Asleep at the Switch...a Gender Problem Unsolved

 

JJ Hart, Mystic Connecticut. 

I am seventy-six years old and totally admit throughout most of my life, I have been asleep while tending to my own gender switch.

I can easily make all the excuses about not having access to any gender information at all growing up, but the fact remains that it was all my own fault. Most certainly, I should have tried something to act upon solving my severe gender dysphoria. Starting most days, not knowing if I was going to be a boy or a girl should have been a huge red flag that sooner or later, I would have to throw my gender switch.

Maybe calling it a switch was my first mistake as my switch turned out to be a one-hundred-amp breaker which threatened to shut down all of my existence if turned off. There was nowhere to turn, and I ended up guarding the breaker as it controlled my existence. It wasn’t until the internet came along did I realize I had choices with my gender dysphoria and more importantly, there were others close to me dealing with the same problems. The only difference was that they did not seem to let on that they had a problem at all. Some were beautiful and effeminate, some were not, but all were making their way through a world I had only dreamed of.

All of you of a certain age may remember who I am talking about. “Virginia Prince” and her “Transvestia” opened up a whole new world for me as did the “Tapestry” publication. Through all of that exciting cross-dressing input came visits to nearby mixers and meeting other transvestites like me in person. Or so I thought so. What I really found was a group of people in various stages of throwing their gender switches. Some had already resorted to throwing a breaker on being a man at all and were preparing for gender realignment surgery and never turn back. Then there were the others who were still desperately hanging on to their fragile manhood by smoking cigars and trying to walk in heels in a dress and cowboy hat. All in the days before “Urban Cowboy” came along and made women in cowboy hats cool.

Through it all, once again I was lost. I did not know if I wanted to throw my switch and hang out with either group, so I stayed to my self as I more or less drifted to the effeminate group in the room. Especially those who continued the party after the mixer by going to a large lesbian dominated dance club. I did not dance but still wanted an opportunity to see if I could still fit in with any group, at all. Finally, I did when I was invited to much smaller diverse parties at an acquaintance’s home in nearby Columbus, Ohio. I was intrigued because I never knew who I was going to meet up with. From cross dresser admirers to the occasional lesbian, they were all there at one time or another. Including the impossibly feminine transsexuals who made an appearance too. Never knowing who I would meet helped me to determine which switch I would throw if I ever had the chance.

As time went on, my hand began to tremble as I reached for the big power breaker which I knew had the power to end life as I knew it. The potential was there to wipe out everything I had worked so hard as a man to accomplish. Throwing my life into a huge blackout.

Once I made it past the biggest mistake I was making, the darkness around my choice began to brighten somewhat. The mistake was I thought just appearing as a ciswoman would clear the path to my dream. When instead, it was just the beginning. To throw the big breaker and end my male life successfully, there would be so much more learning to do which went past just being accepted by the diverse groups I was meeting at the parties I was going to. I would have to sever my ties, hitch up my big girl panties and get out of the gay clubs and into the world.

One thing became increasingly certain as I did it, I could and would be able to leave my past behind and survive in an exciting but so scary new feminine world where I was able to compete successfully one on one with other ciswomen. Once my path head became clear, did I have the courage to follow my dream and live a transfeminine life I always had wanted to live. More importantly, I had fooled with my main breaker with the power on and had never got electrocuted.

 

Adolescent Rodeo Clown

Last night I was slaving away over my book and I thought  this experience was good enough to pass along here in Cyrsti's Condo. In fact the whole experience was a great lesson of not passing. Simply put, I was barely out of the closet in my early 30's and going through my cross dressing "adolescence" with a passion:

"Unless you happen to be a young cross dresser going through the pains of puberty, my best advice is don’t act like you are. Time and time again I will tell you not to be the big guy in the mall squeezed into a tiny mini, tall heels and big hair. Sure I tried it too and yes it was totally ill advised. Wait, no one did advise me. I screwed this up all by myself. To add insult to just being dumb, I didn't need no "stinkin mall" and just took off out of my house- on a busy street flaunting my latest attempt to be sexy.

If you are “mature” enough, you will remember the “Urban Cowboy” movie and the resultant cowgirl fashion craze Short jean shorts, boots and blouses tied off at the waist was the basic look. So, who was I not to follow the current fashion craze?

Being the fashionista clothing designer I am, I took a pair of my women’s jeans and cut off the legs-really short- butt cheek short. Hey, I was just following a not so smart but all so common cross dressing fashion disaster. Sexy for many women, stupid for me.

I was certainly working on another “can’t miss, guaranteed way to get busted as a man dressed as a woman” fashion mistake! There was a reason for the madness. Not a good one. But a reason.

Most men have a good looking pair of women’s legs. I was no different. Many of my first compliments dressed as a woman at Halloween parties was wow! you have great legs. But when you put the comment into the context it was intended, it comes off something like this: “You do have great legs for a guy dressing as a woman” and oh gee those wonderful legs of your happen to be attached to those big feet, no hips and big shoulders. All we know is our male egos are just going nuts with the praise and if a little leg is good- certainly more leg is better!

If I knew then what I know now, I may have had a chance of not being a rodeo clown in drag by following a few relatively simple steps. A pair of reasonable length boots and a tad longer pair of cut off shorts would have broken the sight pattern from my hips to my feet. A longer short would have also given me a chance to work in the illusion of hips with a couple pieces of foam rubber padding. If I was skillful enough to do all of that, then maybe I could have loosely tied off a shirt at my waist.

Here is the mistake I made with the shirt tail idea. To be semi convincing your hips should roughly equal the span of your shoulders. I thought I was emphasizing a narrower waist when in reality I was not hiding the considerable size of my upper torso. Bottom line was I just didn't have the body to even give the illusion of being able to wear that sort of outfit. There were plenty of genetic women who didn't either and they were smart enough to not try.

The moral to the story is all of us go through this to some extent-even genetic women.  I hear from so many cross dressers or transgender women who bemoan their looks and say I can't get any better. Just remember, can't is a powerful word. Use it and you will be right- it can't happen.