it. I did with depression and that didn't go well!

I understand where she is coming from. From her perspective this is all sudden. For all she knows, yesterday morning I decided I am female and it's been an instant thing. In reality it's been around for over 5 years I've just never payed much attention to it. I explained this to her, although it didn't really sink in.

Her next port of call was to question my use of the internet. She is a woman who does not like or use the internet. To her, the internet is just the things she assumes about facebook. To her, the whole internet is just random people spreading rubbish and lies in order to deceive. I offered her the sentiment that when I started giving her nursing advice (as she has been a nurse most of her life) then she could advise me on matters of the internet. It wasn't a clever move but it made a point. She was worried that I was being 'deceived by perverts' who could lie about anything and encourage me to become weird. She did not appreciate me asking why she thought I was incapable to identifying these people. Eventually I managed to convince her that my source of advice were legitimate. Things progressed slightly easier from here.

I tried to explain to her the 'why' of the situation. I told her of the girl in my head and how she had been there for years. She didn't quite understand it and questioned why I wouldn't just try and work on my emotions. She said that men can have feminine traits. Unfortunately I couldn't quite come up with words to explain why that missed the point. I moved on to a different tactic. I told her that if I had to imagine what she would call 'the soul' as a person, it was a girl. Always. I don't believe in a soul but it was the only thing I could think of that would be close enough to something she might understand.

She did.

From there, things were slightly easier. I told her how I had no intention of rushing in to anything and that I wasn't going to suddenly turn around and demand everything change immediately. I even told her about my day out on Saturday. I told her how amazing it felt to be dressed and to be me. I'm not convinced she fully appreciates it but hopefully she will get there in time.

The best day ever

In which I tell of what I consider to be one of the most wonderful days I've had.

Two days ago (or early yesterday morning if you want to be technical) 'Holly' made a post and it felt great. I started not being able to understand my own thoughts, and as is often the way with my writing, by the time I had written some bits down everything started to fall in to place. The considered conclusion being that I can say with confidence that I am transgender. My name is Holly and I am a girl stuck in this fleshy sack of man that is Nespus.

Yesterday I was brave. Several of my friends know about Holly. I've told them what goes on in my head and they have been wonderful. Both accepting and encouraging (in a 'be yourself, we love you anyway' sort of way, not a 'yeah you should definitely be a woman like RIGHT NOW kind of thing!). But until yesterday only two of them had met Holly in any real sense. I gave them a picture once and that was all.

Yesterday, three of my friends spent the day with Holly. Initially I asked permission from them just to be sure it wouldn't make them uncomfortable and they immediately told me that I didn't need to have asked and should just be comfortable with myself!

We had to walk the dog during the afternoon. When we walk her, I take her out of town and into a series of fields about 5-10 minutes walk from my house to run around. For months it has been my dream to walk through them 'dressed' (when this started I didn't even know who Holly was properly!). Within 2 minutes of walking out of the front door we encountered our first strangers. Strangers and a gust of wind. The wind caught my skirt but I managed to keep it down. THIS I thought, was my first PROPER experience. I've never dealt with this before, it was a little embarrassing, but it felt good in a way. When we were in the fields, I asked one of my friends how passable I was. He considered this and concluded that my posture seemed strange (it was!) and I don't have girl-boobs (I don't). Not the worst review in the world I suppose. It occurred to me that a lot of my posture was due to hiding. I was not completely aware of it until then but I was really nervous. I was walking like I normally would - I make myself look bigger to avoid attackers...I shouldn't need to but that's how it is! - and it did look strange. The boobs thing I can live with. I never want HUGE boobs. The rest of the day I tried to correct this.

The day continued as our normal Saturdays do. We played video games and chatted. My friends tried their hardest to remember to call me Holly, but after 10 years of calling me something else, I cannot find it in me to be upset that they struggled. It takes time and they tried really hard!

We went over to my friends house when our group had fully assembled. One of my friends (a cis-female) brought with her some spray things and some hair bands for me to try. She put a red hairband with a bow on my head and I got tingles from head to toe. For years my internal goal (if I admit it or not) is cuteness. This was the first time I might look cute and it was exciting. I looked in the mirror and saw myself. Long hair. Red hairband. Some very subtle eye-liner. I didn't see some stranger or just a bloke in womens attire. I saw me. I saw Holly. I felt exactly how I should. I didn't take the hair band off all evening...when I left I very nearly stole it by accident!

Later we took a bigger step. We went shopping in Tesco. About 5 seconds after walking in the front door of what has been for many years the primary food-shopping location for everyone in our area I became incredibly nervous. We looked at clothes, we considered just getting the drinks we came in for, but I reasoned that since one of the three was moving to university at the end of the month the chances of me being able to organise a group I felt remotely confident with easily were slim and I wanted to use the opportunity I had. So we looked at clothes and moved on.

