Content warning: Brief mention of graphic violence in the third paragraph.

Something happened this morning. Something that hasn’t happened to me in over four decades. Something wonderful. Something magical. Something that I’m going to continue teasing and foreshadowing about for a bit longer. 

Do you know the TV series Dexter? It’s about a serial killer who consults for the Miami Metro homicide department as a blood splatter analyst. At the start of the show, during the opening credits, there’s a half-second clip of Dexter shaving. He puts the razor against the base of his throat and drags it up. 

The show is about a serial killer. There’s blood splatter, dismembered body parts, and people being killed in graphic detail. But that never bothered me. The part of the show that always made me cringe was that half-second clip of Dexter shaving up. (There isn’t even a point to that clip; at the end of the credits, he still has his usual two-day stubble.)

For four decades, the very thought of shaving up came with the knowledge of pain. The few times I tried it when I was younger, it resulted in scraped skin, strained follicles, and pain that would linger for most of the day. I had the unfortunate combination of a coarse beard and sensitive skin. Even when I ran a dry razor over my peach fuzz when I was eleven years old, I wouldn’t shave up. 

Until this morning. 

Yesterday, my hand started getting itchy, so I reflexively reached up and scratched it on my chin, as I’ve done for as long as I can remember. Except yesterday, there was no friction. My hand stayed itchy. There was nothing but smooth skin on my chin. I paused. I stopped. Then I felt the rest of my face. My cheeks had a bit of resistance, like very fine sandpaper, as did the underside of my jaw. But my chin and upper lip were baby smooth. 

I couldn’t believe it. I’ve had four laser treatments since October, on top of three that I had over fifteen years ago. But by now, most of my facial hair is pure white. There is no pigment to be absorbed by the laser. But shaving has gotten steadily easier in the last five months to the point where I can shave every day with no lingering irritation. I’ve never been able to do that before. 

Then, this morning, I shaved up. Yesterday I didn’t pay attention to shaving particularly close, so I was shocked at how smooth my chin was. This morning, I decided to see how smooth I could shave, so I took a deep breath, turned the razor sideways–I wasn’t going to completely invert it right away–and dragged it across my face. 

There was no pain, just the slight vibration of the razor severing dozens of fine hairs. I felt my face. There was still a tiny bit of resistance when I moved my hand upward, so I turned the razor completely upside-down, and shaved again. 

Once again, no pain. Barely any resistance. I shaved my entire face against the grain. Then I put the razor down and ran my hands over my face. 

Oh my god. 

Feminizing hormone therapy doesn’t eliminate facial hair or body hair. According to the Gender Dysphoria Bible, “once the follicles are made terminal by DHT, they remain that way.” But the loss of testosterone can cause body hair to become thinner. When I read that for the first time, I assumed that the description of body hair did not include facial hair. After all, scalp hair is affected in the opposite way, becoming longer and thicker, with the possibility that some hair loss may be reversed. 

I never dreamed that, after more than forty years of shaving, dragging a razor that never felt sharp enough over a face that could scrape paint off a wall, my face would ever feel completely smooth. Even now, four hours later, I can’t stop touching my face, feeling the unbelievable smoothness. 

I don’t quite have a woman’s face–at least not yet–but today it really feels like I do.