It always happens at this time of year – but much earlier than usual this year.
“I don’t want to be trans any more. Going to give this nonsense up and forget it.”
But I know from experience that in a few weeks it’ll be business as usual: down the salon for pretty nails, then a neat new wig, new shoes, a pretty frock for summer and those gorgeous tights that just can’t be passed up. And hey presto, we’re back in business again, en femme just about all the time. Happens every year, although in the past couple of years it’s been only a week or two of down time.
This year it’s worse, though. Partly because of the anniversary of all the abuse from other TGirls I had in May/June last year that’s made me more cautious. Plus a creeping realisation that a family inherited trait has serious implications for my and my siblings’ future health. Plus my abusive and enraged father’s deranged fit this morning: yet again a triviality turned him lurid purple with hate, he shook his fists, ground his teeth and spat and shouted and cursed and cursed and cursed just as he has behaved through the whole of my life. It makes me feel that I have now seen that bully for the last time. I’m not happy right now. But at least my fledgling business is keeping my mind occupied.
Hoping normal service will be resumed soon.