The Prom Gown

Image from Joeyy Lee
on UnSplash

Years ago, I received a prophetic statement from an unknowing doctor when our family was on vacation in Canada. 

When we were not out fishing with Dad, we played football on a hard-packed lot behind the fishing camp with a bunch of local kids. Being the budding football star I never was, I decided to try to play running back and was actually successful bulling my way through the opposing boys on the other team, for awhile. On a play I would learn to regret, I was picked up and thrown down on my shoulder and suffered a broken collar bone.

I say regret primarily because my Dad was not amused about having to interrupt his vacation to take me to a hospital for treatment. At the hospital, I had X-rays taken and was diagnosed with a broken collar bone. I was seen by a doctor and had my shoulder bandaged up in a sling and was told it would heal on it's own. Leaving only a tell tale bump which showed it had ever happened. Then the doctor said, since I would not be wearing any prom gowns in my future, it would not matter anyway.

I thought at the time, wait a minute! What if I wanted to wear one of the beautiful gowns I had seen on women in my future. What then. I think that comment hurt worse than the actual breaking of the bone. Plus, when I did go to proms and was stuck in an ugly tuxedo, I always looked at the girls around me for any tell-tale bumps to show a collar bone break. I never did see any. 

Along the way, I had several other instances of my feminine aura shining through. I have/had a nephew who from an early age developed a very unsavory attitude towards life which sometimes carried over to me. It started with my politics clashing with his right wing bigotry and going from there. On several occasions, he secretly complimented me by saying I threw a football like a girl. He even said one time when I bought my new Porsche Boxster, I had bought a girls car. Like I said, he was trying to hurt me but was secretly making me feel good. I could not wait to be the attractive blond woman in a sharp sports car.

There were other times when I was called feminine when I was doing my best to be a macho man. Several times at work, I was called "Ma'am" out of the clear blue sky in the middle of a normal conversation with a customer. Looking back, I think it was my feminine aura slipping through my male fence. 

Even though it took me years to realize my dream of living as a transgender woman was much more than living as a part-time cross dresser, I realized there were several tell-tale signs along the way. Maybe the doctor was trying to tell me someday I would want to actually wear a beautiful prom dress which showed off my collar bone break bump. Or my evil nephew would go on to having his own insecurities to deal with. I have not seen him for over a decade, so I don't know or care. He would probably just say he was right about calling me a girl. 

It turned out there were many people who saw through my disguise and at the least knew I wasn't who I was desperately trying to be. A stable, non toxic, productive man. I failed miserably and all I ever wanted was to be the one wearing the beautiful prom gown.   

Calling me a woman was the ultimate compliment. 

A Cajun Night Out

Ohio River Pride Image
of Author JJ Hart

Recently I passed my seventy fifth birthday. To have a mini celebration, my wife Liz took me to one of our favorite restaurants which happens to be a Cajun food place called the "Swamp Water Grille." 

Even though we live miles and miles away from Cajun country, the chef/owner of the venue studied down in New Orleans and his food is incredible. Before I could get to the food, I had to go through the usual steps most women go through to get themselves ready. Since we just finished watching the Ohio State - Iowa college football game and the venue is quite casual, Liz and I decided to wear our Ohio State University sweatshirts. In addition, I added a close shave, foundation, contouring and lipstick and was ready to go after I brushed and tied back my hair. 

As I prepared, I realized I was putting the effort in to be invisible in the venue but I wasn't. For some unknown reason, I went first to the hostess stand to put our name in on the wait sheet. The first thing which happened was the hostess gave me a big smile and complimented me on my glasses so I was not so invisible after all. She was obviously of the younger generation which does not have a problem with transgender women or men so I felt warmly welcomed to the venue. Not to mention feeling a little relieved of my anxiety I was experiencing. I was further confused because I had been at the venue before with no problems what so ever. It is just a sample of the anxiety I live with. 

From there, it was clear sailing and no one seemed to notice me at all. They were all so busy with enjoying their food, friends and surroundings they did not have time for me. The only person who we were dealing with was our server who addressed us as "ladies." Which is wonderful of course. I went through so many years of disavowing my true authentic self, I don't think I will ever tire of being referred to in the feminine tense. 

As we finished our wonderful dinner and drinks, it was time to bring the evening to an end and we headed to the car. Ironically, I felt the benefits of being largely invisible to the world as an older transgender woman while at the same time being very visible to myself. It seemed everyone of my senses were heightened as I waited for someone to stare at me and say something negative. I guess no matter how successful I am in my relatively new life, I will always experience the stress and tension of be confronted in my life.

In the meantime, a little (or lot) of great Cajun cooking helped me to experience a huge dose of gender euphoria. The best gift I could have ever experienced.
    

Hate Enters the Picture

Author and Wife at last summers' group
picnic which was not held this year. 

 For years and years, I have been part of a diverse LGBTQ local support group who recently has focused more on transgender needs.

This year, as board elections neared, three former board members abruptly resigned their seats and said they were not running again. A huge problem for a six member board. Plus recently, more and more members of the general membership have declined to participate in group activities at all. All of the decreased participation particularly hurt when it came to activities such as Pride. In the Cincinnati area alone, there are four major Pride events the group did it's best to represent during the fun. 

In addition, pressure was put on a few to represent a group whose membership numbers into the two hundred fifty plus. Predictably, fatigue set in and board members began to become frustrated. Then, on top of all of this, the most prominent board members began to receive  actual threats. It was all too much for the members to take and they quit. It turned out, someone slipped in behind all the protections in the group's social media group and started spreading hate. All before the moderators could get the person stopped. 

Sadly, with my mobility problems, all I could do was sit back and watch all of this sadness happen. Pride this year was a prime example when the group needed help the most. I knew it, but was unable to help because of the difficulty I had getting there. Unlike so many of the other members, I was not particularly afraid of potential violence, I just could not do it. 

