The Woman Within

It is approaching the one year mark now on hormone replacement.  Simply put, that means that I've chemically reduced my male hormones and, in replacement, have introduced a female hormone regimen to replicate that of most natal women.  The action of doing this was NOT to suddenly transform me magically into a woman.  Heck no.  I've been easily moving through society now and seen as a woman for a long time prior to my ever starting hormones.  It wasn't solely for just obtaining breasts either (even though I realize that seems to be a major aspect or even, for some, a wishful fantasy). No, breasts are another thing to deal with that require yet another piece of restrictive clothing to retain them in their place.  Ok, well they are nice in filling out my outfits so I guess, overall,  it's a wash. No, the reason I started on hormone replacement was to see how they would affect me mentally and if they would quell the disparity that I have always felt between mind and body

Transitioning genders, contrary to what some may believe, is NOT a choice.  When it comes right down to it, why would anyone choose to upset the entirety of their lives in so doing?  So then if I am saying this is NOT a choice, then why do it?  Well, the reason is really as starkly simple as it is complex.....it is because the choice NOT to transition would result in greater pain and in many cases, as in my own, a likely slow, cancerous demise and a spiraling dance downwards until death. I would never choose to see my spouse watching her husband "die" before her eyes as the vision of "he" becomes slowly and steadily "she".  I would not willingly wish to risk my job, my friends, and the potential loss of acceptance by those around me simply to fulfill some fantastic notion or desire.  I would not choose in an often hidden yet silently misogynistic society still known in many circles as "a man's world" to "become" a woman and to str

"Winter's Wonderland" The beauty of a winter's snow is fine When days of sun and play ensue Yet this season's deluge doth not imbue A bucolic serenity within my mind. Of forty days and forty nights Of ice and snow that never ends For those who visit, it serves a fright Of snow so deep and roofs which bend. With a stoical sigh and a stolid look With rake and hammer I climb up high Ascending the roof for reasons why Clearing a way for reindeer that fly. Yet none shall need cleared a landing pad For Santa's schedule is so very well planned His visit came before all the snow we've had Now on a tropical beach is he in sun and sand. And while I make ice cubes of glaciers on high Watching them plummet with pleasure and glee I listen for the birds and hear not a cry In their migration next fall will likely be me. - Christen Bustani This was written after having spent the better part of yesterday morning trying to clear snow and ice