English: Tristen Hellawell

For all the right reasons, I am so sick of this cast on my nose. Cast on my nose? Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t break my nose – ok well technically I didn’t break it. This, of course, being my foray in to the world of Facial Feminization Surgery (FFS). Truth is, I hated my nose anyways and probably would have done this even without the transgender issues.

The actual surgery was almost a week ago and now that I’ve weaned myself off the narcotics, I just have nothing but pure hatred for this hunk of plastic stuck to my face. I’m over joyed that it comes off tomorrow.

As I write this, it occurs to me I’ve fallen far off the wagon of weekly posts. Enough other people have written about the hardship faced with trying to come up with original content that I won’t bother to repeat what they’ve already said.

This week was more than about FFS, it was and has really been a huge step forward for me. As much as I hate the classist system that pervades the trans* community, I can’t help but feel some sense of status over having crossed the threshold of surgical (rather than simply hormonal) modification. At the same time, and I credit Prince Vicodin with this one, it gave me the strength to open up more with my brother about the “gender issues” I’ve vaguely referred to in the past. My wording in the e-mail was more explicit then it had been, referring to the desire for a feminine nose and describing how I’d seen this surgeon’s work on other trans*girls – firmly identifying myself as trans*feminine. The ever elusive coming out to my parents is awaiting his feedback. As I’m writing this, he hadn’t responded to my e-mail yet.

I noticed yesterday how awesome my cheekbones were. Not that I didn’t have some idea of their awesomeness before this, but now that my nose isn’t overshadowing my facial features, I’m quite in awe of them. Overall, it looks like it’s going to be a huge step away from male and towards female. I bring that up because it leaves me pondering my identity.

Who am I really as Tristen? Psychologically I rejected quite some time ago, but I think on some level I existed in a plane of nothingness. I was neither him nor Tristen. Quickly, Tristen is all that there is. And I realize I’m still trying to figure out who she is.

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