Not the Man I used to Be

 Recently we had to endure a portion of the massive winter storm which blanketed the middle and eastern part of the country. We received over six inches of ice, sleet and snow. Following all of that temperatures plummeted courtesy of an Artic blast. Due to lack of planning we weren't part of the hoard hitting all the grocery stores, so we were quickly running out of something to eat. 

"Attitude" Photo
Courtesy JJ Hart

Not so long ago (it seemed) I would have had no problem scraping and cleaning the car. It seems forgetting all the years of aging combined with estrogen and testosterone reduction  has taken it's toll. Seemingly when I finished the task of cleaning the car, I was feeling good about the whole process. Even to the point of telling Liz who was against me doing it. She is fond of telling me my mind has not accepted the fact I am physically not the man I used to be. 

She was completely right in this case. After throwing caution to the wind and cleaning the car, I found and/or felt the pain in my back. In other words, I spent yesterday in pain and am not much better today. 

The whole deal proves once again how truly stubborn I really am. During the majority of my life, my perseverance has served me well. Of course the major example is my cross dressing past, building to me becoming a novice transgender woman. I have written many times of the error more than trial which went into my ever so slow progression into fulfilling my dream of being  able to live full time as a transgender woman. 

Then there was my time in the military. Since I was being drafted into the service, I chose the three year enlistment plan which helped me to be able to work in a job field of my choosing. No body told me how difficult the process would be and I went for it anyhow. I became one of just sixty persons in the entire Army doing my job as a radio broadcaster/DJ. That in turn led me to meeting and later marrying the mother of my only child. A very accepting daughter who I cherish more and more as time goes by. The military even provided me my first chance to "come out" to friends about being a transvestite. Through it all, no one tried to tell me any of what I accomplished was impossible. Not that I would have listened anyhow.

Coming full circle and having a hard time even moving with no pain, I at least wish I had listened to Liz and left the car alone. 

My back is telling me I am not the man I used to be.  Or then again, the man I never wanted to be anyhow. I just need to get past the remaining vestiges of what a much younger man is telling me to be. It's difficult because I dislike feeling worthless.  Whose to say also I have learned my lesson the next time a big snowfall hits. I feel like now I have.

Wednesday Hump Day

 Or should I say ""dey" in support of the Super Bowl bound Cincinnati Bengals whose rallying cry is "Who Dey think is going to beat those Bengals! More on the game for later this week.

In the meantime, hump day can mean a certain tipping point for any transgender women and men. Or how far do you go in your gender transition before there is no turning back. You have discovered how natural it feels to be your authentic self and want to live it full time.

I spent years researching my life to see if I could cross the gender frontier. In fact, if the truth be known, I spent too long trying to live as both binary genders. One week I would spend as much as three days experiencing life in a feminine world before I went back to my boring daily world doing my best to act like a macho man. 

I was stubborn and seemingly thought out every angle such as telling family and friends and of course

considered the all important financial aspect of transitioning, The entire process to me was similar to a  gender teeter-totter. Up and feminine one day, down and male the next.

I also considered the process as slipping down a slope which became increasingly steep and slippery. Finally what happened was I couldn't take the stress any longer and decided to make the jump, transition, and live as my more natural feminine self. 

What turned out to be one of the most momentous decisions in my life was not to be undertaken alone. Over a relatively short amount of time I developed a small group of women friends who helped to make my landing softer and tip the teeter totter permanently in the feminine direction. They all mean more to me than I can ever say. 

On this "Hump Dey" I hope all of you still locked in a dark gender closet find a light at the end of the tunnel which is not the train. Whatever seems permanent today, can change quickly tomorrow.  

Romanticizing Hell

 It is rare I don't sleep and I used to sleep with the television on as a crutch of sorts.  Recently though I have made a deal with Liz to try sleeping with the television off.  Regardless of all the warnings I received over the years of how harmful it could be to my psyche, I persisted until last week. After a terse discussion with Liz, I gave in to trying not to wake her up with a television being on. 

Overall, the process has proven to be a success. Even though I can't say I sleep any better, I can say when I am up in the middle of the night like last night, I have a tendency to think of blog posts to write. Of course the problem is remembering all the ideas flowing through my head. Last night, I was up for an extended length of time and came up with several good experiences I have had in my past as I crossed the gender frontier. As I thought about them though I knew I had written about most of them previously.

Then I thought about the flip side of all the pleasant experiences I had. 

With me at least, time doesn't heal all wounds but time does tend to emphasize the positive over the negative. For example, here is one I thought about last night. The whole excursion happened one night when I was making yet another trip to a local mall to go shopping. I truthfully don't remember much about what I was wearing except the outfit did involve a dress, heels and hose. 

By this time in my transgender transition, I had settled in to the idea store sales clerks didn't care much about my gender. They cared so much more about the color of my money. In fact, my daughter worked for Victoria's Secrets years ago and she told me the story of the extra money she made when her fellow clerks wouldn't wait on an obvious cross dresser. The extra commission she made came in handy.

Photo NOT of me

Photo by rylan krupp on Unsplash

By now, you are probably thinking what does any of that have to do about romanticizing hell. On the night in question, everything got off to a terrible start when I entered the mall. As I did, a woman and her two teenaged daughters were coming out. To make a long story short, I could hear them loudly laugh and say something about a man in a dress. Just about the worse thing which could happen and my confidence was shattered. 

Instead of just turning around and leaving the mall, I decided to keep going and hope the experience would get better. Well, it didn't. As I tried to do my shopping in the usual stores I frequented, I picked up an unwanted escort service from a bored mall security cop. 

By this time I finally had enough and I calmly (as much as I could) walked my way out of the mall and back to my car. Fighting back tears all the way. 

When I arrived back at home and was  taking my makeup and clothes off before my wife arrived, I wondered why I did this cross dressing activity at all. Still in tears, with mascara running down my face I chose the more difficult path. I chose to dedicate myself to perfecting my outward appearance and to be a better judge of my own look. In other words, quit believing everything the mirror told me. 

As I began to dress to blend with the other women around me, my femininized life began to improve and I wouldn't have to romanticize hell much anymore.