Dear Readers,
Today I’m going to share something with you that I’ve hesitated to share for many years. On the brink of my first transgender surgery I pause for a moment and consider my journey to this point.
Preparations
It’s 9:30 at night, the night before my facial feminization surgery. I’m sitting in my hotel room in Chicago looking around at the someone dark confines of what will be my prison for the next two weeks. I’m fortunate that my dad and his girlfriend are with me for support – I know in the coming days and weeks I am going to need to lean on them.
We had spent the day doing preparations – getting out and about before out and about will be painful and difficult. First we went to the doctor’s office – a humble building in a quiet section of town with a strip mall across the street. It wasn’t quite what you would picture when you think of surgery. No hospital bustling with nurses and incoming patients. More like an upscale physician’s office with it’s own operating room. The doctor gave us a tour of his office, and confidently described what would happen tomorrow during the twelve hour surgery. He took some last photos and measurements, said goodbye and encouraging us to get a good night’s sleep since the next day would start at 5:30am.
We picked up some supplies from a local Whole Foods store, then had lunch with Lisa, a caretaker who would be with me for the next week after the surgery to help with my recovery. Chicago deep dish pizza is probably not the best last meal before surgery, but we were in Chicago, and I’d never had it before.
Now I’m back in my hotel room, pondering the morning to come.
Girl in the mirror
I’m somewhat captivated by my image in the mirror. It’s a strange feeling thinking that this will be the last time I see this person. I think it will feel disorientating to look in the mirror for the first few months afterwards. It’s almost as though I’m losing part of myself.
I can see all my imperfections. All the things which aren’t feminine, and aren’t quite symmetrical. Yet there is a churning in my stomach. I’m a little fearful of walking away from the person I’ve known all my life. There’s a security in that old person, in her insecurities there’s almost a comfort, an expectation of not being perfect. After surgery the line will be crossed – there will be no ‘new me’ to look forward to, only me. To live with yourself for the rest of your life – a daunting prospect I had never before been forced to consider.
I… think I’m going to miss myself. My nose thats too big, my large forehead, my more-prominent-for-a-woman jawline. I’m going to miss the reflection that I both love and hate, and learned to love again these last few months as I went full time.
I realize that, even with all the substantial gains – in beauty, self confidence, self image – I’m going to be losing something that I’ll never be able to get back. I’m going to lose my former self. That person who carried me this far, on whose shoulders – burdened with gender dysphoria – I was brought into another moment, another experience, through another challenge. The person who lifted their head from the pillow every day hoping for a cure, praying for a life any other than this. That person who brought me to the doorway of my future, and handed me the reins, saying ‘Take good care of her, she’s special.’
What should I feel, as I look upon the last of me?
I’m filled with gratitude for the person that has carried me this far. With all their faults, and foibles they allowed me to be born. They gave me life, and living abundantly is the only suitable repayment I can think of.
Tonight I’ll go to sleep one last time looking like this.
Tomorrow I’ll go to sleep looking closer to who I am.
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Thank you for sharing, Vanessa…
Thanks for all the well wishes!
My surgery was many years ago, but it took me a long time before I felt comfortable sharing this particular experience. (It went well, and I’m very happy with the results!)
Someday somehow I’ll pass through this.
Thank you for sharing!
Good luck from the bottom of my heart.
I pray all goes well gods blessing on you hun xx
At first I was so eager and happy to finally transition I didn’t give much thought to leaving my old self behind. Now that I am fulltime and on HRT it is a time to reflect on losing my past identity. The name that carried me through my life is gone. Family dynamics, relationships with friends have changed. It’s not depressing or sad but a time for deep contemplation I was not expecting it to effect me like it does but it will not stop going forward.
Well said Kathleen, a time for deep contemplation and reflection on the past.
Looks can be deceiving especially when they’re covered with clothes but how do you hide your face? You don’t. So the highest priority on my surgical list is my face. I feel beautiful already but sadly only 4% of the women on the planet think they’re beautiful. The rest have no idea how beautiful they look to the men who love them. What you believe is your reality.
What you believe is reality – for better or worse.
We have clothes for our face – our smile, the way our nose crinkles or laugh lines around our eyes dance.
We look forward to seeing the new you, Vanessa. So glad it went well
Thanks Tasi!
Congratulations! I wish you all the best and look forward to my own transformation. Good luck and may God take care of you.
Thanks Dana!
Look at yourself…you are simplyi mproving what already exsists. Sel doubt will always be with you no matter what you look like. How many times have you heard the question am I too fat? What do you think about my hair? Etc the list is endless.No matter what we do it is never quite good enough to stoop the self doubt. Self doubt is always part of us, we always seek to improve in some fashion…clothes. lingerie, make up, hairdo, gender surgery, fffs, new car,newer living space. Self doubt is a useful part of our lives If you ever stop… Read more »
Best of luck.
I would much prefer to see you as you are rather than be given the generic pretty woman’s picture. I realize you prefer not to show yourself. I’m just hoping you’d get through that some day. It makes me feel like I’m talking with a manikin.
Eric