Social Whiplash as to Guys

Imagine being in a powerful car with good brakes. The car is rapidly decelerating and then the driver steps on the accelerator and you suddenly zoom forward. You get neck whiplash, right?

If you’re a just-out transsexual girl, get ready for that.

From what I’ve experienced and heard, here’s how it often plays out. And yes, I’m generalizing but it’s based on a decently-sized sample of data including my own life.

* * *

You’re a transsexual girl (t-girl) who has just recently come out as such. As to guys, several of your old guy friends just simply vanished. Some became bland and distant. Some ignore the news that you’ve always been a girl. A few wonderful guy friends stand by you, and yay, they mean a lot to you. And so the platonic aspect of male company survives to some extent.

The sexual aspect is where things go off the rails.

Ever since she was born, the t-girl feels pressured to live in a male role, and she tries hard to do that, including as to how she looks. The end result is often someone who might look OK to the rest of the world, but to the t-girl herself, the picture in the mirror is the opposite of who she is. She’s sold her soul, and there’s the proof in the mirror. She’s appeased everyone else but personally she’s miserable with her male role and her male looks. The price she got in exchange for all this is social acceptance, for what that’s worth. Her premise is that, as an “out” t-girl, she’d be shunned, lonely, unloved, unemployable, broke and starving.

It’d be better to take the advice of Dr. Seuss:Dr_Seuss

Finally, she DOES come out, and then the picture in the mirror looks even worse. The damage caused by male hormones, especially during puberty, is mostly irreversible and even after putting on make-up and fake hair, the t-girl feels awkward and ridiculous as to how she looks, moves and sounds.

Even so, she’s a sexual being, and she’s not yet on feminizing hormone regimen, so the male sex hormone called testosterone is abundant in her bloodstream, and she figures it might be instructive to go have sex with a guy, with her in her new female role. She discovers several problems:

  • Very few guys find her attractive, and they are candid in their rejection, often to the point of being mean and hurtful
  • The few guys who are interested are:
    • Attached and cheating on their wives or girlfriends
    • Interested only if the t-girl takes the active role that … how do I say this in polite company … does not inspire her to feel feminine
    • Unsafe
    • Unsavory

Still, she keeps lowering her standards and finally she does have a few experiences. These tend to involve her discovering why so many females are unhappy in bed with their male partners, and she finds out how stark the guy’s attitude change is from very enthused beforehand, to totally checked out afterwards.  “I’ll call/text/email you” means “I will never contact you again.”

If she’s lucky, she’s bisexual or gay (meaning, a girl who likes girls) and she discovers the joys of being out as such. If she’s straight … I don’t know how that story plays out. I’m not straight, i.e., I’m not into guys romantically and neither is any of the t-girls I’ve spoken to on this subject. So, all I can tell you about is the bi or gay t-girls’s perspective. Continuing:

The t-girl soon realizes that trying to look good so as to get guys’ sexual attention is the worst reason in the world, and for herself, she starts to look, sound and move better and better. Out of every dozen pictures of her, maybe one looks good, so she takes a great many pictures of herself and throws most of them away, and keeps the best ones. Some of them, she uses online such as for her chess player profile.

As time goes by, she realizes that she’s no longer a transsexual girl, emphasis on the “transsexual.” The emphasis moves to “girl.” Her being transsexual really doesn’t matter except that, compared to her friends, she can easily reach items on tall shelves, and tight bottle tops are easier for her to open.

If things were ever to get close-to-intimate with a guy, she speaks up so as to avoid misleading anyone. She wants to be desired for who she is, not the illusion of being a genetically integrated girl. Her life becomes normal. She lives life as the girl she is, and the “transsexual” part fades away except for the rare times when it needs to be acknowledged.

Then, a funny thing happens: guys start hitting on her, as one more girl. In the beginning, it’s flattering. And very soon, it becomes tedious.  And after that, it gets to be annoying.

