Wednesday, November 28, 2012

They Said, "Wait Until 6 Weeks." That Was Not A Lie.

When those bandages were first removed everything looked so perfect.  Maybe I was just overwhelmed.  Maybe I was blinded by happiness.  I do not know.  But it looked perfect.  Too perfect.

Two weeks post-op it looked much less than perfect.  Some skin was bright red, inflamed looking.  Other parts looked almost grey in color.  There was swelling everywhere.  Stitches sticking out all over where they were starting to break as parts began to dissolve.  Skin was torn in a few spots.  Scars were a mess.  It was frankly scary looking and freaked me out.  Dilation was very difficult.  And the medium size dilator was beyond torture causing me to pass out from pain the first time.

By four weeks it was officially disturbing.  I was starting to really worry.  Not only was it looking weirder it was feeling weird.  And as I would find out a week later I was beginning to get a skin infection.  Cellulitis.

Five weeks brought me a skin infection, even more swelling, parts of stitches falling off.  Long parts of stitches coming out amongst massive amounts of vaginal discharge.  An overwhelming stench.  Incredible swelling and major redness.  Funky discomfort that felt hard under the skin.  Just a variety of things.  Enough to cause me worry.  I called Dr. Bowers' office in Colorado.  Emailed her nurse in California.  Texted her.  Emailed my ob/gyn.  Started asking friends, family, everyone what they think could be wrong.

End result was a skin infection.  A course of antibiotics for a week.  The discovery that the hard feeling going on is in fact the erectile tissue folded and moved under the skin that apparently does get hard like an erection at times.  And most importantly, peace of mind that things were not totally screwed up and I'd be fine.

Somewhere around five and a half weeks I had my first post-op orgasm.  Brining me relief in so many ways.  The last piece fell into place.  I could relax now knowing that the operation was a success and everything was working as intended.

When I talked to Safina in San Mateo, California, Robin in Trinidad, Colorado, and the others, they all said the same thing.  The same thing that's in my discharge info.  Wait until six weeks.  That by six weeks everything will look so much better.  I was told that at two weeks.  Again at 4 weeks.  At 5 weeks in my panicked state.  Everyone and everything all saying wait until six weeks.

And that brings me to today.  Wednesday again.  Making it now officially six weeks since surgery.  One week of antibiotics are done.  Week since I saw the doctor.  And how am I doing?  Swelling is down a LOT.  Only some puffiness up above everything in the pubic area and some on the left side, labia majora/minora that whole area is swollen some still.  Rest of the swelling is gone.  Stitches have all dissolved entirely except for a very small spot near the clit that does still cause a pinching pain sometimes.  The red inflamed skin is no longer looking inflamed or red.  Looking like a normal light pink color.  Very little odor if any.  Hair covering scars that are healed and starting to fade.  Dilation is so much easier.  I can tolerate the medium sized dilator now.  Still not ready for the large one.  I still struggle with medium but it's not debilitating anymore.  I can have orgasms.  I get wet.  And 9 out of 10 times when I go to the bathroom now I pee in a straight stream into the bowl.  No longer a random spray that goes in every direction except where I want it to.  There is still the unusual hard feeling from the folded erectile tissue.  It feels like this weird pressure at times that can be almost painful.  But it's supposed to get better with time.

Overall, everything is great.  Looks great, feels pretty good, working as it should.  Oh, and the top is perfect too.  Stitches gone up there as well.  No pain or discomfort.  Still stuck wearing a surgical bra until January 24th.  But they look great, feel great, love them.  Current measurements put me at a 38C.

So they were right.  I was starting to lose faith for a bit there around week five.  I didn't think it would improve that much that fast.  But, Marci and her team are the experts.  After over a thousand of these operations it's safe to say they know exactly what to expect.  Complete and total success!

Saturday, November 24, 2012


I'm not going to say where, when, or how.  What I am going to say is how glad I am that it did.

Since surgery I have had a lot of issues to overcome as I adjust to my new body.  But my biggest fear both before and after surgery has been whether or not I'd be able to have an orgasm.  Before surgery I masturbated several times a day.  I had sex a lot throughout my life (more so in my youth lol).  And in my mind it was a lot to risk.  Since surgery, five and a half weeks ago, I've been worried.  I haven't had or been able to have an orgasm during this entire time.  It's led to me being stressed, sexually frustrated, short-tempered, and hostile.  I've been just spinning on people and bitching them out.  My family, friends, whoever.

