"Jeepers-Creepers"

Every now and then I get a dose of heavy feminine reality. Friday night, Liz and I went out to eat at a slightly upscale family dining restaurant. Very rarely do I feel good about the way I look as a transgender woman, but I did Friday. Clothes, make-up, hair all seemed to be working together.

Let me say though, in no way will I ever consider myself to be a beauty queen candidate in this lifetime.

The place we went to had a small soup and salad bar which I ordered with a fish sandwich on rye. I am not Catholic, but seemingly almost everyone else in Cincinnati is and there are several good fish sandwiches available this time of year.

At any rate, I went to the soup bar for some corn chowder when out of the corner of my eye, I caught this creepy guy staring at me. I didn't think much of it and went back to sit down and eat my soup. Before my meal came, I went back to the "bar" for some salad items to eat with my sandwich and there he was again-staring.

By this time I was thinking I was his vision of loveliness or he was into trans women. Either way, I was beginning to feel more than a little creeped out. So I went back to the table and told Liz. We had a little chuckle and went on eating.

Finally, I figured he would be gone and I went back up to get some fruit for dessert, but no, he was still there and still fixated on me.

As we got up to pay our bill and leave, I noticed so did he. Plus he just happened to sit in his car until we left the restaurant.

I told Liz I had a stalker and wasn't kidding. He made me feel really uneasy as he was bigger than me and didn't seem to be all there (if you know what I mean.) Liz merely said relax we are leaving and obviously I attract only top shelf men (Haha!).

The moral or immoral to the story is, we have to learn again and again to develop a feminine sixth sense to keep us safe. No matter where we go anymore.

In the Backseat of my Ol' 63.

On FB recently, someone posted a picture of a very nice 1963 Black Chevy Impala with the comment "Have you ever sat in one of these?"

In fact, back in the day, many more than one. My Dad of all people had the nicest one I had ever seen. A Gunmetal Blue Super Sport convertible. Which by the way was off limits for my brother and I to drive.

In later years, I acquired another less impressive Impala whose back seat served as a weak drive in training ground for my teen aged girlfriends. Over the years, I wonder what the girls thought and more importantly what it would have been like to switch places with them. Along the way, I thought my awkward moves may have sent a couple of them to the lesbian side of the ledger.

Regardless a few of them allowed us to "cuddle" in the back seat, away from those pesky bucket seats and gear shift handle. Although, if the girl was sitting too close, sometimes you could be "sly" and touch a little leg when your hand "accidentally" slipped off the shift knob. I am sure through all of this the girls knew exactly what was going to happen. Although similar to a cheap adventure show, no one was sure when or what was going to happen.

My only two car claim to fame's came when I bought a 67 GTO (used) and a 63 Cadillac Hearse (used) to drive a short distance back a forth to college. Obviously, gas for both was much cheaper back in the day. The Hearse of course was some sort of a chick magnet...or the opposite. I ended up selling the GTO when I went away to the Army and blew the head gaskets out of the Hearse and junked it.

I wish I could say I had this wonderful sexual mosaic to write about, but I just don't. I think I had too much respect for women and put them too high on pedestals to think about what I was doing. Regardless of my conquests, I ended up moving on or being someone's possible best friend.

Of course it all came to an end when I had to take off three years for the Army's fun and games. At that time I made a real effort to have a clean slate and not have any "girlfriends" when I left. Looking back now, I think I was distancing myself from others because of my gender dysphoria.  The fewer people I had to tell in the future the better.

Fortunately, I have no way of even seeing or contacting those girls of so long ago. The only way would be my 50th year high school reunion this year. Which I am not going to.

We will get to why, in a later post.

No Pressure Here?

Well, once again yesterday, I experienced a major malfunction with my lap top which has all sorts of far reaching implications. In fact yesterday's post was completed on another computer.

As luck would have it and I really don't know why (knock on wood) so far we are up and running today. Under pressure to complete another post before the bottom can

fall out. Sometimes I don't know how I could feel much pressure after Mtf transitioning. After all, could there be any more pressure packed feelings than venturing out in the world as a member of the opposite gender?

I guess pressure is what you make of it though. It is like my trips to the auto repair center which positively drive me up a wall. The same wall as my name is probably written on there. For example, the last time my car was picked up, Liz went in to get it and barely had enough time to get my name out before the guy behind the counter did.

Most certainly, at the least, people remember me. Good I hope! I am positive I have never had a drink with the guy before :).

Perhaps we transgender women are similar to athletes in that we grow into, or even thrive on pressure. It drives us on to better presentations.

As far as pressure goes, I am going to wrap this post up while I can!