Without even having any clue as to who the girl is as a person, her looking good in one profile picture is enough, and guys become clingy, obsessed, or just plain weird.

From being “chopped liver” in the meat market to suddenly being “Kobe beef” is disconcerting, and not in a fun way.




2015 Transgender Day of Remembrance in Fallon, NV

Starting today, I am hosting a transgender day of remembrance event, in Fallon, NV. I’m making my office location available to the public for that event.

The planned format of the event will be appropriate to the culture of the event, of the local culture, and of the transgender individuals who are expected to be in attendance.

2015-11-20 20.29.49In addition to the candle, the event decor features two artifacts:

  • a Barbie doll that a Fallon t-girl bought herself after she came out. She’d always wanted one, and it didn’t fit the paradigm of how she was told to live. And finally, it does and it’s fine for her to own one.
  • a formally prescribed, legal prescription bottle of estrogen as is being taken daily by a Fallon t-girl in the context of responsible medical supervision including formal lab blood tests that monitor her kidneys, liver and blood cholesterol.

The event is planned for 7 p.m. at the offices of Precision Quality Software, Inc. at 131 Industrial Way, Fallon, NV 89406. Anyone who is transgender or supportive is welcome, but space is limited for this year’s event so anyone expected to attend should contact me ahead of time, and advise how many people would like to attend — so that I can continue to revise my plans as to space and refreshments. Contact me via the comments for next year’s event.

Being visibly out and proud is part of the culture-change process in favor of public awareness and acceptance of transgender people, but tonight’s event isn’t intended mainly for that. With that in mind, the recommended dress code for tonight’s event should be somber such as befits the solemnity of the occasion.

Consistent with the Fallon culture of live-and-let-live: as to any adult choosing to smoke, it’s your personal decision and you are welcome to do so. For attending this year’s event, please limit yourself to substances that won’t result in a police raid for narcotics. Ten years from now it might well be the other way around but in 2015 in Fallon, NV tobacco is legal and pot is not. Please plan accordingly. Due to the chilly weather the event will be held indoors in limited space, so it’s a non-smoking event. Ample space is available for smokers right by the entrance.

The life story of a transgender person typically has a central theme of conflict between the personal values of the individual and the norms imposed by others. That conflict shapes our personalities, and many transgender people end up stronger with some of us taking the battle to the castle gates of our adversaries, which is a very “Fallon, Nevada” way of dealing with adversity. However, there is often much personal, private anguish in the lives of transgender people. Often this ends with one more life ending due to the transgender person choosing to not live any more.

Some transgender people might never get beat up and yet the emotional pain due to non-violent animosity might still be such that they choose to end their own journey in life. Probably when these names are added to the list of those we’ve lost, the list is much longer, and yet quite possibly unknown to the general public or even to those who thought they knew the transgender person closely. And so for these individuals as a whole, the event will have a formal acknowledgement too.

Even so, tonight’s ceremony has the central theme of remembering individuals who, due to being transgender, experience violence resulting in death or severe injury to the transgender person. “Remembering those we’ve lost” sums it up but the emphasis is on violence.

A typical format for this event, elsewhere, has been where a name is read with the location and cause of death. Without any offense intended to those who take that approach, tonight’s event will not do so. Instead the event will involve discussing transgender victims whose stories are known to the attendees, first-hand or otherwise. That tends to make it a lot more personal.

Some of my ancestors were French Huegenots, Protestants who as a group were being targeted and killed off in droves in France, where the majority of the populace was Roman Catholic and so was the royalty. To survive, my ancestors fled to the southern tip of Africa. Certainly to have a Protestant Day of Remembrance in that time and place would be appropriate. Today in America it seems pointless.

That is my intent behind the Transgender Day of Remembrance ceremony: to have it soon fizzle out due to it being that pointless.