Well finally, I can say my new parts work.  And like I had heard it felt pretty much the same as it used to except much more intense and much more difficult to achieve.  But what matters is it works!  I can't begin to express what a huge relief it is just knowing that.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

14th Annual International Transgender Day of Remembrance

I wrote this article for the Unitarian Fellowship of South Florida's website.  They are a small Unitarian Universalist church located in Hollywood, Florida that I've gone to events at.  I know several of their fellowship, some for as long as 16 years.  I've simply copy pasted the article below.  Enjoy!


265 People Killed in the Last 12 Months*

265 people, humans, the same as you or me.  Parents, children, friends, like yours.  They did nothing wrong.  They lived.  They loved.  They worked and went to school.  They ate the same food, drank the same water, breathed the same air.  But their lives were taken because they wanted what we all want.  To be happy, to be themselves, to live the lives they wanted to live.  265 innocent lives lost due to hate, prejudice, and a lack of education and understanding.

When I was asked to write an article on the 14th Annual International Transgender Day of Remembrance I didn't know where to begin.  Should I talk about the dead?  Should I talk about what it's like to be transgender?  Should I tell my story?  But then I saw this statistic.  It's utterly heartbreaking.  And this only includes the murders that were reported and doesn't even include all the suicides.

To think in one year that many of my sisters' and brothers' lives were cut short by hate; hurts me deeply.  To think they will never have what I have.  To think they died doing exactly what I'm doing.  I can't understand that level of hatred.

I'm transgender.  I'm post-op.  And living a life they can no longer have.  Yes we need to remember those lost.  We need the world to know how many innocents are being killed because they identify as transgender.  But we also need to celebrate life.  The world also needs to see those of us who are still alive.  And hopefully through education and by hearing our stories the world may slowly begin to understand that we are no different from anyone else except that we aren't the gender the world tries to tell us we are.

Most people can never imagine waking up every day hating who you are, the way you look, the pronouns people call you.  Most people will live their entire lives without giving much thought to gender, hormones, chromosomes, their own names even.  Their lives will go on and they will check the box "male" or "female" without so much as a second thought.

But try for a second to imagine a life where you feel the world forcing you into checking one box when you know you're the other.  Imagine hating the clothes you're forced by society to wear in order to "fit in".  Imagine looking in the mirror and hating what you see EVERY TIME.  Day in and day out, for years, for decades.

A lot of transgender people have come forth in the last couple years.  Many celebrities have publicly transitioned, thereby increasing public awareness about what it's like being transgender.  Chaz Bono, son of world famous singer Cher.  Laura Jane Grace, singer-guitarist of the punk band Against Me!.  Jenna Talackova, Miss Universe Canada contestant.  Lana Wachowski, director, screenwriter and producer.  Hopefully in time as our stories are told the world will come to understand.

But, these senseless murders need to stop.  So take this Tuesday, November 20th to remember those lost.  Light a candle in their name.  But also go forward and do your part to stand up for transgender rights wherever and whenever you can.  Because transgender rights are human rights.  Help spread love and education.  And let's all pray, meditate, and send energy into the universe that one day these awful crimes will cease and that this unwarranted hate will subside.

Events are being held around the world this week to remember those lost and to provide awareness and hope for the future.  You can find a complete list of events worldwide at

Locally, you can join myself and others for a candle lighting ceremony at:
The Pride Center
2040 N. Dixie Highway
Wilton Manors, FL 33305
Tuesday, November 20, 2012

For more info on Transgender Day of Remembrance visit these links:

For information, resources, references and education visit the following sites:
The YES Institute - The Source For Knowledge On Gender & Orientation
The TRUE Group - Transgender Support Group for Miami-Dade
The Alliance for GLBTQ Youth - Providing Services for Transgender Youth & Their Families
Sunserve - Resources For Transgender Individuals & Their Families
The Pride Center - LGBTQ Center

There are many other resources available.  For any further questions about anything above or anything related to transgender topics please feel free to contact me directly at

*source:  Transgender Europe’s Trans Murder Monitoring Project

Article by Krysta Lynn Cascio.

Monday, November 19, 2012

A Little Bit On Shoes... Another First After 24 Years

Tonight my mom bought me a pair of cheap ass sneakers.  Not sure why I was suddenly motivated to get sneakers tonight but I really wanted a pair.

Well, these are the first sneakers I've owned in 24 years.  Last time I owned sneakers we old folks still called them tennis shoes.

