Temperatures are a-risin' around here so on Saturday I wore a skirt for the first time in months. I love skirts. Last year when I went to Daytona Beach on vacation I packed nothing but skirts so I could make myself face the fear of wearing them. Up to that point I had worn women's pants for months but I couldn't bring myself to do the skirt thing. You see, I did NOT want to be seen as a man in a skirt, so I was really afraid.
Transition-wise everything went fine with the trip. For the first time I was tasting what walking around mostly unnoticed by people meant, not being sir'd and (so cool) my friend D. and I be called "ladies" once. I was walking on clouds.

D., who was my SO at the time, didn't have a good time at all. These were the days which finally brought down our prior relationship. It was a beautiful sunset beach we were walking when I finally gathered some courage and told her I wanted to go ahead with full transition. I had been four-five months on HRT then but it was all so clear, totally clear from the first week really. I didn't know all the particulars and how it came to figure in every aspect of my life, but I was sure at heart that that was what I wanted. It hurt. We had been together for 8 years and she was/is the love of my life.
There followed terrible months where everything hurt. From my full commitment to being me to she dating others (which was a way to find herself too). But eventually we made it through and we are now more than best friends. We recently moved together to a new apartment with two separate bedrooms and we enjoy the freedom to be whatever we want to be.