HRT day 30… ish, and an introduction

A few days ago I used up the last of my initial 30 day prescription for HRT and so far… not much noticeable change. My skin is a bit softer and I find it easier to relax I guess. There have been mood swings and bouts of depression but those are nothing new, and can be attributed to environmental factors, i.e. people. I have gotten more comfortable being out and about in full fem, in fact I’m starting to enjoy it. Word of advice, full fem is hands down less conspicuous than androgynous. In the stores by my house the latter caused wide stares and quickly turned glances, but the former evokes little response other than a few genuine smiles.

I suppose it’s time I talk a bit about myself. I’m completely out so there’s no reason to be vague anymore. I was born and raised in Calgary Alberta to a conservative religious family. The words conservative and religious seem to mean something a bit different here than in other parts. In my family religion has always been about being nice to people, and being conservative is more about geography than politics. Even so it was a apparent to me at a young age that coming out would be a struggle at best. 

I attended a french emersion elementary school called Banff Trail starting in grade two, I changed schools after grade one because my family moved. The new house was definitely an upgrade but it meant loosing all of my friends. I made friends with some girls in my new school and would often describe myself as a tom girl. This of course led to a fair bit of harassment from fellow students, boys and girls alike. In my efforts to be more masculine I alienated the few friends I had managed to make, as detailed in my introductory post. 

I wouldn’t say I was ever confused about my gender identity, I had a pretty good idea of what was going on. The questions that plagued me were things like why, why did I think I was a girl? Was it a result of some experience or trauma such as pulling that deep fryer on top of myself? Was it because I had mostly female friends when I was younger, along with two sisters and no brothers? Perhaps it was that whenever my father had a bad day it meant I was going to have a bad evening? Would these feelings, this irrational belief ever change? Could any of it ever be proven? The biggest question of course was what to do about it.

Talking about it wasn’t an option. I was already ostracized and the best case scenario would mean giving my tormentors added ammunition. I knew I would be called a liar by some, I knew I would be outright hated by others. I wanted to fit in, I wanted to be normal, more than anything I wanted to be left alone. As I write this I can’t help but reflect that I’ve certainly managed to make myself alone. 

In grade 3 I became friends with a fellow outcast who happened to be a big fan of video games. I had wanted to get a Sega Master System but he convinced me to get a Nintendo instead. It was there that I found my escape. In particular there was a game called Metroid, an exploration based platformer about a space age bounty hunter with a twist ending. If you beat the game under a certain time limit the bounty hunter, Samus Aran would remove their armor to reveal they were a woman. Needless to say this appealed to me. 

Another significant element of Metroid is that when the game starts Samus is relatively weak, throughout her adventure she finds a variety tools and ancient relics that allow her to become quite powerful. Here was a viable solution to my problem. I could be myself on the inside, and my body would become my armor. I felt thoroughly unprepared to deal with the world, as a boy or girl, but I would make myself stronger. My post on self harm elaborates on this.

That seems like enough self indulgent rambling for one day, I may pick up where I left off at a later time 🙂

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