Any way you cut it though, the threats of harm against the transgender community does cause harm to those seeking to leave their closets and explore the world as their authentic selves. In the meantime, in the political arena I live in, the majority of the false negative comments about Ohio's Democratic senator involve his support of the transgender community. The ad's are false and disgusting. 

None of the political climate helps the group I am a long time member of. It has been around since 1968 and has been a pillar in the cross dresser - transgender local community. I feel bad I can not be an active supporter. 

I just hope the group can survive. 

What If?

 

Marci Bowers

As I spent all the years as a very serious cross dresser, I dreamed of perhaps becoming a transgender woman and what it would be like to live a feminine life.

For many, many years I was my own worst enemy as I learned the parameters of what I needed to work with. First of all, I needed to play catch up with all the girls around me who were already experimenting with makeup and fashion. I remember vividly back in the mini-skirt days how the girls in my class would not so shyly sit and cross their legs to tease all the boys. Little did they know, the affect they had on several boys such as me. I wanted to be them and wear the skirt and panty hose and tease the boys.  I was so envious of the stories my wife told me of how she would roll up her skirt when she went to school and was out of sight of her Mom. 

I always wondered what if I could ever escape the mirror and experience life the same way she did. Of course I did not and had to set my own course. A course with no guidance or peer pressure on how I looked. What if I could live as a woman remained an illusive dream. To keep my frail mental health balanced, I tried to improve my presentation on my own  As I am fond of saying, I experienced quite a bit more error than trial as I slowly learned to express and embrace myself as a novice transgender woman. To add to my excitement, my wife and I purchased our first computer and I was able to learn about other transgender women in the world. 

One of trans women I learned about and was suggested to me by a reader (thank you) was renowned sex change surgeon Marci Bowers. Even though I knew I would never consider gender surgery for myself. Just reading Bowers journey gave me hope for my future.  My fondest desire her story would pave the way for an easier gender transition for the rest of us. 

I followed my new found confidence by exploring more and more as I tried  to carve out a niche to build my dream life. Even though I was rejected on many occasions, I still managed to climb the steep slope towards my transgender dream which was coming into focus. The main discovery I made was if I was myself, I could actually have the opportunity to live on into trans womanhood. If I did, I knew the risks were great and I was jeopardizing years of male life I had sacrificed to build up. 

Still I learned I had to follow my inner soul and see what if meant to me. Since I had worked so hard to climb dual gender mountains in my life, it was time to jump and head for a hopeful safe landing.  Even though I could never hope to be as accomplished and attractive as an Marci Bowers, I discovered just enough people valued me as my authentic self, I could survive. These were the people who never knew my before person and I was starting all over with. 

Even though I was still doing the pushing, they were the ones doing the pulling me into my new world. Proving what if was possible. 

The Sixty Four Crayon Box

Image from Leisy Vidal on UnSplash

I view gender in light of all the recent attacks  on the transgender community from a certain political party here in Ohio not called the Democrats, as a big box of crayons. The whole shameful process just shows how little the Republicans care to know about the trans community,

Rather, if they like it or not, almost all humans fall on some sort of a gender spectrum. It seems, men have fewer crayons to pick from because of their innate insecurities concerning their own gender and or sexuality. Which is a whole separate subject.

I know when I began to color in my own life, I needed the big box of crayons because I did not fit the male mold I was in. Whatever the world thought of me, I needed more out of my life than a restricted male existence. Instead of viewing myself as the round peg being forced into the square hole, I started to see myself as a multi-colored individual with many new gender frontiers to explore. My journey was destined to take me far past the rather quick romance with all the pretty fashion, all the way into a in-depth dive into what a life as a transgender woman would be all about. As I was busy coloring my future, I found I needed different colors to enable me to express myself more completely.

Examples were plentiful. Such as when I looked the part of a woman, how was I ever going to communicate as one. I was so busy coloring, I needed a whole new box of crayons to keep up with my life I was attempting to balance between two genders. To further stereotype the whole process, I quit using all the drab and darker colors and began to use the lighter more vibrant ones as I lived more and more in a femininized world.

The more I went to diverse transgender mixers in nearby Columbus, Ohio, the more I learned about others who were coloring in their gender lives too. I was able observe everyone from those who had almost completed their new lives, all the way to those who were working with broken crayons and severely struggling. All of it was an extreme eye opener for me because I was so naïve when it came to the transgender or LGBTQ world as a whole. Normally what happened was, I took everything in and ended up going back home and thinking about it. A solitary pursuit since I did not have anyone to talk to about it except for the occasional therapist. 

Therapy produced mixed results when several I went to did not want to discuss or see my colored design of who I truly was. It wasn't until I sought out one of the rare gender therapists back then who told me the truth. Basically, she said my picture was beautiful and there was nothing I could do about wanting to proceed on my path to transgender womanhood. I wish I would have listened and started to change my life back then but I was stubborn and hung on to my part-time male existence which at the least, paid the bills. 

As transgender women and men, we really need the extra courage to keep coloring our pictures. For example, in my case, if my health holds up, I will be on gender affirming hormones the rest of my life. Hopefully, I will need another sixty four box of crayons as my life expands as a transgender woman.

 

The Rock and the Hard Place

 

Image from
the JJ Hart
Archives

Recently, I received a comment from a reader who said in essence, I was too hard on my second wife when I mentioned her.

After thinking the comment over, I can see why it was made. First, some quick history. My second wife and I were married for nearly twenty five years until her sudden and untimely death at the age of fifty. She knew I was a transvestite or cross dresser when we were married and accepted it up to a point. The demarcation line was always HRT or me pursuing  a life as a transgender woman. For years it was fine with me as she approved me going to a motel to cross dress and go out into the world. We had an uneasy gender truce and I ended up abusing it.