With that in mind, life is for the living, and the best way to experience a better future is to take charge and shape it. The events of this evening will (again consistent with the culture of Fallon, NV) end on an upbeat note with the explicit intent of enabling this year’s attendees to be there next year too, with two discussions:

  • Risk of death by one’s own hand
  • Risk of death by the hand of others.

Risk management involves reducing the likelihood of bad things happening and/or reducing the negative effects if the bad thing does happen. The discussion will follow that structure.

Refreshments will be served.
2015-11-20 20.25.02

Cleavage, Courtesy of Technique

IMAG4191Thanks to finally being on the right kind of hormones, my boobies are growing but they’re far from huge. However, with some bra padding, size problems can be solved. And by pulling my boobies inward, yay, instant cleavage. It’s SO simple. I love it!

Yes, this is what I looked like at 3 a.m. this morning while making dinner — cheese omelet and breakfast potatoes fried in olive oil, nice and healthy.

It’s snowing outside, and in my little apartment it’s all cozy and cheerful. Tonight, I’m wearing my 6″ stilettos and stripperwear while watching stripper videos so as to refine my own moves. How someone moves makes SUCH a difference.

Life is good!!

Ranger Beads as a Water-Drinking Reminder

IMAG4198To help me keep track of how many bottles of water I’ve had so far that day, a friend of mine (a t-girl who used to be in the Army) made me some ranger beads. They’re basically a miniature mobile abacus.

They’re made from parachute cord with beads on them, with the cord being thick enough and with enough friction that a bead is unlikely to move unless I choose to move it from one side of the cord to the other side, which is what I’d do whenever I drink one more bottle of water.

Now that I’m on a fairly hefty prescription for Spironolactone, drinking water is more essential than ever to my health. Spiro is a strong diuretic so I can get dehydrated very, very quickly if I don’t pay attention … and when I’m running errands, I often fail to pay attention.

So, I can end up looking like a lizard and having kidney failure, if I’m not careful.

Because it’s on my key-chain, my new ranger beads will be a nice water-drinking reminder.

This will also helps me keep track of how many bottles of water I’ve had so far, that day, to prevent me from drinking too few because I’ve lost track.

Living in Full Color

The movie True Lies is one of my favorites for a great many reasons. For this article, I’m focusing on the role played by Jamie Lee Curtis. In case you haven’t seen the movie, I’m giving you a very limited version of the story. Essentially she is logical and a good person, but she has a humdrum life by her standards and mine, and she’s secretly ready for much, much more. When she has the opportunity to break her self-imposed chains and live a wild life, she does so even though it’s all new and dangerous. She applies the same precision of thought to her new context, and her logical approach enables her to prevail. She falls (including literally) but she gets up again and keeps going. At the end of the story, she’s the character for whom I have the most respect.

Another movie like that is Yes Man. The main character lets life pass by, but then finally wakes up and embraces the possibilities — and thrives.

Their stories have many similarities to my own.

Before I came out as a t-girl, I was not sociable. I didn’t like going out. When I bought pretty clothes, they were always for the pretty girls in my life, not for me. I was all about girls being ravished sexually, in wild and wonderful ways — but always others, not me. Even when I was on vacation, I always wove work issues into the timeline, even if it totally destroyed the festive theme.

Example: My favorite place at the time was Waikiki Beach, and (this was before cell phones) I managed to spend hours on a pay phone on Waikiki Beach talking to a problem client who deserved none of my time and attention, especially while I was on vacation.

When I did fun things they were often intended for the benefit of whoever was with me at the time. Not that I didn’t enjoy things — I did — but often I more appeared to focus on myself and secretly I was focused on delighting whomever I was with at the time.

Ironically, when I was sexual with someone else, they got treated in a way where they enjoyed the experience (based on the feedback I got during and after) but ironically whatever they were experiencing was actually what I secretly fantasized about experiencing for myself. When I was all alone in the room and pleasuring myself sexually, I was fantasizing about someone ravishing me as I was ravishing whoever was in my life at the time.

