More Changes

 

Image from Brad Starkey 
on UnSplash.

More changes are coming to our house beginning today. Thanks to my wife Liz, we are tearing out one of our old bathtubs and putting in a new walk-in shower. Which is perfect for my immobile status and makes it less dangerous for me to take a shower.

You would think, by this time in my life, I would be used to change but it seems I have just become more set in my ways as a senior citizen transgender woman. As with many of you, our gender issues changed us for the first time quite early in life. Mine manifested itself the first time I felt the magic of trying on my mom’s clothes and I worked my way forward from there.

At that time, I labored under the impression my love for feminine clothes would eventually go away but it was something I ended up growing into rather than away from. The older I got, the more skilled I became at acquiring key items in my wardrobe and hiding them away in places even my younger brother would not find. I even increased the number of odd jobs I would do (such as a newspaper route) to augment my meager allowance and allowed me to buy items such as makeup and panty hose which felt so good on my legs I was shaving earlier than probably half the girls my age that were allowed to do. To shave them I had to use my mom’s electric shaver which I needed to carefully clean after every use. Again, somehow, I managed to escape detection as I continued to cross dress.

It wasn’t until my military days that I really began to push for more changes in how I was approaching my femininity. It was a Halloween party I went to when I only had about eight months left to serve that changed everything. For my “costume” I chose a slutty woman’s look to go with my friends looks. Further down the road, during a night of drinking fine German beer, my “costume” came up in a casual conversation with three of my closest friends, including my first wife. As we talked about the amount of time and effort to look the way I did, I finally thought to hell with it, and told the group I was a transvestite (the term of the day) and I liked to wear women’s clothing. Surprisingly, no one cared and life went on normally for me even after for the first time in my life I risked it all and told someone else my deepest darkest secret. I felt like a huge weight had been taken off my shoulders, but my freedom was fleeting because of what I did in the Army. If anyone of my higher ups had found out about my secret, it could have easily caused me to have be put up for a dishonorable discharge with less than the eight months I had left to go. Which would have been heartbreaking with all the changes the Army had put me through.

As I always write about, my newfound freedom to tell anyone else about my ongoing male to female femininization project came to a screeching halt when I tried to tell my mom. She rejected me totally and sent me scurrying back to my closet as far as telling any blood family about my potential transgender dreams. The only close person to me that I knew was my first wife and surprisingly her sister who told no one. I think sometimes by coming out the way I did at Halloween parties was a plea for the public to listen to me and when I did ever transition, no one would be surprised. Surprisingly, I was so macho in my male life, nobody ever did. Including the few people who were still alive years later when I came out. All I got was surprise from the people I knew. The main reaction was that I seemed too macho to ever be a woman. 

All the changes I went through as a novice transgender woman in my thirties and forties were immense as I learned what I was really facing if I followed my gender path to my ultimate goal of living fulltime as a trans woman. I kept being stopped by blind curves and huge Ohio potholes as I learned the hard way what ciswomen must go through to live their daily lives. I had become a social person later In life and desperately needed it to continue when I went behind the gender curtain and emerged a better person. I spent so many evenings planning to be by myself that the loneliness was really getting to me before changes suddenly began to set in. It all started when a bartender at one of the venues I visited often set me up to meet her lesbian mother to have a casual drink where she worked.

We became friends and were able to see each other often until another woman entered our little group and we became a friendly threesome and gathered to watch sports on the big screens. Of all things, the third woman was another lesbian who slid her phone number down the bar to me one night when I was alone and I responded feeling much better about myself.

The most amazing experience I had was yet to come when my future wife Liz responded to an online ad I placed. Predictably, I had to sort through the ton of online responses I received all the way to being stood up on pre-planned meetings with men I met online who I refused to not meet in public. I met Liz on the other hand in one of the sites where I was advertising in a “woman seeking woman” room and she responded to me and kept responding until we set up our first date midway between our homes which were approximately seventy-five miles apart. We went to a drag show then to a Renaissance Festival and fairly soon she invited me to move in with her. That was over twelve years ago, and I surely made the right decision.

