I was in Amsterdam again after a therapy session and was headed downtown to get something to eat. It was pretty crowded because the weather was good so I was looking for someplace quiet.

While I was walking toward my first choice (Subway, gotta love ‘m) I decided to cut through an alley as it would save me a minute of walking through the mass of people. As I was headed in there though I had this unnerving feeling that I was being followed but shrugged it off as being paranoid. Still, it was a scary feeling so I picked up the pace some and walked around the corner straight unto the next main street filled with people again.

The same shoes I saw in my periphal vision while walking into the alley were still there, getting closer. Still, it is not uncommon for other people to take shortcuts too, right? I mean, I did. That’s when it started getting really creepy because he picked up the pace and started walking next to me. I kept my sight forward and hoped I was just imagining things. Maybe he was just on his way somewhere, just like I was.

Sadly, I wasn’t imagining things because while walking next to me he started talking. He said something along the lines of “Nice tattoos! What do they mean?” and then gave me some obviously made up story of how he is a professional photographer that takes pictures of tattoos. Of course he didn’t even have a camera with him.

He then asked if he could take some pictures of my tats sometime. So I said “I dunno, can I see your credentials?” He then gave me a name I can’t remember and said he was from Italy (he was talking English in a very obvious Dutch accent) and had 7 sisters and 3 brothers. So I asked him what their names were. “Uh….. I… I.. uh.. I don’t see ‘m a lot, you know?”.

I told him he was a liar and I had no interest in him but he didn’t stop. He then said I was right, that he was lying, that he in fact has one sister and that she lives around here and I could always call her and ask her about him. But that she would probably think that was strange.

Once again I told him not to bother me as I have no interest in someone who introduces himself with a pack of lies. You’d think he’d quit there but he actually tried to get me to come along for a drink with him. Uh, no? He kept asking but by the third or fourth time I hit the big square and then he threw his arms into the air, walked off, and shouted something unintelligible at me.

It took a few minutes for me to realize exactly what had happened and what that guy was trying to do. Imagining the things that could have happened made me aware that I had become a walking target for some people. A potential victim. This made me realize I really need to start looking into self defense classes.

This kinda stuff is new to me, and similar things have been happening lately. It is unsettling.

Addendum: I should mention that I was approached again last Friday while I was sitting down on a small brick wall and messing with my cell phone. An older guy sat next to me and just started talking. He seemed genuinely friendly at first but later in the conversation he did want me to come over to his house to which I respectfully declined.

That was the very last thing I had to do as I already did everything else, like fix my financial situation. I am completely out of debt with the very generous help from the people of Halforums.com and several of the LGBT community. Who I cannot thank enough for helping me get through this. So I knew today I would have to hear something more definitive regarding my diagnosis and if I am going to be able to progress to the next phase.

So, nervous as hell I missed the bus I wanted to catch because it was a few minutes early but that’s okay as I scheduled this trip with a very wide margin. I get on the next bus and get the connecting one right after at the airport. When I arrived at the hospital I still had 45 minutes to kill.. Or, you know, spend in complete and utter anxiety. Having my hopes crushed a few times already this time I was prepared to hear the worst. Expecting it almost.

It hits 3 o’clock and my psychologist walks toward me. She’s on time, thank God. If I had to wait any longer I might have had a total freak out. We walk into her tiny office and play catch up for a bit. I hadn’t seen her in months. Then she drops the bomb on me. “I haven’t received the report from [psychologist] yet”. The report that was sent out and written last MONTH you mean? You have got to be kidding me. I damn near died when she said that. I fucking knew it! I knew that somehow things would just fuck up for me once again and I’d have to wait many more months just to have them green light me for hormone treatment because of damn paperwork!

She said I looked a bit down shortly after that. See, I didn’t actually say all those things I just wrote, I only thought them. So I tell her that I already expected to have to wait.. again.. She says “No, you won’t”. Bwaaahh?? Apparently she had talked to my psycho-therapist (who has the report in question) and she had sufficient information to bring me into the next meeting, which is on the 5th of August.

