The "Jezebel" Within Me.

Just what is a "Jezebel" and what does she have to do with me? According to Wikipedia, Jezebel was a princess, identified in the Hebrew Book of Kings as the daughter of Ethbaal, King of Tyre (Phoenicia) and the wife of Ahab, king of north Israel.

To make a long history short, she was the "anti good girl" and don't we all have a bit of her in us? Transgender or genetic?

As I transition, I do wonder on occasion how much of Jezebel I do have and how much the mix would have been if I had spent my entire life as a genetic woman. I know, a total waste of thought but then again a fun one. I think my first true experience with "Jezzies" was back in the 8th grade. I went to a fairly small conservative rural school from kindergarten through the 9th grade with primarily the same set of kids.

Of course as we were getting into the 7th and 8th grades, the hormones were starting to stir and a group of Jezebels appeared.  These were the girls who took a definite delight in wearing too much makeup along with overly tight sweaters and overly short skirts to school. To this day, I wondered what it would have been like to be one of them.

Of course I would have had to perfect any number of ways to get around my Mom who would have not let me out of the house that way.  Later though after I heard stories from my very conservative second wife detailing how school outfits could be "jazzed" up, the process wouldn't have been that tough. She did simple things such as smuggling makeup to put on and take off later. Plus she would roll her the skirt up to show more leg and even hid different shoes in a plastic bag down the street.  Not unlike the secret stash of girl things I hid away. I laughed at her when she said she couldn't figure out why more guys all of the sudden wanted to eat lunch with her. Really?

So, as I fast forward to today a bit of "Jezzie" is alive and well within me.  I will forever miss the chance to have been one of the teasing girls in the eight grade and even an ultra attractive young woman today. On the positive side though, to be able to experience what I can of a feminine life is to be cherished.  Interestingly when my Jezzie mixes in with my past life all sorts of neat things can happen. I see and understand so much more such as how a guy feels when he is mixed in with a group of women - entertaining them with jokes or stories and why the women watch him and each other so intently.

The sad part to all of this is the inability for so many transgender women and men to be able to enjoy the transition process when and if it happens. The tragic part is when society throws up so many roadblocks to the process too.

I'm aware we scare people too.  Many aren't secure of their place in the gender world to even come close to accepting a transgender person who they think may know more than their share of the process.  God forbid if we would use our enormous power to harm the world.

The fun part is though, even at my advance age, I can still let my "Jezzie" out on occasion with a top which is cut a little too low or eye makeup which is a little too smokey. Plus Jez loves my hair which is way too long for a woman my age.

I love it when she gets her way!

Before I forget it, I'm passing along a link to a site called Jezebel which of course I love. I'm also going to add their link to our Cyrsti's Condo Beauty Nook page.

WiggingOut

Approximately a year and a half ago, I was able to take the HUGE step of leaving my wigs behind and going public with my own hair.

To this day I believe be able to do just that was one of the biggest positives I could ever do to improve my overall presentation as a woman - which doesn't explain a random thought which invaded my noggin this morning.

All of the sudden I felt a huge wave of wig nostalgia. I can only guess at the reasons plus I know genetic women wear wigs too of course.

I quickly considered the chilly temps and the fact wigs were extremely uncomfortable for me to wear on a hot summer day or maybe I just wanted to change up my look for a bit. Another "perk" of being a woman.

I really doubt if I will wig out and pull out my giant plastic tub of my old wigs and wear them in public. I may however have a fun mirror game someday.

If you are curious at all, here in Cyrsti's Condo I do have a "Timeline Picture Page" which describes my trips through different colors and styles of wigs in the past.

Perhaps the most accepted wig by the public was this one I wore in the picture on the right. This was taken about 3 months before I went "wigless".  My top fun story (of several) with this wig was when I was at a drag show and one of the drag queens came up to me and said, "I love your wig".  I simply said,"How do you know it is one?"

The problem with this wig was I had an incredible tough time with the hair line, which may have been partially due to me taking scissors to it over the years.  It started life being incredibly thick and I thinned it over the years to make it cooler and more passable.  It was this wig which was along for the ride in my first days of being able to go sleeveless and the sensations on my bare back were nothing less than heavenly!

These days, my own hair is probably about three fourths as long as this one and has much more wave to it.

Certainly soon I will have to have some fun and play "dress up" in my own room.

The Cult of Hysteria

Every once in a while or I read about someone who has started HRT and wonders if the female hormones running through the body will dramatically affect all parts of their life.  When they come home now will it be time to fix dinner, clean the house and pretty much settle in to making someone a good wife.

Of course you may take on that role but I'm fairly sure there is no scientific evidence low "T" and high "E" are causing transgender women everywhere scurrying for their aprons and cookbooks.

On the other hand, I'm beginning to think that my hormonal changes are becoming deeper than the obvious physical changes, hot flashes and the ability to cry.

When I started HRT, I was determined to let nature run it's course and not allow various stereotypes to cloud my judgement.  I was tired of reading too many stories from people I thought were trying too hard to be a girl.  Right or wrong, more than a couple of the common themes didn't sit right with me, like HRT causing an immediate love of everything feminine all the way to the image of "pristine" women's rooms when I kept sitting in other women's pee as I sat down on the toilet.  But you know, that is just me and who really cares what I think?

Since I do hold the power of the written word around here though and are truthfully not as bitchy as I seem sometimes, here is what I do think.

First, if you were predetermined to be the housewife type before HRT, you certainly will be afterwards.  The more our inner woman is allowed to grow, the more amazing is the process.  If you take me for example, I never minded doing the cooking but I am a self professed terrible house keeper.  No amount of HRT is ever going to change that.

