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| JJ Hart Doing Transgender Outreach. |
Even though, early on it was hard work finding one of mom’s
dresses I could still fit into and not rip apart in the seams, I still tried
it. As I grew into a more mature version of my feminine self, I learned my work
to transform myself into the woman I was always meant to be was not going to be
an easy task as testosterone poisoning was ravaging the body I wanted to have
as a girl during male puberty. While the girls around me were developing the
curves I wanted, all I got was a larger angled male body I hated. If I wanted
to continue, my path was cut out for me, and it was not going to be an easy one
to follow. I would have to make it a labor of love to ever succeed.
The first thing I needed to do was find feminine clothes
that fit me, and at the same time disguised my male body with my large torso,
broad shoulders and narrow hips. Plus, I had the extra problem of look really
liking the feminine shape wear I need to wear to suggest I had hips when I
cross-dressed as a woman. It was always too restrictive for me to enjoy and I
was not careful; the restrictions went as far as hurting my chances of success
in a women’s restroom setting. If you know what I mean. What I did was make
extensive use of pieces of foam which I wore under my panty hose to give me the
illusion of hips under the skirts and leggings I wore back in those days. I remember
spending day upon day of destroying foam rubber pieces until I thought I got
them just right. That solved the hip problem partially so I could concentrate on
my all-important breasts.
To advance my presence in the world as a transgender woman,
having the proper breasts was another labor of love and at times a comedy show.
Before the advent of easily obtainable silicone breast forms, I tried a number
of ill-fated ideas to give myself the proper breasts which fit the size of my
body but were not too big and looked like I came from a circus somewhere.
Before my first silicone breasts were gifted to me by a purging cross-dresser
friend of mine who was getting rid of all his feminine belongings, I tried exotic
ideas such as bird seed and water balloons. Water balloons I liked because they
warmed to the temperature of my body and did a realistic job of looking like
real breasts in the bras I wore at the time.
All along, I knew on the negative side, I was taking a big
chance using water balloons for breast forms because they can easily break. And
of course, the worst-case scenario happened to me one night when one of my balloons
broke in public. Luckily, I was going to the women’s room anyhow and it was empty
so I could clean up and head back home to end my love affair with water balloons
as breast forms forever.
As I put all this concentration into making my transfeminine
better, I was concentrating less on my male life. Although it was a labor of
love for me, it was not for my second wife who grew tired of my obsession to be
an attractive woman and told me I was missing the whole point of being
feminine. It was not to be obsessed with makeup and clothes; it was being able
to slide behind the gender curtain and see how ciswomen’s lives really play
out. It did not take many times of being called a terrible woman for me to drop
what I was doing, change course and try to find out what she was trying to tell
me. Then I found myself in a “Catch 22” of sorts because if no one would allow
me to play in the girls’ sandbox how would I ever learn to do it. It was like
the job interviews I went to, where they told me I did not have enough experience
but would not give me a chance to work for them and gain the experience.
I finally had to stop being the victim and head out into the
world to discover what my wife was talking about. If indeed I was a terrible
woman, I need to correct that and move forward. It was then I went on a
collision course with myself to determine what I really wanted in life. Did I
want to be the successful man I was becoming or have the chance to live out my
dream living in a ciswoman’s world.
The labor of love that I entered involved me having to learn
what a ciswomen’s life was all about. I knew it was going to be quite the
change to learn a new scary complex world, but I was not prepared for the
barrage of information I needed to deal with. It seemed that half the women I
met wanted to interact with me and find out what I was doing In itself, interaction
was not bad if I was ready for it. Which I was not. I had to go on a crash
course in understanding my communication with women like I had never known
before. I was used to listening to ciswomen the way cismen always to by hearing
only what they want to hear and ignoring the rest. Woman, on the other hand,
have so many nuances in their communication that I had a lot to learn. But
again, it was a labor of love for me and no work at all. If I had put that much
work into my college studies, I would have finished with a four-point average.
It showed me where my priorities in life really were.
From the first time I tried to experiment with mom’s makeup
to living the life I live today, my male to female gender transition was never
any work because I loved doing it.
I also love writing for you in the hope I can help you along
in your life’s journey. Thanks for reading along and any comments are always
appreciated.
