Author: TransformIdentite

A few months after my NHS gender reassignment surgery, I began to understand and accept my new body.   

Looking back, I think I suffered a type of post-surgery depression immediately after the procedure. I didn’t feel able to leave the house, I didn’t want to see anyone, and there were certain post-operative factors which meant I was quite restricted and couldn’t just enjoy life after the operation like I’d hoped.  

But 5 or 6 months down the line, I felt more comfortable and happier in myself and I wasn’t in pain any more. I could finally go on dates and wear what I wanted – I could just be a normal 21 year old, without worrying. 

I knew I was ready for the next stage. In June 2016, I went for breast augmentation surgery, as well as having some corrective surgery at the same time. With 300cc added to my boobs, when I woke up from the operation I felt exactly how I’d imagined I would after my gender reassignment surgery – absolutely delighted!  

I was still working at Bristol Airport, but in February 2016 I left Duty Free and worked for a couple of beauty brands there. One was definitely more supportive of ‘girl power’ than the other! But October 2018 was a real turning point, as it’s when I got my job as a cosmetic surgery consultant at Transform.  

I’d always found cosmetic surgery really interesting, and this was something I’d always wanted to do. I absolutely love it – it’s the best job ever, and I never want to leave. My experience as a trans person, and someone who has had surgery themselves, makes me feel that I can relate to patients who want to change something they don’t like. I always try to be understanding and empathetic with them, and I like being able to support and guide them from the start of their journey to the finish.  

But even though I had a great new job, my journey to the real me wasn’t finished. My focus now switched to the facial changes I’d been wanting. I saved up for fillers, because I felt I needed to feminise my face. I had cheek, chin, and jaw fillers at Transform, as well as lip injectables, and they certainly worked, changing my face from being skinny and gaunt to softer and rounder. They needed to be topped up every few months to keep my face plump – maintenance that I needed to budget for. 

In August 2019, I had breast implant removal and re augmentation surgery with Transform. That took me from 300c to 400cc, and I’m now a 32E bra size. I also had a lip lift to reduce the amount of skin between my nose and top lip, which helped to feminise my face further. In the future, I plan to have more treatment including having my ears pinned back, a nose job, and a chin implant. 

I want to be the best version of myself that I can be. As much as I’d tried to talk myself out of having more surgery, the changes I want to make will give me a softer and more feminine look. And I can put the fillers behind me by having a permanent change through surgery. 

Initially, part of me wanted to transform every single thing about my outer appearance when I finally had the courage to transition, but as time went on, I realised that I didn’t need to after all. Following my gender reassignment surgery and breast augmentation, I’d thought about buttock implants and having a curvier body with wider hips. As I finally became me and became more comfortable with who I was growing into as a person, I didn’t want to forget who I really was by changing to the point where I don’t recognise myself – there’s only so much surgery you can have before you start losing touch with who you really are. 

Being a woman is hard – the pressure to look good can be intense – but most woman don’t have to deal with gender confliction too. Trans women have additional pressure, because they have to fight to be seen as female. If we don’t look good enough to ‘pass’ as the woman we are inside, then we don’t get taken seriously as the people we really are. We’re constantly trying to break down gender barriers.   

Writing this and looking back, I have to pinch myself. I never thought I’d ever get to where I am now, having achieved what I dreamed of.  

But I just wish I’d been born the way I should have been. 

Early on, I knew I had two choices: keep on facing challenges every single day and perhaps eventually take my own life, or go through with treatment. What I was certain of was that I could no longer live a lie as a boy, because I wasn’t one inside.  

If I didn’t face up to how I felt it seemed inevitable that I would end my life. Suicide is a terrible thing and it crossed my mind many times. It seemed an easy way out because I wouldn’t have to face discrimination, hate or abuse any more. 

But I kept saying to myself, “What about Ella, the person inside who’s waited all this time to come out and show who I really am?” 