Anyone reading this is at this point wondering what the hell...  Well, 24 years ago is when I was first starting to identify as transgender.  Took two years before I officially stuck that label on myself.  But I knew I didn't want anything to do with anything stereotypically considered "male".  And in my mind sneakers were masculine, they meant activities like sports, exercise, things that would lead to building up muscles and becoming more guy like.

Of course now I realize how ridiculous that is.  But back then I had a totally different view of everything.  And so for 24 years I wore nothing but heels and boots.  Even when working or forced to dress more "male" I wore boots.  But not anymore.  I mean don't get me wrong, I'm still going to usually wear boots cause I freaking love boots!  And heels.  And boots WITH heels!  *drool*  But, sneakers too.  Especially with my yoga pants instead of those lace up heels that are 15ish years old and look it.

It's funny when I think about it.  Before surgery I felt no matter what I did or what I wore I still looked like a guy.  And now after surgery I feel like no matter what I do or what I wear I still look like a woman.  Makes no real sense logically.  I mean I don't look THAT different.  It's not like I'm walking around naked.

Just an interesting observation about myself.  And shoes.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

One Month Post-Op

The month that felt like a decade. FINALLY my mind is slowing and the fog and chaos are clearing. Still a long way from feeling "right". Still a great many things going on in my head. But here's where I'm at with my thoughts.

I've had many realizations over the last few weeks, several this week. And yes, my hormones were messed up for awhile which was just like a catalyst for everything else. Two weeks before surgery I was required to stop taking the medroxyprogesterone and spironolactone. In two weeks time my testosterone shot up from 10 to over 400. Left me an hysterical mess the last few days. Was flipped out over the documentary film crew not coming. Was a mental case about getting pre-op pics taken. Had a dozen or so breakdowns those final days right up until I was knocked out for surgery.

Then I woke up. And within two weeks (again) or maybe less, my testosterone plummeted from well over 400 to 6. So I went from short tempered, hostile, and crazed to emotional, traumatized by everything that happens, and generally overwhelmed in like 4 weeks. All of this is a major piece to the puzzle of what the hell is wrong with me. But this is just one piece of a far more complex clusterfuck of things going on within me.

One of the more significant realizations I had came a few days ago. In true geek fashion this knowledge was imparted onto me by Master Yoda. Star Wars episode 3: Revenge of the Sith. Anakin Skywalker was having nightmare visions of his wife Padme Amidala dying during childbirth (giving birth to Princess Leia Organna Skywalker Solo, and Luke Skywalker). The whole reason he went to the darkside and became Lord Darth Vader was for love. But the nightmares drove him crazy. So he sought out the power to stop the ones he loves from dying. Being mislead by Chancellor Palpatine (Darth Sidious aka The Emperor).

Getting off topic a bit there. But at one point he goes to Master Yoda seeking advice. And he tells him about his nightmares.  And Yoda tells him to overcome his fear he must learn to let go of that which he is most afraid to lose.  And I realized something right then.

As those who heard me speak that week after I returned may remember me saying.  I feel like I had to let go of everything for my surgery.  My Crohn's Disease was starting to flare up pretty bad.  My health was questionable.  My mental state even more so.  I felt that I had maybe a 40ish % chance of not surviving my surgery.  I told this to only two people (and a third figured it out on his own).  I was scared surgery would be canceled if I said anything to anyone.  And I fought so hard to get to that point.  Even though I was full of doubts and almost canceled it myself, I knew I HAD to do it no matter what!

So I left.  With my dad to San Francisco.  I saw everyone I could before I left.  Felt like I was going through my bucket list.  I said goodbye to my friends, to their families, to their pets.  Said goodbye to those I love thinking I may never see them again.  Said goodbye to my own cats.  Said goodbye to my mom who despite her bat shit craziness, has always been there for me in her own fucked up way.  I had to let go of everyone and everything.  I had to accept the fact that the sexual relationship I was in and LOVED would never be the same if it even continued.  Had to sacrifice my own body parts.  Which for someone that's masturbated like 5 times a day every day (or more) for 20+ years, was difficult to say the least.  My house, my stuff, my life, my memories, everything.  All left behind.

Yes, there was a greater chance of things going right than I calculated.  But in my mind at that time, during that last week, I had to accept that I was willing to let go of EVERYTHING just to be myself.

