Pictures

Very rarely do we learn the story behind any of the pictures we see on line. In fact, I stopped even looking at one site I used to be active on because I was beginning to doubt more than a few of the "glamorous" transgender women or cross dressers weren't actually cis women in reality. I tried to tell myself too, pictures can be photo shopped and are only moments in time. So much more goes into presenting as a woman than is represented in a picture. 

But, the neat thing is about pictures is, they often are all we have to pass along idea's and remember where we were at a time and place, Take this picture of me for example. First of all it was taken a couple of years ago when I had longer and a darker/auburn hair. Secondly, it was taken in one of those mirrors with special soft surround light, All of which contributed to making me look different than I normally did. Finally, it was taken during one of those rare moments in time i had my finger nails professionally done. All in all, the picture is still me...with an asterisk. I have to add though, nothing of what I did would be different than many cis women would do to enhance their appearance in a picture. 

In a recent Cyrsti's Condo post, I used one of a couple of Connie's pictures I happen to have on file to accent one of her comments. Here, is her return comment:

"So, the pic you chose was taken about eleven years ago. It was that very day that I came out, in person, to a woman friend. It was the first time anyone from my past life had met me as Connie (other than my wife). My friend had no idea of what she was about to see, when she stopped by my house on her way home from work. It went well, but I decided, afterward, that I would never surprise another like that again. I realized that it wasn't really fair to the other person, as it can put them on the spot. Then, it took another three years to come out to most everyone else - except most of my in-laws (about 100 of them, if you count cousins and such). The word had spread, though, so it was just a matter of making a gender reveal, of sorts, at a (very) large family gathering, in 2014. I don't remember exactly when we first met on that (pastel color) site, but, with all the back-and-forth yapping we did, I can't believe we waited so long to finally take action. I look at that pic of myself, and I see that I was beyond ready to transition at that time. I may not be as young, and less wrinkly and saggy as I was, but I'm still every bit the smartass. Sarcasm is not limited by gender! ;-) BTW, in my story, I was both of the people in the Thunderbird. I have had dreams, since my pre-teens, of being behind the wheel of a turquoise '57 T-Bird. I'm in a cute halter top that is tied at the midriff to show my skinny waist, my natural long blonde hair covered by a silk scarf, with big sunglasses and red lipstick on. Oh, and I can't forget the perfectly manicured and painted fingernails, as my lovely hands are resting on top of the steering wheel. Too late now; I can't get there from here, either."

Nice! Thanks for the memory!  Also as many of you who read the post comments know, Marcia also remembers our (witty???) give and take on the website I mentioned (not by name) because I believe it still exists. It's a small world in the trans community if we like it or not.

No Growth without Change

I saw this quote this morning as I was going through a few of my Word Press contacts and discovered this quote from Almas who writes about his internal monologue. At that point I started to think about all the times during my gender transition when I have been so scared I thought I couldn't move. 

Possibly the first of which occurred when I was probably no older than twelve. During that time of my life, I augmented my meager allowance by delivering newspapers  in the rural area we lived. I was able to save enough money to attempt to buy my own cross dressing accessories such as makeup. As it turned out, my Grandma lived within walking distance of the medium sized town we lived close to. 

Once I accumulated enough money, I figured out a way I could visit Grandma and spend the night. With my plan in place, I proceeded to do it. As I was to find out, that was the easy part. Finally the time arrived to try out my plan and needless to say I was equally thrilled and scared to go shopping for makeup for the first time ever. The downtown had several of the old school variety stores before Wal-Mart and the mall wiped them all out. I carefully chose one and after circling it several times, I decided to go in. My Dad didn't work too far away and he was the last person I wanted to run into! After I was fairly certain I didn't know anyone in the store, I found the makeup counter. Then I was truly in a panic. I had no idea of what to buy, there were so many choices. 

Somehow, I calmed down enough to purchase a couple items and found the nerve to go pay for them. My worst fears were not founded as she barely checked out my treasures and sent me on my way.

I changed and grew dramatically on that day. I knew from then on I was capable of buying my own feminine items. Even tough countess times I bought the wrong thing, again I was changing and growing. As it turned out, my next big purchases were a pair of my own black tights and shoes. 

Little did I know, this would only be the first of many chances to expand my transition in the years ahead.

On a another subject, I decided to add an old picture of me from several years ago as a dark haired summer casual woman to combat all the recent blondes I have shared here in Cyrsti's Condo,  

Transition Can be Such a Bitch

As we have recently discussed around here in Cyrsti's Condo, often a gender transition is a peak and valley experience. In my case, the climb out of the valley of gender dysphoria was long and often painful. Quite possibly one of the top two or three people who have followed or been around me over the years has been Connie. I can't quite remember the transgender discussion site we met on so many years ago. I just remember Connie's sharp wit and sarcasm when she "discussed" a topic with one of the many "trans nazi's" who tried to rule the site. These were the days before being "transer than you" became fairly well known. Back in those days, many transgender women thought the amount of operations you had endured made them an entitled class of people within the community.

I remember well, engaging in many not so pleasant discussions with the ultimate...a transphobic trans woman. I remember also making a conscious effort  trying to mold my emerging new person in a different direction, away from being a bitch.  In a recent comment, Connie was kind enough to mention my efforts. And in a new comment mentions it again. Plus builds upon it:

Connie with her "realtor pose"

" And, here, I was hoping you would have, first, picked up on my comment about how you could be such a bitch before transition. :-) I did say that I was willing" to give up my male privilege. I can't say that I totally lost it by transitioning, however. Nor will I ever be able to enjoy the totality of the privilege of being a woman. In a sense, we end up in No Man's/No Woman's Land. We bring with us all that our male privilege had gotten us before, and we try to immerse ourselves in womanhood with hopes that we will be granted some privilege that comes with that. Symbolically, a man can open a door to a world of privilege, while a woman may just wait for a man to open the door for her, so that she can enter one room. Of course, it's much more complicated than only that, but having lived with the privilege of a man's world gives us a unique perspective.

I've thought that the old joke about a man refusing to ask for directions kind of sums it all up. The picture that plays in my mind has a man and a woman in a '57 Thunderbird, top off, stopped at one of those old gas stations along a deserted highway. The man is in the driver's seat, of course, and it's probably out of dumb luck that he came across this gas station with only a mile's-worth of gas left in the tank. He's lost, but he won't admit it, and the woman is frantically studying a road map - which the man assumes she can't read. In fact, he's even annoyed that she opened the map, in the first place, because he thinks she won't be able to re-fold it properly when she's done with it. As the attendant is replacing the pump handle, the woman is saying, under her breath, "Ask him, just ask him!" The man hands the attendant a five dollar bill (more than enough to fill the tank of a '57 Thunderbird in those days) and, while the attendant is fumbling in his pocket for the change, the woman, pointing to a spot on the map, blurts out, "How do we get HERE?" As the man sits in silent embarrassment, the attendant takes a quick look at her map, and then drawls out, "Well, y'all can't get there from here." No Man's/No Woman's Land."

Excellent! You have come a long way too my friend!