Aaaah, beautiful day, 22deg, cloudless blue sky, hint of Spring in the air. Nearly through the worst of Winter.
I was in the city last week, dressed as a woman as I usually am these days, walking on the footpath outside RPH. My hair is long enough now that I’ve stopped wearing a wig, opting instead for a small cap to cover my baldness. It’s like a skipper’s cap. Looks quite sassy.
A woman’s voice suddenly said, “Excuse me!” I looked around and saw a young woman sitting in the back seat of a parked car. She said it again, “Excuse me.” I said “Yes?” She said, “I love your cap. It’s so pretty.”
Wow! Wow! A guy never, ever gets a compliment like this. It’s happened to me several times, once at a hotel on New Year’s Eve, when I was wearing a shiny, sparkly top. A woman walked past and looked around, saying, “I like your top.” She must have known I was a guy. I pass easily, but women usually know.
I was in the city for my second interview with a psychiatrist, to sign me off for some minor surgery that I want, to make me feel more female. The psychiatrist’s a woman and she’s fine with me, no problems at all. We got along very well. She can see I’m not a looney. That’s two visits with her, plus a sign-off from a psychologist, and an endocrinologist, and I’m good to go. She’s referred me to a surgeon on 6 October. Minor operation, nothing drastic.
I never intended to change gender, I must say, it’s just to be able to dress freely and feel less like a bloke, without bulging bits that I don’t want. But I must admit a certain momentum is building, to change gender, I mean. I’m weighing up the pros and cons, and at the moment the cons are winning. I don’t want to have to go through all the legalities and notifications when I really don’t have to do anything at all. Just continue living and dressing as a woman, as I please, but reverting to guy mode if I don’t want to. So what if I have surgery, it doesn’t change my gender. It’s only to help with the way I dress and feel.
She did say that I really should dress female every day, in order to get used to it and experience any down-sides, so I’ll do that, live as a woman, live the experience. I’m finding that the more I do it, the more it becomes a habit, of course. Whenever I go out now, it’s as my female self, nearly always. I’ve never had any problems at all. I pass so well that no-one pays me any attention, even women. I had a guy in the supermarket say to the checkout guy, “Just let this lady go first.” Meaning me.
However, my GP told me only yesterday, eight months after I started this process, that Medicare won’t pay for sex change operations after age 55. That’s a bugger, as I was hoping to save money.
Therefore, I’ll need to find out what this surgeon will charge, and whether HBF will pay for my hospital stay, since this is definitely elective surgery, optional treatment.
PS: I’ve spoken to HBF and they say if the surgeon provides a Medicare item number for the operation, then HBF will probably cover me. So I’ll know more after the appt with the surgeon in October.
You must be thinking, this guy is mad! Go ahead, that’s OK. But I’ve always felt I’m half way there, half way across the seat. I’ve always known I’m male, but, approaching age 75, what the hell, I’ll just do what I want to do. Whatever makes you happy, as everyone says, and that’s the point, it does make me happy. I love getting dressed up and made up, so it’s my life and I’ll change if I want to. (Isn’t there a song about that?)
Whenever I have thoughts about this blog, things come to mind that I think, “Oh yeah, I must write about that.” But now that I’m writing, I’m damned if I can think of what they were. They seemed important at the time …
Oh, I know: I terminated my subscription to the MyHeritage website a few weeks ago, as they want about $360 for another year’s subscription. No, all I wanted was the photo enhancement service and I’ve done that so I’m not paying this huge fee. I got sucked into building my family tree while I was there, but that’s done too, so I downloaded everything I could think of before my sub expired.
I learnt quite a lot, especially about Mum’s mother’s side, the Lawries. I’ve learnt that I have quite an extensive Scottish ancestry, which I like very much. The Lawries go back to the 1700s. I was vaguely aware of these Lawrie people and all the chatter about them among my relatives when I was growing up in Bruce Rock in the 1950s, but I didn’t really know who they were. Now I do.
Similarly, I can see Grandpa Arnold’s ancestors too, from the middle of England. He died before I was born so I never knew him, yet I’ve got a photo of him on my sideboard now.
I’m sure he’d be pleased. I very much doubt anyone will have a photo of me on their shelf when I’m gone, unfortunately.
Recently, my competitive nature is asserting itself a bit (meaning that I see others’ pictures and think, I can do better than that), and I’ve been posting a lot of my images on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/peter.croft.754 My uploads started a few weeks ago, not just today’s lot, and even I’ve been surprised at how much material I’ve got. I’ve nowhere near finished yet. I’ve got much, much more to show.
In particular, I’ve uploaded samples of most of the books I’ve written and composed in the past 13 years, and in every case, I’ve included the words, “A4 40pp, available for purchase” (or similar). How many enquiries have I received? ZERO! Not one person has asked about cost, or anything else.
People have always said to me, “Gee, you ought to sell these books.” But I’ve tried, and no-one wants to buy. No-one! Maybe one day after I’m dead, someone might look at them, but no-one wants to now.
One person seemed to like my book on Bali very much, and asked if she could borrow it. She said she might be able to sell it to her friends. She kept it for nearly two years, with no sales, and I had to ask three times for its return, even suggesting I would call around to her place. She eventually posted it back to me from about 5Km away at a cost to her of $15 postage. Something very odd there, but as I said, I just can’t get any buyers.
It’s my own fault, too much sitting, but over the past 12 months or more I’ve developed pain in my left buttock, going down my leg and into my left foot, from applying too much pressure on my bum. It’s not a sharp pain, just a dull ache, but it has me squirming around trying to find a position to minimise it. Not much luck, I’m afraid.
I bought one of these Facebook ad specials, a neoprene rubber cushion that promised to relieve exactly this kind of pain. Did it work. Naah! Hardly makes any difference. $54 down the drain.