Sunday-Sunday

This weekend has been a return to the abstract called normalcy. Liz and I went back to doing the usual routine on Saturday.

Since The Ohio State Buckeyes played a noon game, the early part of our day was taking four hours to watch the Buckeyes take their football frustrations out on the Indiana Hoosiers.

To make up for all the fun, this week we added a fun trip to our storage shed to look for a few much needed old documents.

From there we went to a couple of stores with me still wearing my boot (for my fractured ankle) which I am very tired of. I am expecting a call from the VA to look at my ankle again this week. 

Through all of this, I marvel at the opportunity I have been given to live this transgender life I lead. Looking back, I remember the days when I felt intense pressure just walking into a store as my feminine self.

Now I worry about how my boot will affect how I walk.

Comments

  1. Kinda hard to swing those hips, huh?

    The A few months after I had ventured out of the closet, I attended a fancy cross dresser event. The "Grand Dame" of the group had taken a prominent seat, and her attendants were bringing food and drink to her. I noticed her obvious limp when she got up and headed for the ladies room (in her heels). I asked her, later, what was wrong. She told me that she had developed a foot problem, and that the doctor had told her she'd have to give up wearing heels altogether. So, she told me, this was going to be her final outing - because it would be no fun if she couldn't wear high heels. Although I was pretty sure, even at that time, that I was not a cross dresser, I knew enough that she would not be able to quit cross dressing*. I told her that, but she was adamant that decades of cross dressing was now coming to an end - just because she couldn't wear her heels. I think she may also have had a shoe fetish, but it was unbelievable to me that one could give up such a large part of their life for something as small as a pair of shoes. All the time I was talking with her, by the way, I was distracted by her nose hair that was curling up from her nostril at least an inch. Now, that may well be reason enough to give up trying to present oneself as a lady - not to mention a Grand Dame!

    This was just one of the "I know I'm not a cross dresser if..." I added to my list, in preparation for my impending transition. No, I would not be happy if I had to wear a boot, or even have to give up wearing heels, but it would not change who I am. Whether it be from an old football injury or from wearing very high heels too often, there's no need to put oneself on injured reserve when you know this trans life is not merely a game.

    *I heard later, after I had left the group, that the Grand Dame had made a reappearance - hobbling in her heels.

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