The problem was, I always blamed myself for our gender problems because naturally, they all originated with me. Primarily when I began to break the promise I made to never leave the house dressed as my feminine self. Of course, I eventually was caught and all hell broke lose. She was a strong woman and knew how to emotionally battle me. She was the rock keeping me from my increasingly obtainable goal of trans-womanhood and I was in the hard place of knowing deep down it was where my life was headed.

Along the way, my second wife imparted good information about being a woman but withheld other very important facts. She would just tell me I made a terrible woman and then adding in she was not implying anything about my appearance. Leaving me to wonder for years what she meant. Mainly I found my old male ego was still in the way of my gender progress to the future. It wasn't until she had passed on and I took the opportunity to really explore the world as a transgender woman, did I understand what she meant. I finally had to walk the walk and talk the talk to move my hard place along. Femininization was difficult yet exciting for me on many occasions.

My second wife also tried to tell me to follow my dreams and give up our relationship but I still tried to have it both ways which just made things worse. She knew me better than I knew myself. 

So, as you can tell, I owe her quite a bit and wonder if we could have at least arrive to a point where we could have been woman friends. I obviously don't say it enough if I am receiving comments to the contrary. I also don't praise the cis-women who stay in marriages with their transgender spouses. I know if the shoe was on the other foot, I would have an incredibly difficult time accepting a trans spouse. As my wife said, living with another woman  was something she never signed up for. 

The rock and the hard place cost me dearly over the years. The pressure of attempting to maintain a relationship and a male life with the increasing knowledge it was all a lie built up an enormous amount of pressure and all but ruined my fragile mental health. I resorted to trying to drink away my problems to no avail and just became more depressed. I was not freed until I basically had nothing else to lose after her death. Once I was freed, I could look back on our relationship for what it was and all the good times we had and how I basically hurt it all.

The Fear Factor

 

Will Farrell and Harper Steele

I suppose my life is not much different than many others, transgender or not. Along the way, we need to deal with certain fears to succeed.

Early on in life as a novice or beginning cross dresser, I needed to deal with the basic fear of being discovered which had the chance to destroy my life as I knew it. Then, as I grew enamored with the view of myself in the mirror as a girl, I always feared for the next time I could do it. 

Now, as the calendar switches over to October, many memories of Halloween fear invade my thoughts. I don't mean spooky movies or haunted houses, I mean finally having the chance of exploring the world as my girl self at parties. When I did find and hitch up my big girl panties and dressed to the nines as a woman in front of friends, I was very afraid I would lose my man card along with the male privileges I enjoyed. 

Along the way, I enjoyed a few exciting Halloween parties when it took several days for the people around me to quit joking with me about my "costume'." All in all, I think shaving my legs for the parties separated me out as being more than a fun casual cross dresser who was doing my outfit as some sort of a joke.  At least I received compliments about how good my legs did look, which made the comments so worthwhile. My overall remembrances of how Halloween kicked started my entry into the world will be examined in depth here as we come closer to the Halloween date itself.

The more I followed my instincts into the world as a transgender woman, the more fear I felt on many occasions. I had so much on the line such as losing my family, friends and employment to name a few. It would be easier to say, I was risking everything and I was scared. The way I dealt with it was, I tried to take the transition process one step at a time, keeping one foot in one gender world and one in another so if I ever could go back to one or the other I could. 

The more I tried my grand gender plan, the more flawed I found it to be. The problem was all the benefits of the plan began to lean towards the feminine side of my life. I was excited yet felt so natural when I was out in the world as a transgender woman, no matter how scared I still felt on occasion. Normally what was happening was, I found a kind giving person who was able to calm my fears. I was so fortunate as I always say.

These days my fears come from all the blatant political lies I see from the political party of hate against transgender women (mainly). Here in Ohio we have a Democratic senator who is running for reelection. The lies against him are ridiculous and instead of examining the true issues, all the ad says is Sherrod Brown is for false transgender issues. The only light I see is the feedback from the Will Ferrell documentary "Will and Harper." It is on Netflix. 

Another small positive I see is when other transgender women and men are able to be in the public's eye, we immediately battle all of the false rhetoric about us. We are just normal people trying to live our lives like everyone else. The fear factor can decrease in intensity the more you are able to live your life. In many ways, I am still the same young girl admiring myself in the families hallway mirror but in so many other ways, as I was propelled forward by my fears, I have learned so much good about life. 

Helene

 

Al Roker - NBC News.

We were lucky here in Southwestern Ohio and we only caught the tail end of giant hurricane Helene. Our dose of the weather was enough to see how bad it was. 

Even so, our lights flickered several times and our internet was out for nearly three days, which explains me missing a post for Sunday. Since I wrote and scheduled a post already for Saturday. 

Just seeing the results we went through with Helene causes me to send my thoughts and hopes for all of you who were more in the direct path of the hurricane. 

As the death toll rises, I hope you all are safe.

On a another side note, singer/songwriter Kris Kristofferson has passed away. I was a big fan of his music which I listened to repeatedly during my alcoholic depression days  when my gender issues were chasing me. I specifically remember "Sunday Morning Coming Down " as one of my favorites since I had spent so many Sunday mornings attempting to recover from drinking too much the night before. The whole process just served to depress me more until I finally came to grips with actually being transgender. 

Even though Kristofferson lived to be eighty eight, his passing still makes me feel my age of seventy four and I will forever remember his gravely voice and dynamiter lyrics which meant so much to me.

Here is a verse from the song:

On the Sunday morning sidewalks

Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalks
Sunday mornin' comin' down

You may also remember Johnny Cash's powerful rendition of the song.  

Man, I Feel Like a Woman

Shania Twain

 Maybe you saw country star "Shania Twain" as she hosted the 2024 People's Choice Country Awards. 

If you did, you probably remember when she sang the iconic song "Man I feel Like a Woman.". The song meant quite a bit to me for a number of reasons. The main one of course was I did feel like a woman, not to mention I would have given anything to have her appearance. 

