Well, I've just trashed the last of Rons old clothes, after 5 years my stepmom finally allowed me to get rid the last peices of him, hes gone now and I am all that's left... I actualy feel a little bit guilty, for 13 years I pretended to be somebody I wasn't, in a way they had become apart of me and ive just killed him with hormones and panties, lol. I think i should have a funeral for him... what do you guys think.(let me know in the comments)

I am really not used to being complimented.

My pastor's wife described me as "wise", and I just didn't know how to handle that without deflecting.

Sometimes it is easy to forget how blessed we are. I am flat on my back recovering from SRS. A really close pair of friends are allowing me to recover at their house, which I am greatful for. Lots of pain but it is normal. I can't wait for the tube to come out of my new tush, but no worries. Looking forward to doing more than hunt anf peck on this keyboard. Till then all my love.

Wendy

So, I finally got an MD at the Veterans Hospital that had active brain cells, and she told me things I had never heard before. Generally speaking, other women, even natural ones, will not share these details.

Well, with a soft "pop" sound, my TV died.

Rest in Peace, old friend ...

Had an appointment with the doctor, and he wants to book me for surgery on my foot as soon as possible. He talked about it being a "fibroid mass", and mentioned the possibility of getting a biopsy on it once its removed to be sure its not cancer.

Now, why couldn't I get that on my male bits instead ?

Ah, well.

Well, on Sunday after church, I had another session with my pastor's wife, and had a flashback during the session. In my flashback, I saw myself during the abuse being photographed by my rapist. A flash from a camera, going off again, and again.

Needless to say, I was a little upset about this.

But thinking about it this morning, I found myself being able to say "Screw my rapist. He doesn't own me. So he took pictures. I don't belong to him."

So maybe this flashback ends up being a step forward.

I can hope so, anyway.

I guess what little fan-base I have has given up on my writing. My last story "Somebody's knockin'" and my latest poem "Lie to me" both are lacking in comments. I know I'm not the wonderful author Tels or Bailey Summers or Drea (or almost anybody you can mention on this site) are, but still ...

In two weeks, it will have been seven years since Sephrina recruited me to come to this site. I was a right mess when I got here. Looking at the Calender, it must have been the night that I returned from the hospital because of suicidal ideation, and had just been told that on the next day, Christmas Eve, I was being thrown out and installed in my own apartment, thus ending abruptly a marriage of nearly 40 years. By the time the divorce was final, it would be 40 years, 4 months. What the hell, this was supposed to be for life !

So I went to my regular Thursday dance class today and a two songs in my ankle started feeling really stiff and a bit sore. I tried dancing a couple more songs but it just kept getting worse and I was making mistakes. My teachers usually tell me I'm one of the best in the class and are actually thinking of having me in one of their shows. fourth song in I was making more mistakes because of the pain and discomfort and it was throwing off my balance so I quit for the day.

Well, I had my ultrasound on my foot, and I am more confused as to what's going on than ever. I started to sweat when the technician called someone else to look at my results, and all this other person would tell me was there was a possibility it was "scar tissue" and gave a Latin name which meant nothing to me.

So now I have to wait for a MRI scan, which wont happen until May, and then see the specialist.

Our system is free, but it sure takes a long time to get anything done ...

Ah, well.

What's a life without pain?

I am really worried about Jaci. She seems really down over the rejection of her family, and it seems like its getting worse as the holiday approaches.

Highly LGBT question heavy survey?

Well, I had an interesting experience after the church service today.

I heard this comparison twice in the last two days and by two completely different unattached people talking about two different stories, one not even a member of the transgender community. I've heard this comparison before as well and I wonder if there is credence to it. I figured I would bring it up here and hopefully people will weigh in on the matter.

I have been, on occasion, compared to Charles Dickens.

There, I said it.

One thing loosing my job has done, it has moved up my timetable on SRS. This is because SRS is covered on my old insurance, and part of my severance package was insurance for 11 weeks after I was laid off. I am prepared to buy COBRA if I have to if I need the insurance extended.

So, baring glitches, I will be going into an operating room and having what was supposed to be the final stage of my transition done. Like I said, it was moved up. I do not see myself ever being able to afford this on my own, and I qualify now (or will as of Dec. 16).

Found an interesting documentary on gender identity and those who cross or blur the lines between the genders:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIoVXMFI5Tw

Had a long conversation with my brother and sister-in-law last night, and I am mulling over what my sister-in-law thinks of my transition.

Ever since I sat down and decided that I was going to give being a published author a try, I have been very conscientious about the choices that I make and what I put down on paper. I know I am only a self published author using technology to my advantage, but certain questions should be raised.

What is transgender literature saying about the community as a whole?

Are you happy with the message?

How do you feel about terms like Sissy, Tranny, Shemale, Ladyboi, Slut, Bimbo?

Do you think the majority of stories accurately represent your struggles?

I had one of those tedious dreams last night.

Ok so work is running me ragged. More so than they used to. I'm having to fight for every peace of mind I can get in that place and I still end up with the short end of the stick.

I've been on the 'moans for about 12 years now and can not bitch about my breasts. I think they are size B, at least one of them. You did know that breasts are not equal? My band size is 40 or sometimes 42. I should probably be slapped silly for complaining, but no one seems willing to do so.

My complaint is that in that size, the bras look um "serviceable", you know like Military Issue. YUK !!!

The pretty, lacy, pushupy, vavoomy, sexy ones only fit the little girls with like a 32 or 32 band. I am like totally green with envy. The BITCHES !!!!

Well, tonight I go to my brother's birthday party, and its expected that some of my relatives will be there who have never "met" the real me. So I am a touch nervous ...

ah, well.

I have been thinking about my nightmares the other night, and I think I see the silver lining. See, unlike most of these instances, I was able to do something inside the dream.

I fought back.