Exactly two years ago today, on August 14th, 2021, I took my first dose of estadiol and started my journey with HRT. I knew I was trans for a good two decades before that, but it took the threat of my own mortality - and the idea that I would die in the wrong body, recognized as a person I was not - to get me to finally seek the treatment I needed.
And honestly, after two years I look... the same.
I look the fucking same. No significant change. Same shitty body. Unmistakably, uncomfortably, unfortunately male.
I arguably have small breasts (which I am superbly happy about), but they're easily hidden. And the rest of me simply refuses to move toward the feminine end of the spectrum. I have thick, dark, inexcusably masculine facial hair. Hair that requires me to shave every single day. I have a massive amount of body hair, which grows back extremely quickly if I shave it.
My last blood draw came back showing my E and T levels within nominal range, too. My Endo was very happy with that. And still... I look like this.
And there's all the stuff that HRT won't fix, too. My awful voice that's too deep to salvage. My massive gangly hands. My prominent adam's apple. Just... fucking awful.
I see all these timelines and memes and whatever that shows people looking amazing, femme, and so happy after just six months on HRT. And here I am... stuck.
I feel fake. I feel not trans enough. I feel like, even the people I'm out to and support me in embodied life don't think I'm a woman - They think I'm faking it, that it's a lie, a delusion.
They tell you it's never too late, but I think that might be a lie. I think I'm beyond hope, and beyond recovery.
I mourn the me I could've been.
