You have read the title correctly. I underwent a massive purge.
I had to.
It wasn't something I wanted to do, let me say that much at the outset.
Here's what has happened: At roughly the same time, my S.O. was really on my case, and my Doc pulled me off the hormones. (He said he wanted to see how
my liver and kidneys would do without the Estrogen in my system. There were some issues-I am Epileptic, after all, and have been on seizure meds for 32 years
now. There's gonna be issues, dears. He wanted a “normal” baseline, and was concerned about liver and kidney function.) The S.O. was really ragging me about
this whole “feminine idiocy.” Since we live with her folks, I have been somewhat in stealth mode anyway. She gets on jags like this, usually when things are rough
at work.
To continue: I snapped. I had enough of everything, and so, in a moment where estrogen was much lower than it had been in some time, combined with personal
stress and just a crappy day in general, I told her fine, I'm tired of hearing you bitch about it. You want me masculine, you got it.
I got rid of roughly 75% of my femme clothes (most of it stuff I hadn't worn in a number of years, and a few things that just needed to go), and a number of other
things. It saddened me, but I did it for peace, love, and harmony in the home.
A sidebar here: I did not get rid of everything. That would have been too big a shock to my system, and it would have involved more than I could have dealt with. For
example, I kept many of my bras, everything from the late, lamented Crossing Pointe, all my jewelry, and some special things. I suspect it was the knowledge that I
still had those things that made the summer bearable. Remember-the last time I undertook a purge of this extent, I tossed everything-and was sick and miserable in
a matter of weeks.
So I spent my summer living in drab mode. Let the hair grow back on my legs and chest. Got a whole wad of new man clothes. Even went to a directing conference in
drab. (I did find the rainbow room toward the end, and a few folks were very accepting and friendly. Blessings to you all!) But I want you to hear this: I still functioned as
Mina. I just functioned as Mina attempting to live as a man. (I failed miserably, by the way.)
Finally, I went back to the doc, and got a clean bill of health. He allowed me to restart the hormones, with an admonition to not overdo it. He'll check me again in 6
months or so.
Here's the kicker: I almost didn't go back. I might not of (the crap I've been through the last year and a half has been just that-crap), except for one thing. The doc noticed
that I looked unhappy and stressed. He made a few comments about it. My weight went up nearly ten pounds, my blood pressure was up as well, I looked really stressed
and fatigued, and I had mentioned that in this process, I hadn't been feeling well. He figured out what I already knew-I needed to get back to femme living, but to take it
slowly, and make some firm decisions along the way for my health, well-being, and general stability. (He also recommended therapy. I'll pass on that.) He finally suggested
that I not attempt to return to where I was-that causes stress too!-but to find a happy medium and get there for now. I can make my way back slowly, over time.
Which is what I am now doing. The first time I rubbed the Estrogel on, it was almost a sexual feeling. The excitement, anticipation, and joy I felt afterward was an amazing
high. It's good to be back among the living. My S.O. and I will work out a compromise about total wardrobe later on. I have enough to work on right now, and the relative
harmony is a blessing.
Meantime, I function as Mina better now than ever. I know what I don't want to spend my life like, and until/unless things get better (or I finally leave the S.O.), I will have
to make a few compromises here and there. It's not my idea of a good time, but the alternative-spending the rest of my life in drab-is not really an alternative at all. It's a
death sentence.
Oh, by the way-quite a bit of the body hair has been removed-or will be shortly. I'd forgotten how much chest hair itches!
