“Santa must have read my letter…that sound ringing in my ears isn’t jangling little bells, it’s the gentle thrum of a clitoris starting to turn over.”
I’m in the mood for a fully festive post but if my blog has taught me one thing, it’s that people seem to prefer to read about the downsides of my transition.
I’m usually an obliging sort but I’ll maybe throw in some of the upsides as well. However, I’m very much looking forward to Christmas this year and the gifts it will bring. Although Santa will have a tall order to beat my surgeon for the one that keeps on giving, he was already good enough to drop off a few early items under my tree.
Firstly, Dilation may remain the bane of my life but it is getting easier. Not throwing a hotdog up a hallway sort of easy but certainly not as difficult as it originally was. I feel somewhat weirdly blessed and thankful for the timing of this particular present. Santa is off to a cracking start.
My second gift is that I’ve apparently also conquered peeing, although I’m reticent to jinx it by stating it as a fact. Let’s just say, it’s all very much a work in progress and I thank both Santa and the Baby Jesus for any intervention provided in this regard. He maybe didn’t drop off gold or frankincense this year but there’s already a little Grrrrr! as things begin to purr into life.
I think the next thing I’ve been lucky enough to receive is just the almost blanket acceptance that I’ve enjoyed.
That’s maybe more to do with being surrounded by some very good people but we can let Santa take the credit surely? It might also be my first ever Christmas as a woman but it won’t be the first where I’ve been welcomed into friends’ homes to spend it with them. There’s not enough wrapping paper in the world for that and I’d never really know what to get in return. My thanks are all I have.
On that note, the one lump of coal in my festivities is my estrangement from family. This will be my fifth Christmas without my siblings. It’s not without it’s difficulties but it carries a gift of it’s own too. And that’s just Hope. That this is the last year that the hostility comes decked in Holly. I refuse to believe that’s a Christmas wish too far.
Santa must have read my letter for his final effort though. It’s very early days but that sound ringing in my ears isn’t jangling little bells, it’s the gentle thrum of a clitoris starting to turn over.
I’m reasonably sure it’s nowhere near roadworthy at present though, although being aware of it so soon is a phenomenally good omen.
Admittedly this feeling of awareness usually sits somewhere between a stocking clad boot in the balls and being stabbed with scissors. But you can’t have everything all at once. It will take time to come into it’s own. But Santa has most definitely already given me my Christmas cracker.
So it’s fast approaching Christmas Eve and it feels like I’ve been allowed a sneaky peek at a future favourite gift. And things genuinely seem like they are starting to work out. So although I don’t wish to put all my eggs in one basket just yet, my outlook for 2018 is definitely looking more Fabergé than Kinder. Somehow I made it onto Santa’s Nice list. I hope you did too.