What Do you Want for Christmas?

As we approach Christmas, on occasion my thoughts drift back to when I was a kid. As so many of us LGBTQ youth, many years all I really wanted was a doll.

In my family though, any idea of a feminine present was totally out of the question. Instead, I received what "Ralphie" wanted so badly in the classic Christmas movie "A Christmas Story." I got a BB gun.

So much for growing up in a male dominated, patriarchal family. I also remember clearly how my heart would ache whenever I would see a girl I wanted to be like.

For example, I so resented my female cousins in their velvet dresses and cream colored tights at Christmas dinners. My gift was usually football related.

Fortunately now those days are over!

Shamed?

"FABULOUSCONNIEDEEDecember 21, 2018 at 2:59 PM

"I remember so well the sneaking around I did when I first ventured out of the house. I could write a parody of "A Tale of Two Cities" called "A Tale of Two Genders," based on those days: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...." That whole opening paragraph of Dickens' novel sums up the way I felt about myself. It was just a couple of months after my first outing, attending a meeting of the local cross dresser social group, that the holiday season came. I think I attended at least half-a-dozen parties and events with the group, thoroughly enjoying my newly-released feminine-self until I had to sneak back home. Then, I would feel horrible and depressed. It truly did make for a "winter of despair...."

"The shame I had felt for being a tran woman (or whatever I thought I was back then) was nothing, compared to how I felt with all of my conniving and deceit. I likened myself to an alcoholic or drug addict, feeling compelled to do what made me feel good, even at the expense of the love of family and friends. Or, alternately, I would feel as if I were cheating on my wife - with the "other woman" being myself. Even after most everyone else had figured out what I was doing, though, I continued my feeble game.

My game started to unravel completely one year later. I was performing with another trans woman at a New Year's Eve party. It was not unusual for me to be performing at a private party, so I didn't feel like I was really lying so much about what I was doing. Still, out of the guilt I felt for leaving my wife at home while I was celebrating by ringing in the new year, I called her during one of the breaks between sets. She asked, "Is everybody there all dressed up?" I knew then that she knew, just by the way she asked it. Two weeks later, she left a note on the kitchen counter that said she had left to stay with her sister, and she would stay there until I was ready to be honest.

Well, I thought, if she wanted honesty, I was going to give it to her! I called her to tell her that's what I was going to do, and she arrived home to see "the honest me" Sunday afternoon. Of course, in order to be honest with her, I had to be honest with myself. Instead of trying to wow her with my presentation, I dressed in jeans and a sweater, which is what I figured she'd be wearing. I was still not quite ready when my wife came through the door, so she sat down to watch the NFL playoff game that was on the TV. When I entered the room fifteen minutes later, I was surprised at her appearing to be showing more interest in the game than me and my "new look." In fact, I told her that we should wait until the game was over to start our talk! She agreed, and I proceeded to make nachos and a pitcher of Margaritas. All of a sudden, things seemed so normal (even if it was I who was willing to turn off the game, and not her). It was not so normal, really, but it was the beginning of normal. The elephant in the room was gone, and she was able to see me without having to look around it.

What I've learned is that one can't come out successfully until she's come clean. Honesty is really the best policy. Also, there is never a good time to be honest, but putting it off will not make it better or easier; it may well even make it worse.

This is my (Cautionary) Tale of Two Genders. "

Honesty is always the best policy, no matter how painful it is. I didn't practice what I preach though. For years I was dishonest with my deceased wife about what I was doing behind her back.  It's something I will take to my grave feeling terrible about. 

Her comment "Be man enough to become a woman" was one of the more profound phrases I have ever heard.

Space Invader

Yesterday turned out to be a busy day.

The day also wasn't particularly wonderful weather wise with a cold driving rain and winds up to 30 miles a hour. Not real good for a fashionable hair style of any kind but then again, I was facing again what any other cis woman was going through. As the day progressed, we managed to make it through a couple of packed grocery stores.

The final event of the day was going to an informal Yule social. At other socials, I became friends with a woman from Germany. We talked in depth about her homeland and my time there when I was in the Army. For some reason last night, she was rather frenetic. Not long after saying Hello, she said could she ask me a question. Normally that question is when did you know you were transgender or have you had any surgery. She asked me the "how long" question.

I answered without hesitation, most all of my life and I spent at least fifty years in denial as a cross dresser. All this time, she kept nudging me, which I have never particularly been fond of. Anymore, I almost never have to worry about it from a man but some women are just too touchy.

After the "Question and Answer"  session, she remained glued to my side and proceeded to comment on my hair which truthfully had looked better after coming in from the storm. She decided then my decision to let it grow out naturally (including the color) was a poor choice. By that time, I was tired of getting poked and comments which were none of her business, so I moved away from her. Which was tough, because we all were packed into a very small room.

As I moved away, the conversation had turned away from my hair, all the way to whose families migrated from where in the world. Since I haven't taken one of the DNA tests yet, I couldn't play with the cool kids.
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On the bright side, Liz and I made a pledge to join another man and his two daughters to head down to one of Cincinnati's German eating establishments for fun and beer. Ironically, one of the talking points was an Alaskan beer we both had discovered at our Christmas parties this week.

So, outside of the space invader's unwanted advances, I wasn't too bruised and managed to make it through the evening in one piece.