And then I had surgery...  One month ago.  Wednesday, October 17th, 2012 at 11:30a.m. PST.  Forever etched in my mind.

And things went perfect.  And it was great.  It IS great.  More than great.  There are no words to explain how happy I am with things physically.  But, there I was, post-op in San Mateo, having a great time in my new life.  And when it came time to return to my old life. I did NOT want to.  I really, really did not want to.  I didn't want to go back to all the problems and misery and crappy old house, and financial issues and all that.  I didn't want to know how much everything would change or how different it would all feel for me.  But I had no real choice but to return.

The flight back I was antsy, fidgety, and restless.  The second we landed I had nothing but issues.  Issues with the airport, wheelchair to get out, with my mom driving on the ride home, with everything.  I was just miserable.  And I snapped.  I couldn't deal with being back in my mom's house.  Crammed in that little room with everything I own.  No space, felt claustrophobic.  HAD to get out.  So I threw what I could into my car at like 2a.m. and moved to my dad's.  Because it was the only place I could afford and get to right then.  Leaving my cats and my mom and everything behind again.

Then for the first few weeks I felt so in between.  Most of my stuff I use, my clothes, my computer, the things that mean something to me, all here at my dad's.  But my cats... my mom... my past...  is still all there.

Then I finally got to see my friends, talk to my friends, hang out with them.  And it wasn't the same either.  I realize now after much thought that when I left I let go of everything.  I had to let go of my feelings for everyone too.  When I left, it was like everything here, all of South Florida was dead to me for those first 3 days.  I clung to a few things.  But in the end, those final moments, I let go of the love I had for everyone and everything that was my life.  Because I was, in my chaotic state of mental breakdown and unbalanced hormones, fairly convinced I wasn't going to make it through surgery.

Nothing and no one mattered as much to me when I got back.  This is why I was able to leave my mom's house.  Leave her and my cats behind.  And a lot of my stuff.  This is why I've had trouble talking to and hanging out with my friends.  This is why I feel so detached from my old life.

Before surgery, like a few weeks before.  I had this big plan.  I was going to come back, sell some of the less valuable collectibles on eBay, then use that money to get a table at Supercon or something to sell the better more valuable stuff.  Had 2 other money making things planned too.  Was going to use that money to move out and maybe roommate with a friend or something in a couple months.  Had a lot of plans.  But then all this happened and everything was thrown into chaos.

Well, my testosterone was 6 the other day.  My estrogen is starting to go up now since my doctor changed my meds again.  Everything is starting to be clear in my mind.  I feel like the dust and smoke and flying debris and shrapnel and stuff have all hit the ground and I have a clear view of my life.  But what do I see?  I see a wasteland like someone dropped a tactical nuke (or decided to do Fire Storm in the middle of the battlefield taking out both armies including the good guys and the dragon that was on our side).  And in the middle, me, looking awesome as hell.  Like some beautiful statue erected in the middle of ground zero after the huge explosion.  I stand there, looking great, feeling great, physically and now mentally.  But emotionally distraught because I am looking around at this devastation that was my life realizing that I am the bomb that blew it all to hell....

Not 100% sure yet how to fix the mess I've made of my life since I got back.  I've pissed off some of my closest friends.  Hurt those I love.  Left my mom in a situation she can't handle on her own.  Left my cats behind.  Left my stuff behind.  I have no money.  And I'm living in a mostly empty room with nothing but a cot, a dresser, and a small handful of my stuff.  The house is my dad's.  My car is my dad's.  I have less than a dollar in the bank.  In fact, the ONLY thing I have left is this damn computer.  It's all I have that I can say is mine and mine alone.  The only thing of any real value that's left.

But then I had another revelation, realization, whatever.  A friend of mine, post-op transwoman that had her surgery exactly 24 hours before mine, posted a video blog on YouTube that made me think about a few things.  First off, transitioning is hard.  That seems obvious but it's good to remember.  And, as a transperson I can create who I am.  I can make my own experience however I want it to be.  What I need to do is somehow build my life over from the ground up.  I need to reevaluate every aspect of it and make it how I want it.   Not sure how to do that but the realization that I can do it is a big deal to me.

And as for my friends.  Yet another realization.  I did let go of everything.  But that doesn't mean I can't reconnect it all now.  I realized this thinking about a friend of mine.  He's been the one friend that I have felt like our friendship hasn't changed.  Everyone else it felt a bit different.  And I realize now why this is.  He was the first friend I saw when I got back.  And in fact the only friend I saw that first week back.  And then again a couple more times.  We reconnected.  That's all it was.  That's all it took.  Just spending that much time with him, it made it all feel like it used to.

