The Post-Op I Never Wanted To Be

I never wanted to be one of those post-ops. I thought I was too smart, too strong, too pretty, and too well-adjusted. But here I am, fifteen months post, and that's exactly what I have become.

You know those post-ops, don't you?

  • Those post-ops think they're the top of the trannie heap.

    I'm afraid I do feel like I'm the top of the heap. It started right after my surgery, when everyone else began treating me that way. Cross-dressers do seem to admire my "courage" and "strength," even though I just did what I had to do. Now, when I go to a fetish ball or BDSM dungeon, I look around at all the freaks and know that any one of them would think, if they knew my status, "Wow, there's a real freak, he actually cut his dick off!"

  • Those post-ops look down on cross-dressers.

    I'm sorry (really I am, I'm ashamed to admit it) but it's true; these days I find cross-dressers a little bit creepy. It seems to me that if you are a woman, you should transition; if you are a man, why would you want to present as a woman? And this from me, a person who thought I was a cross-dresser for many years. It turns out I never really knew about cross-dressers at all. (I also thought I was a man for many years and it turned out I don't know about men at all.) I fully support my cross-dressing sisters and will defend their right to do what they like, but I just can't seem to understand it.

  • Those post-ops look down on pre-ops and non-ops.

    True again. It seems to me that if you are a woman with a penis, you would move heaven and earth to get it changed to a vagina. Maybe this is just my own narrow-mindedness and genital fixation, but it's the only way I am able to see it. Again, of course, I fully support my pre-op and non-op sisters and their right to keep their bodies however they so choose. I just don't get it.

  • Those post-ops don't have sex.

    Those poor, pathetic post-ops who go through all that trouble to get a vagina, and then have no opportunity to use it! That was not going to be my story, oh no. I had a boyfriend, and besides, I was so pretty and passable that guys would be hitting on me all the time. Wrong! The bf dumped me soon after my surgery and there are no guys lined up at my door—or, more to the point, hitting on my profile. What is worse, my sex drive has completely deserted me; so, although I feel that I'm missing out on something, I just don't have the motivation to put much energy into getting it. I barely remember what "it" is!

  • Those post-ops are unemployed.

    I'm unemployed too. I got laid off just before my surgery and I haven't found work since. Frankly, I don't want to go back to the same kind of work (computer hardware engineering) that I was doing before, and that's just as well, because I didn't seem to be effective at it once I changed my gender presentation to female. Suddenly my opinions became worthless and I wasn't allowed to be responsible for anything. Now I'm looking for work as a tech writer, but I remain a victim of the jobless economic recovery.

  • Those post-ops are suicidal.

    I don't know about other post-ops, but I suffered from depression all my life. Once I fell out of the pink cloud of transition, the depression returned. Although I haven't bought any ropes or razor blades yet, I can well understand why someone might choose the final exit shortly after completing their transition. (Don't be alarmed for me, I've started on anti-depressants.)

  • Those post-ops don't party any more.

    I was a real Transgender Party Girl for the couple of years leading up to my SRS. Now I'm a stick-in-the-mud. My leisure activities are church and ballroom dancing. (I used to think "church lady" was just an figure of speech; now I am one.) Part of the reason is that I've gone clean and sober, and hanging around clubs is not nearly as fun when you're not drinking. But an even bigger part of it is that I never really found what I was looking for in the clubs. I had hoped to meet new people and start deep, lifelong friendships. I discovered that people are not very sociable in clubs these days—at least, not with me. And those people I did meet were club kiddies and barflies, not people with whom I was likely to form lasting friendships. So now I don't party much any more; I'm trying to build my social life on a firmer foundation.

  • Those post-ops turn their backs on their tg freinds.

    I try not to turn my back on my tg friends, but it seems to be happening anyway. Part of the reason is that I mostly interacted with those friends in the bars and clubs and that's not working for me any more, as I just explained. I was never part of tg support groups, but even if I had been, I just don't have that much in common with other transgender people any more. My gender dysphoria has been cured and I'm not much interested in dealing with other people's gender issues. Nevertheless I try to stay in touch with my friends by supporting tg activities such as TGSF Cotillion, Cal Dreamin', and Carla's various events.

  • Those post-ops dress drab.

    ...Not "drab" as in "boy-mode," just plain drab. That's me. Jeans, a top that can more properly be called a shirt than a blouse, no bra. Flats or tennis shoes instead of heels! I guess the main reason for this is that I pass perfectly well—in my own eyes as well as in the eyse of other people—regardless of how I am dressed, so there is no need to put in special effort on that account. Also, dressing pretty has mostly lost its thrill for me; possibly because of my loss of sex drive, or because I found that no matter how sexy I look, I still don't attract the attention of the guys I want to meet. My shopping addiction waned when my closet became full, and because I realized I will never find that perfect outfit that will make me look so good, it will change my life. (I found plenty of perfect outfits, but they didn't change my life.) Besides, I put on twenty pounds, and the size 14 fashions don't look nearly as cute as size 6.

  • Those post-ops with their trannie hair!

    Sparse, stringy, styled too long for my age—that's my hair! How many times in the past have I seen a post-op in her natural hair and thought, "Get a wig, honey!"? I still wear my very expensive, human hair wig when I want to look especially nice, or when my natural hair is a nasty mess and I don't have time to fix it, but those times are becoming rarer and rarer.

  • Those post-ops are always saying, "I'm NOT transgender, I'm transsexual!"

    Yeah, I get it. I finally get it.

  • Those post-ops are always saying, "I'm an ex-transsexual; I got that fixed!".

    I say that too.

    I am one of those post-ops, in spades. But what else am I? I'm comfortable in my own skin for the first time in my life. I'm gradually making new friends and building a new support system in my life. I'm no longer waiting for my real life to begin; I'm living it.

    —Lannie Rose, 5/2004

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