When I Quit Recognizing Myself

 

Image from Vinicus amiz
Amano on UnSplash

When I thought of the subject of this post, I thought that was an easy topic. From the very first day I had a glimpse of myself in the family’s full-length hallway mirror I partially thought I did not recognize who I was looking at. Sadly, even with all the work I was doing to look like one of the pretty girls I admired so much, I still looked like my male self-wearing a dress with makeup. Most likely, the biggest problem in looking like a girl back then was the lack of access I had to my hair. I was cursed in being raised in an era when young boys’ hair style was short or shorter and a crew cut was considered a longer style. Dad took my brother and I to the barber with him every couple of weeks and we got our burr haircuts without question. If you don’t know, burr means almost no hair which was decidedly not what I really wanted on my head. I had no choice but to go along with the program, and had to use my imagination, along with a towel when I cross-dressed as my authentic self. Who was just learning to express herself. Even if it was only to be to myself.

It turned out to be years later that I began to be skilled enough to begin to match my exterior self with my feminine inner feelings. I had help from a professional makeup artist I will never forget who had the skill set to show me what I doing wrong with my makeup and the verbal skills to explain to me how to improve my life through ideas such as foundation basics to cover my beard and contouring my face to bring out the highlights I did not know I had. When he was finished, I truly did not recognize who I was looking at in the mirror. Plus, I really enjoyed all the compliments I received on my appearance from several of the attendees at the transgender-crossdresser social mixer I was attending. Once I was given that basic skill set to make myself up, I was able to start buying higher end cosmetics which flattered me even more.

In many ways, for a while when I did not recognize myself in the mirror, it scared me. Because I was losing touch with all my male past which had made me…me, for my entire life. I was shocked the first time I lost some of my basic male privileges I had always taken for common I would have such as my intelligence when I talked to men and my personal safety when I found myself in contact with a toxic one. Quickly, I needed to come up with a plan to support my new life as a transgender person without the old ways which I had been successful with until I could develop new ones.

Of course, too, there were my usual problems dealing with gender dysphoria when I thought I had done a wonderful makeup job only to see my male self-looking back at me in the mirror. Then, to add insult to injury, if I was being successful in navigating the world as a transgender woman, my impostor syndrome would set it. Impostor syndrome to me made me feel as if I was an impostor in the world of ciswomen and should not feel as if I belonged there at all. Who knew, just being a trans woman would bring all the baggage with it. When I ceased to recognize myself, I learned all the rest the hard way.

Even with all the new roadblocks, I began to do more than just survive in the new feminine world I found myself in. I began to thrive as I started to carve out a new exciting life where no one knew anything about my past as an unhappy man. I never let on to my past except to let strangers know I had been married in my past and had lost my spouse to a heart attack without ever mentioning which gender she was. As well as mentioning I did have a daughter when it came to family discussions. Technically, even though I did not birth her, I was in the delivery room for her birth which was as close as I could come with the circumstances I had to deal with.

Finally, I arrived at the point when I cherished the times when I did not recognize my old self and hated the times when I could still see his image slipping through when I looked for the first time in the morning in the mirror before I had a chance to put on any makeup. Rather than feel anymore of the pain of gender dysphoria, I got to the point of thinking I was stuck with what the world had given me as far as my appearance went. The idea I used worked well because I felt I never looked as bad as I thought and certainly not as good as I arrived at the point where I was erasing my male self for good.

I would be remiss if I did not mention the role gender affirming hormones or HRT played in all my progress in my lifetime male to female femininization project. While the hormones did not make me anymore or less of a trans woman. They certainly made me feel the process more. Almost immediately, as my skin began to soften and my breasts began to grow, I began to feel emotions flow through my body that I had never felt before in my life. My facial angles also began to soften, allowing me to do less contouring with my makeup when I went out was one of the good things which happened. Along with me not recognizing myself when all a sudden it was me who was reaching for her coat saying she was too cold in a venue, and I was not making it up.

I guess you say I covered about as much ground as I could erasing my old male self without going through any major (or minor) operations. But I did make it to the point where I did not recognize any of my old self anymore.

 

 

Giggles

 There are many reactions I have encountered over the years here in Cyrsti's Condo. The most memorable being "Just another old guy on hormones." When I wrote on starting hormone replacement therapy. 

Recently, "The Cat Lady" commented on another reaction...giggles:

"I'm sorry but you made me giggle when you talked about learning the ways of the bra. I guess since I've worn bras, off and on, since I was in my teens, I don't even think about it anymore. For me, it's like putting on a blouse, a tight fitting tee shirt or stretch jeans. You feel it at first but not until later in the day do you feel it again. Yes, I still feel the restriction at times but in reality it all depends on the bra.

