A brief timeline detailing my life
On Father’s day, June 18th, 1961 my parents welcomed what they thought would be their fourth boy into the world. In short time, it became evident that our creator had other things in mind. According to my great aunt Stella, I was born three weeks premature, and seeing my underdeveloped sexual organs my parents were assured my vulva would grow shut. It didn’t, and my parents were devout Catholics. They were frantic as to what to do with a child, who according to the bible, belonged in hell along with all the Sodomites and Sinners.
Somewhere during the age of four to five, I was bitten by a Black Widow spider. While the Doctor saved my life, it gave my parents an opportunity to solve theirs and “seemingly” my problem. They cut around my vaginal opening, pulled the skin over it, and sutured it closed.
Age seven, I was diagnosed with hyperthymesia (a condition in which a person possesses a superior autobiographical memory, the ability to recall a vast majority of past experiences.) Things were about to get jiggy.
I developed a stammering impediment because I didn’t understanding how to deal with the entire information overload. Until age 10, I was a blithering idiot, not even able to answer the telephone because of my speech impediment. It was so bad, my brothers tortured me maliciously.
While in Catholic school, I remember sitting on a bee. I had to go to the nurse. After dropping my pants for the nurse, my parents’ secret was out. (I had no testes)
The following year in public school, I sang a solo in a Christmas play. I was ridiculed for my voice sounding more girlish than the rest of the girls’ voices.
During this time, I was kidnapped and raped by a 56 year old man who slipped me a Mickey. He was sentenced to prison and died 9 months later.
In January of 1973, my relationship with Testosterone began
By the age of 13, I had a full moustache and a voice like Lurch from the Adams family. So I started playing guitar, became cool, and was a bisexual slut, (in a very small closet.)
Because of too much testosterone, I got into loads of juvenile trouble. On my 17th birthday, I was signed into the U.S. Navy by Court order (no wonder as to why). My call sign was Boomer; a nickname my close friends still address me by
While in the Navy, things became clear to me as to what my sexual role would be. I was discharged as a machinist/mechanic/engineer. I played Guitar, acquired an associate degree in business at Old Dominion in a program called P.A.C.E, and went into business with a family member. I soon found out that it was a terrible, stupid idea.
In 1998, I married a woman and lost everything within 9 months. While in CDL School, my new wife divorced me. I was naive and didn’t show up to court. It was all awarded to her; I mean everything I owned.
During 2001, I was in a horrific accident and broke my back. I rehabbed myself slowly, attended Davis Jr. College for Network Administration.
I ended up as a homeless Veteran and entered a program which set me on the course I am now on. I gathered all my goodies and with V.A. help, secured my current domain.
In 2017, I was prescribed spironolactone for swollen ankles on three separate occasions; the last time was the period between Nov of 2017 and my next appointment in Feb. of 2018. At that time, I informed the Doctor that something was wrong with my arm pit/breast muscles. She examined me thoroughly, asking about my personal quest to be female. Funny thing; I never told her about it in past visits, she somehow knew. Nine vials of blood and two urine specimens later, I receive a phone call instructing me to visit my V.A. hospital. I’m to see the endocrinology/metabolism clinic. I’m thinking the worst, I have lymphoid cancer.
The first red flag was the nurse instructing me to put my gown on “open in front.” I complied, and she walked me into a room with an examination table that no male ever wants to see, the stirrup chair. She attached the loops to my ankles. As my two Doctors walked in, I was handed a cup of water and told to drink it. As I swallowed, they all looked at my neck (no Adams apple.). They asked how long I had my milk ducts in my nipples. My response, “What’s a milk duct?” My legs get hoisted; they shine a super bright and hot light on my groin. Soon, there was a, “There they are,” and I saw nine suture marks in my groin area. As I assured my physician that I had never been injured there, he informed me of my vagina, G.R.S. and being born Intersex!
In a similar fashion to having your life flash before your eyes before death, my life suddenly made sense. The shots, growth vitamins, (as I know now were both testosterone) the arguments, as well as how I was treated differently from my brothers, and dating issues (another story) fell into place.
After dressing, I was counseled, and as we spoke, I became angry at my parents and family. I could have had the life I’d wished for over and over. I was a female with male genitalia. I was introduced to my psychiatrist, the one I currently see.
I don’t know what an average person would have done. When I’m handed lemons I don’t make lemonade, I make Lemon pepper chicken and lemon meringue pie. My female side took over. I changed my name and phone number, only allowing certain individuals access. I joined Facebook and explained my situation. My family’s worst nightmare was unfolding before them and this time there weren’t any comebacks or recourse.
The fun began…
I got dressed up in my sluttish female attire and went to visit all the people at the bars and hangouts where my brothers and their wives hung out. I made sure everyone knew the simple truth .When I felt done with spreading my message, I rested and settled into my new life all alone. I joined this site, stayed quiet, even here. Then the unbelievable occurred; there were E-mails, chatting, asking, talking, telling and snitching on all those who were not in my world and new life.
My body is developing faster than average. The picture you see is at 14 months with H.R.T. assistance. I don’t know how long it had been growing before my chrysalis, but I have 1 ovary, and a vulva, no cervix. It was covered up by skin since 1965. I may even have a hymen.
I now must find a Doctor who will perform major surgery on a 50ish person. I know that bad things could occur. This I know better than anyone.
Thank you “my sisters” for your time and kind words; I will keep you posted.
Huggz n KiZZeZ