Letting go of dresses I adored, felt like letting go of a former version of me. Twenty green shopping bags later and my wardrobe was almost empty. And yet I wasn’t. My youness was quietly expanding. I didn’t lose my style as well as my breasts. What I lost was the assumption that I should dress to conceal what was now missing. And that moment was the beginning of reclaiming my youness.

Three years on, the chapter no longer reflected what actually unfolded, and I couldn’t share my book while this mismatch existed. Updating wasn’t about rewriting history; it was bringing the story back into alignment with my lived experience, my integrity and my youest you.