Now on to you mentioning about cup sizes. I learned a long time ago that when transitioning our breasts will usually only develop to one cup size smaller than our mother's size. I am a C cup and my mother was a DD cup. But here's a little insight into womanhood, a lot of women will tell you that they are not satisfied with their breast size. They are either not big enough to be ultra sexy or too small for the same reason. That's why plastic surgeons make so much money.

Here's an article you may want to check out and talk to your endo about: https://academic.oup.com/jcem/article/104/4/1181/5270376

Just remember lady, being a woman is a complex situation that we all find somewhat confusing at times. Especially to those of us that didn't have the luxury of learning in our younger years."

Thanks Michelle and a giggle or two is fine, I am sure I have had much worse! 

Unfortunately, I somewhat restricted by my Veteran's Administration endo doc and what she can prescribe by the VA standards. I can say though she is learning quickly and is suddenly asking all the right questions about feminine results to my body. The link above refers to progesterone which will be an interesting conversation. As I have written before, my endo is concerned about my age when prescribing me meds. 

As far as all women and their breasts are concerned, it seems to me the "grass (or the breast) is always greener on the other side. I know my partner Liz (DD breasts) comments on hers are too big and a hassle.  I feel with my frame, D's would be ideal but I can certainly live and be satisfied with what I have achieved. A "C" cup. 

When the Covid crisis lifts and we can begin to go out again, I plan on doing some serious bra shopping.

Obviously the model below is not me!

Attack of the "Moobs"

The fall season is here in my part of the world and before the cold weather really gets here, I had to get this post "off my chest."

Around here, we have quite a few of obese guys and thus "moobs" - man boobs.  Excuse my insensitivity here, but "white trash" individuals are alive and well where I live.  Not to be outdone by the white trash girls who put the "belly" in belly shirts men are now putting the "moobs" in t-shirts.

The proliferation of moobs around here led me to question my own girls.  Was HRT truly a better choice over bunches of fast food double bacon cheese burgers, if I wanted breast development? How fair is it for the guy in line ahead of me to have a bigger set of "girls"?

I'm kidding of course about all of this.  The more HRT works it wonders on me, the changes do keep occurring with the girls.  I can't tell you I will be crushing the "D" cup zone anytime soon, but what is happening now is a "filling in" process around the breast.  What I mean is the breast areas running up my chest and inward towards my armpits are really showing a noticeable change.  For a lack of a better term, the girls seem to be gaining weight and becoming more substantial too.

Ironically, even though the first question I get about being on HRT is normally about breast development, right now I'm more interested in how my hips are changing and what I am going to do with all this wild and wonderful hair.

The only time I totally feel the changes to my breasts is in the morning when I wake up.  The girls are an instant reminder of my HRT progress.  Immediately I think wow,  is that really me? How wonderful is it I finally made this seemingly impossible leap in my life.

My next thought is I better thank the powers to be for my chance to do all of this and I do.

Bra Ban Bucket List

Have you read the Milwaukee bra ban has been lifted and now the city is busting out? Or were they just a bunch of boobs anyhow?
OK, enough already! First, here is part of the story from Yahoo News:

"The Milwaukee bra ban has been lifted, which means these articles of underwear can hang from the rafters once again at a local bar. Bras were banned in Milwaukee, but this didn't mean the town was full of women bouncing along the sidewalk, the bra ban only pertained to a bar. This unique drinking establishment is a place where bras dangle off the ceiling as a tradition that has gone on for about a half of a century, according to the Inquistr on May 18, 2013. The Holler House, an establishment that's been in operation for about 100 years, began a tradition about 45 years ago, where women started filling up the ceiling with bras."

I can now rest easier! The bra ban was certainly one of my top topics to worry about along with the North Koreans and global warming.

Actually, I have been to a couple taverns where bra "tossing" was not banned. (Is that some sort of Constitutional Amendment in Ohio?) Women had the right to vote and to wear a bra in a bar? Wow! My take on it always was "damn, I wish I was the one tossing my bra". Or I really would love a set of breasts like hers for my own! Plus, I was checking out the collection of bras hanging from the ceiling to get an idea of what style I wanted to own. The guys I was drinking with were trying to figure out how to get a woman out of some of the bras and I was trying to figure out how to get into the bra.

Well, of course I didn't and had two problems-the first was having natural boobs and the know how to get the bra off under my top- which women seem to learn as a rite of adolescence. The effect would have definitely lessened if my silicone breast forms had hit the floor in the Holler House! OOPS! Then there would have been some "hollering"!

Well, years later HRT is beginning to solve problem #1 and problem #2 turned to be one of those feminine mystic issues which wasn't so difficult to master. Some would argue all the time I should have spent in a straight jacket would have prepared me for a Harry Houdini style escape from a bra.