Gender reassignment surgery has changed in my life, but I had no choice but to go through with it. I had to take that risk, and I’m so glad I did. People can see being transgender as a lifestyle choice, as if people are bored of their gender, but for me there was no choice at all.  

Evan is still a part of me – trying to erase that by changing myself through surgery was never going to fix everything, although I used to think it would. I’m very grateful that I’ve had surgery, hormones, laser hair removal and the rest, because it’s made my life easier and helped me become the person I knew I was, but procedures don’t fix everything. Money can’t buy learning to accept yourself as the whole package, inside and out. 

My journey still hasn’t ended and I’m not sure it ever will, because I’m constantly learning about myself and who I am. I don’t regret anything at all – I’d rather be open and proud of my life than hide away from it. I’ve become the person I was always meant to be and now I have the privilege of helping others in the same kind of situation. 

I do feel proud of the strength I’ve found throughout the years. Being part of a minority is difficult, but I’ve always believed that you’re never given more than you can deal with in life. We’re all tested at some point – everyone is dealt different cards.  

Sometimes, I’m amazed by what my family and I went through, but we did, and it was all worth it. My goal now is to make my mum, dad and my three brothers proud. I couldn’t have done it all, and I wouldn’t be here, if it wasn’t for them. I owe them everything, and they are everything to me.  

Without them, I wouldn’t be able to stand proud and be my true self today. They have struggled just as much, if not more, than I have throughout the process. Transition can be so hard on families, and they haven’t had access to the support that I have, so they have struggled with this huge change.  

But they have coped, and they’ve done so much for me throughout the years. How they did it, I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for them. Their support has been incredible, and they have completely blown me away with their strength.  

I really hope I have made my parents proud as a daughter. And I hope that my brothers are proud to call me their sister. I am so proud of them – they’ve shown me how it’s possible for people to change their mindset when they’re put in difficult situations. They have accepted me, and they treat me in the way I’d always dreamed of.  

Anyone would be grateful to have them as brothers and as parents. I need to thank my family with all my heart. 

Why am I telling my story? My hope is that people will see that we are just like anybody else. I am a person, not a just a label. Transgender people deserve to have the same opportunities as others do – we’re all equally valid, equally justified, and equally beautiful. We’re fighting to be ourselves, but why should we have to fight to be accepted? I’ve always questioned why we get so much hatred and why people won’t give us a chance to be seen and heard. I believe that in a world where you can be anything, being kind is the most important thing of all. 

Now I want to help educate others who don’t understand what it is to be transgender. I want to shed light on the struggles and realities of being trans – we’re not freaks or mentally ill. And I’ll continue to try to make our voices heard until my last breath.  

I know that, by telling my story, I may be judged by people who can’t or won’t try to understand me. The most important thing, though, is that I’ve learned to love and accept myself, which is the hardest thing to do – much harder than any surgery.  

Read Part 1 – Little Evan here.
Read Part 2 – Becoming Ella here.

The years leading up to my gender reassignment surgery were filled with preparation for the procedure.  

As well as having monthly counselling sessions, I also started taking hormone tablets a few years before my surgery. I’m now on these for life, although I stopped taking them for the 4 weeks prior to my surgery, which is a necessary step.

I also had laser hair removal, including on my face, and voice therapy at a local hospital for a number of months, although my voice didn’t really bother me as I’m quite well-spoken with a relatively feminine voice anyway.

My main focus was on the surgery, which the NHS would carry out. I did find the prospect of having it quite daunting. When I turned 21, I went to Brighton to see the surgeon at my consultation, and he explained what would happen. My second visit to Brighton was for blood tests and my pre-operative assessment, which made sure that I was fit and able to proceed. The appointments were nerve-racking, but exciting at the same time. This surgery was something I needed, and it was going to be the biggest part of helping my gender dysphoria.

There is no cure for gender dysphoria, but it can be supressed in ways such as using hormones and having surgery. I’ll always be transgender, so you have to learn to accept yourself, love yourself, and not see being trans as a bad thing. After all, everyone is special in a different way.