I was stunned. It didn’t sink in right away. We talked about other things and filled out some paperwork she’ll add in the meeting. The appointment was cut short after that, because well, she’s done, I’m done, no need to waste more time with idle chitchat. She took me to the lead of the gender team who promptly changed my medical record and changed my name to Julie Ann and corrected the gender to female. That was the point where I damn near broke down in tears. I know it is still far from a legal change but it’s the first time it was written down in an official manner. It was finally real. I am female.

He said he thought my name was very beautiful and made me a new hospital card which finally had the name on it I had been using for 2 years along with the correct gender. It felt like I stared at that for at least half an hour. He gave me the papers I needed to take with me to where I get my blood drawn. They do this early because it takes 3 weeks for them to get all the results. This information will be used by the endocrinologist to determine the dosage of the hormones and if there could be any possible complications while taking them.

While I haven’t been officially green lighted yet for hormone treatment thanks to all the papers I got them there is only a 0.03% I won’t be. The gender team will make their final decision on the 5th of August and call me and let me know either that Friday or the next Monday along with when I have to come back for my appointment with the endocrinologist, which should be mid-August. I’m finally done waiting.

In short: FAN-FUCKING-FINALLY!

Here you are, born in a male body, hating it for as long as you can recall, hiding it from sight in every imaginable way and once you start transitioning you have to try and actually show it? You have to try and be happy with it? That is very, very hard.

From what I can tell by looking at old photographs of me, I was still happy until I was about 5 or 6 years old. because in those old pictures I was still smiling. After that, on the photos I allowed to be taken of me that is, the smile was gone. I really hated having my picture taken and I hated people looking at it (or me). I hated myself.

The following situation may sound familiar to you. When I had to go to PE class, if I went at all, I made sure to either get there early, or late. This because there was no way in hell I was going to take off my clothes in front of other people. If for someone reason I really had to I tended to duck into a corner and use my not-so-patented technique of changing clothes with an absolute minimum of skin showing.

Usually I already wore my gym clothes underneath my own clothes just in case. I would also never go without a shirt, always long enough to cover the crotch area, as did most of my clothes at the time. Many times I would not show up or pretend to be sick. The mere thought of someone looking at my body filled me with fear. I felt ugly. I felt disgusting. I hated my body.

For years I avoided social events, cameras, and mirrors. Grrr! Mirrors! Mirrors are still hard for me, I still avoid looking at one at all costs unless I’m actually wearing make up, I don’t want to see this.. guy staring back at me. I hate him!

I made a rule. If I cannot look at myself in the mirror and say I look awesome I won’t step out the door. “Great” and “good” will work in a pinch. Any less than that and I refuse to let anyone see me. I am ugly. Don’t look at me.

Sometimes, though, sometimes you have no choice to go out anyway. Yesterday was that day for me. After I did all my make up and changed my clothes like 5 times I still could not say the words. In fact, I thought I looked like shit. But… This was a very important appointment, I could not miss it! I had to go out anyway.

It was hot, and I wanted to wear a skirt and flip flops but in the end I didn’t. I was too self conscious about my looks and could not get myself to do it. Despite them being all smooth and clean my legs and feet had to be covered up.

I made a promise to myself that regardless of what happened I would stay out in Amsterdam for a bit. The weather was great and I would be damned if I was just going to sit at home again, as always, and be lonely and miserable.

The entire time I was out I felt terrible. Already being nervous for the appointment, feeling low, lacking confidence I really did not feel good and I’m sure that showed and did not help my situation at all.

During the day in I was sure there were a lot more people looking, staring, and laughing at me than usual. This of course did wonders for my self esteem and I wound up feeling even worse. I’m amazed I did not cry until I got home. I’m still trying to hold back the tears as I write this.. and failing.

Looks matter. They matter a lot! Especially to people who are born in the wrong body. The others have no idea of how extremely hard it is to simply walk out the door, knowing that every single person you meet will KNOW and have their judgement ready.

They see the five o’clock shadow, they hear your voice, they see your adam’s apple, they notice it from the stupidest tiniest things that you are not even aware of. Everybody knows!

Most will see and judge people like us as a joke, an abomination of God, or worse. Failing to realize that we are victims of a cruel twist of fate and have to struggle through life trying to correct this as much as possible.