Ironically now that I’m out as a t-girl, if I could go back in time and find the person I was fifteen years ago, I’d have enjoyed being spoiled, sexualized and ravished by that person, very much.

So now that I live life to the fullest, I still try to mix my fun with revenue-generating activities but now I basically have fun, and the money happens along the way. For example, I used to have an intense a fantasy about being a hotel room whore. And so a girlfriend of mine met me in a large city far away, dressed me up, put make-up on me, and took pictures and posted ads for me. She screened prospective clients and chose one and arranged the meeting, then left me to enjoy the experience in our hotel room. It WAS hot. No money changed hands so it was all legal, but it was very intense. Next she arranged something similar but this involved me going to someone’s hotel room, for more of the same. Again no money changed hands, but otherwise the fantasy was complete. A good time was had by all — and it was safe enough, and nothing bad happened.

Last year I decided to live out another fantasy: being an escort, solo. I flew to a large city where this sort of thing (and much more yet) is all legal, and I rented an elegant apartment, placed ads and screened clients. No-one was safe enough by my high standards, so while feeling ever more ridiculous I spent a very celibate half-week saying “no thank you” over and over. I finally decided on plan B, and so I flew to another such large city.

My flight arrived just after midnight. It was raining and cold; late December in northern Europe. Even so, I took a train from the airport, and a taxi to the largest brothel in the country — a very well-run, ethical and safety-conscious establishment. So within an hour of my plane having landed, I was standing in the driveway of the brothel in the rain, putting on my 6″ stripper stilettos and then marching in there to apply for work. They weren’t hiring so I went across the street to their competition — and was hired immediately. No hand-wringing, no doubts, no hesitation … I knew what I wanted to experience and I cheerfully and diligently pursued it — and yet I was still ethical and safety-conscious.

This might explain why I quit there an hour later with zero revenue to show for my very short career in a European brothel. Still, I wanted to experience what it’d be like, and I did. I’m glad and I’m proud of being so gung-ho and yet remaining safety-conscious and insisting on doing business honestly — or not at all.

By contrast, five years ago I was so timid. For example, I even felt ashamed looking at boxes of blonde hair dye in the aisle of the local grocery store, while fantasizing about one day having long, blonde hair myself.

That’s ironic, given everything I’ve done, and that I now look like this:

gg2015-08-06 20.21.06

I’m reminded of the old Virginia Slims cigarettes ads that show a girl thriving. The wording on the ads was: “you’ve come a long way, baby.” Yes, I have.

Here is a scientific analysis as to how much better life is for many t-girls as a result of coming out.

Another Good Day

I had a very t-girlish day today. I wore a mid-riff baring top and ultra-short torn denim shorts … with a black shirt and black tights underneath, so the skin exposure is low (which is good since it’s darn cold here, plus I’m not trying to start a riot) but it feels sexy.


I went to have my hair done, and eyebrows waxed and tinted. Then I went to an appointment with the medical professional lady who prescribes my hormones and checks on my medical health as I progress along my hormone-taking regimen. Verict? Good! My blood pressure is 122 over 74, which I understand to be exemplary.

The lady wrote me a prescription to get some lab work done just in case, and she approved my prescription refills, and she doubled my daily estrogen dose. Yay!

Then she asked to speak with me on the subject of how I seem to be an unusually level-headed and positive person, and the life of a t-girl isn’t an easy road, nor and going on feminizing hormones makes things better in some ways and yet also harder. She asked me how I managed to stay so positive. I thought about it. Part of my reply to her will be the subject of another blog post, but the gist of it is basically that I have had some wonderfully supportive friends — and I include colleagues, family, and past and present romantic love interests in the “friends” categories.

She asked me for some suggested resources for other t-girls in transition and I gave her the URL to this blog, and the website name. Then I also recommended my favorite local t-girl friendly social hang-out, and I provided my email address in case anyone wanted me to suggest a local resource. That was a nice implied compliment to me.

