From What I Recall, JMS Originally Offered The Explanation That:

Unexpected HRT side-effect #14

I have a lot of insecurity about is my hairline. I am, in retrospect, very lucky; I had very thick hair growing up, and even though it thinned over the years, I avoided the male-pattern baldness that struck my siblings. That’s no meager blessing for a trans woman that began her journey late in life.

However; at the time I began my transition, it had thinned extensively; especially at the peak. This really didn’t do any favors for my self-consciousness at the time.

Now, strictly speaking, some level of hair restoration is not uncommon with HRT; however, it’s far from guaranteed, and there’s no set timeline in which it might happen. After a year, I felt like very little had changed (which I attributed to the original loss being caused by damage, and not years of testosterone poisoning).

Imagine my surprise then at seeing an older picture of myself, and realizing that the problem then was a lot more severe than it is now. It’s a very difficult thing to gauge, but it feels like maybe a few long-dormant follicles have sprung back to life!

More generally, it seems that many of the hair-related side effects of HRT just take a long, long time to kick in. I had some hairs on my shoulders and upper arms; and as they were still present six months into my HRT regimen, I planned on having them removed. I recently discovered that they seem to have mainly disappeared of their own accord; so evidently I just need to be patient about these things!

Unexpected HRT side-effect #4: addendum

I’ve previously touched on how HRT has affected my ability to tolerate extremes of temperature. Today was an interesting illustration to that effect.

First, my wife - who is much wiser in these matters than I - took stock of the current temperature before going outside. (I generally choose my outerwear first and foremost based on what will compliment my current outfit, and then complain loudly while shivering in the car.)

She told me that it was currently 28ºF. In a former life I would have considered this ‘mild’; and maybe - maybe - thrown on a light jacket. Apparently I am learning however, because today I said to myself: “Twenty-eight degrees?! Time to break out the winter coat.”

Cellulitis

For the uninitiated, cellulitis is a bacterial infection under the surface of the skin. It isn’t so bad by itself - some redness, some swelling - but by virtue of being trapped below the surface, it often takes medical intervention to clear. Additionally, if untreated, it can lead to some nasty and potentially fatal complications (like necrotizing fasciitis and blood poisoning).

I’m familiar with the premise as a couple of years ago I had a bout on my kneecap thanks to - of all things - the tiniest of ingrown hairs; one course of antibiotics and all was well in the world.

Until. Until.

As I have reported previously, my first few months of Estradiol shots went well (barring a period of psyching myself out). Thereafter, everything was good... Until the day I got a big, red, ugly patch at the injection site.

“Oh,” I say to myself, “I’ve really screwed up”. I fastidiously ensure that my medicine vial, needles, and leg are sterile; but evidently somewhere along the way I missed a step.

I went to see my family doctor; he agrees that it’s cellulitis (even deeper than normal as the bacteria was fundamentally injected an inch into my thigh muscle), proscribes doxycycline; and I’m on my way. (There was a slight detour where I suffered the most agonizing heartburn of my life in response to that particular antibiotic, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Fast forward: next shot, and the same thing happens. Like an idiot, I suddenly realize: “I’m using the same vial of Estradiol as last time; and it’s contaminated”.

(I should have thrown it out as a precaution; but the cost of American healthcare tends to breed a conservationist approach to medications. Plus, it honestly didn’t occur to me at the time.)

My doc probably thought I was an idiot but thankfully did not offer his opinion.

I bought more Estradiol, and was perhaps three shots into the new vial WHEN THE SAME THING HAPPENS AGAIN.

And I’m in tears. I don’t understand what it is I’m doing wrong; there’s so much surplus alcohol on my skin that the needle burns going in. There’s simply no way I can carry on with an injection regimen that results in an infection each and every time.

Thankfully, in this particular instance, it was a very small instance of cellulitis and cleared by itself. I was pretty shook up all the same.

My next best guess was that the Estradiol was being stored at the wrong temperature. It’s supposed to be at room temperature (which is classified as something like 68 - 75º F). I kept my medicine in our bathroom closet; and while I checked the temperature in there and it never seemed over range, the closet does back directly only the location of our furnace.

I also asked my endocrinology clinic if I should be storing my Estradiol in the refrigerator, and their answer could be summarized as: “IDK, maybe? It’s worth a try”.

(This isn’t an attack on them - they are great! As much as I wish it were otherwise however, trans individuals represent a small slice of the population. Medical provider experience is directly proportional to the sort of ailments they treat; and Estradiol storage issues are not something that commonly end up on their radar. This is one of the reasons why it’s so important for trans folk to become experts in and advocates of their own medical needs.)

Anyhow, I moved the medicine to the bedroom and so far, that seems to have done the trick!

My reason for mentioning this however is as follows: yesterday, post-injection, I had some major soreness in my thigh (as if someone had punched me right in the muscle). Most likely it was just regular, garden-variety soreness; but the sensation was close enough to the early onset of cellulitis that I seriously started freaking out.

Thankfully it’s calmed down today, and there isn’t a patch of redness in sight. Still: the trials and tribulations to go through!

Coming out

I have come out to a great many people these past eighteen months; and I have been fortunate in that there have effectively been no negative reactions. (I know too many people that have not had the same experience, and my heart bleeds for them.)

There were two instances where I was genuinely terrified of how the other party might react. The first was my spouse - not because I thought for a second that they would respond poorly, but rather because I felt that I was unilaterally introducing an enormous life change into a relationship that I value beyond estimation.

(Of course, I should not have worried - they accepted this new state of affairs immediately. That’s the kind of amazing person my spouse is.)

The second was my friend and colleague of fifteen years; a fiercely intelligent and analytic man of few words. He is an émigré of the Soviet Union and as such holds very different views from myself in many matters; including, I feared, the subject of transgenderism.

