| Setting Sail When I got back to living in my own home, I was better able to put more time in at work due to the fact that my business was less than ten minutes away. That slight fortune allowed me to snag some lunch and head home to dilate in the midday. That way I could dilate when I arose in the morning, during the noontime and in the early evening. I think I was so consumed by tending to the healing process that I really wasn�t that aware of how amazing it was to have a new body. While I can�t ever remember missing my old body parts, there were also times when I was just stopped in my tracks by the realization that there was something new and exciting in their place. I could hardly wait for the whole healing process to run its course and then be able to enjoy the whole transformation without any discomfort. At times the healing seemed to be moving at a snail�s pace, noticable differences were impossible to discern on a daily basis. But that didn�t stop me from inspecting every aspect of my new body. I was indeed infatuated by the miracle of my new sex, and by the absence of any longing for the old me. As I walked down the path of recuperation, slowly getting acclimated to living with a new body, I was eager to have someone judge the results. I knew that someone was going to be Dr. M�nard. He was going to be back in New Jersey in the middle of June. The anticipation of having him judge my progress was a tiny bit nerve-racking. In the meantime my body was still aching from the surgery. Even though I felt I was healing rather nicely, there were times when I still struggled to relieve those aches and pains. I remember many nights using a heating pad on my groin to give me some relief. Oddly, though, I wasn�t all that distressed by the whole process of recovery. It was like my little badge of honor that I clung to in order to legitimize my decision to correct an injustice that I felt I had been burdened with my whole life. It was easy for me to feel proud about myself in enduring the agony associated with the decision to change my entire life. Perhaps, according to some who knew me, my decision was a selfish act of inconvenience. I can assure all of the doubters that there is nothing selfish in risking everything in my life, spending hoards of cash, devoting hours upon end to my transition and disabling myself by having the SRS in order to mitigate a great onus placed upon me without my consent. No, there was nothing selfish in taking steps to gain my freedom, once and forever. It was something I was compelled to do, no matter what the consequences were, and my little badge of honor was a reward that I felt I deserved for being so relentless. I doubt that�s something anyone can relate to unless you�ve had to wake up every morning in doubt as to whom you really are. I knew my decision to remove that doubt was going to exact a high price, both physically and emotionally. I also knew I had to pay the price or ceast to exist. Was it worth it to endure the suffering associated with having the SRS? Of course it was! Besides, there was always the light at the end of the tunnel to focus upon. For anyone in my predicament, pursuing a vagina and female genitals was worth every bit of the sacrifice I made. The SRS, and all of its trauma, has allowed me to move beyond my impediment and live my life as the being I always felt I was. Yes, I was compelled and obsessed. There�s nothing wrong in being stubborn, as long as it�s for the proper thing! <<BACK<< >>NEXT>> |