Half way round the shop, and after talking extensively to my friends I realised something important. I am not doing anything wrong. To others, I am dressed in 'womens' clothing. But I'm not causing harm. I am merely being true to myself. The worst things that could happen in the middle of a shop are I get a few looks or comments OR someone I know recognises me and I have to explain later. This was the point I realised my problems came from not wanting to be inconvenienced by conversation from people who might not understand, not because I actually worried about what people would say. Suddenly, I found my confidence flooding back. My back straightened, my head was held...not high as such but certainly higher than it was. I didn't try to hide as much. It felt wonderful.

The evening played out as it usually does. I found myself at times thinking about how amazing the situation was. When the subject of cross-dressing was put to my mum she freaked out and told me how it was against the natural order. But here I was, in my friends house with a small group of friends. We walked the dog, we went shopping. We had our normal Saturday get-together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I know my family won't take it particularly well when they have to find out but honestly, that is their problem. My friends have demonstrated to me that there are people who accept me for me no-matter who that happens to be. Eventually my family may come round to the idea but I have my friends support and that means everything to me.

I came home, removed the wig I had been wearing all day (I've never worn one for more than about half and hour before) and sat at my computer and talked to my friend. I don't remember the last time I typed so much, so quickly out of pure excitement. I told him the events of the day, every detail I could think of.

He asked me how I felt. I thought about this for a moment. What I realised was this:

I have suffered from depression for as long as I can remember. When the tablets first started to work properly I suddenly realised what it meant to feel 'normal'. Today was like that. I felt how I should. Happy and comfortable and I felt like ME. I went to bed truly happy for the first time in months.

Yesterday was amazing.

On the subject of being trans...

In which I use the opportunity to spill the contents of my brain and hope it makes some sort of sense at the end.

Today, in this blog post, I am writing not as Nespus, nor as Ellia. Nor as my given name. (Big shock, we are all the same person...gasp!)

Today I write as Holly.

Two weeks ago I made a post on a different website that I had intended to post here called "The girl in my head". It has been the longest two weeks of my life.

The post in question was the result of my brain failing. I could not sleep. My mind was racing. I had to get all the thoughts I had out of my head. In it I described the Girl who has been in my head for as long as I can remember. I've never really though much about her except that when I struggle to outwardly express an emotion I see her in my mind emoting for me. If I feel happy, she may cheer while do nothing. If I feel sad, she may cry.

I talked about how she shared my personality. I talked about how she changed. Where once she had been, similar to me in spirit, she was quite different in form. I don't mean just that she was female, I mean she was petite where I am large. She was cute, where I, to put it quite bluntly, am not. But she changed. In the weeks before I made the post the Girl changed to a form I associated with myself.

I found myself fantasizing as I often do. Nothing particularly interesting. In one instance I was lying in bed thinking about being in bed. But I saw the Girl. I saw her, curled up and happy. I wanted that. When I made the post these ideas swam through my mind but made no sense to me. I would be lying if I said they made perfect sense now, but they are certainly clearer.

As a result of my post I heard responses from others. I was shocked at the amount of people who told me they completely understood. The way I felt and the things I thought mirrored other peoples. I began to feel as the Girl did. Or more accurately, I began to realise that what the Girl felt was what I felt. Those were my feelings.

Today I write as Holly. Holly is as much part of me as anything else. Perhaps she is more, but I will address that later.

When I told my Mum I am bisexual, her reaction was not great. But worse was the joke she made afterwards.

"Well, as long as you don't go around wearing dresses or anything".

This was unfortunate for many reasons. Firstly, I have never EVER had a problem with cross-dressers, nor can I take unjustified intolerance without question. Secondly, at this stage I found myself in the early stages of cross-dressing. I wear 'womens' underwear and I own 'womens' clothes.

Needless to say, the resulting argument got rather heated and left my mum unsure as to what was going on. I did not expressly tell her I was cross-dressing but she took it upon herself to assume. A week later the argument began again. I asked her what she thought I had told her and she made a statement to the effect of 'cross dressers and weird and deviant" and expressed concern that all of a sudden I was going to become some sort of drugged out whore. The argument did not go well. At this point I do not believe I have told my mum exactly what is going on. I have told her to ask questions, I even gave her a list, for example "How do you feel about the whole thing? What exactly are you thinking?" and so on. She has yet to ask. Two weeks after this my mum is still being strange. She now finds herself apologising for the things she said (even though she doesn't know why they were a problem or what her problem actually IS yet). But she insists she doesn't know what to ask. Apparently no amount of suggestions will change this. She tries and says "So...are you...ok?" and then goes silent. It cannot continue. I have no desire to spend the rest of my days unable to be alone with my mother for fear of her suddenly worrying about something she doesn't understand and will not ask about!