The song was popular during the time I started to find and patronize two small lesbian bars near where I lived. One was a very rigid lesbian biker bar and the other was a much more mellow atmosphere where I happened to know one of the bartenders as my male self. Even though I was begrudgingly served in the biker bar, I always sought to poke the bear. I discovered the easiest way to do it was to play Twain's song on the juke box. For some reason, the owner and other patrons resented me even playing it. I found it to be great fun until I came in one night and the music machine was completely turned off. From that point forward, I took the pressure off  and just started to go to the other small lesbian bar where I was welcome.

In the other bar, I was able to learn many of the nuances of the lesbian community and figure out where I fit in, if at all. In my jeans, boots and makeup I discovered I was closer to being a femme or lipstick lesbian and found I drew the attention of the very serious bull or butch lesbians. I even was heavily induced into singing karaoke by a huge woman in a cowboy hat. Since I am a terrible singer, I tried to let her take the lead and I quickly left the bar shortly after singing. The only thing I heard her say was my voice was lower than hers. I never saw her again.

On the other hand, a super butch who was on his way to becoming a full fledged transgender man just happened to be my first dinner date with a guy. He later told me how scared I was,  he was right. 

Through it all, I still did feel like a woman and did appreciate the acceptance I gained from the lesbian community. I never had to try to adjust my sexuality and was validated as my new emerging self without needing a man and all the potential problems which came with it. On the other hand, there were a few men I did feel a connection with just enough to wonder how the other half lived. At the least I knew I would not have to operate on the gender fringes forever if I had to. 

Needless to say, I will never achieve the appearance standards of a Shania Twain but most other women (trans or not) will not either. Plus my womanhood was achieved in a different way than most cis-women. None of it was my fault and I did the best I could with what I had to work with. And, in the end result, I do feel like a woman.  

  

A Genderless Journey

Image from the 
Jessie Hart
Archives

Recently I needed to take our car to the oil change place to get the transmission fluid replaced. 

In the past I have written concerning my paranoia of going to male dominated places. Since normally I am the only feminine person at the oil change place, the usual paranoia set in. The last time I was there, I was called "Ma'am" several times and had no gender problems so I did not really expect anything else this time. 

To prepare, I shaved closely, put on my foundation and contour blush with lipstick and was ready to go after tying my long hair back. Off I went to get the car serviced hoping I would not be mis-gendered. 

It turned out all my paranoia was baseless. I was treated with respect and not referred to as sir. Plus it turned out the whole process needed much more work than a simple oil change. So the manager was very much involved in the process. At times, he was so involved I wondered if he was trying to impress me. He even went as far as helping me turn off the "perform maintenance soon warning" off. Maybe I was the recipient of female privilege. Or, I needed help and he volunteered. 

Very soon the process was over and I was free to go (after I paid) and it was time to go through the drive thru of our favorite coffee place for a treat. The pressure was off and once again I wondered why I got so worried about going at all. Looking back, I have never experienced any negative feedback when I have gone to male dominated spaces. I guess I am afraid of being taken advantage of. When most of the time the opposite has happened. For the most part, men have bent over backwards to help me.

Maybe I will never change but I doubt it because the transition scars  run too deep. My gender dysphoria ran too deep as a transgender woman. It could be time to change my own oil.   

What Now? More Steps???

Image from Henri Pham
on UnSplash

As I view my progression into a transgender lifestyle, I see it as a series of steps. In other words once I arrived at one step I needed to look around and see what was coming next. 

It all started innocently enough after I discovered I could wear certain items of my Mom's wardrobe and admire myself in the mirror. After that step, I found I wanted to shave my legs, put on hose and a mini skirt I found at school and head outside to check the mail at our house. I knew I was hooked and needed to figure out what was next in my life. 

The next step was very difficult to come by as I mentioned in yesterdays post., I needed to acquire the makeup and then learn how to use it. My next step upwards did not actually come until my college days when I was able to buy a wig I loved for a girlfriend I had, then keep it when we broke up. Finally, I could complete the total makeup and hair step and I loved it. It was around that time when I became brave enough to attempt to express my feminine side at Halloween parties. Immediately I began to learn new lessons from the experience such as how I was separated from all the male friends I had when I was cross dressed as a woman. I was excluded from the club.

From that point onwards I needed to decide if I wanted to be excluded from a club I worked so hard to be a part of. It was a huge step in my life when I decided I should and would give up my male past and go forward as a transgender woman. Little did I know, when I made the decision, so many steps were to come. Such as when I began to enter the world as a woman, I needed to concentrate on so much more than just look like one. I compared the process with taking a mirror image and then putting it into motion. I needed to concentrate on femininizing my movements and then undertaking the biggest challenge of all, communicating one on one with the world. Which meant mostly women since most men had the tendency to leave me alone because their sexuality was threatened. 

My steps then came quicker and quicker the more I tested the world. Confidence came when I successfully negotiated one step after another and was ready to move on. At times the process was not easy when I thought I was moving too fast. I paused and began to consider how much I had to lose if I continued on the path I was on. I was on a collision course with the reality of my true gender. My next step just had to be gender affirming hormones or HRT. Fortunately I sought out medical and therapeutic help and was approved for the hormones. A huge step as my what now was answered. My body took to the hormones easily and I was able to flourish. 

Finally I ran out of steps and excuses and decided to give my male clothes to charity. What now became the future and it was time to live a life as a transgender woman. 

Complacency

 

Summer Image with padding.
JJ Hart

As I did my best to transition from male to female there were many times I experienced moments of complacency.

It happened slowly enough as I kept throwing lifelines to myself so I could survive a life burdened with gender dysphoria. To add insult to injury, I was not gifted with feminine external attributes to help me along as I initially tried to make it in the world as my authentic inner self. Disguising my testosterone poisoned body was a total learning experience. Angles needed to be changed into curves using everything from pads to balloons to foam. Anything it took to perfect my image and avoid complacency. 

