Short and very very self-indulgent…

So, I know that this blog is one of the shortest I’ve ever written (yay you say!).  I feel like I should find some cute cat pictures to pad it out a little :o).  I have been writing blogs, but just haven’t been finishing them.  Note to self - stop being too busy.

Regular readers know that I really struggle with my weight - I’m a bit large really.  I’ve joined a great group (and awesome leader) who are really helping me get the bulk off.  Part of my success with this is that I’m forced to hold myself to account to other people.  If I didn’t and it was just down to me, I’d just gorge myself on pizza instead: the scales themselves aren't enough to motivate me.

So in the spirit of holding myself to account - and honestly, in the hope of some sisterly encouragement, I determined also to log my weight loss journey on my blog.  I’ve promised it before and failed, so this time I will stick to my plan which includes reporting my weight loss once every month.  And I haven’t so far and Wednesday is the last opportunity for November.

So *drumroll please* - I’ve been on my weight loss programme for 11 weeks and I have now lost 35lbs (2.5 stones / 16kgs).  Still a very long way to go - my aim is at least 10 stone and to reach a UK14 size, but its a good start.  

Anyway, there you go, the shortest blog ever!  I thank you... :o)

Out in a dress...

Its been a really busy week with little opportunity, other than last Monday, to have Rhiannon time.   Last week we were away on holiday.  On the way back, a mad thought entered my head: I wanted to go out, in normal day time, wearing a dress.   Given that I regularly present female, you might be forgiven for thinking that this is a regular occurrence, but it isn’t really.

Last Monday's attempt...

I don’t know how you feel about it, but I’m always very self conscious about wearing a dress when I go out.  Many women in the UK don’t wear dresses very often, or skirts for that matter.  There is much more of a likelihood that you will see them wearing either jeans, trousers or leggings.  Wearing a dress immediately attracts attention because it is relatively rare.  There are definitely times of the year where it is more common, or if someone is doing it for work, but even so, its still infrequent.  My aim in dressing is always to blend in and to be noticed as little as possible, so I tend to wear what I see most other women in their early 40s wearing too.  So going out actually in a dress would represent a really big push out of my comfort zone.

Despite this mad thought being unusual for me, it grew and grew and I knew that by the time I reached Monday, knowing I’d have Rhiannon time, that only a dress would do when I went out.  So when I got dressed that morning, on went my black skater dress, heeled knee length boots and patterned tights.  Accessorised with some purple jewellery and my dark blue cardigan and blue scarf, I was feeling very happy.

Different outfit, same dress (2011)

I had some errands to run while I was out: the first one being that I needed to pick up my wig which had gone back to be washed and blow dried by the lovely Andrea.  It was, as usual, so fantastic to see her - she is just full of energy and literally makes me feel happier every moment I spend there.  We discussed the dress I was wearing and she said that she thought it was very appropriate and that because I was wearing opaque tights, it worked very well.  Very appropriate for the season.  Confidence built up a little bit, I headed on.

The second and final errand was that I wanted to pop out shopping.  I’d seen several tops that I liked online and I wanted to go to the shop to take another look.  It was weird really, I went through with it and was comfortable, but not perfectly comfortable.  Most women were dressed as I described before: jeans and a jumper and I felt a little too overdressed, despite being happy with my choice.  But because I stood out, I guess my default concern of dress=noticeable=obvious trans-person kicked in and I found it very hard to relax.  I walked around the store, but for some reason felt like an alien who had landed in planet ladies clothes shop and that I shouldn’t be there.  I know that its only by doing this and continuing to challenge myself that I’ll grow and my confidence will improve, but it was more difficult that day than I expected, I guess is what I am saying.  The good thing which shows there has been movement forward is that I wished I’d been there in my top and jeans because I’d have been more comfortable.  I didn’t for a moment, as I have in the past, felt like I shouldn’t be there at all.  I suppose its just another step out, you get used to it, you grow, and its another thing within your repertoire.   Wearing a dress and feeling comfortable is something that I really do want to become happy with doing.

Since that day, I have seen a number of women out and about in similar outfits - and I’ve been kicking myself for not believing Andrea - that it really was appropriate and that I looked fine.  I’m breaking this down quickly and getting more used to it, but still a way to go.   I'm definitely out and about in Rhiannon mode in a week or so, if not before, so I will be wearing a dress again.  I really want to conquer this.

