Oh gosh, the most beautiful thing is happening to me. The magical power of oestrogen.

Please excuse me, but this is a prescription for everyone in the world: oestrogen is the most magical substance ever invented.

I’ve been doing “trans DIY” for a while now…and I have written about how a few simple words from ex-Mistress “I love men,” made me put off the inevitable for a while, but now the river is flowing, and it won’t stop ever again.  So many trans folks go down the DIY path for so many reasons: shame, gatekeeping, access…and many others.  I did it for ease.  Access.

Plus, to be trans, no matter the direction of travel, requires you to become a self-advocate, an endocrinologist of sorts.  You also need to have an intense awareness of your own body, and your goals.  

For a year and a bit, I have been working with some amazing herbs, extracts, compounds.  I consider this period a priming of the pump.  They absolutely worked on me.  I could feel development in my chest, changes in my skin, my hair, but above all in my mood and happiness.  I know these substances to be excellent alternatives to classic HRT…and have had the pleasure of discussing these with several women who are experiencing the menopause but are unable to take oestrogen.

Oestrogen has so much power.

I wrote twice about how I started this process.  The first time was a mix of the herbs alluded to above along with puberty blockers.  It was kind of scary, and I wrote about that, but it was following a protocol that is practiced in one of the leading trans-friendly nations of the world.  An emerging popular trend is massive doses of oestrogen, to the extent that oestrogen on its own suppresses testosterone.  Hmm.  I think you understand why all trans people have to self-educate—what other kind of fundamental body changes, at the brain and endocrine system level, and which may involve surgery are so poorly understood?  It is kind of outrageous.

And people want to argue about where 0.5% of the human population goes to the bathroom, or how, or whether we can play sports or not?!  Heaven help us.

Okay, so my version of DIY has been the “standard” dose of puberty blockers (though some suggest I am at 50%), but only 25% of the “recommended” oestrogen level.  I am now following the “standard” protocol in the US, because in the UK I have to wait for 4.5 years just to have my intake interview.  So, you might understand the slightly crazed mindset that had me going to see my endocrinologist in some undisclosed location in a secondary US city…and wearing a pink taffeta skirt and three-inch black leather stiletto heels.  I was tottering in every way [this is a special tribute to a woman who can sprint in such outrageously high heels, but which I can only think of lying down in].

I am growing one breast.  At least, that is what is visibly happening.  Do you know the legend of the Amazons?  How they cut off one breast to be able to operate a bow.  I can feel the jungle and female supremacy coursing through me, and wonder if all those childhood lessons in archery and horseback riding was a prelude to Diana…Let’s hope the other breast joins the party.

I have confessed before that I was scared of breasts.  Mine.  It made me hold off on GAHT (gender affirming hormone therapy) for the longest time—including my one last hurrah as a “man” for ex-Mistress.  It was worth it.  So much learning. And another fine woman echoed the sentiment–and in truth, these words of theirs have allowed me to be with them in ways that created space for myself.

Okay, what is happening to me on oestrogen?  My mind is changing.  How I think.  How I reason.  How I experience thinking.  How I experience feelings.  How I look at people.  How I interact with people.  For one crazy thing, I have become much more gregarious.  I talk to everyone.  Men, women, everyone, everywhere.

Second, I am in a state of euphoric bliss.  Some trans people opine that finally having the hormones that we were “meant” to have coursing through our bodies, produces so much positive feeling…I understand that.  It is hard to explain.  I can only think of two colour plates that are out of alignment—you can still see the image, but until the plates come into alignment, you can’t really see the detail.  It is just confusion.

And that is what is happening.  I feel so much less aggressive.  I was never an aggressive person in the first place.  But I feel so much more emotionally supple.  Even in relation to my divorce….and thankfully both therapists and friends (all female) have rallied to help me work through the mental gymnastics of giving space to my wife

And what is also weird, is that I recognise that one of the core attributes that has made me good at what I do—I fire people, restructure companies, and do turnarounds—is the part of me that is getting stronger as I take oestrogen…but the irony is not lost on me—will they still take me seriously once I grow breasts?  Or, better wording, would they have ever taken me seriously?  That’s a measure of how unproductive the patriarchy is.  What kind of perverse reality is it to be better at something than your colleagues, and yet forever bound by perception—and I can’t help but think that this is the cruelty of professional life for most women.  It is also a big part of why even as a man I had always hired women, because for any given level of salary/competence, the women were pretty much always better than the men, because of all the crap they had to put up with to get there in the first place.

I hear you.  No, I don’t idolize women.  But I sure do sympathise with the barriers that women have to contend with.

Back to oestrogen.

I know that any man who is actually a man would think I am crazy to say that oestrogen is a magical substance that everyone would do well to experience.  And I can sympathise.  And maybe, just maybe, the reason I love it so much is not only that I am and have always been wired for it [and this is where the medico-biologico thinking is nowadays—that us trans folks got over-exposed to the “wrong” sex hormones in the womb, making a disconnect between our bodies and our brains], and perhaps dysphoria is this ever-growing thirst that our cis sisters and brothers don’t experience because the disconnect is never there—it is all natural…and as with all pleasures denied, they are simply made more acute and satiating once finally fulfilled.

That’s the mental reasons.  But what I feel in my body and my heart is so utterly and indescribably delicious.  I love it. I feel like I am high all the time.  Not in a mind-altering way, but just in a euphoric way…feeling so damned good. 

This is my second puberty.  All my women friends are telling me that they don’t remember puberty in quite the same way!  I know.  And maybe it is the dose.  The lack of cycles.  I have gone onto the most body-friendly version of this process—patches…which mean no spikes, slow release, drip-drip-drip into the bloodstream, pulsing through the body’s largest sex organ, our skin…

And yes, within days, I felt as if I suddenly had twice the nerve endings in my skin than ever before…and this coming from a completely sensual person.  Lesson for men and for ladies who love them—men, women’s skin is much more sensitive to the touch than the man’s.  They can feel you even when you are not touching them, just so close.  Imagine being twice as sensitive and let that guide how you touch her.  You will both be happier for it.

There is no science here.  There are only feelings, sensations.  But physically, I have never felt anything like this.  Emotionally either.  Am I a little freaked by how much more intense some of my feelings are?  Yes…but as someone who has always loved being swamped by emotion, this is just juicy.