The main problem I had was I could not avoid all the years I had lived as a man. The male trip was never easy for me to learn and even a more difficult time to forget. I had survived and even flourished and now I was trying to give it all up and for what. To live as a woman which became an all encompassing goal. I would practice the best I could walking and moving as a feminine person. Even to the point of being called "Ma'am" when I was at work as a man. I figured it was because I projecting a feminine "aura" to the world and resolved to add the idea to my accessories when I was out in the world as a novice cross dresser or transgender woman. 

I started to project very strongly that I was a woman to any stranger I was interacting with. Along with looking them in the eye, I was able to be accepted for the first time as the person I wanted to be but I still had to guard in not letting up my guard and not slipping back into any of my old male ways. Just one time walking like a linebacker or not paying any attention to my new feminine communication skills could essentially ruin my whole day. It did not matter how much time, effort or money I put into my appearance, if I forgot who I was, nothing mattered. For years, my entire existence was still so fragile until I put in the years and work to tip my gender balance.

I can't say, even today I don't experience moments of complacency. It is easy when the cis-women my age and younger are for the most part very casual in their appearance. Ironically, when I see a woman in heels and hose in the grocery store dressed to the nines, my "trans-dar" goes up and I want to take a closer look. Perhaps the person could be part of the transgender or cross dresser sisterhood. 

Through it all, complacency or not I have never forgotten how the differences in female fashion is and was one of the fun parts of transitioning. No longer was I confined by the drab and boring male fashions. I had forever admired how the woman around me had the freedom to express themselves through fashion and now I could also.

On another topic, I attended two other LBGTQ support group virtual meetings recently. The groups moderator is a trans man and does a good job of keeping everyone involved. The group is very diverse and I was surprised to see a couple of the transgender participants seemingly have partially de-transitioned over the years. Plus I learned the Veterans Administration has finally approved electrologist visits under their care and my mammogram was approved after four tries. The main problem was the hospital I wanted it done at still had an old chart on me with my dead name so getting a new one was the problem. The VA needed to approve the process and did so my dead name information has been changed on yet another document. Progress is progress I guess.

At least I was not being complacent and stayed the course until I saw results.

Sitting Pretty

Image from JJ Hart.

It never took me being a genius to figure out my appearance as a woman would cost me much more than my male self ever did. 

I started out my feminine life innocently enough as I began to save my meager allowance to buy a few articles for my girl wardrobe. I even took on a rural newspaper route to add a few dollars every week to spend on whatever I wanted. The problem was, finding my way to a store where I could attempt to spend my hard earned money. 

Our family home was actually in a rural area outside of town and I needed to figure some sort of an excuse to make it into town by myself because all I had was my bicycle. I figured out the answer which came to me when I was asked to go in town and visit my Grandma. She just happened to live very close to the downtown area and probably would not resist any attempts on my part to go downtown alone. I knew also, there were several stores downtown which sold makeup as well as other feminine accessories. So close but so far.

Predictably Grandma didn't and I had free reign to go shopping on my own. Then, the next biggest hurdle came along when I had to actually go into a store and shop for any makeup I found that may be suitable. The first time I was brave enough to shop for my own makeup, I was panicked and just wanted to buy something and get out of the store. Another problem was my Dad worked a short distance from where I was shopping and if I was caught, I would have no answer to why I was buying makeup. He never did catch me and the only hurdle I needed to face was the clerk who would be checking me out with my purchases. 

I was able to visit Grandma and do my shopping with no problems except for my extremely limited financial resources. Even though I managed to buy appropriate makeup, panty hose and even shoes, there was no way I could ever afford a suitable wig. For years, the wig of my dreams was just a fantasy of mine. Even so, time flew by and I managed to survive, even with my gender issues. It wasn't until I was out of the military did I realize how much sitting pretty would cost me. 

Dressing head to toe as a woman still proved a challenge for me to afford. Most of my needs would be met by going to thrift stores in our area. By doing so, I was able to find fashion "treasures" which were added to my growing wardrobe. While the thrift stores were cost effective for me, so many other aspects of cross dressing myself were not. Due to the size of my feet, thrift stores were out and I needed to shop retail. The whole process of adding new makeup, accessories such as purses and jewelry was a challenge because for the most part, my wife had control of the family finances. Through it all, going to a wig shop and buying a wig was still very difficult and frustrating. What I mean is, once I was able to put together a quality outfit, I was still struggling with having a wig to finish off my look. 

Finally, my financial situation improved to the point where I could afford a quality wig but then I needed to figure out which wig I could buy. Initially, I was like a kid in a candy store and picked out the wrong wigs which made me look like a clown. Through all my fashion errors when I was out in public for the first time, I finally was able to buy the correct wig which fit me well and framed my face correctly. It turned out the wig was the final piece of my presentation puzzle. 

For the first time ever, I was able to do my best and sit pretty as a novice transgender woman. 

What Would Mom Say

Image from Jenna Norman
on UnSplash

This week my question to answer on the year long bio I am writing for my daughter and family as well as my wife Liz involved what parent I learned the most from.  

As I compared my Mom and Dad, easily I learned the most from Mom. Outside of the usual circumstances, I found I could find many more opportunities to spotlight Mom's influence on me. For example, I remember at a very early age watching Mom put on her makeup. Being a product of the "greatest generation" she was not shy about dressing up. However, I don't think watching makeup being applied led me to being a transvestite or even a transgender woman really mattered. Somehow the gender issues I faced went much deeper. Perhaps as deep as the medication Mom took during her pregnancy (DES) which was offered to women at the time to prevent problem births.

It turned out, I was successfully delivered just before my parents had decided to give up after three still births and adopt a child. I think because of all of that, my Mom put an extra emphasis on raising me and my brother who came along two years later. So much so, I wonder now what would have happened if Mom would have realized she had a daughter rather than a son. In all fairness to her, the fifties during my youth had very little information on gender issues. When it was available, gender issues were known as mental illness. 

