Transgender Surgery: My Facial Feminisation Surgery - Transgender News

[LGBTI News]

Smoakie Bulle Just after midnight on New Year’s Eve 2000, six months or so ago, my friends and myself were invited into a house across the road from where I live to join a party. It was one of those only- on-New-Year’s-Eve-with-a-skinful-occasions, and when I went in I was treated as the bloke across the road in a frock. It was he and him without cease – they just saw me as male, unbelievably, and I began this year deep in yet more of those unending tears back at my flat. Will this never end, I said, is there no way out of this? After all I have done, after living well as a woman for all this time, rarely read, or so I thought, after Sex Reassignment Surgery, after thousands of little white oestrogen pills, with a skin like a baby, a girl at last and happy and well in my world? After all I’ve been through, and it means nothing?

Right, I said to my partner, gritting my teeth yet again, this is it. I’ve had enough, I won’t live with this. I’m going to have my face fixed this year no matter what. You see, I knew what it was these people were seeing, what it was in me that made them see the old maleness; it was in the structures of the bones of my face, and this is what I decided had to be changed. In for a penny, in for a pound, that’s my way. I forgot how to spell kompromize a long time ago. Why stop before the end? Why not the best?

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