I am not helped by your ridicule or mocking. I suffer enough, just by getting up and looking into the mirror. I cry every day and night because of what I have to go through.

Please…
…stop!

You are hurting me.

So far I have had to cancel two appointments with the hospital to finish up diagnosis because all they want is a paper from another psychiatrist Of course they had a waiting list too so that means I had been set back for 2 months. :( They don’t want to see me at the hospital anymore until they have gotten their copy of that paper because in their own words they are “done with their diagnosis”. They only want that paper because in their (monthly) meetings with the gender team questions from the others (surgeons, endocrinologist, etc..) are sure to arise about the numerous things that are on my medical profile.

So last week, 1 day after I had to cancel another appointment at the hospital, I finally got to see that psychiatrist (and a psychologist too) who is for one known at the gender team and for two his opinions is apparently being held in high regard all over. He’s some kind of psycho-celebrity.. wait, that doesn’t sound right. Anyway, this is the guy that can actually overrule all previous diagnoses so I can literally have a ‘clean slate’ again.

That talk went really well and they already concluded I don’t have any psychological problems that would hinder my advancement in the program, nor have any eating disorders like bulimia or anorexia. They do, however, want to see me one more time to try and figure out how some of the past psychiatrists et al I’ve seen came to their sometimes bizarre conclusions.

They wanted to do this 2 weeks later, which would have been on the 1st of July which is also the date when the hospital has their monthly meetings. That would mean I’d have to wait yet another month and after having canceled so many already I don’t even have one set for August. The waiting list is excruciatingly long which is why I always had appointments set 3-4 months in advance. They even told me its better to cancel than not having an appointment at all.

So I managed to have them change it to only 1 week later, which is tomorrow, and yes, I’m freaking out! I have to be there relatively early (11:45am) which with my schedule being messed up and needing to take a bus, a train, and another bus requires me to be awake very early and pray there are no traffic accidents!

After this the reports will go to the hospital and my other psycho-therapist and they can finally bring me up in their damn meeting. I am not scared about the actual diagnosis part as everyone I have seen already told me I have a 99.99% chance to be greenlighted.

When that is done I should hear from them soon about taking a blood sample and checking in with the endocrinologist. AND the official diagnosis papers will go to my GP and health insurance company. That means I can finally do some of the things I wanted to do but could not pay for! God knows I want to get lasered so bad!

One bad thing after another. December 22, 2009
Spambots are getting weird. December 18, 2009
Cheap clothes! December 9, 2009
Today’s look. November 30, 2009
My neighbors suck. November 21, 2009
Did I mention I love pigtails? November 14, 2009
Chocolate Flakes for breakfast. November 9, 2009
Psychiatric evaluation. November 4, 2009
Yay for clothing sales! October 31, 2009
New passport! October 23, 2009
I really love pigtails! October 8, 2009

Meanwhile I’ll be posting up NEW blog posts as well so take note of the date on the actual blog post. :D There is a lot of stuff I am currently going through and writing it all down is not always that easy, but I’m trying.

Well, I was ready on time, got to the bus stop early and waited for it to arrive. ..and waited.. ..and waited some more.. half an hour.. forty five minutes.. an hour… It was freezing cold and all I could do was stand there waiting, hoping it would come soon.

Meanwhile, other people left the bus stop as they got tired of waiting, but this appointment is very important so I did not have that luxury. The bus didn’t show up until 4 minutes after 10. Exactly four minutes after I had to be at the hospital.

Now, normally I would have called them to let them know I was going to be late, and if there was still any point in going but wouldn’t you know it.. My cellphone had been disconnected a few days ago because of a stupid billing issue that they simply won’t fix. They’re a very dumb company and have a crappy ass help desk. As soon as this subscription is over I’m switching to something better.

Anyway, the weather was so crappy that there were warnings on the news that people that didn’t necessarily needed to travel should stay indoors. Considering there are people from all over the country headed out for appointments to the same hospital I decided to go anyway and hope someone canceled. Which isn’t unprecedented, it happens a lot I’ve been told.

Well, when I finally get there it is about 11am so I am very late. I’m cold and freezing, nervous as hell, but I walk inside, go up one floor and head toward where I’m supposed to be. As I go around the corner into the last hallway I already see her standing there with a confused look.