I hate my name

I’m probably just being weird now, but I find that the things gender dysphoria chooses to settle on to be very odd.   I’m used to frequent lows and constant desperation due to the massive incongruence.  But of late something new has started that is very weird.  Really weird.  And a little upsetting I guess.

I write a LOT of email.  I don’t get 100s a day like I know some people get, but given the type of work I do, I generate a lot of email traffic as I’m regularly badgering people for work / to meet deadlines etc.  When I have been writing emails recently, I have been getting a palpable sense of dread as I near the end of the email, knowing that I am going to have to, yet again, type my boy name.  Its almost like it is quickly becoming an obvious and painful reinforcement of who I am not.  Each time I send one, I contemplate whether I can reduce the formality of the email by leaving my name off altogether and bypassing the problem.  It can last at least a few minutes debating with myself over a 3 sentence email.

Sometimes it goes further and I feel a desperate compulsion to change my official email signature to Rhiannon [insert real surname].  On days when I’m feeling that way out and am sending an email to someone I know well and who knows I’m trans, I gleefully make the change.  They probably think I’m just being a bit mad.  I, however, am feeling relief like you can’t imagine…

I’m starting to think that I have this thing quite badly.  That its getting worse.  And that I’m sliding inextricably towards a need for radical change.  If an email signature is now causing me pain an extra 50 times a day, I think I might have a real problem.   It seems so small and stupid now that I write it down, but I guess I can't really help it, I lay bare my madness.

Praise for another ally

I know that there are some people in the world - many people in fact, who just hate the trans community.  I get that, but today, I think we should celebrate once more, our friends and allies who, frankly, are just so awesome, kind and who take acceptance to a whole new level.  I have many of those people in my life and I am so thankful for it.  This week, I added another.  As I have mentioned in recent posts, I have just joined a diet-group-slash-slimming-class-slash-fat-club (delete as applicable).  It is going well so far - 22.5lbs lost - clothes that were tight are miraculously fitting again.  My favourite dress still eludes me, but I’m nearly there with it.

Anyway.  I have an issue with slimming club leaders and Doctors for that matter.  When I say I have an issue with them, let me rephrase that, I have an issue with them not knowing something I never told them.  After all, surely they should be mind readers?  I don’t tell them I’m trans.  I know that you might roll your eyes at this, so I apologise, but part of the reason I’m large of body is that my trans-ness makes me desperately sad sometimes and I comfort eat (and drink) to overcome it.   Its a bad coping mechanism, I know.  The best one (full time as Rhiannon) is a work in progress.   So I am choosing to go somewhere to get help.  The issue I have is that when I go, I’m presenting male and so that’s how I’m treated - I’m a man losing weight to become all buff and handsome.  Having my motives for losing weight misunderstood, is a really painful thing for me that makes me very unhappy.  I want to be understood as Rhiannon and for the people who support me to know why they are doing that and what I’m really trying to get from their help.

Recently the diet-group-slash-slimming-class-slash-fat-club have run this thing where you set your short-term goal of what you want to try to achieve by Christmas.  I’m still in the ‘lots to lose’ category, so I realise that I’m not so much interested in my promise to myself for this Christmas, but that my goal is for the next one - 2017.  By then, I want to be comfortably fitting into a size UK14 dress.  Its a big ask as i’d need to lose about 5 dress sizes, but I’ve already lost 1 and I think it is do-able.

The leader of our group is such a supportive lady and we recently connected on Facebook.  Our group members regularly and spontaneously stand up to sing her praises as to how she has helped them and made a difference to their lives and I’m really not surprised.  She is total bundle of positive energy.   So I figured in for a penny, in for a pound, I’ll tell her.  So tentatively, with a terrible opening message along the lines of, “Hello. Ok. So. Support. I'm nervous. Scared more like. I've sought help on my slimming before, but to my regret, I've never told any of my previous people why I'm slimming which is actually the most important bit really.  Not sure how you'd take it and whether I'm about to make a mistake that will alienate you forever...this is really not something I'm sure about.  Can I confess the secret only selected friends and family know...? If this is already TMI, honestly, I won't say, but clearly, it already sounds too interesting I suspect…”

She gave me to ok to go ahead, and so I did: “The target by this Christmas is interesting, but my target by the following Christmas is more revealing.  I want to be a size 14.  I’m transgender.”  Way to blurt it out.

