Bridging the two worlds on the Tenderloin and the corporate office, while secretly undergoing my medical transition proved an even bigger challenge than surviving as a transsexual junkie whore. When I started my new computer programming job (as a guy named "Chris") I spent every other moment as Christine. If the next three years of my life had been reduced to checklist if might have looked like this.
1. Work my ass off and make my bosses and coworkers love me.
2. Attend 12 Step sobriety meetings, work my recovery program and earn my one-year sobriety medallion.
3. Take female hormones and finish electrolysis of my face and torso.
4. Attend formal gender counseling need for sex change surgery.
5. Have my doctor sign the DMV form to change my gender to "F".
6. Attend the office Halloween party dressed as Christine to pave the way for going full-time.
7. Don't do drugs to ease my fear while the divisional vice president and my manager decide whether or not to fire me.
8. Save every penny I can for Sex Reassignment Surgery (SRS).
9. Spend $4000 on sub-axialary size 'C' breast implants because my boobs haven't grown big enough in eighteen months.
Not only was it a struggle to get this far, many setbacks broke my spirit. Becoming Christine at my dayjob deflated my career opportunities, and they forced me use the basement restroom. Several times I nearly peed myself when found it locked. Formerly friendly coworkers iced me out or joked about me. In 2001 my liver got so sick (more on that later) I had to stop taking female hormones, which would have erased much of my feminizing had I not driven to Tijuana with my T-girl friend Angel and got castrated by a Mexican doctor.
These were but a few adventures of the next four years. I covered sex and politics as paid journalist for California's oldest adult newspaper, cut my teeth on activism and tried things I had never dared before. ____________________________________________________________