The easy part was over five hours ago when I was wheeled into Recovery. The last of my birth defects had been corrected surgically. Now I am at home reflecting on what exactly that means to me.

The day started for me at 5:00 am when I woke up and had a wash, as my Australian friend Geoff calls taking a shower or bath. I had been able to sleep in an extra half hour and I felt well rested and happy. All I could think of was the breast augmentation surgery that was scheduled for 11:30 this morning.

After dilating, I remembered that I was not supposed to wear makeup in surgery. That gave me some extra time to get ready. So I went to the closet to decide what to wear. For me, that process can take more time than anything else in my morning routines. This morning I had an additional constraint - my top had to button down the front, no pullovers or back zippers today. I decided on a blouse with a small floral print pattern on white, and my black yoga pants.

I slipped on the pants and reached for my bra. For fifteen months now I have started every day by putting on my bra, and then placing a breast prosthesis in each cup. Breast prostheses are breast forms that are put inside a bra to make your breasts look natural and balanced. While they were created for women who have undergone mastectomy, transwomen have found them to be ideal for use as well.

My breast forms are made of the same silicone that breast implants are made of, and cost about $300. They are secured to the chest wall with double-stick tapes. When properly secured, the wearer can even go swimming topless with them on. This morning, for the first time, they stayed at home when I went out.

My youngest daughter enthusiastically volunteered to drive me to and from the hospital, which is about an hour from my home. She is the kind of girl that can easily sleep until noon if she's not working, so I was a little concerned that she might not get up and be ready to leave by 8:15 am. I needn't have worried, she was here at 7:55 sharp. That was when she told me the news. Yesterday she told my oldest daughter about volunteering to drive, and so my oldest daughter took the day off work and came with us! I was practically in tears (of joy) that I was going through this final physical transition step with both of my daughters. I was surprised, and oh so happy.

We met up with Ariel in the waiting room just as they called my name to go in for my surgery preparations. The nurse allowed only one of my daughters in the prep area at a time, so the three of them rotated turns, each one getting to meet the team of doctors and nurses that would be doing my surgery, as well as keeping me company through all the procedures and forms. When Dr. Wandel came, all three were allowed to be with me, so they all got to see my chest being marked with a purple felt tip marker, showing where the incisions would be made, and how the implants would be situated to be symmetrical. Of course, Ariel was snapping away with her camera. I couldn't stop smiling, knowing that in a few short hours, the marks would be replaced with the "cure" for my male chest deformity. That was one of the highlights of the day.

Moments later I was wheeled into the OR. I remember laying on the table and a wonderful warm blanket being poured over my like slipping into a steaming hot tub on a chilly night. The next thing I remember was waking up in the Recovery Room, and the nurses began making a fuss over me. I was asked at least a dozen times if it hurt.  Within fifteen minutes or so I was still feeling pain, but it was diminished to a tolerable level.

My surgery was the more painful of the two options. One option, the less painful one, is to place the implant under the mammary tissue, but on top of the muscle. I chose not to do that for two reasons; my natural breast tissue had not developed well on estrogen (which is common in transsexuals who transition later in life), and I only wanted a B cup size. So I chose to have the implant placed behind the muscle between the muscle and the ribs.

There are some who have chided me for getting a "boob job" and falling victim to the patriarchal pressure to alter my God-given body in order to live a fantasy created by the beauty magazines and corporate fat cats. I can understand how they feel, and I respect their opinion. But this evening I came home to a message from a dear sister I have known for years, and one who fully supported me in my transition. I think her words say it better than I could.

She wrote, "I hope you are thrilled with the results of your BA surgery and have a speedy recovery.

Your journey has given me a new perspective on cosmetic surgery in general. Never having had a dissonance between my physical and mental gender, I have generally taken the approach that one should love oneself as she is rather than trying to change one's self esteem with superficial changes. This has been increasingly fueled by the enormous profit-generating industry that has grown up around convincing people that they must change the size, shape and color of various body parts in order to be OK.

Now, as I have applauded your journey to be your true self on the outside, as you were already on the inside, I have realized that there are innumerable reasons for externally performed physical changes to one's body besides the obvious vanity and worship of youth. Thank you."

The surgery was flawless and I am still a bit in a fog from the anesthesia. But I couldn't wait another day to share this experience with others. I have run my race, and at least as it applies to the physical aspects, I crossed the finish line today. And with apologies to John Mellencamp, it truly hurts so good!