Sunday, March 6, 2022

Gender Euphoria

 Sadly, I don't have the occasion to write about "gender euphoria" very often. Most of the time I am dealing with the opposite...gender dysphoria. The dysphoria runs deep with me and has been around in my noggin since early childhood. During that time I learned the hard way not to trust the mirror. In other words the mirror was telling me I was a convincing feminine person when in fact the public was telling me something quite different. Every time I was able to build up a little confidence in myself, it would all come crashing down in an instant for whatever negative reason.

Now, since the threat of Covid has declined and Liz and I are able to barely afford to go out and eat, I have had to step up my feminine game again. So to speak. 

Friday I had the chance when quite unexpectedly Liz asked me If I wanted to go out and eat at a nearby Mexican restaurant where we could eat good food and enjoy a margarita. Most certainly I said yes and immediately started planning what I was going to wear. I ended up choosing an over the hip rather form fitting soft sweater and decided upon my dark blue leggings and boots since the weather hadn't changed for the better yet. 

For once I went overboard and added a pair of dangling earrings with a matching crystal pendent necklace I bought last summer. I pulled my hair back, put on eye makeup with a little lipstick and was ready to go. 

I was really ready to go and I thought I looked kind of nice. As "they" say, confidence is a woman's best accessory. I needed it. When we arrived at the venue, it was packed with all types of couples and families. We waited approximately fifteen minutes to be seated  and waited for our margaritas. Of course we were seated clear across the restaurant from the hostess stand so I had to walk through the entire place seemingly with every eye upon me.

Photo Credit:
J.J Hart

My confidence kicked in though and I did my best to stand up tall and do my version of a feminine "glide". It all must have worked because as far as I could tell, outside of a few glances from male customers all went well. Even to the point of our male server calling us "ladies" everytime he checked back on our order.

Through it all and afterwards, I tried to explain to Liz how good it felt to be accepted as my authentic feminine self . Of course before I could celebrate my victory we had to pay and walk the same route out of the place. It was still completely full and I had to try out my appearance on another set of people. Again I was a success, no one so much as glanced and when they did, they quickly looked away when I glanced back at their direction.

I believe much of the male attention I received always comes from the fact of my size. Even with my diet I am what Connie was called, "A monumental woman." There is nothing I can do about it so I just need to accept it and move on. 

Days later, the euphoria of reaching a goal I have dreamed of for so many years still is with me. Maybe this time I won't have to wait so long to reinforce my euphoria before the mirror comes along and says it's just the same old you again. But through diet and skin care, the mirror is wrong. My face has slimmed out and of course HRT has smoothed my skin and somehow rounded the contours of my face. I certainly am not the same old me. The mirror and the rest of me needs to get used to it! 

3 comments:

  1. Being a “Monumental Woman” should be embraced. When the man in the grocery store called me that, I wasn’t, immediately, sure what he meant by it. It seemed to have been presented as a compliment, although it bordered on being a bit inappropriate. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean that I strikingly resembled the Statue of Liberty, or that my face should be carved into the wall of Mt. Rushmore. Nevertheless, it did give cause for some self-reflection.

    For most of my life, living as a man, I was barely noticed at all. There was nothing about me that would cause heads to turn when I entered a room, anyway. Even during those years when I was pumping the weights to make my body large and rock-hard, there was nothing monumental about me. I’ll admit that there was some euphoria experienced when I flexed my 17” biceps, but it would always end up giving way to my gender dysphoria at some point. The whole effort was only a form of self-imposed conversion therapy, after all. As physically painful as it was when I decimated a rotator cuff, it was a relief to have it be an excuse for putting an end to my body building. *By the way, I had shoulder surgery at the same time a friend underwent gender reassignment surgery, and she recovered two months before I did.

    I’m not very tall, really – 5’9”. When I wear heels, they are at least 3 ½”, because I think the shoes look better with a higher heel, considering the ratio to the length of a size 11 shoe. I have a few pairs that are 5”, but they’re for special occasions. So, in heels, I’m over 6 feet tall. That’s still not so very tall for a woman, but when I’m out with my wife I tower over her. She’s 5’2” tall and wears size 4 clothing. I usually check to see what height heels she’s wearing before we go out together. While she tells me that the height difference does not matter to her, I don’t feel like I need to make it any more apparent than it already is.

    No matter where I go, or what the height of my heels are, I practice the same posture that my mother taught me. I hold my head high. When I walk into a room these days, I expect to be noticed. It’s not that I expect to be put on a pedestal like Lady Liberty, although I quite enjoy the liberty to be a statuesque lady (so to speak).

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  2. It's not the mirror lying to you, it's the years of practise you've had at not believing it!

    Confidence is queen! look good and you'll feel good, but feel good and you'll look great

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  3. Well put as always! Thank you Paula!

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