Throughout the years, I always mistakenly thought girls had all the benefits in life I always wanted. Girls were able to wear the pretty clothes I wanted, be gifted the dolls I wanted and even never had to worry about being drafted and serving in the military. Male privileges were not known to me in those days because I had not yet earned any. As a side note, once I did earn the benefits of being male, I learned some of them were automatic and I did not want them anyhow.

I have forever wondered what my life would have been with Mom had I been born a biological female. Being as similar personality wise as we were, we fought quite a bit as mother/pseudo son and I have to think it would have been worse as a daughter. Mom was very headstrong and I am sure we would have had battles over fashion styles in the 1960's as well as when I could begin using makeup. In fact, when I was sneaking around using her makeup, I was probably younger than I would have been had I been her actual daughter.  I am sure too, Mom would have tried to influence me into going to her college and joining her sorority. She would have done her best to push me down a certain path which was certainly going against my generation's rules at that time in history during the upheaval in the later 1960's.

By this time, you may be asking where was Dad during all of this. It was not like he was not an influence in my life but he was not as hands on as Mom was. He was long on providing and short on emotions which I struggled with for most of my life. One thing I remember most about him was how desperate I was to never disappoint him and since I rarely if ever heard a positive from him, I never knew what he really thought of my life. He was blessed with excellent health and outlived my Mom by ten years and I never came out to him before his death from Dementia.

I did try to come out to Mom but it was a dismal failure for both of us. Predictably, when I told her I wanted to be a woman, she offered up mental health counseling. The conversation took place just after I was finished with my military duty and was never mentioned again until her death fifty years later. I used to hold her thoughts against her and was quite bitter but I gradually mellowed with age and came to realize she was just a product of her generation. 

To honor all her sacrifices, I used her first name as my middle name when I legally changed my gender markers nearly ten years ago. Had I had the opportunity to be accepted as her daughter from the beginning, it would have been interesting how our lives would have intersected. Way past the pushback I would have received for wearing my skirts too short and wearing too much makeup when I was a teenager. I know what Mom would have said. You aren't leaving the house looking like that. Maybe I should have thought of that when I tried and failed to dress that way later in life.  

 

Feeling the Pain

 

Image from Eugenia 
Maximova 
on UnSplash.

Learning on the fly all I needed to know concerning my authentic life as a transgender woman often resulted in pain.

The pain, early on mainly materialized when I rushed the process of going out in public as a novice transgender woman or cross dresser. Many times I was reduced to tears following being stared at or even laughed at when I was simply out walking around. I felt the pain for years until I finally realized I was the problem and sought out the reasons why. The main reason was (as I always mention) my male ego was dictating my femininized fashion sense. He was thinking attempting to dress sexy would somehow validate myself as a woman. Of course, it didn't and just made me look ridiculous. On the other hand, when I dressed to blend in with other women, they validated me as a woman.

My frustration and pain increased until I became fed up with the entire process and changed it. My thrift shopping adventures began to change to reflect my new fashion sense. I was held back in many ways by my budget and knowledge of what fashion I was trying to buy. Sizing was an example, as I struggled to find what looked best on my testosterone poisoned body. I did not have the benefit of having any feminine characteristics to begin my journey so trial and lots of error is what I went through. Every time I learned a fashion choice I made  just would not work, I felt the pain return again.

My situation improved when my overall confidence improved to a point where I was able to use the women's changing rooms. When I could afford to go to a mall clothing store, I always checked with a clerk first to see if I was to be accepted so as not to feel the sting and embarrassment later. In the thrift stores I went to, the changing  rooms were not monitored anyhow, so I never had to ask. As I said, when I had the opportunity to try on clothes ahead of time, my improvement rate went way up and my fashion pain way down.

After conquering most of my fashion pain, next up came my paranoia over communicating as a transgender woman in the world. Of course I quickly discovered I had no idea of how women communicate between themselves. I found myself on several different levels when I dealt with the world. Once I figured out I was not "fooling" anyone else and just resorted to being myself, my life improved. One level of woman just did not care and basically ignored me while another level was curious and wondered what I was doing in their world. Overall, I was learning on the fly and had my share of pain such as the one transphobic woman I encountered at a party Liz and I attended many years ago. She was actively harassing me about what my dead name was. She was so evil, the experience still causes me pain to this day.

Overall though, when I compare my transgender journey to others I read about, I suppose I have had it lucky. Even though I had suffered a lifetime's worth of pain when I lost my wife, several close friends and my business in a span of five years, I was able to find new friends and rebound. Mainly because the friends and Liz accepted me as my authentic feminine self. I guess karma was paying me back for a lifetime of wondering what I was doing about my transgender self. All the years of doubting my gender existence came back to be a strength when I quit being a victim in my own life. 

Sure I was transgender but suddenly it became a strength not a weakness and the pain was behind me. 

     

A Spectator in my Own Life

 

Image from Author JJ Hart

There were many times in my life when I felt as if I was a spectator in my own life.

From the first glimpse in a mirror when I cross dressed as a girl, all the way to when I first went out determined to be a woman rather than just look like one, often I was on the outside looking in. Being on the outside was certainly not a great place to be. I literally spent decades of my life worrying about where I actually stood with my gender issues.

Along the way, I grew tired of being the spectator and wanted more inside information on how the feminine system I so admired worked. I discovered the hard way, I was not going to be allowed to learn more until I made the drastic step of increasing my transitioning efforts. Naturally, it was very difficult to do when I was totally immersed in leading a male life which I had become quite successful at doing. Overall, I was becoming the victim when it came to my life as a whole. I kept wondering why me when it came to my desire to live as a transgender woman. I finally had to shake it off and move forward with my gender transition before I lost everything I knew in life. 

