Let the festivities commence…

It’s like this. I’m 49, and in the middle of a gender transition from male to female. But I’ve been “forced” to coin for myself the term Womandrogyne as a shorthand for saying this: I’m female, but I’ve never been feminine – or masculine, for that matter, unless I’m just a mixture of the two and they cancel each other out, or summat.

People seem to expect that because I’m transitioning, my dearest dream is to look like Liz Taylor or Judith Chalmers – but I’d much rather be Heather Peace (I’d say “Shane from The L Word”, but I’m way, way too old to pull that off). The truth is, I’m just a hippy dyke who happened to get born with the wrong plumbing.

Oh, and something about me transitioning has brought a strong dose of PTSD to the surface – that’s Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, if you can’t be arsed to google it. (Yes, these maroon things aren’t links, they’re just pretty highlights…)

PTSD – for me, this consists of scary flashbacks (basically like being a child whilst being an adult, and not just in the usual way people do that), and having what I like to call my Inner Meerkat – my fight-flight mechanism that trips for no apparent reason on regular occasions, leaving me with a pulse rate of 100 while I’m lying down reading a book, for example. No, I’m not surprised I’m now single either.

I thought I’d start this blogthing to write about what it’s like to be a trans woman who isn’t feminine, and probably some stuff about dancing with PTSD too. Let’s see if I ever get past the post…


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