The reason I mention all this is because the awkward silences caused me to think about what I would say the next time it comes up. The problem as I saw it was that saying "I am a cross dresser" does not accurately demonstrate my thoughts.

I cannot deny I have cross-dressed within the confines of my room. I wear 'womens' underwear on a daily basis. When I walk by myself I find myself wishing I could be wearing a skirt. I find myself frequently wishing I could pluck up the courage to go somewhere dressed. But it doesn't feel right to say I am a cross-dresser.

I don't know if it is because 'cross dresser' has some implied sexual side of it (even though this does not necessarily reflect the feelings of many cross-dressers) that makes it seem wrong, or if it is that it does not seem like cross dressing applies. In my mind I suppose, to 'cross dress' one would have to wear clothes intended for the opposite sex. My mind as it turns out, seems to be a girl called Holly wedged into the wrong body.

When I started this post I wasn't quite sure how it would end (nor am I convinced I am close to finishing it) however at this point I feel I can confidently say what my own evidence suggests.

I am transgender.

By various definitions, transgender is used to describe anyone who feels a difference between their sex as defined by their genitals and their gender as a sense of self.

While thinking of ways to talk to mum, the only thing I could think of was to say that while my physical body is outwardly male, the part she might call the 'soul' seems to be overwhelmingly female. Not so much in a 'way I act' because I don't subscribe to the idea of gender roles anyway, but in ways I can't really explain.

I don't know any more than this. I'm not even sure how I would go about knowing more than this. The idea scares me a little. My friends are amazing. They are incredibly supportive and understanding. My family...well I don't want them to know unless they have to. I really wish mum had just kept her mouth shut. I did not want to tell her because at the time I was even less sure than I am now. I can't tell her what it means or how it will affect me because I don;t know. Do I have body dysmorphia? Sometimes. Do I want to transition and live as a women? How the hell should I know. Arguably it doesn't change much. My hair goes back to being long, occasionally I wear different clothes and I use a different name. I'm still me. I'm still the same as I was...am... I do not know how to even begin addressing these questions or if I even NEED to.

All I know is that right now, I am Holly. I am transgender and I am happy and comfortable knowing that!

EDIT: If there IS anyone reading this, please comment if it made you think anything at all! Any input I can get will help me get my head round things! Thanks <3

The Experiment!

So during a group therapy session one of the group members said she had significant body and self-worth issues. Specifically she said something to the effect of "I look in the mirror and I think 'God you're ugly, nobody could ever love you' and things like that". Now this girl is plenty attractive and a very nice person from what I can tell. This led me to a realisation.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND BODY ISSUES.

Now, for a lot of people, this wouldn't be a problem. I know for a lot of people the response comes in two forms. The reassuring 'but you look great' and the unhelpful 'pfff...have you looked in a mirror lately? Get over yourself...". Because I have never needed or wanted to have someone reassure me about my appearance, I found myself in the latter camp. A situation I found unacceptable. I saw how badly the thoughts affected this girl and there was no way I was going to write them off as unimportant. I needed to know why.

Thus, The Experiment! was born.

The purpose: To better understand 'body-issues' particularly those related to poor self esteem and low confidence.

The method: 

1. Understanding from a personal, male perspective
2. Understanding from a personal, female perspective

Method 1: The Beard

I have had a beard since I was able to grow hair on my face. It was comfortable, I liked it and it's pretty hard not to look OK with a beard. Either you keep it tidy and you look good, or you keep it rough and everybody knows you don't care about your appearance today. You're not out to please anybody.

The findings:
After removing the beard I noticed the following. First, my face has remarkably little colour. Second, my face is kind of round. Third, my eyes look funny but I don't know why. Finally, and most importantly, not ONE of those things bothered me.

A step in the right direction but nothing that would make me think that it wasn't acceptable.

The conclusion:
The method is theoretically sound. However, while I would not say I was confident in my appearance, I definitely don't care much about it. I'm very lazy with it and as such removing the beard is simply not enough to recreate a similar effect to that experienced by the group member. The only step-ups I could think on the male side was to dress smarter, which usually means a suit which I refuse to wear for moral reasons, or becoming super-fit which I only consider worth it for the practical reasons and have no desire to have 'rock-hard-abs' or whatever the kids are calling them these days. Therefore method one was a bust.