Congratulations to all you transgender and transsexual women in Milwaukee. The right to wear or not wear your bra in a bar must be truly intoxicating (or is that the beer?). I just have to think though some of you girls can't wait to show off those breasts of yours under that tight T-shirt!

You know what the girls say "if you got it...flaunt it!" Someday I want to get to a point where I can take my frilly bra off at the bar somewhere and add it to the collection!

Busting a B

Finally it's becoming evident the hormones are beginning to gain more and more ground in my quest for bigger breasts.
Over the years my bras have been more of a "hit and miss" effort. much was determined by the size "d" breast forms I've owned for years.  Anyway you cut it, I'm a big girl and bigger breasts should come with the package to fill out my figure.
Now though it is time to actually measure my body and find what cup size I have developed to over the last 16 months or so on HRT. Here's a chart I used:

After I used a cloth tape measure and measured around my chest below my breasts and then around the fullest part of them and took the difference, it turned out to be just under 2 inches.

On the chart the difference in Your Standard Cup Size was:

AA.- 0" to 1/2" (1.3cm)
A.- 1/2"- 1" (2.6 cm)
B.- 2" (5.1 cm)
C.- 3"  (7.6 cm)  
D.-  4" (10.2 cm)

Naturally (no pun intended) I was happy with the results. I felt I was filling out a full "A" cup but never a "B" yet. As I have mentioned, supposedly my mother's genetics have a lot to do with this process. She was well endowed so I hope I can eventually develop to a full "C" on the hormones alone.
As with most women, I also have a Spring diet in my future and a plan to lighten my hair this summer with my stylist. Hopefully the warm months will be fun!!!!

The "Three P's"

Every once in awhile these stray thoughts run through my noggin and I have to put them down in words before they go into the huge never-never land of my brain.

I don't get into the topic of presentation much here at all for various reasons. 

I believe one person's successful presentation is another's dismal failure number one and number two most of us follow a progression of moving past presentation into perception. We are who we are.

That is not to say you should ignore the basic styles and fashion of the gender we are moving into. After all that can be the fun part!

When you totally perceive yourself to be your gender of choice then you are home free with most of the public. They know it's not just dressing up for you if you are wearing your new heels or that new tie (for you trans guys).

Male India actor with a great example of softening the male triangle.  Long straight hair  over the shoulders and of course the breasts which become the focal point of the look.

Another "P" word which pushed it's way to the surface this morning was proportion. Even though I'm far from being a small humanoid, a dear friend has always pushed the proportion word on me. She pointed out that my big parts just seemed to fit together. I've always believed (as evidenced by the zillions of on line cross dresser pix and video's) that many men have really good looking female legs. Of course the cross dressers get fixated on them and forget their bodies are like a triangle-with the point at the bottom and the top across those broad shoulders most of us have. We know there are many ways to fix proportion from do it yourself foam to purchased fixes to hormones.

The final "P" I'm tossing into this post is power. 

Your inner belief in yourself gives you a power of being which people sense. That purpose will take you far.

All right dammit, enough of playing with the "P's". So I did more than three-never said I could count! You get the point! (Sorry)

Where's That Soapbox?

As you probably have determined, I have a soap box with me at all times. I jump up on it to preach or whine.
Or maybe a big ax to grind would be a great description too! It's tough to make these great fashion accessories and I feel both just make me a victim. (Which I hate.)
Actually, life is good.  Summer in my part of the world has allowed me to pursue fashion styles I was never able to try.
(Work prevented me from showing up with suddenly hairless arms.)
I've even been able to slowly coerce a little color out of my very fair skin.
Interestingly, I have been able to "jender jump" without apprehension or fear to help family or friends. I can't or don't want to jump much. If I wanted to be a guy, I certainly would have found something less stressful to do with my life than crossing gender boundaries. On the other hand, what's left of any male strength I have left has helped family and friends.
Now that I have a stable concrete transition timetable saying goodby to my old life isn't so difficult all of the sudden.
Obviously changes are rolling along with my body which aren't so earth shattering anymore but still very noticeable. All of the sudden it seems my whole body needs soaked in cocoa butter to stay soft and not dry.  Also, I was never very heat resistant but now it's worse. I have not acquired the feminine desire to lay out and soak up the sun-guess I'm a vampire.
I'm asked by some what has been the biggest change so far? For me, the hot flashes are far and away stand out. Never have I experienced anything like them.
Sure I get more emotional and sure my breasts are much more sensitive but in lesser doses I still experienced them as a guy. If you have ever heard of a human suddenly internally combusting- it started with a hot flash I'm sure.
So it is time to soak in a huge dose of reality. Put the ax down, burn the soap box ( with a hot flash) and acquire a big piece of fine cheese to go with my whine!