“Christina”, the nurse called out. I went into the examination room.

It was a hot summer day, so I was wearing my favorite red wrap around dresses, not just because it’s cute, but because I had to get an EKG. I’ve had those before, and you need a lot of probes on your chest, so it’s useful to have clothes that makes things more accessible.

She asked me to lay down on the examination table, and put probes all over me. I had to get them under my chest, which was… a bit awkward, but we both managed to smile about it. The rest she put on my wrists and my ankles. She asked for my details, and put a wireless reader on my stomach. Then she sat down on her computer, and opened the interface for the reader. She entered my details, and then clicked the large button labeled “female” in the UI, to get an accurate reading.

I also had to get blood drawn, again. Earlier I had gotten it drawn for another examination, and you could already see the bruise. She explained how women tend to bruise quicker and easier than men, and asked if I preferred using my other arm or to get it the same place. I chose the other arm.

Next week, I came into the doctors office. He weighted me, and took my blood pressure. It was great — even if my BMI is a bit over the ideal.

He seemed satisfied. For a woman my age, all of my indicators where great! I should keep doing whatever I had been doing, because it was clearly working. He then showed me how, as I get older, I would be projected to be in the lowest risk group amongst 65 year old women for a stroke, which he was very proud of. He also told me that while I had been a smoker once, as a woman, my risks of strokes wasn’t as pronounced as men, even from lifestyle diseases, but of course, that didn’t mean I should start smoking again!

Then he renewed my prescriptions, except those that were from the gender clinic, as the current system requires that anything trans related is only done by them. He apologized for not being able to do it, but I didn’t expect him to be able to do that anyways, so that was fine with me.

I had been in the room, talking with the gynecologist for a while now. Mostly just boring medical stuff. But then she got more serious, I think in response to me saying something about how at least I didn’t have to be as scared of physical assaults or something, because I was “biologically” a male.

“Christina, you’re a woman now. You aren’t gonna be as strong as you were when you were younger. You’re not gonna be able to run as long, extend as much physical effort, you have to realize this and start being more careful. You’re not invincible anymore”.

To be honest, I didn’t really take this seriously. I may have felt I had become weaker, but I attributed that more to my laziness than my gender. Then again, I did recall that steroids where just testosterone, so I guess it made sense if I had basically no testosterone, I wouldn’t be as strong, or I don’t know, that it would at least be harder to maintain.

Aside from that, it was really cool to see how my blood iron, which had been too high for a long time, had really dropped off now that I had been on estrogen for a while. She tried to lighten the mood. “You know, your life expectancy now has gotten a lot better.” That did make me happy.

After having some tea for the first time in a long while with and old friend, he asked “so, do you have like, cheaper car insurance now, since you’re a woman”. “Well, yes, I do. I never really thought about that heh. I also can’t get drafted anymore, which is pretty reassuring!”.

He looked at me skeptical, “with the way things are going, I’m not so sure you should get used to that”.

“You know, it’s always harder when a daughter leaves home”. For a moment, I thought that my cosmetologist meant it would be easier for my mom, since I wasn’t a “real” daughter, but she continued. “It makes a lot of sense you’re mom is struggling with you leaving. I know when I moved out, my mom found it really hard…”.

After finishing the electrolysis session, I went out into the lobby, where another woman, who looked like she had facial hair problems as well, but… much worse than mine, was sitting patiently waiting for her appointment. We gave each other a look, as if we both had a moment of shared camaraderie at the situations we were in. I paid for the treatment and went to seven-eleven to get a cookie.