Surgery was never something I wanted to have to go through, though. It was upsetting that I would have to undergo this complex and frightening procedure because I hadn’t been born with the correct outer body. But I was incredibly grateful, because I knew I’d finally be able to start my real life afterwards – I wouldn’t be in limbo any more, feeling incomplete and uncomfortable. I’d be able to go on holiday and go on dates – do all the things that 21 year-olds do.  

I was pretty young when I had my gender reassignment surgery, and I suppose I was a bit naïve too. I’d never had any kind of procedure before. Looking back, I can see that I probably hadn’t done as much research on the psychological effects of what I was about to do, though I was completely aware of the risks and complications of treatment. I guess part of me didn’t want to know the risks to mental health beforehand in case they scared me off, so I didn’t research as much as I should have. I figured that everyone would have their own experience, and I didn’t want other people to influence me or give me false ideas of how I may or may not feel afterwards.

I had my surgery in April 2015. My dad was incredibly supportive and came along with me, staying in a hotel so that he could be there for me. My mum joined my dad for a few days, too. I didn’t understand at the time just how hard it was for them to see me go through this, and I’m so grateful that they were there for me. It was the ‘end’ of the son they once had, yet the start of my new life as the real me.

I was in hospital for 10 days. When I woke up after surgery, I was surprised that I didn’t feel much different at all, just a bit strange. I hadn’t realised how much pain I’d experience. 

I think I’d expected to physically become the woman I was inside with that one operation. I’d read stories of other girls’ experiences after surgery, so believed it would be just like how they described it and that I’d wake up feeling complete. In fact, I was underwhelmed – I really struggled with my face and parts of my body not matching the image of who I wanted to be.

For years I’d been researching the differences between male and female bodies and face shapes, and there were still masculine elements I disliked. Men’s skulls, for example, are a different shape to women’s, so men are more likely to have a square jaw or chin and a receding hairline. Women have softer skin, round chin, high cheekbones, a different distribution of fat, and wider hips. 

The hormones I was taking helped, but from the age of 14, I’d always hoped to have facial surgery as well as my gender reassignment surgery. After my procedure, I still felt that outwardly I looked the way I always had – just like the old me.  

I didn’t really have breasts. What I did have were an A cup size, which was due to the hormones I’d been taking. I knew that boobs were my next priority once I’d recovered from my surgery. Although I also wanted facial feminisation, which is not available on the NHS and is very expensive, it would have to wait. 

I spent 4 months recovering, and I didn’t go outside much at all. Looking back, I think I suffered post-surgery depression. I don’t know what I’d have done without my dad throughout my recovery from the procedure– although I’d always felt closer to my mum before I transitioned, afterwards I became a lot closer to him. He’s ended up being my biggest supporter, although my gender reassignment surgery was hard for both my parents and the rest of the family. I guess they saw it as a ‘goodbye’ to Evan, so they went through a grieving process while still trying to support me. Dad and my brothers, for example, found it very, very hard to call me by my new name, Ella. They must have felt like they’d lost a child or brother, even though they’ve gained a daughter and a sister. And because it was me who took him away from them, I felt a sense of guilt.

I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but I’ve had a lot of counselling and support, whereas my family and friends had none at all. It’s no wonder that they struggled after my surgery. 

My recovery was full of medical aftercare and dilation, to keep everything working and open. It was painful and time consuming, the swelling and bruising was extreme, and you have to learn how to use this new body part, which was like learning to walk again. But I knew I had to take the good with the bad and go through the process to reap the rewards of finally having a body that matched with how I felt inside.

When I returned to work, I was initially on reduced hours because I couldn’t stand up for long periods of time. My employers were accommodating and understanding, even though I’d been off for longer than they’d expected. But I am so fortunate that they were supportive, as the follow ups to the procedure that are required mean you need several times away from work during the day.