She asks me if I made a mistake with the appointment time, saying it was an hour ago. As I explain what happened, the late bus, the fact I couldn’t call, and the hope that someone would cancel because of the bad weather she tells me that they actually called everyone to verify if they would still show up or not. Of course I could not be reached. And guess what? They all showed up so there was nothing I could do except leave and go home. :(

So that was my shitty day. Not another appointment for a month.. next year.. which means my diagnosis will take that much longer as well. Fuck!

Well, it wasn’t that bad, really. Just long. It was two and a half hours of questions. Most of those were just multiple choice questions on paper. If I’m depressed a lot, and how long it lasts. Stuff like that. I even had to rate every single part of my body. That was fun. Not.

I struggled with some of the questions, part out of fear of giving the ‘wrong’ answer. I think I did okay though, and not have the results be that I am some schizo who needs to be locked up asap. :p

Afterward I spent some time window shopping at Schiphol Airport. They have a Sissy Boy store there which I think is funny. Too bad the store itself sucks royally.

It would have been great to also have it say “F” instead of “M” but unfortunately over here I cannot get that changed until after surgery. Must suck for all the pre-op transsexuals who (for whatever reason) stay that way. You live your life as female, look the part, yet every time you have to ID yourself you get questioned and have to explain yourself. Not fun. :(

I also haven’t done the legal name change yet, I am hoping to do that after I get the diagnosis done with. It’ll be really nice to finally have it say my name on all legal documents.

Along with a new photo I also changed my height. I vividly remember lying last time because I was a tad sensitive about my height at times. That is not the case anymore so I had them fix it. I am now officially 150cm (5’0″) tall. :)

A few other family members were there too, all of which I hadn’t seen since I started my transition, including my grandmother. Not much was said about it, but I didn’t expect that anyway. They’re not really that kind of people.

One of my aunts showed me pictures of the kids and their kids. It’s odd. I don’t really see this part of the family much so there are huge lapses in age and lives. Makes me feel kinda old too.

So it was gonna be this huge social event with tons of people and I admit I was quite nervous about that. There’d be a whole lot of people who had never seen me after I started my transition so I had no idea what to expect.

Well, when the day came near I of course had to figure out what I was gonna wear. Luckily a few days earlier when I was out with my mom and my aunt, who just flew in from Ireland to attend this family event, I found and bought some neat clothes. One piece I was pretty sure I was gonna wear. I bought two hooded long sleeve sweaters. They’re short and cute. I got one in pink and another one in black.

At home I still had a cute tight pink top that I thought would look great with it and together with my black pants and bright pink studded belt I thought it would make an awesome look, which it did. My mom had some nice jewelry to go with it so I was wearing none in the pictures I took.

The party itself was great fun. Though a bit awkward too. One of the things I found out the past few months is that it is far easier to be myself among people who don’t know me from before my transition. I guess with people who do, namely family, I’m a bit too aware of the “but wait… he… I mean she.. was never like that!” thoughts they will have. I know I shouldn’t care about that but it’s still tough. It is easier with certain people than with others because I know they won’t judge me as quickly.

The place was decorated in a French bistro type setting and there was even an accordionist playing in the first hour while most guests were still arriving. Nice, and he was good, but we were glad he wasn’t gonna play for the entire night! There were spots to get food, even hot food, but I didn’t eat much really.

Later on the DJ started to do his thing and played lots of music to cater the crowd. Most of that wasn’t really my thing though. While not necessarily bad music it wasn’t the type I generally listen to. No Britney, no Gaga, no Avril, so not really my thing, lol. I did attempt to dance somewhat later in the evening but truthfully, I sucked at it. Feeling socially awkward didn’t help matters of course.

I made one big mistake near the end of the evening. While I had been drinking whine throughout the evening later on I was offered a drink by one of my cousins and dumb me asked for a cola-vieux. This wouldn’t be so bad if it was earlier but it was near the end, and when everyone was getting ready to leave I slammed the remaining part of my drink. It didn’t ‘hit’ until after we all left but long story short: I fell asleep on my mom’s couch and woke up a few hours later and walked home.