Eight weeks?

Talked about a lot of stuff at therapy today, but primarily about the "when" of my social transition. When do I go to HR and say "The month of prep time starts now"

when do I say.... GO... when do I start that 4 week timer to when Dawn walks into the office instead of Phil

really, at this point, I'm pretty much out of excuses. She asked me today, what is holding you back from doing it?... all those *things* that I had been waiting for have either occurred, or I just don't care about anymore

I wanted my hips and ass to fill out..... pshaw, I'm a white chick, and I'm curvier than a lot of white girls out there already, no biggie...

I wanted my chest to be almost fully grown so I didn't have to go through puberty with everyone at work watching.... screw that, why should I let the chumps that would care hold me back from doing what I need to do?, and I'm actually really happy about how I look with my little 38A cup bra, not something I would have thought that I would be saying at this point...

I wanted my hair to be full, or have gone through hair transplants... bah!, I look great in my wig, I'll get a second so I always have one ready and clean, and when I'm ready to go wigless, then I'll go wigless, not a reason at all to keep pretending to be a boy at work...

In fact, the only thing I have left that is actually kinda somewhat holding me back is laser. I've finished my sixth session, and I was wearing makeup two days later even though I didn't look fantastic, so hopefully in 4 weeks I wont have a lot of stubble back in waiting to be zapped, and if I don't, then my last excuse crumbles to dust.... and even if I have a bit... zap it, take a day off and work from home to let my face heal, go back the next day in my full glory...

so as I came to realize all of this while we were talking... I got a little nervous, my system squirted out a shot of adrenaline, my hands shook a bit... I got giddy, giggly, a little silly....

I was trying the idea on for size... eight weeks till the finish line... that's what it is for me, sure I have a ton of other crap to do, name changes, hair and nails, letting my damn body fill out, but for me, that's all paperwork.... when I walk down the long corridor, the length of our office, to get to my cubicle in the far corner, with my wig and face on.... that's the damn finish line right there.

and trying the idea on, it felt good, it felt right, scary as hell, but it felt right. I felt proud to know that it was coming, proud of myself for being here, happy for myself, I even gave myself a literal pat on the back.

but now I'm picturing it... or I should say I just pictured it and stopped writing for a moment... Phil in a wig walking down the aisle, oh hell.... see.... it's easy for the fear to come back. I'm in my 13th year there now, and we have very low turnaround in our department, so the vast majority of people have known me for over a decade. They have that guy in their heads when they think of me.... and will continue to have it for a while still.

but they'll forget... it's human nature... at least I hope it is ;)

so yeah, how did we get to the eight weeks?. Well, in four weeks I'll know if I can easily transition now or if I should wait for another laser session, and if I'm good to go, then I walk into HRs office and say... go... let's do this... and that starts the countdown... the four week countdown...

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!!!!!!

dadada daaaaa.... dada da da da.... dadada daaaaa... da dada da da da da

sorry

anyway, the other thing I had wanted to mention, and I thought I was going to use it as a lead up, but whatever... it's gorgeous outside up here, finally, and has been for a good ten days. In typical Montreal fashion, all the women have broken out the summer dresses, capri's, sandals, all that lovely comfy summer stuff that men simply have no real substitute for... and it is severely triggering my dysphoria. It's so nice outside that I get twitchy at my desk and take breaks outside with little walks, yet when I do that I'm inundated by my sisters, yet I'm out there pretending (and not doing a good job, holy crap the looks I'm getting at work, lol) to be a fuckin boy. Also, since it's so hot outside, I'm not layering like I used to, which would always help the way I felt about my presentation (tights under jeans makes your legs look just awesome!)... but now it's a single tshirt and jeans, so I'm wearing less femmy stuff, makes me feel more like a boy, and blarg!.... suffice it to say.... it sucks

my therapist today commented on how summery I looked, my bright yellow tank top (maybe that's why I was attracting attention, this thing is neon in the sun!), I told her I simply needed to feel that way, the way that all you women were dressing was driving me insane with jealousy... I actually did my makeup completely in the car and added my bra and yellow top while sitting in traffic, I didn't even want to drive as a boy.... which led to the dysphoria conversation....