Today, I have lived, as near as I can make out given time zone differences from my birthplace, 17,608 days.
For approximately 16,800 of those, since just past the age of 2, my body hasn't felt quite right. There were things on it that just didn't match my body image.
Now that never bothered me overmuch. OK, it was a (literal) pain when this stuff got caught in fly zippers because I wasn't aware of it. It never bothered me too much that it felt all wrong, even when I saw myself as a guy. I figured it was a harmless quirk, and no big deal.
OK, so when I reached puberty, and started being sexually active, it was a problem, not having the instincts that were supposed to be supplied with the equipment. But Love conquers all, and it didn't matter that much when I was in the arms of the Love of my Life.
I actually told my partner that for the first time in my life, I was glad I had a male body, simply because she was attracted to it.
What a giveaway. Or it should have been, in hindsight.
But in 168 days, 24 weeks, that condition that I've lived with for so long will be cured. 99% of the time I will spend feeling that things aren't right is now over.
Maybe I'll feel no better. May even feel worse. I can't tell. But it's worth a try, anyway, and what was once a "nice to have, maybe" is now becoming more of an urgent need as it comes closer. Interesting from a psychological perspective, but it's different when it's you who's feeling like this.
As the time draws closer, I'm allowing myself to remember dreams I've had for so very long, impossible and impractical dreams that now look like they'll actually come true.
On the home stretch now. 99% down, 1% to go.
Roll on November 15.