With all this social success, I need to point out again how many dues I needed to pay before I was successful. I look at it as a full circle karma payback to all the lonely times I spent after my second wife died along with most of my closest friends. I had nowhere to turn for comfort and was forced to step out of my usual social conditions to look for connections. But that did lead me right back to the old big sports bars I so enjoyed and felt at home in as a man. Again, a full circle social moment. At least, the bartenders would socialize with me if I did not cause any trouble and tipped well. At that time in my life, any interaction was welcome as I went through the biggest changes in my life.

Change is a natural part of life anyway, but it seems we transgender women and transgender men have more than of our fair share of change to deal with. To be sure it is difficult as we pay our dues to live a life as our authentic selves.

 

 

 

 

 

Class Less Reunions?

As graduation time quickly approaches in my part of the world, I began to think about my days in high school one hundred years ago and a post I read somewhere from a U.K. cross dresser.  He went to an all male school "back in the day" and like most of us, stayed deeply in the closet.  He wondered though, how many other cross dressers statistically could there have been in the school too.  Even to the point of coming up with some sort of graph-where he lost me.

I don't believe he is alone in wondering how many of our friends and class mates were in their cross dressing closets too. While it is almost a romantic thought to think any guys who happened to transform into attractive girls for Halloween or school drag shows were actually cross dressers- I know I was the exception to that rule. I didn't want anyone to know of my cross dressing urges.

So many years later, in a couple years, I will be facing my 50 year class reunion.  Of course I have wondered if my decision to ever go to a reunion will change by then and I'm thinking not.  My decision has less to do with buying a "not" so little black dress and rocking the event in my heels but more in the stubborn reality I had very little to do with any of my classmates then - and now.  It's so bad that on my 40th class reunion, the committee in charge of finding the whereabouts of everyone couldn't even locate me in my home town,  where I was a very visible person.  So I sent the form letter asking where I was back in, saying I died in a car wreck in 1969. (Which I almost did.)

I can hear the group behind my back jabbering, "Look Martha, she used to be a he in our class but who was he?"

Lessons in the Sandbox

I'm fond of referring to transition as "playing in the girl's sandbox." The process is the time of your life when appearing as a woman takes a back seat to living as one.  All sorts of sand is being kicked in your direction and it is hard to keep up!

I've written here in Cyrsti's Condo many times of my "sandbox experiences" which by the way are far from over. Ironically, as I do transition, I look back and remember experiences which were more important than I gave them credit for initially.

Here's an example:  Years ago, my second wife accompanied me to a Tri-Ess meeting before we were actually married.  We drove quite a distance but still arrived plenty early before the nightly meeting/mixer. Instead of hanging out in our hotel room, we decided to get out and explore a little bit as two girls. We found that not too far away was a sort of a neighborhood tavern that advertised a mixed crowd and even drag shows on occasion. We sought it out and went in for a drink.

Not long after we sat down, a guy literally rolled up to the door on his Harley motorcycle and sat down a couple seats down from my future wife and began to flirt with her. My first thought was a feeling of being powerless in the situation, I had no control as a man or a woman.. I had the sinking suspicion she was going to prove to me I was a mirror "Princess" and knew nothing about being a real woman.. I was right.

Before long she was returning the flirt ever so slightly and the first time he looked past her to me I could see the change in her eyes. I ceased to be her guy in a dress and became a feminine competitor for the attention of this guy and stay the hell out of it. Believe me, I was in way over my head and she could have rode off with him - I was powerless anyhow but in no uncertain terms I knew what she meant. Then almost as fast, she snapped back and he took off,  leaving me with a rather scary first experience with feminine competition in the sandbox.

The problem became, I was way too early into my transition to understand what had just happened.  I never experienced a similar situation with her again.