(trans)prose

Dr. Medalie’s secretary Valerie called me today to say that my requested surgery date is available, and to give me more details. So, that’s it: my top surgery is scheduled for 7:30am on November 24th. That’s 97 days from now, by my count. It’ll be shot day–my 420th day on T.

Only recently have I been worrying about the results. It’s the first time I’ve wished that I could come out of this with a flawless male chest. It’s hard knowing my chest won’t be perfect. I’m chubby and will probably have dogears because of that fact. I may never feel parts of my chest again. If it was just the scars, I could probably handle it a lot better–I’ll be furry enough soon that nobody will ever know anyway.

My nipples will probably never work like they’re supposed to. It’s sad that I have to trade nipples I am self-conscious about for nipples that I will probably still be self-conscious about.

On the bright side, my chest muscles seem more pronounced lately, though I haven’t done anything. It increasingly seems like I just have these random, ill-placed breasts hanging off of an otherwise perfect male chest.