Not every fallen soldier meets his end on the battlefield. Many come home, bringing wounds too deep to heal with them that eventually take their life.

Not my best night last night. First, I was talking with the other person who has had SRS, and while she didnt want to discourage me, she pointed out that most of the girls who have the surgery have higher incomes and jobs that dont take as much physical strength.

While I was still struggling with that, I made some mistakes in putting stuff out and it frustrated both me and my supervisor, which isnt what I want to do considering I'm counting on a reference from her when I go to transfer to a closer store.

A while back, I wrote an entry that went something like this - "I've read a lot of stories here about a boy who becomes a girl, and when he sees the new person he's become, he's amazed (or even aroused) about how good he looks. Well, I dont live in one of those stories"

Apparently, I spoke too soon.

I was getting dressed this morning, and I had put on a cami as another layer in the cold weather, and happened to glance at my reflection.

Then I looked down at my chest, and back at the girl in the mirror, and actually swore.

I'm ... beautiful.

I just got back from taking Samantha's mom home, and had to talk about this amazing moment.

Last night, I was in the back when the old song "You sexy thing" came on the radio, and for a moment, I was filled with confidence. I was able to say to myself, "I'm female, I'm fantastic, and yes, I am actually sexy."

I just .... strutted for most of the rest of the shift, and wow, does that feel good ....

Got a great compliment last night. I was able to arrive a little early, and there was a new staffer from the evening shift having a late break in the back room. We got to talking, and I mentioned that I have a daughter, and her next question was, "And your husband?"

Obviously, she assumed I was a genetic girl, who had mothered my child.

Felt very, very nice.

Pretty cool, no?

I posted a little something on Facebook, and I quote it here:

To my fellow Christians:

Well, I've had a busy day off. I went and did my month-end banking, got my daughter a bus pass for November, booked my car in for service tomorrow, started work on a new story and was contacted by the weight loss clinic and set up an appointment.

I was really happy about the last, because it means I can get started on a weight loss regimen right away, and I told them about the transition, and they seemed pretty cool with it, so that's good.

Another tiny step forward, I think.

My daughter noticed my breasts yesterday, calling them "grapefruit". On the other hand, she's still playing and giggling with me, so that's good.

Well, last night was a pretty good night at work. I felt like I accomplished a lot, and kept up to the pace expected of me.

Nice to have that after the nastiness of the last couple of days.

Well, yesterday I had a bunch of night terrors that pretty much wrecked my sleep, so I was very tired last night when I went to work.

Then things got worse.

I dont want to sound like I dont appreciate my online friends, but I really wish I had a girlfriend I could go out for a coffee with. Its my day off work, and I really feel lonely, and there isn't a lot I can do about it.

Ah, well.

When I first went on the 'net, I joined a chat site called IMVU, and met some wonderful people there.

Well, after having a painful day at work, I gave up on the shoes and traded them in for a men's pair.

In the last couple of days, I've had a couple of different people at different stores treat me like a woman, and it feels really good when it happens.

Been thinking a lot about my attractions to people since I did the "elephant in the room" post, and I found something odd looking back at the girls I had crushes on.

Last night I went to the pot-luck for our trans support group, and discovered something interesting.

There is an elephant in my room. A big, smelly elephant leaving droppings all over the place, but I dont want to see it.

Last night I had a dream, in which I was lost looking for a hospital downtown in a strange city. (I think I was supposed to be working there).

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, everyone.

I was reading this book about a woman who has a breakdown on my breaks at work, and it got me thinking about visiting my brother in the mental ward when we were both kids.

Well, last night at work, we were sharing some stories about our respective childhoods, and I talked about snapping and almost killing my stepfather, ending with the statement "I'm dangerous."

I phoned the doctor's office about the stuff they were supposed to send to the gender specialist, and they dont have any record of the stuff at all. Nothing in my file except I came in for a full work-up, nothing else.

I honestly dont know what to do now.

My best option I think is to get the stuff from the gender doc again, go to a different doctor and go through the whole thing again, but considering I suffered a week of flashbacks after the last time, I would rather not.

This.... sucks.