It turns out the real culprit was myself.  I was afraid to face my truth and it cost me. I even tried to out run my desire to live as a woman by moving and switching jobs. Once I talked my wife into moving from our native Ohio to the New York City metro area. Then back again a couple years later. Living in different parts of the country was certainly an eye opening experience but did very little to help my gender issues. On the rare occasions it did like the night on Long Island when I went to a transvestite mixer and the hosts thought I was a cis-woman was flattering but did me no good the next morning when I crashed back into my male life. Then my poor wife had to put up with my mood swings.

Still I was a spectator in my own life when I walked down the long hallway in heels to get carded for my true gender to the times I did the family grocery shopping in sweaters, mini skirts and flats, I wondered who was that? It took me years to come to the conclusion the other feminine person was me and she had a right to be here in my life. Slowly but surely, I was building the life experiences needed to cross the gender border but it kept taking me so much time. I kept running into so many road blocks, I thought I was some sort of a gender construction engineer. 

Regardless as time flew by, it was time to put my gender cards on the table to finally determine which gender was going to be the primary provider in my life. What I attempted to do was live as much as I could as a novice transgender woman to see if the lifestyle was for me. Even though initially I did not attempt to do it, the trans life rapidly snuck up on me. Before I knew it and maybe before I was ready, I began to carve out a brand new life as a woman. Quickly I needed to develop feminine communication skills which was difficult for me to do since I was overwhelmingly dealing with other women in my life.

Through it all, slowly I grabbed total control of my life and became a spectator any time I was forced back into my old unwanted male life. In other words, I finally faced my own truth and flipped the ultimate gender script in my life.    

Staring Down the Transgender Cliff

Image from Jimmy Conover
on UnSplash

 As I transitioned from my very active male self into an accomplished transgender woman, there were many times I found myself staring down a cliff on my gender path.

The more I walked on and was successful, the more scared I became. The cliff I was looking at, increasingly appeared to be steeper and riskier than I ever imagined when I first put on a dress and makeup so many years before. After all, I was risking so much such as a spouse, family and a job to name just a few. To add more pressure, I was becoming increasingly more and more successful in my choice of occupations. I had worked years to arrive at where I was and now I was risking it all to try to be a successful out transgender woman. By successful, I mean I was able to increasingly move about in society as I carved out a new life.

Mixed in with all the life changing experiences I was going through were many failures as I would sneak up to the cliff and look over. The entire process was scaring me more and more and threatened pushing me back into the gender closet I had worked so hard to leave for all of those years. 

Finally, I could take it no longer and began to gather the courage to take a leap of faith as I approached jumping off my personal cliff into a risky world I thought I knew something about. Before I did, I tried to come up with a survival plan when I jumped into the sometime snake pit which was the feminine world. I needed to learn the basics of the indirect passive aggression. Slowly but surely I learned to fasten my seatbelt and learned to ready myself to jump. I had conquered so much on my journey and it was time to quit staring down the gender cliff. 

Ironically, the women friends I had made like Liz and Kim helped me to a soft landing. They taught me what it would take to for me to become a transgender woman on my own terms. More importantly, all the fears I felt concerning my fear of gender heights proved they were like new gender guardian angels to me. Certainly, I found there were transphobes who would never like me but on the other hand, I found most people just didn't care. I was left alone to make a soft landing around my friends and enjoy my new life. 

I have always tried to be a proponent of the idea that something you are proposing to do will not be as bad as you think it will be or as good as you think it will. The same happened to me with I took the chance and gave up my male life and undertook the biggest adventure of my life. 

The soft landing off of the cliff coincided with my softer life as a transgender woman. When I did land, I wondered what took me so long. My excuse was I was afraid of heights, when in reality, I was just afraid of losing what was left of the white male privilege's I enjoyed. But it turned out, I could not have my gender cake and eat it too. It became too much pressure to attempt to live part time as a trans woman and a man. 

I closed my eyes, hoped for the best and jumped. It did not matter how intimidating the cliff seemed to be, the steep gender cliff proved to be the least of my problems. 

Transgender Inspiration

The late Lynn Conway.

 In my formative years growing from a beginning cross dresser into a novice transgender woman, there were very few inspirations for me to follow. One of the few I knew about was the very accomplished and talented Lynn Conway, a computer scientist and electrical engineer.  

Deep down I knew I was not on the same level as Conway and the very few I did know about followed the same path as most transsexuals face when they transition into a feminine life. We were expected to leave our past behind, have all the needed operations and relocate ourselves to start over. Since I was my usual stubborn self, I could not see me going down all of the same roads as well known transsexuals. In fact, I knew a couple trans women nearby who were ready to go down the surgical road and change their lives forever. 

As in most cases each of their lives were totally different than mine. So they were more of an interest to me than an inspiration. By getting to know them closer, I had hoped to gain more knowledge of what I would face if I decided to go further with my own gender transition. I did learn, as I went on, everything was different when I was living as a transgender woman. I had my own preconceived ideas of how it would be to live as a woman from all the years I had spent closely observing the women around me. However I found most of my conceptions were wrong as I slipped behind the gender curtain. The prime example was how I was presenting myself as a woman. I wasn't dressing to blend in and was drawing unneeded attention to myself. My efforts came from my old male ego dictating my fashion and wardrobe. I had no inspiration to guide me the correct way.

I think I tried to use my second wife as inspiration but I was just not in the proper mental space to accept her criticism. In other words, my feminine self had not had the chance to grow up past my adolescent years as a trans woman. During those years, happiness was looking very lonely as my wife and I constantly fought over my appearance among other things. I think she knew she was fighting a losing battle as my internal feminine self fought with her all the time. Every now and then, I did talk her in to going out to eat as two girls and I really tried to dress down for the date. As a matter of fact, if I dressed down any more, I might as well just have gone as my male self. 

I was getting nowhere fast in my quest to learn more about being a quality transgender woman, so I was forced out on my own. Which added in it's own set of problems. Primarily, here I was sneaking around behind my wife's back to see if I could live as a woman. In doing so, I found I could create another life. Furthering the divide between my wife and I.