Again, I should not have concerned myself; as he delivered an answer that in one sentence perfectly encapsulated the man’s outlook, brevity, and uniquely blended mode of English and Russian speech.

“Ah, well; that’s just your decision.”

To those unaccustomed to his way of speaking, it might sound harsher than intended; but on the contrary, this was one of the greatest endorsements I could have received and remains a highlight of the coming-out process: “Hey, you do you”.

1. Double digits and upwards? That makes you a prolific fic author, my friend! (And I’m all for having multiple pokers in the fire at once; variety being the spice of life, and that.)

2. As someone that types so much faster on keyboard than a touchscreen: I salute you!

(Good call on the use of various online resources as research tools, too! I believe it was Charles Stross that once commented that one of his most-used avenues of research - in a very literal sense - was Google Street View.)

3. I have a friend that is an incredible musician; and she operates under the ethos that:

a. We live in an era of unparalleled, Internet/enabled access to content; where small artists are inevitably drowned out by the sheer volume of output on offer. However:

b. This is why it is so vital for small artists to create, first and foremost, for themselves; to make art that is weird, and wonderful, and unconventional: because the Internet connects artists with those that appreciate their art. ❤️

Regarding the fanfic asks: 📈, 🛠️, and 🤗!

📈 How many fics do you have?

Uh. UH. I... they're kind of spread over a few different areas, and are we counting only active fics?

Upwards of ten active WIPs. I don't want to chase down every WIP I have somewhere, or even the completed little one shots.

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I do ninety percent of my writing in gdocs. It's quick, easy, and I can do it on my phone because I'm a madlad.

In terms of 'tools', just stuff for names. I've been using a lot of wiktionary to research the meaning behind various kanji to help create names for Naruto/Bleach, and occasionally even get to use it for some wordplay. Otherwise, random name generators, behindthename, top 100 baby names - that kind of stuff.

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

This kind of goes for any writer or creative but: create for yourself first. Pleasing your audience is great! It feels great! But don't chase them.

Make something for yourself first, be happy with it, satisfied, and let that be enough. And then, if people like it, that's great! If they don't, well, who cares? You didn't make it for them.

Paste

Yesterday my daughter and I were talking about tomato salsa. That discussion veered in a very strange direction, and is repeated here verbatim for posterity:

Me: “Did you know salsa is technically a fruit salad?”

The Daughter: “No it isn’t! Salads have leaves... and stuff... in them.”

Me: “Then how do you explain tuna salad?”

The Daughter: “I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds gross!”

Me: “It’s just tuna mixed with mayonnaise. You know, like in sandwiches.”

The Daughter: “Mayonnaise”, (pause to summon up indignance),"...is a paste!”

Me: “I think the maybe word you’re looking for is ‘emulsification’?”

The Daughter: “I don’t know what that means. All I know is: mayonnaise is made of two solids; and one of them is grease. And grease... is a paste.”

I never thought I would see, firsthand and in my own household, Millennials killing the mayonnaise industry!

Unexpected HRT side-effect #7

Muscle strains.

I knew I was going to (and wanted to) lose muscle mass on HRT, and that this would significantly lower my functional strength. I assumed that during this process, I would simply adjust to my new strength levels as I went along.

Not so - my brain continues to assume it’s working with pre-HRT muscle capacity.

As a result, I keep injuring myself in new and novel ways. For instance, I used to buy 40lb containers of cat litter at the store; but after straining the muscles in my forearm several weeks in a row, gave up and switched to 24lbs instead. I don’t recall ever having strained a forearm muscle prior to that.

Now my neck and shoulders are kicking my ass; I assume from either tanking a forty pack of water or moving my desk (or both).

I imagine at a certain point I will (like everything else) unlearn this habit and replace it with something more fitting. Until then, I find myself pausing before certain physical tasks and asking myself: “Wait, can I still do this?”...

Compliments

I’ve noticed an uptick in compliments from strangers on my appearance recently, so when I went out on Saturday I decided to keep count. The final tally was six.

Now, to be fair, I recently colored my hair and it’s something of an attention-grabber.

Even before that however, I would receive random compliments from other women over the course of the week: “I love your outfit”! “I love your nails”! And so on.

It’s interesting to me because the grand total number of compliments I would receive from strangers in any given year prior to transitioning was exactly zero.

Maybe it’s society’s purview that men do not deserve compliments. Perhaps it’s a misunderstanding on my part, and the compliments are symbolic showing of gender solidarity.

I don’t know.

I enjoy that people seem to approve of how I look now; I just wish that this had always been the case.

Thanks to @cronnissar for tagging me in!

Eggs: Poached when in a breakfast sandwich / over Eggs Benedict; white omelette with Swiss cheese if I’m being good; fried¹ if I’m not.

Steak: My sympathies to the well-done folks (a preference frequently born of poverty); but medium-rare is objectively the right way to go.

Milk: For drinking, almond milk (preferentially with honey, over ice). Skimmed milk for everything else².

Alcohol: Oban 14, chilled³.

Warm drink: So, so much coffee. So much. (Although green tea is also good!)

¹ The closest US equivalent would be ‘over hard’; although Americans like to smash the yolks and / or move the eggs off of heat before the edges are crisp.

² I know that full-fat milk is considered superior in taste; but I was raised on skimmed, and reacclimatizing my taste buds is, alas, not a priority.

³ Do not mistake my choice as proof of a sophisticated palate; Oban is in a drinking polycule with Bailey’s and Jose Cuervo.

The boy on the left is from the pictures of my childhood; the girl on the right is from my memories of that time.

New picrew chain idea: yourself vs what you looked like as a kid

Free for anyone to join in

Link