Today officially marks the end of my first year on HRT, and the beginning of the second. The past 12 months have been some of the more intense and scary and emotionally trying in my life, but they’ve also been some of the best, and I’ve grown as a person more in this one year than I had in five of the years prior. I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.
By the time I’d taken these pics, I’d already stripped off all of the day’s makeup, aside from a bit of eyeliner I’m too lazy to scrape off, (it’s a rare thing for me to wear much makeup in the first place) and I’m very aware that, in poor lighting, looking as visibly tired as I do, and with eyebrows that are completely assymmetrical because I don’t bother with maintaining the, at all, I’m probably not exactly a vision of glamour or conventional beauty.
But despite all that, I’m still pretty damn satisfied with how I look. And beyond that– how I feel. Like I’m living. Like I’m a person. Like I’m feeling life, the good and the bad, instead of just letting it wash past me.
I’m not sure I could’ve said that a few years ago.