I’ll be the first to admit that my blogging hasn’t been as regular as I’d like. I can’t place my finger on exactly why that is. I think I could blame it on some of the personal issues I am facing in my private life. For example, right this moment I am off work due to anxiety issues. Which is disruptive, to say the least. My job is stressful, which hasn’t helped matters. But the people there are lovely, and I hate being off for this long as I feel I am taking advantage of their understanding surrounding my situation.
So I have still a few days in which to pull myself together. The whole situation I am in is taking it’s toll, to the point where some pretty major events in my life have almost taken a back seat. But there’s one in particular that has barely even sunk in yet, and is what I’m going to be discussing today.
By the end of this year, I will be having my gender reassignment surgery. That means in a few months from now, I will have a vagina. A pussy. A cunt. A whatever word everyone calls it.
But what I have found weird about all this is how anti-climatic this feels. For years, I have known that I would one day have the surgery. It’s something that I have thought about for as long as I can remember. Even before I came out as trans, I was weighing the pros and cons of what the surgery would entail. I have studied the procedure up and down. I know exactly what to expect. I have followed blogs, read up on Wikipedia, and watched many generic TV shows featuring middle aged transwomen (most of them being army veterans) where surgery has played a major role.
Everywhere I have looked, surgery has been the be-all-end-all of what it means to be a transsexual woman. For many, it is the end of a journey where they, and to an extent society as a whole, can consider them as their true gender. But for me, this is only half true.
I consider myself a woman. A woman who has a penis. Having the operation will not change how I see myself, except for being a woman with a vagina (like the vast majority of women out there). But it will certainly make me feel more comfortable within myself.
I have no use for my penis. I haven’t in a long time. Sexually, it’s a waste – I don’t masturbate using it, as I find it kinda dull and empty. It serves no purpose other than getting in the way most of the time, and severely reducing my wardrobe.
So naturally, having a vaginaplasty makes perfect sense for me. And whilst it doesn’t make me any more or less of a woman in my eyes than I already am, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it. It suddenly opens up a whole new world for me, doing exciting new things…like sunbathing and swimming.
So it’s probably a surprise to most people reading this that fucking isn’t the top of my to-do list once I get my vagina. Obviously it’s something I am looking forward to do. But my top priority is to live a normal life. As I type this I am contemplating where to go on holiday once I have the operation. Florida? The Algarve? Ibiza? It’s gonna be somewhere hot, where I can just lay about in a bikini and go swimming. It’s certainly not what you’d expect someone to be planning once they got a pussy. But in a way, that’s the boring truth.
Having the operation will usher in a new life for me, make no mistake. But my biggest aims are just living the life of a normal woman. I don’t want a vagina for sex; I want it to live the same life that millions of women take for granted. And very soon, I’ll join them!