The divide widened until her death and inspiration or not, I continued on with my search for my feminine self. What I discovered was, she was with me all along. Just waiting for a chance to live. When she did, she became my own inspiration and I never looked back. In many ways I found she adopted many of the mannerisms and personality of my Mom, who was very outspoken and not shy. I admired her so much, I took her first name as my middle name when I legally changed my gender markers. 

These days, with all the internet and social media access transgender inspiration is much easier to come by and we need the inspiration with all the negative coming our way from politicians. We have to do all we can to keep the positives coming.

I Am I Said

 

Archive Image, JJ Hart

One of my favorite Neil Diamond's songs is "I Am I Said". I particularly was drawn to the line saying I was lost between two shores. Neil was referring to New York and Los Angeles and I adapted it for me to signify being lost somewhere between being male and female.

The song's lyrics go on to say "I am, I said to no one there " I again felt the same way because I had no one to discuss my gender issues with other than the occasional therapist who went quickly through my life with little or no benefits until I reached a point much later in my life. In addition, the pressure to conform to the successful male life I was leading was intense. One of the few positives of my job was I was named a managerial training manager so I was able to take medium ranged business trips from my home in Ohio (yes I am from the much maligned Springfield) and travel by car to Lexington, Kentucky. Usually, I was asked once every six months to make the trip which I quickly saw as an opportunity to pack a few of my feminine items and cross dress. 

I usually worked it out with my second wife I was taking a second night at the company headquarters so I would not have to drive back at night. When I did, I was able to either cross dress and head out to one of the Lexington gay bars. It turned out, there were several back in those days, since the University of Kentucky is there. When I went out, at the least I didn't have to tell the chair or mirror I was actually someone feminine. On one occasion, I hit the jackpot and my training seminar just happened to coincide with Halloween. I thought ahead and when I packed away from my wife's prying eyes, I added a few slutty outfits to put together a Halloween "costume." The difference this Halloween was I was going to try my luck at going to a big straight club and not a gay venue. After a few wrong turns, I found the place and gathered my courage to go inside. Here I was dressed in an all black mini-dress with black heels, hose and blond wig doing my best to ignore all the guys pinching my behind as I walked across the dance floor, Since I needed to be up and fresh early the following morning, I needed to be back early to go to bed.

All along, I was learning what I was and was finding out the hard way what could happen if I dressed the wrong way. One night, I decided to stop at the halfway point on the way home which was Cincinnati. I got a hotel room and proceeded to seek out one of the more infamous gay bars in town for hookups, I thought since my black outfit worked so well before, I would try it again. This time, a very drunk guy at the bar tried to pick me up...until his wife showed up. I was embarrassed and was trying my best to back pedal from the whole situation when he made things worse by telling her why did she not have legs like mine. By this time, I headed for the restroom to hide and when I came out they were gone. As was the black outfit.

Through it all, all the lying I was doing to my wife was wrecking my moral code and when I asked who I was, I did not know. Which made the Diamond song so important to me. 

Finally, I did climb out of the pit I was in and was able to learn who I was but sadly was never able to reconcile my transgender life with my wife before she passed away. All along she was urging me to find myself and by the time I did, it was too late. I was no longer stuck between two gender shores. I had found myself and she was feminine. 

It Was Never Easy

I am amused when anyone thinks my gender journey has ever been an easy one. 

To begin with, I was born into a very male dominated family. Being the oldest son of two, I had heavy male expectations forced on me. Very early on, I learned I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I did not belong in the male world at all. The problem was coming to the knowledge I did not belong as I was sneaking around my family's back to cross dress as a girl. As I remember, I had two hiding places for my small collection of feminine wardrobe and makeup. 

The first place was up in the attic of our family garage and the second was more creative when I discovered a hallowed out tree trunk in a woods next door to my house. What I did was use plastic trash bags to protect my precious belongings from the elements and it provided an extra way I could be alone and dress which relieved (for a day or two) my gender tension. So none of my drastic measures were easy but I survived without anyone detecting my secret, to my knowledge. 

As years went by and my life as a girl began to be more complex, I was pressured to do more and more to protect my life. Sneaking around became more intense as my wardrobe increased, along with my knowledge of the makeup arts. In all fairness to me, I attempted to ease my gender pain, I told my first and second wives ahead of our marriage I was a transvestite or cross dresser which I thought would help my world. My idea worked for awhile, until I essentially out grew the idea I simply wanted to wear women's clothes and makeup. More and more I wanted to be a woman.

Making the jump from cross dresser to transgender woman often was brutal. Partially because I still had my male life to contend with. It probably would have been easier on me if I was not involved in such a male intensive job which automatically would completely throw me totally and publicly back into a world I never wanted. Ironically, my life as a man I worked so hard to build was now in direct competition with a feminized life I was growing into. 

At the same time, my biggest challenge became was deciding if I was transgender at all, Could I continue a life where I lived in both binary genders temporarily or would I need to choose between being a man or a woman. I ran from the decision for years before I grew so tired of running I could go no farther. Making a decision was never an easy one but one I needed to make. Finally, one night I had yet another soul searching discussion with myself and decided to live a life as a transgender woman. The world as I knew it was showing me the way. For the first time in my life I was single and did not have to worry about a spouse to deal with when I changed.

I went even further and decided to go to a doctor to see if I was healthy enough to begin gender affirming hormones. I was and my body took to them very rapidly, making my decision to give away what was left of my male wardrobe to charity and add to my feminine wardrobe. It was not easy to make the decision but it was easy to live with the results. I only knew my new feminine life would never be easy but still would so much better than the life I had lived,

It was never an easy life and my gender dysphoria certainly did not make it any easier. Waking up in the morning after dreaming if I was a boy or a girl never got my day started on a good foot. All of it became some sort of a daily routine I never wanted. With all the highs and lows, somehow I learned to live with it all.