My first year living as a woman

http://www.theguardian.com/society/2013/dec/22/my-first-year-living-as-woman

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On 5 April this year, I began my life as a woman after more than six decades as a man. That first day, it was wonderful to wake up and think: "Oh my goodness, I'm Patricia, and I don't have to put men's pants on, or trousers." I must have spent about three hours getting dressed. Ages before, I had bought an outfit in a charity shop – a knitted grey dress with a scoop neck. I have a tiny cleavage, of which I'm really proud, and when I put the dress on, I thought: "Wow, I look like a woman."

When I was growing up, I was very involved with the church, to the extent that I was convinced I was going to be a vicar, or something similar. But I always felt there was something wrong with me. I didn't quite fit as a man. At that early stage, I didn't think that I must be a woman – instead, I did all I could to fit in. I began dressing as a woman in secret while going through puberty, but left that behind as I moved into my 20s, got married, and had three children.

In my 40s, after I divorced, the urge to dress as a woman returned. I did it in secret for a decade, but in 2002 I realised that wasn't enough. I began standing in front of the mirror, naked, wishing I had breasts. As a lot of people do, I started messing around with herbal hormones, but had several stops and starts. I had a feeling, almost, that what I was doing was a terrible mortal sin.

By the time I approached my GP in 2011, I had been taking hormones, bought off the internet, for about four months, so I had proper little breasts. I sat in the doctor's consulting room, and burst into tears. I stayed there for a few minutes with my head in my hands, then blurted out: "I want to be a woman." The doctor was quite negative – she said taking the hormones without a proper prescription was very silly, and that I was on my own with that decision – but she did agree to try to get me some professional help. After speaking to a psychiatrist, I was eventually referred to a gender clinic in July 2012, and was also prescribed hormones on the NHS.

The trouble was that I was living in a tough town, in a small flat with a difficult neighbour, and I was scared to death of going out as Patricia. Whenever I went to the doctors, I booked early appointments, when no one else was around, and I'd drive to the surgery and change in the car. I couldn't start being Patricia while I was in that flat, so I began looking for a new one. In April this year I moved to a new town, with terrific neighbours, and I felt confident about living as a woman for the first time.

The only thing that will cap all this, that will be just that little bit extra, is if I am finally able to go through with surgery. If that happens I might be able to have proper sex – not many 68-year-olds think about sex like I do.

Unfortunately, my time is limited, as I have kidney disease. It is likely to be about five months before I get a referral to see a surgeon, and it is a question of whether I am still healthy enough at that stage to go through with it.

I do have a problem with regret, because I might not quite make my last target, but my psychotherapist tells me I shouldn't give up, and I won't. I just have to focus on how happy I am now.

There have been hundreds of challenges along the way. My daughter hasn't been able to accept my transition, and while my brothers and sisters initially seemed positive, I'm now finding that if I write to them and sign my name at the bottom, I get a negative response. I've written back saying they can use my old name – we're not really a close family, so it's not going to break my heart. But when I look at who I was in my first 60 years and who I am now, I'm much more open, approachable and social. I talk to people in the street, to shop assistants. I'll chat to anybody. It was thrilling when I first opened the front door, walked outside, and started living as Patricia, and it still is, to a degree. I can go where I want, I can look at the chaps. I even got called darling the other day. That was lovely. I can honestly say I have never felt so good.

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