I also was practical today. I drove my safe pretty metallic blue Volvo station wagon, and I drank lots of water during the day, and I ate a healthy lunch. I was early or on time for all my appointments, give or take a minute or two.

However, I still know cars and my muscles still work well, and my Volvo needs a new (used) tailgate because it had been rear-ended before I bought it. Those things are heavy! And they’re large, clumsy and tricky to remove. Good thing I’d read up on it last night, and I’d stopped by Autozone on the way into town and I had the perfect set of tools with me. I sashayed into the junkyard, knew exactly where to go, and had the massive tailgate off in a jiffy. My finances are really maxxed out today, and the price was $62 for the tailgate. I had $54 left on my ATM card, but I had a 15% discount coupon that brought the price down to $54.31, which is just barely more than I have left in my checking account, but I had another $5 on me and so with maybe four dollars to spare, I had my prize. Then to Walgreens to buy some water … $2.99 … uh-oh. I rummaged in my purse for change. Would I like to use some credit points, the lady asked? Yes!! $2 off. I handed her $1 and left, happy with the world.

Back home, I took some happy-me pictured, and logged into my bank to check my balance … minus $0.10, oops. But I found 11 cents and so now I have a positive bank balance again: $0.01. Better.

Life is good.


And the Winner is … not me

I’ve posted more than 200 articles on this blog. I have tried to be the right mix of cheerful, helpful, candid, open, smart and insightful on matters relevant to t-girls. All in all, I feel good about what I have accomplished here.

Even so, I’ve just read ONE article that is better than everything I’ve written, combined. It was written by Una Nowling, a truly brilliant lady who’s also, as she describes herself, a professional science researcher and part-time university professor. Wow.

Better how? With luminous rationality, it cheerfully and eloquently explains the latest scientific evidence in support of transsexual girls being girls due to having a largely-female brain structure, and having been that way from birth.

I’ve done much informal reading on this subject, and I’ve never learned so much about these issues, until I read her article. If you have time or patience for only one thing to read, then skip everything I’ve written, and read this.

So maybe my Masculine Traits are OK too

Ever since I realized I’m a t-girl I also came to understand that until then I’ve artificially tried to live like a guy … the guy that never was. It’s been wonderful to embrace my own femininity. For example, today was a cold day, and I went out only after carefully choosing a pretty black outfit with tight leggings, big and fuzzy pink socks, black boots with bright pink laces and a pretty matching necklace. Life is so wonderful now. I care about myself and even the packaging matters.

Until I realized I’m a girl, I didn’t much care what I wore. Dressing was a cheerless task of clothing a body that I didn’t care about to live in a role that I didn’t care about.

Ever since I realized I’m basically a girl, it’s been fine and good to veer my agenda sharply towards the feminine because that’s what was lacking. But finally, I think it’s time to say I’m now in a balanced place. I can stop banning my every masculine trait and trying to replace that with the female equivalent. Yes, my right brain, on which much of my personality and emotion are based, has a basically female structure. And yes, I have mostly feminine traits as such. But I am indeed a t-girl. And based on the latest scientific evidence, my left brain (supposedly the part more responsible for the analytical aspect of thinking) is still as male as a genetically integrated male’s is — and it’ll always be like that. So be it. I have a life to live, and I’ll live it in accordance with who and what I am, as best I can figure that out.

For example, this evening I needed to involve myself and my female colleague in a conference call with an IT guy. When I told her that, she sighed. She mentioned how this IT guy always treats her as if she’s stupid. That’s not a nice way to treat any lady, but this particular lady might just be the most intelligent human I’ve ever met, so it’s especially ironic. Anyway, the IT guy wanted to have a conversation because a custom software system we’d created for our largest client is apparently going to have some of its backup disk space de-allocated.