Then the second friend I saw after coming back.  Someone I love probably too much.  We hung out, but in a setting with others where chatting wasn't possible most of the time.  So things still felt odd.  Then we hung out for a little bit a few days later and things felt better, but still off.  And we talked and texted and things feel pretty normal now with him too.  I mean still a bit distant feeling but better.

Seems so simple.  All I need to do is go one person at a time I guess.  Hang out with them, preferably just them where we can talk and I can find that connection again.  So I guess what I do is go systematically through my friends one-by-one and see who I reconnect with and who I don't.  Literally rebuilding person-by-person, step-by-step, from the ground up.

I guess I start by apologizing to everyone?  Seems so... not good enough.  And how can I help my mom?  I won't go back.  And my cats...  My mom doesn't want to let them go and my dad's afraid to bring them here because they'd kick his cat's asses most likely.  And I have no money...  I feel so alone.  I know I'm not.  I know I do still have a couple friends out there that haven't been caught in the maelstrom that is my life.  But I still don't feel the love I had for a lot of people.  Most people.  I still feel... cold...

So that's where I'm at.  I feel like I understand what has happened this last month better than I did.  Short version, too much at once left me distancing myself from everyone and everything, perhaps too much.  I made a huge mess of things.  I understand it better now.  But am still a long way from knowing how to fix everything.  No idea what my life is going to end up like in a few months.  Common sense tells me to go slowly.  Deal with one person at a time and one problem at a time.  Jumping back into my life will end up like that night a few weeks  before surgery when my dumb ass thought it would be cool to take a running, jumping leap, in a string bikini, into a cold pool, at like 2am or 5am or some crazy time.  Into the 5 foot side.  STILL have a scar on my left foot from that one.  Sometimes yelling "Geronimo!" and leaping into shit is not the best idea.  Really.

I've got a busy week this week leading up to and through Turkey Day.  Going to take another week to keep myself fairly distant from most of my friends so as to not further screw things up or piss anyone off.  Going to take some "me" time.  Have laser hair removal this week, and the 14th Annual International Transgender Day of Remembrance.  Then Turkey Day.  Variety of errands and stuff.  By next Saturday though I will return to my life, slowly, very, very slowly.  And pick one person at a time to contact and hopefully reconnect.  I will start rebuilding who I am, what I'm doing, where I'm going, my goals, future, plans, income, living arrangement, all of that.  Baby steps.

As for how my physical health is now at one month post-op.  Overall, great!  I have issues, yeah.  I have questions, yep.  But still, great!  Issues I have?  Well, the lower, outer, quadrant of both breasts is totally numb.  The inner, lower, quadrant of both feels like it used to.  The top half is hyper sensitive.  That seems odd to me.  I may be wrong, I dunno.  And I get a funky pinching feeling in my other new parts.  My brain could tell you exactly where that feeling would be on my old parts but where it is now I am not even sure.  I can't even pin-point where this pinching feeling is now let alone why it's happening.  And then there's this funky feeling that feels like an erection.  Just started today.  What's that all about?  It's not the same feeling I've been getting from being aroused.  It's yet another unidentified sensation.  And there's a couple things that I can't figure out when looking at stuff.  Things I sort of need to be in front of a doctor and point at to even ask what's going on.  Not something I can put into text at all.  And I still have that nagging worry and fear I can't shake about having an orgasm.  I haven't had one post-op and still scared that I might not be able to.  I know that's almost certainly not the case.  But until it actually happens I will be super stressed and worried about it.  Not to mention the overall sexual frustration I'm feeling.  Again, I used to masturbate a LOT, like all the time, my therapist insisted I'm a sex addict based on that.  I think that's a bit extreme.  I said "ex" therapist right?  Yeah.  And then there's the dilation.  It's getting better I think.  But I'm also now getting another strange pins and needle feeling sometimes while doing it.  And I am still VERY much struggling to use the medium size.  Can't do it every time even.  And that worries me too.  Then there's the strange tight area about two inches in that I don't know if that's muscle, pelvic bone, scar tissue, or from the prostrate.  And I think I lost some depth though I'm not sure how.  I have been going to the same point on the dilator since I started.  But out there they said 5.5 inches.  And I measured where I'm getting to and it's more like 4 to 4.5 inches.  Don't understand that at all.  Anyhow, overall things look great, feel great, but still lots I don't understand.  Definitely can't complain though.

