How Exhausting Is It? Part II

I'm always happy when Connie writes part of my blog for me, which makes it less exhausting!

"Your title reminds me of the in-unison question Johnny Carson's audience would ask to help him set up a series of one-liners. Being a transgender woman is so exhausting..."How exhausting is it?"...It's so exhausting that, by the time I've gotten ready to go out, I'm ready to go back to bed...It's so exhausting that I can hardly climb high enough to get into my heels...It's so exhausting that my neck is worn out from constantly looking over my shoulder...

One of the demarcation points leading to my own transition was when I realized it was more exhausting to put up a male facade than it was to be myself - the woman. The days of closeted cross dressing were all about the "transformation", relishing each step: the makeup, the wig, the undergarments, and the clothing. There wasn't much to do when all of that was completed but to admire myself in the mirror, so I exhausted nothing but time.

 Later, going out as my transformed self was exhilarating, but more exhausting than I would be realizing in the moment. Although I still can spend too much time getting ready some mornings, it has now become so routine that the thrill of it is, for the most part, gone. The one thing I would say is exhausting, if not just plain tedious, is shaving my face. A very close shave, one that will last the whole day, cannot be rushed. 

Now that I have to take blood thinners, I must be that much more careful, as any little nick may take an hour or more for the bleeding to stop. I can only marvel at my wife, who can roll out of bed at 6:40 AM, shower, get herself ready, and be at the bus stop at 7:00 AM. I spend that much time just for the shower and shave! Speaking of my wife, my transition can be as exhausting for her as it is for me. 

So, how exhausting is it? Who cares?!?! As long as one is tired FROM living her life to the limits, rather than tired OF living, it's a sign of time and energy well spent."

There is only one thing I want to know...who is Johnny Carson? :)

Seriously, well written!

How Exhausting is It?

First of all, a big congratulations to Stana at Femulate  on her 10th anniversary as a blogger...as Paula recently commented (thanks!) it is a huge task attempting to write a daily blog and stay relevant at all! By comparison I have been at it about five years and I sometimes can't imagine going ten! Way to go Stana!!!!!

Speaking of exhausting, I scanned a post recently about how exhausting it is being transgender. Well, it is for a number of reasons. First, your exterior appearance alone takes up quite a bit more time. All of the sudden the routine daily drag (no pun intended) of what you are presenting to the world takes a totally different spin. Unless you have the will power and finances, like me...I take a half hour to face the world.

An example was yesterday when we woke to a flat tire on one of the cars and I had to call my auto club for a free repair. He got here around nine and I was up much earlier to just get ready to face him in boots jeans and sweater.

Oddly enough, I used my trans privilege and received a nice coupon to take the car to the shop for a tire repair. The driver couldn't have been nicer.

Years ago, I was asked the question what kind of woman would I become? You regulars know I'm very casual externally but internally I think I am much like my Mom, who was for the most part hell on wheels. And, for that reason, I honored her by taking her name as my middle name.

Yes, it's been a long road from my initial scary steps as a girl so many years ago, but as exhausting as the trip had been at times (I wish I had the energy I wasted back) the exhilaration has been nearly as exciting.

Plus the trip isn't over yet. In many ways I still believe it is just beginning.

TGIF

Indeed, another Friday is here in the Cyrsti's Condo and since I have exhausted my life story experiences (mostly), material is sketchy.

This post goes way back to a simpler day in the early 1960's before LGBT and transgender were part of my and most others thought patterns. As you may or may not remember, transvestites were considered to be mentally ill. For me at least, these days even predated Virginia Prince.

I did have a few more responses to being "home alone" and the precious times we all remember. I was fortunate in that both of my parents worked but I had a two year younger super inquisitive brother who seemingly was always hanging around being a pest. So being totally alone and having free roam of the house and yard (since we didn't have any neighbors) was rare.

Dad built his own house and little did he know the long straight hallway he built in was a cross dresser's dream up to and including the full length mirror at the end.

Our mailbox was about 50 yards from the house down a winding driveway to the road which back in those days was very untraveled. Most of the time I could walk down the driveway feeling the delicious air on my nylon covered legs without ever seeing a car. Which was probably a good thing.

Unlike some of you (Connie) I never was able to spend the night by myself as a girl, so the nightgown experience was mostly out.

Of course the fear of discovery was always there, which truthfully added a little spice to the whole experience. But, as good experiences always go, the time alone went all too soon.

Mayor Comes Out of Closet!

"NEW HOPE, Texas - The mayor of a small town in Collin County announced she is transgender.

Jess Herbst is the mayor of New Hope, Texas. It’s a town of 600 people east of McKinney.

Mayor Herbst posted a letter on the town’s website explaining her transition from Jeff to Jess and her decision to live her life as a female."

In today's political climate, we need more of Jess in the LGBT community!

Just Take the Train

Another experience from Connie:

"In 1964, at the age of 13, I attended the Boy Scout Jamboree at Valley Forge. The council arranged for us to be transported across the country in Pullman railroad cars. The compartments were designed for one person, two if intimacy was desired. Despite the intimacy thing, we were made to "buddy up". To this day, I'm not sure why the "buddy" assigned to me happened to be the most obviously gay kid in the troupe. Maybe I wasn't as convincing with my overcompensation as I thought. For two weeks, as we choo-chooed across the country, I was teased by many of the boys and called "homo". All I could do was up my overcompensation, and I got in a couple of fist fights (something I had tried hard to avoid my whole life). 

Inside the compartment, it was like "The Odd Couple" - my Oscar to Bruce's (yes, his name really was Bruce) Felix. At night, attempting to sleep with a gay boy in a single bed really brought out the homophobia in me. Of course, in those days, I wasn't sure just what I was myself - but being gay was one of the possibilities that I was reluctantly imagining. (to play on your words, I was not interested in "finding" Bruce's "accepting unit"). It's not that he ever tried to do anything, but I worked at being as antagonistic as I could toward him so that he wouldn't take a liking to me at all. It's really too bad, as we each had our respective "secrets" and could have bonded and supported each other had we felt free to talk about them.

Just as we reached New York, I picked a fight with Bruce that ended our "roomie" arrangement, as the scoutmaster finally realized we were not a good match. The teasing stopped for me then, but, looking back at it, I imagine we all looked a little gay in our summer uniforms - shorts with knee-highs held up by tasseled garters - as we walked the streets of NYC. If only I could have been a Girl Scout and have been able to wear a skirt with those knee-highs!"

Could have been a kilt!!! Even in 1964 that had to have been one hell of a long train ride with a bunch of "tweener" boys!