This is turning into a diary of my disastrous relationship! Let’s see if I can get to the end of the day without taking about it.
Today I’m trying my first day without any dressings on the scar. Showering is getting easier, the sensations when cleaning around the area are painfully ticklish! That kind of pain that you get beyond pleasure, so I’m not able to spend too long there. Some of the stitches look to be fading away (they’re dissolving stitches). I used the wound spray, then dried it with kitchen roll, before rubbing in the lovely lavender ointment, again causing that ticklish pain beyond pleasure sensation. I’m now wearing only compression pants underneath my jogging bottoms. Tomorrow I may try wearing jeans. For my American friends who may not know, “pants” are something Englishers sometimes called call their underwear. When we talk of Superman, Englishers will sometimes say that he wears his pants outside his trousers, which I imagine sounds truly bizarre when you’re a country where “pants” and “trousers” are synonymous!
I’ve just walked to the park to call my dad (I don’t fancy being shouted at at home); I’ve had a good chat with him. He is one of the few people that I don’t want to know that I’ve been castrated: it’s just more explanation that I’m prepared to go into as I don’t expect he’d ever understand. I suppose you could say that I’m preemptively judging him and that’s not fair. Initially I couldn’t tell my husband what I felt about myself and that is a big part of what had upset him, that I judged him unable to understand it accept and didn’t really give him a chance. Whilst generally, I’m really ok with people knowing and I’m not going to shamefully hide myself, neither do I feel that it’s necessary for everybody to know what’s going on in my pants.
While I was out I got some live yogurt too help my gut recover from the antibiotics. I’ll finish the course off on Tuesday. It was hard working out whether they were pre- or post-biotic yogurts; I understand that pre-biotic world be better. My motions have been very loose the whole time; I couldn’t have had butt-sex even if I’d wanted to!
A friend messaged me yesterday after reading what I wrote about feeling “normal” in public rather than the expected deviant kinky feeling that I used to enjoy when caged. It was a lovely reassuring message that I am not suddenly “normal” but that I am “… far more alternative, niche-oriented, and fetishized now than you ever have been!! The only thing that makes you ***FEEL*** normal, is the fact how you perceive yourself is now finally in line with you newly surgically castrated state“, which is an exciting take on things that I shall adopt.
Husband is still ill and had decided that nobody should have to go through the 111 procedure is they are mentally ill. He is completely right: it is utterly unsuitable for people going through mental health crisis …
… but, of course, he’s on no state to go fighting any battles like that. He went on at me to lend him my phone so that he can call 999. Somebody will get back to him later. Which means that I have to stay close by and cannot put my phone on “do not disturb”.
My new book has arrived, recommended by a friend on Discord. I’ll be starting that after I’ve read “The Deep Psychology of BDSM and Kink” and “Come Lie With Mr”.
Today I’ve not worn any dressing and, aside from an occasional bit of discomfort around the stitches, I’ve felt absolutely wonderful! Everything feels so much freer down there! Tomorrow is definitely a dressings free day; I’m going into the office (I just have to get away from the house), but I will take my dressings with me in case I do get uncomfortable or sore down there.
If it wasn’t for the chaos at home and the likelihood that I’ll be sleeping at least some of the night in the car, I might be tempted to sleep naked.
Eunuchorn 
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