I’d booked a holiday to Los Angeles before my surgery and going away was the push I needed to recover mentally. I travelled there 3 months after my surgery, around the time Caitlyn Jenner had just come out to the world. People were starting to listen to trans activists, and it was ironic that the day we arrived in LA, she received a ‘courage’ award at the ESPN Sports Awards.

The holiday was just what I needed. I could be me and feel comfortable in a bikini by the pool. I started feeling a lot happier, putting on makeup for the first time in the months since my surgery. 

My life was changing beyond all recognition, but there was still more to come. 

Read Part 1 – Little Evan here.
Read Part 3 – Being Ella here.

This is the story of me, Ella-Morgan.

When I was born my mum and dad called me Evan. They were the proud parents of a new son – their third – and a few years later, another son made the family complete.

But by the time I was 7 years old, I knew something really wasn’t right. I was different.

Outwardly I appeared to be a boy and had a stereotypical male haircut, clothing and a boy’s body. I didn’t feel, think or act like any other boy I knew, though. The person I appeared to be to others wasn’t the true me.

I didn’t understand why. I couldn’t articulate exactly what was wrong. I felt very different to the boys in my class, and I was just much more comfortable doing the things that girls of my age did. I simply fitted in better with the girls, and naturally gravitated towards any conversation which was ‘for girls’. And I’d follow my mum around everywhere. I was envious of her – her clothing, her hair, how she was a strong woman, a wife and a mother. I was curious, too, and fascinated by how women lived their lives.

Being so young, I didn’t know anything about transgender or LGBTQ+ people. As one of three brothers, I was expected to conform to male stereotypes, because it was assumed I was just the same as them. 

Pink is for girls, blue is for boys, boys do this and girls do that…it’s what most kids’ childhoods are built around. From the minute you’re born, everything is instantly mapped out. As a boy, you’ll play sports, wear blue, and become a successful man. Without even realising it, your whole life is based on the gender you’re identified as at birth.

It was taboo to mention anything that wasn’t associated with your gender role, and I didn’t want people questioning me. So for a long time I hid behind many different personas I’d created, trying to please everybody and make sure they didn’t sense anything was wrong. I even tried to convince myself that I liked ‘male’ things.

It wasn’t until I was in a sex education class as a young teenager that I had my lightbulb moment. When I heard the name ‘transgender’ and was told what it meant, I knew it described me.

‘Transgender – denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.’ 

I’d never liked anything about my body, and it was like a switch had been flicked. I realised I was female. It wasn’t that I wanted to be female, or that I should be female – I was a woman. Finally, I knew who I was.

It felt so good – it was uplifting to know that my feelings, thoughts and struggles now made sense. Those struggles were because I was never a boy, although I may have appeared, outwardly, to be one.

No one knew about the demons in my head because I rarely let them out, though sometimes when it got too much when I was a child I’d act up and get angry with my parents. Now, suddenly I felt I fitted in somewhere – there was a community I could and would be part of one day, because other people like me were out there. I suddenly had self-worth and an identity.

Now in my teens, I went through puberty, which was horrible as I knew girls of my age were having a completely different experience to me. In a way, I think I believed that suddenly, miraculously, I would change into a female at this point, but of course that didn’t happen. I looked like a boy, but now I knew I was a transgender female inside, I started to express myself more. I started to experiment with makeup and acted how I felt I wanted to.

My family knew that something was wrong, just not what it was. I have three brothers, two of whom are straight and one who is gay. They thought that I was maybe gay too.

Perhaps now is the best time for me to clarify that being transgender, which is your feelings about your identity, who you are and who you should be, means that you are part of the LGBTQ+ community. Being lesbian, gay or bisexual is your sexual orientation, and it’s about who you’re attracted to,  not anything to do with struggling with gender. They’re two completely different things which can be real challenges in their own way. I am a straight female, but part of this one big community – minorities who have one another’s backs. But gender identity issues and sexuality are two different things and shouldn’t be confused.

