I am a normal transgender woman.

Well, mostly normal. Normal is such a subjective word anyway.

But for the purposes of this piece, the word 'normal' will suffice where a lengthy and overly complicated explanation would otherwise be needed.

So let's begin again: I am a normal transgender woman.

I work in an office pod, with the obligatory office plant beside my desk. I do mundane office stuff and interact with my colleagues in unremarkable ways - we talk about the weather, we discuss work issues, we laugh at amusing things that people share, we gossip when there is something interesting or salacious happening. They don't know I'm transgender.

Some days I make my lunch for work, some days I go out and have lunch with my best friend, who also works an office job at a different place and also does mundane office stuff. We talk about men, relationships, internet gossip and what's going on in our lives. She's not transgender, but knows that I am. It's not an issue for her, she met me post transition so only knows me as the person I am now.

After work I take the bus home to the house I rent in the suburbs with my fiancé. We're saving to buy a house, after which we intend to start our family. Currently we have two rescue cats as 'practise' children and they've been quite hard work over the last year, as they hadn't had very good lives before they were rescued.

We intend to get married in a couple of years, when we've both paid off our debts. I have my eye on a particular dress and we have the location planned already. Being married will make it easier to adopt when we decide to start trying to start our family.

In the weekends we like to go out for a drive to a cafe and soak up the sun. He has a love for the sea and needs his fix of salt air. I'm more of a homebody, preferring to write, draw and do other creative things (nail art and make up), but I enjoy our outings and it does me good to get out of the house.

We do all the normal things that couples do; we laugh, we talk, we fight, we make love, we make dinner, we order pizza when we're feeling too lazy to cook, we make plans, we go out with friends, we have birthdays and anniversaries, and we sleep in and cuddle when it's raining on the weekends.

Once a year I have a check up with my endocrinologist, to make sure everything is normal. Thus far, it always has been, and I expect it will remain that way until I am a very old woman.

Other than that, there are very few reminders in my life that I'm transgender and it's only when I choose to talk about them or acknowledge them that they actively remind me of my history.

None of my remaining issues are unique to transgender women; there are non-transgender women who are also on HRT, there are non-transgender women who cannot have children, and there are non-transgender women who have had surgery on that area of their body.

As we progress as a liberal society, people like myself will become the stereotype.

The imagery of the burly transgender sex worker with a five o'clock shadow and a skin-tight leopard print dress, platinum blonde wig, fishnet stockings and six inch heels will fade from the mind of the public.

The trailblazers amongst the transgender population are no longer those who parade themselves for the public eye or who grace the covers of gossip magazines as 'sex change dad', forcing people to confront our existence. Our trailblazers are now those who manage to live ordinary lives and who are accepted without incident as their correct gender.

There will always be people who know my history. There will always be people who will gossip about that history and pass it on to others.

But by being my totally underwhelming, very ordinary self, I can show those people and their friends that I am just like them; just another mundane woman in an ordinary relationship, with an ordinary job, living as normal a life as possible.

*The name of the author has been withheld due to the personal nature of this story.