A fair amount of HRT is changing my emotional makeup though.  I found I really have no control now of my tears.  I can cry because I'm sad or melancholy or even happy and found tears were only the beginning of changes.  Imagine my shock when all of the sudden I wanted Humphrey Bogart or Clark Gable to look into my eyes and sweep me away in a classic movie scene. Where did that come from?

My newest "revelation" is I'm more "high strung" than I have ever been in my life.  Call it what you want but now I deal with more paranoia and emotional hang ups than ever before in my life. Yes, I call it hysteria.  I always felt women carried their fair share of it and yes, I now have my own and it's not the most pleasant side of transition I have experienced.

All in all though, I know this is what I signed up for and every blind corner I face comes with it's own set of new challenges. Some good, some not so good. I'm easy though (not cheap), don't make me a hysterical housekeeper and give me a shot at Humphrey Bogart in a classic movie- I'll be fine!

 

Cyrsti's Condo Archive Post: "Mommies' Little Girl"

This is actually from 2010 and was reposted in 2012 and has always been received well, so here we go again. It was actually called, "What Kind of Daughter Did Your Mom Want?"

This picture was from the end of
my "blond period" about 5 years ago
and was only taken as a response to
those "who wanted to see more of me"
As you can see the quality is terrible.

"Yes girlfriends, I'm talking about us. Some Mom's really wanted a daughter and dressed some of us as girls. Some Mom's may have found it interesting to relate to us on some level as a girl and let us in on a little makeup or clothes. Other Mom's may have shut us out all together.

All of the mother/son interaction intrigues me because of a couple of reasons. The first would be the simple question of why me? Did my Mom set me up for all of this? (My brother believes she did). The second would be is how much I look like her. How many of you believe your Mom knowingly or even unknowingly opened your door into a female world? I remember vividly the way my Mom blotted her lipstick and made sure the rest of her outfit was together before she went out. I would bet you my brother doesn't!

 The age old question-environment or genetics? Was I predisposed to be trans? Most likely it's a question I will never know. (Update! Perhaps the DES drug my Mom very well could have taken during her pregnancy could been the answer.) Maybe the whole "daughter" question explains my total lack of respect for women who do not take care of themselves. This girl was raised believing that appearance was part of the female gender.

My Mom passed away years ago and I believe in two sure facts. She would like the fact I try to keep up a good appearance. She would hate the fact I'm a lot like some of the girls I brought home she didn't like and live a very wide open lifestyle. Neither Mom or me or even my daughter are shy women."

Getting into the "Act"!

I have always been a huge fan of Australia's drag super star Courtney Act and why not?  Here she is on the Cyrsti's Condo big screen:

Transsexual Sports Fans

Years ago I thought as I made the migration from one gender to another, certain parts of my male past would have to be left behind.  One of the bigger ones was my love for sports. As it turned out, I was worrying needlessly about what I was going to pack for my trip and sports were included.

Over the years, I have written endlessly about the experience, beginning with the choice to continue my passion for sports at all - to my first trips as a woman at professional sporting events. First of all, I was being a huge dummy to start with. I looked around at all the other genetic women I knew who were huge sports fans and decided to count me in.

Without going into tons of boring details, being a woman sports fan is different.  From the dynamics of how passionate I really was,  all the way to how much I was supposed to know all was different to me. Especially when I found myself in a conversation with a man.  Being the bitch I am at times, I did have a couple fun times watch a guy dig a hole for himself as I laid in wait for him to screw up. All in fun of course!

Somewhat, in the same vein, I ran across this story from across the pond called "Travels of a transsexual football fan" by Juliet Jacques.  The situation is a classic example of finding yourself in a potentially embarrassing situation and how she negotiated it.

Go here to read it.

Order Your Trans Barbie Now!

Not really, at least not here.  But in the meantime, the best I can do is this "Trans Barbie" video on the Cyrsti's Condo big screen:

Who the Hell Wired Me?

Recently I  butched it up and did some basic rewiring around Cyrsti's Condo. I accomplished what I set out to fix and destroyed my nails in the process of course.  Naturally,  electrical work is not recommended in Cyrsti's basic nail care book!

As I finally finished and had new sources of light for my dim eyeballs, I began to think of my own wiring. First things first,   of course I'm transgender or at the least gender fluid or whatever label you want to attach to me. Then let's not forget about my pesky bi-polar disorder which was actually diagnosed by a therapist I was seeing because of my gender questions. Plus, for a touch of spice, let's throw in my occasional bout with dyslexia. Yes I do start a book or magazine from the back or middle.  Doesn't everyone?

Certainly, I will never find out who was responsible for my wiring job. But dammit I want to blame someone!  Maybe I could start with Mom taking the late 1940's/ 1950's problem pregnancy meds. Some of which have been mentioned as possible links to transgender issues. I can hear her now, "Would you rather be transgender or not here at all? And by the way we can get rid of that trans trash by plugging you into a wall somewhere."

What good would it do me anyhow? Over a half century later I'm fairly sure I won't see a lawyer commercial on the Jerry Springer show screaming if your Mom took Drug XYZ during her 1949 pregnancy and you are transgender, call us now for cash!

Oh yeah, did I mention my attention span is so short I can barely read a book or the only time I am truly relaxed is when I'm asleep?

Damn! If I didn't live with me, I would have me committed!!!!

I can only say after I finally came to terms with all my wiring issues, I came to understand why my life was rarely boring!

Diamonds are Forever

Check this boy to girl transformation on the Cyrsti's Condo big screen: