Content Warnings: Adult language, dysphoria, transphobia, transphobic portrayals of trans people in media, 4chan, homophobia, pornography, suicide , talk of sexuality, and anatomy

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The last year since I’ve written about my transition has been a very, very active one, and quite different than the year that preceded it. With COVID not quite so “defeated” but rather, more an unfortunate part of modern life, there has been a return to appearing in public. No longer is my transition something that happens purely in private, rather it has become something that is, that I celebrate each time I step outside or I make the decision to put on makeup or not. I am, and always will be, “trans”, but over the last year I’ve been growing into other labels as well.

Maybe I didn’t expect it to be so quick, you know? I thought “trans” was going to be everything about me for years and years, possibly the rest of my life. At one point it seemed like I had an infinite number of things to say about the experience. Now? It’s feeling mundane.

And I think that’s a good thing?

It’s normal now for me. I just am who I am.

That’s probably why, in a rare act of decent foresight, I decided to do the thing where I doubled the time in between each update on my transition. You won’t be getting another one of these updates from me again until 2024. I sure some of you are thrilled at the prospect.

The last years has brought many changes, most of them personal, some are physical, others social. I still call myself “Nick” from time to time out loud, though I rarely think it, which I find to be rather backwards. But progress is progress and I’m making it!

Full Steam Ahead

When we left off last year, I had been on patches for a while, had started progesterone, and was recovering from the switch from spiro to bica Since then there have been a few changes on the HRT front. Actually, a lot of changes. The last year has seen significant changes to my HRT regimen, but it has all been for the better in my perspective.

Firstly, I’ve switched from patches to an estradiol cream. The patches were not getting me the levels I needed and they were a pain in the ass to apply and keep on. They’re great, I suppose, if you’re a homebody or not very active, but I was active back then and remain so now. The dosage of the cream got bumped a few times during the last year, and while my levels were very promising, we’re waiting for another blood check that will happen a few days after this is posted before making any more changes.

Secondly, another big increase, was upping my progesterone from 100mg a day to 200mg. Progesterone has really been helpful for me, both from a feminization standpoint but also the improvements to mood modulation and just how much better my sleep has been. It’s so weird to be sitting here having gotten a year where most of my sleep was really fucking good. That alone. Fuck. That alone is worth it.

Lastly, on the HRT side, I’ve been taken off bica!

“But Niamh,” you might be asking, “Don’t you need an anti-androgen to combat all the testosterone you make?”

Why yes, reader-being-used-as-a-rhetorical-device, I did have to take an anti-androgen to combat all the testosterone I used to make. Here’s were it gets fun – I don’t make testosterone anymore, so I don’t need to take bica.

“Well doesn’t that mean…?”

Yep! I had my orchiectomy in June! I no longer have testes so it’s not a problem. Funny enough, it took both my surgeon and my GP insisting that I can stop bica for me to finally stop it about a week and a half after my surgery. And even after they both did I still finished up the week. There was a legit fear of backsliding after the disaster of last year.

The surgery itself went super smoothly. The recovery was actually shockingly easy. I have said this to people, but I’ll repeat it here – the recovery from my orchiectomy was significantly easier than the recovery from my vasectomy, which was already pretty easy. Pain was minimal and I only took a small fraction of my prescribed painkillers (just high-doses of otc painkillers, nothing unsavory). I was walking the same evening of the surgery and was even at a DCFC game four days later.

The orchiectomy has done its job as far as I am aware (writing this before my blood test). Despite not taking bica, I am noticing no backsliding at all. In fact, it’s only been progress.

The Changes

The last year has been amazing.

I’ve put on a not insignificant amount (roughly 10lbs) of weight. It’s almost entirely been fat. My breasts have gone from a healthy B to being a prominent (but low-volume) DD. Generally a C or D cup bra works perfectly fine, but the simple bust minus underbust method says I’m a DD. Growth has come in spurts, but the longest lasted from August of last year until like April~May of this year. Since then breast sensitivity has been down and nipple pain nonexistent.

Even if this was the end, and I saw no more growth here on out (and I doubt that, given that like last year, I’m noticing the inklings of the return of growth pains), I’d be extremely happy. I got far more than I was told to expect and so I have not really been considering breast augmentation the way I had even just a year ago.

My bursting bust is probably the most noticeable of the changes but there have been others.

Hair changes have continued. Laser and electrolysis have made it so that after a close shave my face is practically shadow-free and super smooth. I am continuing both of those, though laser is certainly coming to an end (for now, more on that), so there’s more of an emphasis on electrolysis. More than once the results of concentrated electrolysis has left in (good) tears – watching a particularly bad patch of shadow just vanish under the careful eye of my trusted tech.

Staying with my head, I have seen, especially since the orchi, a noticeable filling out of hair on my old hairline. It’s legit amazing to slowly and steadily see more and more. Plus now my hair is super long and luxuriously soft. I love it so much. I have a problem with twirling it in my fingers or running my hand through it throughout the day.

On my body hair has continued to thin and grow lighter. My chest is far from hairless, but it’s a soft, white fuzz like on any woman. Same with my tummy. My thighs are still catching up with that and I’ve even noticed bald patches on my calves, which is legit shocking. My arms are still pretty hairy, but I’ve also never really let it grow out far enough to know what they’re like any more. Overall, though, I shave so, so much less. It’s a euphoria found in not doing something.

My libido had been pretty crazy over the last year. I’m not sure it was the bica… but I’m pretty sure libido on bica is different than libido on spiro and my libido now. My libido is now fully driven by estrogen and progesterone and it’s wild. I absolutely love it. Erections are effectively a thing of the past now. They were possible and happened on bica, but with zero testosterone, I just can’t do it anymore.

I don’t think men truly understand what they’re missing. I don’t think I’ll ever trade back. Testosterone horniess sucked. Testosterone orgasms sucked. Estrogen horniess is everything I could ever want. I love the feeling of butterflies that explodes across my chest when I have naughty thoughts or when a partner is telling me what they’re going to do to me. Thinking about kisses, even, melts me. I love that it’s mental. I love that there’s no shitty erection. I love that I get wet, actually. Is it exactly the same as if I had a vagina? No. But it is waaaay different from a simple erection.

The one constant over the last two years is just how amazing it all is. You rub a cream into your thighs once a day and take a pill at night and BAM your body does the rest. I want to emphasize that before the next section that yes – this has all been my own body so far.

Where to Next?

My next update for this series in the blog is two years away, a lot can change in two years and I do have some plans, though they are not fully concrete yet. Obviously I’ll still be on HRT, that’s never going to end, so if nothing else, there will be plenty of changes with regards to more boobs, more ass, more thighs. But as I alluded to at the end of the previous section, I’m starting to bump against the limits of what HRT can accomplish and what I want done. And that means surgeries.

I mentioned that while laser might be wrapping up for my face, it’s probably not done. Well, that has to do with prep for bottom surgery. I still need to have a consultation with my tech, but the plan would be to begin hair removal down there in prep for the bigger surgery. It takes about a year to clear off all the hair and it would require getting used to shaving places I’ve yet to shave.

In my last update, I emphasized that I did not want bottom surgery, so clearly something has changed. Honestly, I can’t really tell you what. The orchi might’ve helped. One of the first things I did once the pain was gone and the swelling under control was tuck myself into a gaff and throw on some panties. The feeling of having a nearly perfectly flat front was exhilarating. I can’t really describe it. But seeing it made me realized how badly I wanted it.

Over the last few years I’ve been waffling between no surgery at all and vulvaplasty. Vulvaplasty is a form of bottom surgery where the exterior vulva and clitoris are made, but the vagina itself is not. Sometimes this is referred to as a “zero depth” surgery as penetration is not possible.

But a niggling feeling has been creeping up, and that has set me on a new path mentally and physically – I kinda want to get fucked? Like, still by women, but I really need to get bent over a table. Anal isn’t really a thing for me for a couple of reasons, so if I want to get fucked, I need a vagina – that’s just the long and short of it.

Since I’ve had the orchi, though, there’s a little less to do for the vaginoplasty (creation of both the vulva and vagina), but it’s a seriously major surgery, requiring disability time to recover. The whole process is equal parts amazing miracle of science and gruesome testament to surgical wonders. I’ve now had a few friends go through both forms of the surgery at a variety of places so I’m using that to collect data points. I’ll almost certainly stay local for the surgery, though travelling is not unheard of for this surgery.

Waiting times and approval periods are usually measured in months going into years, so hopefully for the two-year post I’ll have an update on that front and hopefully be entirely don with it!

There is one other surgery that I’ve been contemplating and honestly it feels much more optional – facial feminization surgery (FFS). Many trans women seek out FFS to contour the face permanently for a more feminine look. Usually this means reduction of the nose, reduction of the brow, reshaping the jawline, and shaving down the Adam’s apple (among other things).

I’m not fully sold on FFS and if I did, I probably wouldn’t get the whole package, rather just work on specific things. I’d want subtle changes, not radical, and admittedly, I don’t really care for the usual package that seems to be sold to trans women. Firstly, because I think I’m pretty damn hot as-is. Secondly, there’s a certain aspect to my queerness that I’m not really interested in erasing, as weird or self-sacrificing as that might sound.

One’s relationship with their queerness is not a universal thing. We each experience it differently. Part of my experience is as simple as owning the phrase I am queer. And part of that is that I look queer. While I think that I passed through peak trans-ness back in 2021, I’m not sure I’d enjoy going fully stealth. Maybe that will change as things get dicier for trans people, but my goal has and remains being true to me.

All that said, I will admit the idea of getting FFS and passing ever-so-slightly more is tempting. Say nothing of the omnipresent pressure on women to conform to social beauty standards. I spend a non-zero amount of time considering things like the fat on my tummy, or how big my nose is, or how prominent my Adam’s apple might be, and how they make me look to the outside world without considering how they make me feel.

In the end, I am queer. There’s no doubt about it. And it’s not just about being trans, it’s all the letters I’ve collected over the last few years.

The Rainbow Experience

One thing I wanted to focus on in this update was that I am more than trans. Yes, being trans is a massive part of my life, how can it not be, but it is not my life. It is not me in my entirety. I am more than trans. Hell, I am more than queer, but that’s for a different time and blog post.

For folks who fall into multiple boxes within the LGBT+ rainbow, there can be a pressure to adopt one. Like you’re trans first and lesbian second, or aroace first and an enby second. Or do you really need all those labels? You’re just collecting them for attention! You’re just trying to be trendy! And no, absolutely wrong. Apply this to anything outside of the queer community and it falls apart. Oh so you’re a man and you’re white? Come on, dude, pick one. Oh, so you’re Christian too? Wow. Trend surf much?

I have three main labels: I’m trans gendered (the gender I was assigned at birth does not match my gender identity), I’m a lesbian (I am a woman* attracted to other women*). And I am polyamorous (I prefer multiple, open intimate relationships). Each of these labels is a part of me, inseparable. None of them come with increased support or understanding from broader society. In fact, of the three, only one is even value neutral. Two of them carry quite a bit of baggage and can be difficult to unpack, even with queer friends.

* Yes, I will get there.

A phrase I’ll have to define is homonormativity, which is a play on the phrase heteronormativity. “Normativity” is about the assumptions that we make regarding what is default or what is normal. Things that fall outside of normativity are thus not default or not normal. It is not a small leap then when what is default is considered “good” or “right” or “natural” while that which falls outside of the default is “bad” or “wrong” or “unnatural”. Normativity plays into everything, not just topics of queerness. We can consider who is and is not considered “default” or “normal” when we consider how we approach accessibility, for instance.

For example, ADHD is really only an issue because we’ve built a society around a school and work environment that requires long stretches of intense, unbroken focus. ADHD is natural in that it naturally occurs in humans, capitalism is unnatural in that it is a social construct invented by humans. Yet normativity frames capitalism as the natural order and thus ADHD as a disorder.

Homonormativity, then, is an extension of heteronormativity – arguing that monogamous homosexual partnerships are equally valid as monogamous heterosexual partnerships, while doing little to argue for gender identity rights, or rights of polygamous folks. It is a facet of respectability politics, thinking that if you act “normal enough”, you can have rights. Respectability politics in the queer community looks like upper-class, usually white, monogamous couples who think that marriage rights are the final stop and want to move out to the suburbs to get a house with a white picket fence and have two-point-five children.

This will not work in the long run. The cracks are already showing. There exists no number of other queer people that anyone can push under the bus that will guarantee our rights. Heteronormativity never ceded any ground. You aren’t normal just because you’re cis. You have to be cis and hetero. Then you’re normal. But only if you follow all the other rules that our society erects.

Perhaps it doesn’t need to be said, but I am trans gendered. If you hadn’t put that together, then, um… welcome to the finish line, every race has a horse in last. Today that is you. When I tell people I am trans I get a variety of reactions, some positive, some neutral, some negative, some negative but pretending to be positive. Actually, I get a lot of that last sort.

A lot of folks react with “whatever makes you happy” or “I don’t care what two people do in bed”. For the former, there’s a certain dismissiveness, the normativity, that seeps in. “Sure whatever, just do it over there.” The missing second half of the refrain is, “…and doesn’t bother me.” And that happens. My existence can and will eventually bother them, and then their support evaporates. The later is completely missing the point, being trans gender is not about what I do in bed.

It’s who I am.

And so when someone says this, no matter what they mean by it, it’s normativity – “I am normal, you are a subcategory on pornhub.” The implications cannot be heavier. Because when someone sees you as a category on a porn site, they’re already convinced that you’re a problem. Step out of line and they will need to erase you. And the line is thin and constantly moving. Step over it and suddenly even the most progressive liberal is nodding contemplatively as literal fascists call you a pedophile.

We’re a useful wedge that way. Paint us as an easy target to hate, get all the centrists and liberals concerned about midterms, and then watch as they abandon us.

And that sometimes happens within the queer community too. HER – a queer women’s dating app that was made to include trans women receives tremendous hate from transphobes. Tinder too, you learn to pick up on the quiet exclusion. “Females” is usually a giveaway, a favorite dog whistle of lesbian TERFs. “Proud Gryffindor” is another, though just Harry Potter in general is usually a sign.

So no, I don’t think that coming out as trans has helped me be more popular or accepted. It certainly wasn’t chasing a trend. It didn’t even help make me more popular with segments of the LGBT+ community!

One question that pops up time and time in trans spaces is “I’m a trans [gender] but I like [same gender], am I gay?” This question exists because at some level the person asking the question has internalized transphobia. They are articulating the disconnect between their gender and being associated as that gender. But the answer is pretty straightforward – yes, if you’re a trans man who likes men, you’re gay; if you’re a trans woman who likes women, you’re a lesbian.

My sexuality has been in a bit of a crisis lately.

Well, maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration. I’m a lesbian, there’s no question about that, but as I hinted with my asterisk a section or two back there’s more going on under the hood. I’ve suggested in previous updates that I leaned somewhat pan, and I’m not going to walk that back entirely, I definitely can feel some sexual attraction to some men, especially a specific slice of feminine men. But my romantic attraction to men is zero. “Pansexual but homoromatic” is the usual refrain.

I actually get a lot of schtick for this. I’m apparently not lesbian enough, which I find rather hysterical. I literally crossed a gulf of gender to be a lesbian, fuck off with the gatekeeping.

The asterisk is that the question “What is a lesbian” has a lot of answers and some of them are complicated because we live in a cisheteronormative patriarchy. The answer “a woman who is sexually involved with other women” is an answer. But it’s not the answer. On the other extreme you have “non-men who love non-men”. That is another answer, but I refuse to say that it is the answer.

Because in the end, the real lesbians were the people we ate out in dive-bar bathrooms along the way.

Okay, but seriously. Strict definitions of any queer label start to sound like cishet bullshit, obsessed with genitals and how they are squished together. Broad strokes, don’t get lost in the details. Focusing on sex erases asexual folks. Focusing on romance erases aromantic folks. Focusing on genitals erases trans folks. Focusing on gender erases non-binary folks. How about, instead, we listen to the people who approach us in good faith?

Why am I a lesbian and not pansexual? Or omnisexual (as was pointed out to me by a friend)? Because in the end those labels don’t matter to me as much, don’t speak to me as deeply, and do not fill me with the sense of community and pride the way that “lesbian” does. That’s what makes me a lesbian.

Honestly, though, if pressed which of my three labels I have the most trouble talking about, and it’s going to be polyamory (quick aside: I fall in the group of folks that uses “polyam” instead of “poly” as the abbreviation, as “poly” is often used by the Polynesian community and that sort of thing matters to me). Firstly, it’s the label that’s the newest to me and thus there’s a certain level of learning I need to go through first. Secondly, it just is the one I feel the least empowered to talk about even within the queer community. There’s a lot of internalized phobia there. It’s definitely not feeling “normal” to me yet, though it definitely feels right.

Polyamory, for the those not in the know, is sometimes referred to as “ethical” or “consensual” non-monogamy. While the general perception is that additional partners are sexual in nature, I will use the term “intimate” as there is more to it than sex, though that can definitely play a part. For me, there is a focus on building multiple intimate partnerships outside my marriage. These partnerships include an emotional aspect, the same as any partner, and have both over-lap and uniqueness to them. The result is not that you “divide” your love, that’s not really possible, but you spread out the pressure you exert as you accept pressure from others.

No longer is one partner responsible for everything. And thus where a partner might not be able to provide, whether because of personal choice or circumstance the others step in. If anything, it has helped me, even in such a short amount of time, improve my relationship, especially my relationship with Brigid, in pretty drastic ways. When you are no longer expecting everything from someone, their limits are no longer “negatives”, they are simply the personal boundaries of a complex human being with their own needs.

The set up looks different for everyone and there’s a lot of cute terminology I’m still getting my head around. As of writing, I have Brigid (wife) and two potential partners, though I don’t think anything is official-official yet, though by the time this is published things might’ve changed. I’ve gone on one date (it was very lovely) and have another one coming up that will be over by the time this posts.

Compersion is the feeling of joy at the happiness your partner(s) get from romance and sex from other people. It is, in a way, the opposite of jealousy and is a feeling that I have been training myself on. At least one of my potential partners has partners of their own, and it’s comforting in a way, to know that I am not alone in supporting this person, and yes – joyous even in the happiness they show from interacting with those other partners.

I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m not even saying that I’ve mastered it. Just that it intrinsically makes sense to me.

But chatting with other queer folks, there can be a real rift. It’s fractal, the discussion of queerness not being about sex. We spend so much time trying to convince larger society that it isn’t a sex thing, that it isn’t a fetish, whether that’s being gay, or being trans, but now the fight is against a much bigger institution – monogamy – and the discussion is now within the queer community itself. Homonormativity has us worried that if something is a “sex thing”, it’ll harm the movement.

And here’s the problem – it’s okay if it’s a sex thing. We as a society need to be okay with that. Yes, I am trans for more reasons than sex. Yes, I am a lesbian for more reasons than sex. Yes, I am polyam for more reasons than sex.

But I’m also all those things for sex. I’m sick of pretending otherwise.

Like I’m some chaste little nun going through labels and stuff. Sex is better in my body as a trans woman. Sex is better when I approach it from the lens of being a lesbian. Sex is better when I can share my needs and desires with enthusiastic partners and not just string along one poor person.

Being embarrassed about sex and our relationships to it is really fucking hurting our society. Sex is an amazing thing, but folks are so dead-set on being fucking embarrassed by it. Stop it. Seriously. We can’t have conversations about having it. We can’t have conversations about not having it. We can’t have conversations about who we do it with or why we do it at all. Cishet society looks down at having sex then also finds asexuality so foreign as to literally be incomprehensible. Like, folks, sex is great, but it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. And it doesn’t need to be deeper than that!

If you’re reading this, I want you to consider who you feel comfortable talking to about sex and why. Who do you feel uncomfortable talking to about sex and why. Consider also if people are comfortable coming to you to talk about sex. If they are, why do you think that is; if they aren’t why do you think that is?

More than intimate partners, what about your friends? What about people you share discord servers with? What are your lines and boundaries?

I’m not asking that the world change overnight or even that you, dear reader, change overnight (or at all), but I want you to at least consider that level of comfort and interrogate the why.

Two Years

I suspect that over the next two years I will have plenty to say about being trans, about being a lesbian, and about being polyam. Probably enough to make more posts about it. This last year has been pretty crazy, and I expect that the next two will be even crazier. So much is happening and changing. I can’t possibly not talk about it. I hope that when I post again in 2024 I’ll have a new set of genitals and have had a bunch of crazy sex that I can talk about here.

I also hope to keep having those conversations outside of this blog. In person, on discord, wherever. Please feel free to reach out. I’d love to talk to folks about any of this, especially if you’re questioning if you fit into any of these labels!

The next few years are going to be especially critical for queer people, as it will be for women in general and people of color as well. The precipice of fascism looms over us all. My previous post, as I had suspected, had pulled some folks out of their comfort zone and they confronted me by saying the post-Roe world we live in now wasn’t coming. That I wasn’t being a good enough “pick me”. That their support of me was conditional on my silence and coöperation with fascism and did not extend to queer people in general.

This isn’t that kind of blog and I’m not that kind of trans person.

I end this post once again with a call for us all to consider how we can be accomplices and not just allies. In the struggle against patriarchy. Against white supremacy. Against imperialism and settler states. Against queerphobia. Against fascism and authoritarianism. A better future is possible.

Signing off in solidarity, cheers!