At last

Monday 14 May 2007

I have had cold feet since yesterday. And then pins and needles in my legs. In other words I have been constantly afraid since Wednesday appeared on the horizon.

It’s afternoon. I will have my operation the day after tomorrow. I can hardly believe it. The day after tomorrow. Already.

I no have the feeling that time is flying. I’m afraid, but it’s not painful like anxiety. In truth I’m holding my breath as if not to break the spell, as if in front of something fragile. I especially must not whatever comes to upset the progress of the remaining days. So, I can’t sleep the whole night any more, my eyes are firmly fixed on 16 May which is no longer a mirage but remains a fragile miracle which I haven’t yet reached.

In secret (because you mustn’t tempt fate) I am nevertheless starting to rejoice. My God! It’s here! I’m going to have my operation. It’s here, it’s a reality! I’m going to take the plunge and the day after tomorrow, I’ll no longer be the person I am today. I will be enriched. I am going to rediscover my clitoris. Really. I am totally excited, totally happy. I have a big smile which I can’t manage to suppress….

I also want to cry. Emotion no doubt. Because I’m not sad. What’s making tears come to my eyes is that I’m allowed to hope something magnificent. And that it’s going to happen. It’s the first time I believe …

I am almost ready. In my head I’ve listed all I need to take with me:
- my nightgown
- my toiletries
- two books and a magazine
- a skirt and a pretty top for leaving the clinic on Thursday
- two pairs of pants and a bra
- an notebook and a pen
- the lucky charm which one of the therapists from the Saturday group sessions gave me.

I have removed my nail varnish and I have shaved myself. Those two things are necessary and required by the clinic. Besides, several young women who have already had the operation kindly told me about them.

All the same, I had a bit of a block at the idea of having to remove all the hairs from my sex. I didn’t know how I would manage it. A young woman who had the operation, of whom I asked the question, told me the nurses could do it at the clinic, but I didn’t want to entrust them with this intimate task. I neither wanted to shave myself (and what if I cut myself?) nor use a depilatory cream (what if I burnt my mucous membranes?). Finally I got myself completely depilated by a beautician. I didn’t feel overcome by modesty in front of her (contrary to what I expected) and it wasn’t too painful. My only regret will be not to have been able to “prepare” my body myself.

I now have the sex of a little girl, all smooth, all delicate, without the barrier of hair to protect it, and that disturbs me. I can’t stop thinking that the circle is complete and that I am going to present myself at the clinic as I was on that black day when I was four. It’s a strange sensation. Not really sadness, but a little all the same…

Time becomes solemn, serious, symbolic. And nevertheless, I want to dance …

It’s the day after tomorrow. At last ….

[original in French]

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