Following my shaky start what unfolded was probably one of the most instantly supportive, accepting and enthused conversations I’ve ever had.   One of the opening lines from her was that she had suspected something.  Clearly this just confirms that they are mind readers after all - I’ll never have to out myself again! :o)  It continued through her saying it is awesome and exciting.  I showed her my Flickr page and this blog. She responded that I look beautiful.  I told her about the medical reasons for losing weight to help get prescribed with hormones etc and she offered her absolute support with helping me to achieve my goal and my dreams.  Her recognition, from her own past, that people can be judgemental and ignorant really helped.  Her perceptive responses really amazed me, the genuine depth of understanding is really unusual.  It left me happy, elated and reassured and was really lovely.

All of this happened on FB messanger and I’m not at group this week as I’m away on holiday, but I am nervous about the next group session.  I’m always a little more shy in person about this stuff.  My work persona, for example, is different - I have to present confident and accomplished - but secretly I’m shy and a little bit (or a lot) insecure and lacking in self esteem.  But I’ve been bowled over so far by her response and, who knows, one day, I might be able to go to the group as Rhiannon and be welcomed by the other slimmers.  Certainly that dream feels a step closer and I know that I have another amazing fierce strong woman helping me in my corner.  I’m very grateful.

Desperation is growing

Sometimes you realise that some old sayings are indeed, true.  In this case, ’you can have too much of a good thing’ is something that I’m suffering from at the moment.  This week has been very very Rhiannon.  Sunday afternoon and evening, Tuesday afternoon and evening, all day Wednesday and all day Thursday, I’ve been in girl mode and have been very very happy.  Weight is going down and confidence is growing.  But honestly, its causing me to really struggle.  Every time I have to return to my male disguise, my heart breaks and I want to cry.  Desperation is growing.  I just want to be full time right now.

This week has seen me driving to Birmingham, UK, in Rhiannon-mode, checking into a hotel.  When I was in my room, I fancied a night in one of my favourite normal girl dresses.  Upon realising that I’d left my mobile phone in my car, I thought sod it and I popped out in my dress.  Exhilarating and felt great, even with a group of loud men looking on!  On top of that I had a lovely evening in with A2, diet food and wine.  Then time out watching the new Bridget Jones movie at the local cinema and today, lunch at Nandos.  Add in that I went shopping in Boots and I think I’ve been really brave this week.

I got noticed very little and anyone who did, just didn’t say anything.  The weight loss means that clothes are fitting me again.  A lot more to go, but I suspect that by Saturday, the total dropped will be 21lbs which is a fantastic achievement so far - given that I’m enjoying eating still!!  All of this means that I’m not just content, but desperate to get out more and more in Rhiannon mode.  I’m not being stupid and risk taking, but I am focussed on getting on with life.

The challenge is twofold with going full time.  Work won’t be an easy one to resolve - lots of thinking and work to do to decide how to move things forward.  Financially, full time leads to splitting with my wife and funding two households for a time.  Neither easy, but I’m giving a lot of time to working out how I can overcome both challenges.  The problem is that in the mean time, I’m struggling.  I need more of my good thing.  I daydream about being full time and long for when I can be myself all of the time.  And right now this is making me desperate.  I’m not going to do anything stupid and rash - its a time for careful thinking and planning, but I wish it wasn’t.  I wish it was already happening.

It’s good to talk…

On a roll?  Let’s not get too excited, its only the second one recently.  But I am in a happy place today which is both a minor miracle and a great relief.   I know that I have outlined my dysphoric episodes in the past, so I don’t need to go there again.   But the other day it struck like thunder.  Typically, it was on a day when I had so much work to do which was really frustrating.  I couldn’t focus or concentrate.  Luckily my friend who I think I have previously referred to as A2 on here was at the end of an email and really helped.  She helped calm me and to put things in perspective.  It was good to talk.

But today I went further with a confluence of three good things happening in one day.  The first is that I got a lot of work done.  I’m really worried at the moment as my list seems to be getting longer rather than shorter - it’s constant growth is getting tiresome.  So whilst it only got a little shorter today, it did get shorter.  Second, I got a day in Rhiannon mode which was fantastic.  As I said last time, I’ve been attempting to lose weight.  That, together with the removal of my hernia meant that I put on my skinny jeans and they fit perfectly and beautifully.  I felt a million dollars.  I put it together with a nice flowery blue top, blue cardigan and my blue kitten heel shoes.  I was saying to A1, the other A, that even my confidence was higher today because I felt better in myself.  What more incentive could you possibly want for losing a bit of weight?