Method 2: The Transformation
If I couldn't do it by removing my beard, and the only other male options were unhelpful at best, I formulated a new plan. I spent some time thinking about things women do to make themselves 'attractive'.
My list included:

• Hair
• Make-up
• Clothes
• Shaving

I'm sure there are others, but not being a woman I wasn't 100% on them but I thought these would do.

So I bought myself a wig, some make-up (eye liner, eye-shadow, lip-gloss), a top and a skirt and set about making myself a woman for a bit. I ordered these things off the internet so I had a few days to wait, so while I had nothing better to do I decided to work on shaving.

Shaving

So having already removed my beard for my previous experiment my next port of call was the body. On one or two occasions I have shaved my pubic area, pretty much because I was bored. I have also shaved my butt because it was hot. So I got those out of the way pretty quick. Then I moved on to unknown territory.

First, the chest/stomach. I have NEVER shaved my chest before this experiment, nor have I considered it. I've never seen the point of it so it had to go. After a long, LONG while, it got done and I only slice my nipple twice! The next day I decided to try the legs.

Again, not something I have ever though about. In the interests of honesty, I have only shaved to just below the knee, since it is summer and thus shorts-weather it becomes a little harder to explain to people why all of a sudden you have shaved legs. Anyway, shaving your legs is HARD. I sliced the heck out of my knee while shaving it and it hurt like hell. But again, it got done. I have re-shaved every couple of days when the hair starts to grow back and intend to keep this up until I either finish the experiment or decide it is necessary.

Skip forward to the delivery of items.

Hair and clothes

These will go together because there really isn't much to say about it. I opted for a brown, straight haired wig with hair that goes to my shoulders. Tied in a pony-tail with a thick-ish strand framing the face. A cute hairstyle. I chose it because in my head I have an idea of what the girl-me would look like. This was my first clue that I might be on to something. Regular me just exists, but girl-me is an ideal. She has a form to be attained, not a perfect form, but one that makes me think if I WAS female, I would want to look like. I put on the clothes which I actually really like. Clothes were strange because again I can pick the style I would wear IF I were female.

Make-up

I suck outright at makeup so in the end I put on a bit of blue-eyeshadow (barely visible), some black eyeliner and some clear lipgloss *sparkle sparkle*.

Once I was made up I took some pictures with my webcam and studied them.

The Findings:

My hair is cute but messy. My clothes don't fit. I need to lose some weight, like NOW. My make-up makes me look tarty and I don't like it. I wish I had a ribbon or a bow for my hair. 

The Conclusions:

The findings for this method were much different. My ideal had not been met and suddenly it made sense. The therapist would call it an 'unrelenting standard'. A bar set by myself that I could never quite reach. In my first attempt at dressing like a woman my first thoughts were not that I don't look convincing but that I needed to lose weight and find better fitting clothes. I discovered a part of me that desires a physical change for purely aesthetic reasons. This is a vastly improved method.

Continuation

It would be an insult to anyone who body issues to say that after this I now understand them fully. Even more so to be able to say that I could flick back to normal and still not care. As such, I can reason that I still do not fully understand it, however the experiment has had a noticeable effect on me.

Firstly, I found that part of me enjoyed the experiment. Frankly, I feel quite good and confident with shaved legs. I don't know why. I liked having cute hair, and I loved that I ALMOST looked cute. As my friend said when I showed him the picture "you look happy!". I was. In addition to this I have noticed that I have changed my attitude towards appearance in my usual self. I have maintained a relatively clean shaven face since the start, compared to my usual regime of shave when it becomes too scratchy. I have started trying to eat better and exercise more for aesthetic reasons as well as practical ones. I have realised that I can wear whatever clothes I want basically, and am now the owner of some of the most bright-orange shorts you will ever see. This is a GOOD thing. 

New goal:

To determine the outcome of increased and more regular exposure to the experiment. To understand to a (non-destructive) level I am comfortable with, the concept of negative body image. To understand the significance of different aspects of negative body image and the methods of dealing with each.

Method:

Continued transformation. In addition, I shall attempt to lose weight in order to better fit the image of my female-self within my head.

Theory:

As progress towards the ideal of my female-self is made, I will have recorded the lengths I have had to go to with which to achieve it. Hopefully the male and female sides will help each other. By this I mean that the female-side will cause my male side to consider appearance and take some pride in it while avoiding ego-ism and the male side will prevent the female side from setting an 'unrelenting standard' that I can never hope to attain. While this would cause me to fully understand the feelings of the group member, I do not wish to become obsessed with my appearance unnecessarily. I have more important things to concern myself with.

To be continued: (Nespus)