That’s a problem too. I can make a fairly good case that this is the most important piece of software from the client’s perspective, and that whatever disk space this software needs and uses, it should get to keep. However, now that the system’s proponents are two girls, the system has magically become a lot less important in the eyes of the IT guys. Funny, isn’t it?

What’s even more ironic is that this is the nicest IT guy who is involved with this client. The others are way more condescending yet. At least this guy actively tries to be nice.

Anyway, this nicest (for what it’s worth) IT guy indicated I should call him, and via email, I suggested a time-frame. He confirmed, and I called him at that time. Did he answer the call? No. So I left him a voice mail and sent him an email, indicating he’d missed my call and suggesting that perhaps we can try again tomorrow night, because for the rest of the evening I was going to be focusing on something else. In other words, he should not call me back tonight. Indeed, I was about to immerse myself in some very complex software code.

The IT guy called me back anyway in spite of all that. The try-to-be-as-feminine-as-I-can version of me would have also tried to be extra gentle and accommodating, and I’d have interrupted my work, destroyed my concentration, derailed my train of thought, undermined my productivity and taken his call anyway.

The new, more-assertive me decided that he’s inconveniencing me and it’s not OK, and he can wait. And so I didn’t take his call, kept focusing on my software development work and my life went on, happily and productively. Better!

A wise person keeps reminding me that as a t-girl, I do in many ways have the best of both worlds. I’m starting to think she might have a valid point …

One Drop of Blood …

I was raised in white racist South Africa. It wasn’t a fun place. By the government’s standards, if you were white, then you got to (and had to) live in a white-designated area. If you were not white, then you got to (and had to) live in a non-white-designated area. In common business areas, stores were mixed-race but restaurants and bathrooms were not. Romancing someone outside your race meant a prison term for you. White men and black women, or vice versa, were not even legally allowed to be in the same car together.

By the government’s standards, if you had white ancestry, and only white ancestry, you were white. If you had any non-white ancestry whatsoever, you were non-white. So visually you might have a pale white skin, the sort of Aryan blonde hair and blue eyes that would make a German Nazi like you on sight, but by South African government standards if you had one drop of non-white ancestral blood in your veins, you might as well be pitch black, and off you go to live in the non-white area.

This makes for an interesting analogy to transsexual brain structures.

Dutch scientists have shown, with autopsies, that transsexual girls have a brain structure that’s in many ways physically similar to that of genetically integrated girls and physically dissimilar from that of genetically integrated guys.

More recently, some studies were done using MRI technology. The relevant article reported findings that showed transsexual guys (born with female plumbing but a male brain structure) having totally male characteristics. There was no continuum. In behavioral patterns, the transsexual guys lived in a way that was fundamentally male. Even when trying to live in a female role they nevertheless came across as totally “butch” — no wiggle room.

By contrast, the same study showed transsexual girls (born with male plumbing but a female brain structure) having blended male and female characteristics. There was much more of a continuum, a gray area. In behavioral patterns, many transsexual girls did (in addition to liking girly things) also showed a liking for traditionally male-culture things such as guns, cars, airplanes, martial arts, the military and so on — with a sincerity that goes beyond trying to grudgingly fit into the culturally-assigned role of “live as a guy would.”

This reconciles well to another study that showed transsexual girls having left brains identical to genetically integrated males, but having right brains that are structurally very different from genetically integrated males.

Left-brain activity tends to be credited with certain categories of cognitive processing. An informal, oversimplified summary would say that left-brain activity tends to be more analytically-based and right-brain activity tends to be more intuitively-based. The precise science is vastly more complex and subtle but even so it’s valid to say that a person with a left brain similar to males and a right brain similar to females is going to think in male ways in some arenas, and in female ways for everything else.