So happy one month to me!  And happy one month to my friends Sarah and Erin should they read this!  Yay us!  heh

Monday, November 12, 2012

What Happened to My Life?

There are many posts and things I wrote that still haven't been put up on my blog because I was without a pc for a month.

But, this is a big one right now.

What the hell happened to my life?  I left for surgery with both parents supporting me and wishing me luck, with a horde of friends that love me, cheering happily for me.

Then I came back.

My mom has been hateful and malicious to me on a daily basis to where I had to move to my dad's.  My dad keeps preaching that he's fed up with everything and about to wash his hands of both me and my mom and be done with me completely.

My friends, all seem different.  I used to get called and texted all the time to hang out with this person or that person.  To the point where I had to turn down some people because I already had plans with others.  Now?  Nothing.  No one seems to really wanna do anything, hang out, or even talk.

I try to talk to them but it all feels so different.  My best friends.  People that are like family to me.  People I love.  But, everything feels off.  If this was a Sci-Fi show I'd be expecting this to be an alternate reality or something where things are almost the same but not quite.  Nothing my friends say to me seems important.  Everyone seems to be talking about things I don't care about anymore.  And no one seems to care about anything I have to say.  It's so strange it's hard to even put into words.

Most of them are flat out not doing voice calls.  IF I'm lucky to get them to chat in texts or on facebook it's not the same.  There's a strange level of tension and discomfort I can't understand.

I don't understand what's happened.  But I feel like I have few to no close friends (not like I had).  And feel like I don't even have much family.  In fact, I'm starting to wonder what I have left to keep me here at all.  Maybe I should save up some money, straighten out some things, and take off far away somewhere and start over from scratch.

But, part of me, a HUGE part of me, is hoping this will pass.  Is hoping that this is hormonal or something.  Hoping that things aren't how they seem.  Because I don't want to lose those friends and all we've been through and our whole lives and histories together.  I do love and care for them, but, I feel different in ways I can't even explain in words apparently.

I'm happy about surgery.  I love my body right now more than ever.  I have no regrets about any of it.  But, I REALLY miss a year ago.  I miss that holiday party back in 2011 with all those people most of which don't speak to each other anymore, some of which I don't speak to anymore.  Back before all of this insanity that has been the last few months.

I feel I've lost a lot of friends.  Or at least the closeness I had with most of them.  I lost my mom.  Lost my cats.  My life.  Why the hell am I staying here?  I really should leave all this behind, move far away and start over.  I just don't feel there's anything left of my old life.

But then I can't help but wonder if it's my emotions.  If it's hormones.  Am I crazy?  Maybe I'm wrong?  I don't know anymore.  All I know is what I feel and everything feels WAY different and not in the happy way I thought it would.  Way different in a WTF happened sort of way.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

I Am the Scars

So, amongst everything else yesterday I had this realization.

I was standing in the bathroom about to take a shower (so naked cause that's how that works usually). I was still more asleep than awake. When I looked in the mirror my first thought was that I looked photoshopped. Like someone stuck my head on another body. All so surreal.

But, then my eyes went from what's new to what's old. My scars from all the Crohn's surgeries. The scars that Dr. Beck was going to fix in California but then decided not to. I was so upset when that happened. I wanted to fix everything. Or I thought I did...

And now, I realize, I don't. Maybe I'm going crazy. I don't know. But, amidst all the surrealism of a body I still have difficulty believing is mine, there was me. The scars of who I am, what I've been through, the road traveled so-to-speak. It grounded me. Made me still feel like me. Where the colostomy bag was for 2.5 years. Where the ileostomy bag was for 6 months. Where the stitches ripped and the wound vac was. The scars from stitches, sutures, staples, etc.

It seems crazy to me after having gone through so much to have the body I've always wanted that I would WANT to keep the scars. Especially when they're so extensive and likely a turn off to most people.

But I realize now the Goddess prevented me from fixing them in San Mateo for a reason. Because they're really all that's left of who I was. As I sit here in a new body, new living situation, without my cats or my mom, with a pc that I still haven't had time to piece together. Everything that was is gone. And as happy as I am about it all it is still hard to let go of an entire life all at once. Everything that I was. So yeah, I'll keep my scars till the day I die, the internal ones, the emotional ones, and yes, the external ones too.