All of that was working toward the fact that it was my counselling session today.  I’d decided to go in Rhiannon mode and so getting ready (and even my make up was good today) was a joy.  My counselling was recommended by my gender Doctor and it is with a recommended gender counsellor who is very good.  I suffer with verbal diarrhoea most of the time.  He, I think, has realised that, so asks me really good questions and lets me start talking.  It is so cathartic to get this time just to talk about what is in my head.  I’m grateful for the opportunity.  The gender Doctor indicated that in order to start my course of hormones, I need to lose a bit of weight and that the counselling would be useful to help me think about getting the rest of my life in order so that I can continue on the route of travel towards going full time.  Weight loss is in progress and counselling has started.


The counselling sessions so far have been very focussed on unpacking the issues and the problems I face with transition.  I think that as we move into future sessions, they will get harder because they will start to deal with the actions I need to take to make that happen.  I don’t really like that because whilst I desperately want it, I pathologically avoid upsetting people.  I can’t bear knowing I’m the cause of someone’s upset.  It might sound like I’m a saccharine goody two shoes, but I find it really hard to be selfish.  But I know that I have to do it.  I’ve realised over time, that it really isn’t a choice.   I need to take it very seriously as I start to plan to impact many of the lives around me.  Some of the questions today caught me short and I was hit by how tough this process is going to be to go through.

So today had real highs and I’m really grateful for them.  But it also was very challenging and went to the core of who I am.  I don’t mean to be flippant, but there is power in being able to communicate and to start to process all of this: it is really good to talk.

Less of me has returned than I left with...

The first question, when you have been away from your own blog for an impolite amount of time, I suppose, is where to start?  Looking at my most recent entry, you could be forgiven for wondering if I’d vanished in a blaze of self-recrimination after feeling like I had let my self down.  Actually, it was worse than that, but in a very different way…

Shortly after the last blog, I started to feel unwell.  Really unwell.  Unwell to the point that I could barely eat without feeling lots of pain.  Long story short, it resulted in me ending up in hospital and very quickly needing to adjust to a longish period of recovery following a fairly big operation.  Not a serious, needing organs to be fixed or replaced type of operation, but certainly an open up your abdomen, poke around and repair one!  Everything is all well and good now and I feel better than before, but it made for a mostly difficult Summer.  

This may sound a little macabre, but one of the upsides of being so unwell was that I lost a whole load of weight.  It was great, but when I then started eating again, disappointingly, it all began to pile back on to me.  As you will know from previous blogs, I really struggle with my weight, so that was very disappointing.  But it did inspire me to think about losing it properly.  I know I’ve promised this before, but this time, rather than acting in the rash heat of the moment and failing, I have actually started already.  Joining a local well-known brand of slimming groups, I have begun the process of reducing my size down…again. (Perpetual yo-yo dieter here I’m afraid!)

As you would expect, the group I joined, which is a large one, is primarily populated by female members.  There are a few chaps, but not many.  I find fitting in quite hard: as usual, I don’t feel part of either gender’s group.  I’m not (outwardly) a girl and I certainly find it hard to connect to the men.  

I had a major overwhelm of dysphoria at one point in my first meeting.  As is customary, you are asked to identify a target to aim for and instead of what I was expected to say (i.e. losing a million pounds), I nearly said I wanted to be a size 14.  Good sense kicked in and I realised that I’m not supposed to say that, so a target weight came out of my mouth instead.  But inwardly I felt so frustrated.  Why, for once, can’t I just live how I want to live and say it how it is and how I want it to be - I really really need to get this sorted out.

Anyway, to the group - I’m finding the purpose of the group meeting difficult: it is driven by almost a name and shame approach — or name and praise if weight has been lost.  But most people there seem to be comfortable.  As someone of my rotund proportions would expect, the weight is coming off well to start with — it’ll be interesting in a few months when it completely slows down to see how motivated I am at that point.  But for now, at 1 stone (14lbs, 6.35kg) lighter than I was, I’m feeling more comfortable already and more importantly am gearing up to sign up to some gym membership.  Fitness is as important to me as weight loss.

Other things are going on which I will report on later, but that will do for now except to say that during my period of unwellness, time as Rhiannon was rendered virtually impossible due to incapacitation and pain.  But things have resumed and now, for the first time in many months, my heart is singing again.