And so, an individual doesn’t have to be a 100% girly girl so as to be a transsexual girl. This is relevant because part of the coming-out process invariably involves many people arguing with a transsexual girl about her own gender, and saying things like “but you’re so into cars, and several guy-ish things” as if to scrape together circumstantial evidence to convince the transsexual girl that she is a deluded, confused male. These latest studies show how such objections properly merit a zero on the relevancy scale. Sincerely liking some male-culture things in no way detracts from the likelihood that a transsexual girl is a transsexual girl.

I’m a typical example. When I was a young teenager, I was making candles, knitting, sewing buttons on everything, crocheting, and doing origami — and yet I could tell you vast amounts of detail as to automotive trivia. I was drawing pretty pictures — including of cars. By age fourteen, I was taking bicycles apart and refurbishing them while being able to play the piano, self-taught, very well (albeit only the Ninth Symphony, Fuer Elise and the Moonlight Sonata). I was good at martial arts but even while I was winning a fight I was in tears, plus I focused on Judo (“the gentle way”) and I threw and then immobilized my opponent. And so on.

This reconciles to the test results of a Stanford University formal gender brain test that I took. The test results show that my feminine characteristics are very strong … I am in fact more feminine in my thinking than even 85% of genetically integrated girls. However, my male characteristics are very strong too. The latter aspect didn’t bother the transsexualism-savvy professional who was tasked with interpreting the test results. Her conclusion: I’m a transsexual girl.

She’d given her verdict and that was all there was to it, logically. Still, to me, it seemed too good to be true that I am actually a girl brain-wise, structurally — and I can stop fearing that I might somehow be some nut-case guy who’s delusional. So I remained at least a little bit worried … the strong male characteristics in my test results have always bothered me.

Eventually I figured that I’d had testosterone raging throughout my veins ever since puberty and that probably had a significant effect on how I thought, and I’d also tried to live in a guy role for so long and so diligently that this probably had an effect also. Still, I didn’t want to be like a bad scientist who throws away test data that doesn’t match a cherished hypothesis.

This recent study explains it all in a way that finally and cleanly resolves that concern.

Remaining Organized as to taking Feminizing Hormones

The effects of hormones during puberty seem small day by day, but for me, over five years they added up to a dramatic difference.

And so, as I now take daily doses of feminizing hormones to undo those effects, it is again a slow process, day by day. Beyond a particular threshold, I can’t change the process to double the speed by taking twice as many hormones per day. There’s a fine balance. Take more than x and the effect is a slightly more-feminized version of me, the next day. Take too little of it, and the effect is reversed: a slightly less-feminized version of me, the next day.

So, one day’s missed dosage will set me back more than one day, as I understand the math. This is an important mistake to avoid, and I’m enthused to avoid it. The problem is that my schedule is hectic and sometimes it’s not clear when one day ends and the next one begins, and many times I’ve found myself staring at the bottle of hormones, and wondering if I’ve already taken the dose for that day, or half-day. I needed a better way.

And so, off I went to the camping goods section of a local supermarket, and I bought a plastic holder intended to lug hard-boiled eggs along on a camping trip. I use it to keep track of whether or not I’ve taken the hormones on any particular day.

2015-11-02 17.18.16

I write “M” in one cavity, “T” in the next, “W” in the next and so on — one day per egg-shaped cavity. Then, I pre-allocate my hormone pills with the right dosage into each cavity: two Spironolactone pills, two Estradiol pills, and one aspirin. That’s my daily dosage. When I’m not sure whether or not I’ve taken something for that day, I just look inside, and I see the status.

Another benefit of this approach is that I can close the top section in clam-shell style and then it snaps shut and stays shut until I choose to open it. That way, when I clumsily knock the entire thing off the kitchen counter, I don’t scatter the pills all over the floor with many of them rolling into unsanitary places like under the stove, ewww.

Also, the closed clam-shell makes it easy to toss the entire thing into my suitcase when I travel.

Another benefit of this approach is that I can easily tell when I’m about to run out of pills, and I need to order replacements — which can sometimes require several days’ lead time as the pharmacy checks with the doctor first, before filling the prescription.