Around 14 or 15 years of age, I started Googling for information on transgender surgery, and realised that this is what I’d have to do to become the person I needed to be. I kept this all to myself, and it was a big secret to keep. At times I did feel suicidal, and I tried to take my own life twice.

I decided to keep my head down, get my qualifications at school, then leave home and start a new life as the real me, away from family and friends. I’d read up on trans experiences and lives, but there wasn’t much positivity around it. No one’s experiences seemed joyful, and from what I read, it seemed that being trans wasn’t something that people understood or could empathise with.

I assumed my life would be tough. To survive and live my life as me, I would have to make hard choices. I could do what I had to do to be happy or try to conform to make others happy. 

In July 2012, at the age of 17, I visited my GP, who was really helpful and gave me information on how everything would work if I wanted to transition. I left with lots of booklets, and I knew that this was what I would have to do to so that the person I was inside was reflected in my body on the outside.

I kept all of this a secret, because I knew my parents would find it very hard to come to terms with the changes I was going to make. I learned to drive and decided to start afresh by finding a career, then I could move away to start my new life. I didn’t want to do it, but I felt I had to in order to be the real me, and so I went away to college to take a cabin crew course.

However, in August 2012 my mum found the GP leaflets under my bed, so my secret was out. Although she was a bit shocked at first, she was very supportive. Dad was another matter, though – he wouldn’t look at me for 3 months, which was awful, but he wasn’t as educated about it then.

My brothers started to realise what was going on and, being 3 males, they weren’t overjoyed at the idea of a transgender sibling. They didn’t seem on board with my change, but when my dad saw that the rest of the family had negative opinions, he started to come around and we began to talk. He realised I was his child, whether daughter or son, and he didn’t want to lose me. He could see it was what I needed to do in order to be truly happy, no matter what others thought.

The only people I told were my parents, brothers and grandparents, and they spread the word to other family members, but I never really took the time to sit and explain why I was doing this. Even to this day, some people in the family still don’t understand me or my decisions, which I regret, but if they hadn’t been so hurtful about me to my parents my dad would never have changed his views.

Being transgender isn’t a choice. You don’t wake up one day wanting to change your life and body. Some realise they’re trans sooner than others, some hide how they feel, others become open and tell their story. Hopefully, one day being trans will be seen as a celebration of being your true self.

Being transgender is also a medical condition. I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria when I saw my GP in July 2012, and surgery and hormones are the treatment, just like with many other medical diagnoses. I knew from day one that having gender reassignment surgery was my goal – I felt I needed it to be the person I was meant to be, even though the thought of it was scary.

There’s a process to follow, and 9 years ago, at the age of 18, I started the long journey to my physical change. I knew I couldn’t live in the body I had any longer. A big part of transitioning is psychological.

I became an airline check in agent at Bristol Airport after college and was still presenting as a male. 6 months in, after passing my probation, I decided I needed to be me and present myself as the girl I had always been. Legally you have to have 2 years real-life experience living as a woman before you have surgery, which is one of the hardest parts to deal with, but I wanted to start this as quickly as I could and do my best to look like a woman straight away. I told my employer and they agreed I could change, but they weren’t supportive. I had to change from Evan to Ella in one day, because they didn’t understand, but it was October 2012, and I was now presenting as a female.

Having been referred to a psychiatrist as part of my gender reassignment journey, I was passed mentally fit and well and so was referred to the gender clinic in Exeter, where I had my first counselling session in January 2013. I went every month and started hormones in the March, changing my name legally in the April.

Fortunately, I went to work in Duty Free at the airport beauty counters in the August and they were very supportive, re-jigging my rota to allow me to attend appointments for my gender change. I trained as a makeup artist while working there.

Legally, I wasn’t be able to have surgery until I was 21, so I was put on the waiting list. I felt that everything was in place for me to start my real transformation.

Read Part 2 – Becoming Ella here.
Read Part 3 – Being Ella here.