Life Turns on a Dime - Part 11

Many times I think some think HRT is some sort of an end to a journey when in fact, it is just the start of one of the biggest journeys of ones life. A Mtf Gender transition of course is one of the most difficult jobs one can take on.

One of the first hurdles I faced and still do to an extent, was what to do with this full head of glorious hair I had been blessed with. Very early, my daughter gave me a birthday present for a visit to her hair salon, something I truthfully still can't afford on my meager salary. I can tell you the experience was heavenly and I can see why cis women want to go as much as they do. Outside of looks of course.

And then, there was the whole matter of feminine socialization. I had to learn the hard way what it was like to live 24/7 as a woman with many of my problems coming from other women. Playing in the "girl's sandbox" taught me in a hurry not to let a smiling face hide a knife lurking behind a back.

Plus restrooms (as I have written) were a tender spot for me, having been "talked to" by the cops a couple times back in the days previous to all we read today, about restroom problems.

It's difficult to write much concerning socialization because everyone has to go through it their own way. Some has to do with whom you happen to be doing it with - if anyone, which was pretty much the case with me. Even to the point of brain washing myself into not believing I still had to play like I was still a boy or even macho man.

As much as you might think I am painting a pessimistic picture here, I'm not. The results for me were totally worth it to the point of wondering why I waited so long to transgender transition.  So HRT was just another beginning for me.

As it turns out, society was beginning to catch up with the LGBT community and make our lives so much easier.

Timing is Everything

Or lack of it.

I wrote a week or so ago about my new glasses I am awaiting. The glasses could come any day now-or any week now for the next couple.

The reason I am extra anxious to see them (no pun intended) is to try them with my new hair color. Having written that, my new color is just an updated version of my old color (without the gray) the color itself is a very dark auburn. I still plan on trying to update a couple of pictures with the "new look".

All of this really needs to happen by the end of the month when Liz and I are going to an artists show we were invited to and a "Writer in Residence" program I would like to attend at the Cincinnati Public Library.

For both occasions I have updated my business cards to plug my book "Stiletto's on Thin Ice."

I even have a new dress I have been saving back for the artist's show and Valentines Day I haven't worn yet.

Tomorrow is another trip to my Trans veteran therapist which usually is always interesting when a get to meet in person the receptionists who insist on mis-gendering me on the phone. You would thing after all this time they would get it right.

The folks who did get it right this weekend were my daughter's family and in laws who have always accepted me with open arms.

So all in all life is rolling by!

Life Turns on a Dime - Part Ten

This post could have been called "My life turned on a patch."...Or- when I began taking  HRT meds.

My meds were pretty straight forward, a dose of estrogen coupled with a dose of "Spiro" to cut back my testosterone. I am writing a separate post on the subject because of the far reaching effects it had on me.

First of all, I have never been a proponent of anyone taking the HRT route without a doctors supervision. I have seen a few transgender women who tried and got out of control and it hurt them...badly.

Also, HRT is not a cure all for what ails a trans person. What it did for me was round out and soften my skin, grew my hair and created a whole new view of the world. Results may vary, but somehow the colors and smells around me became sharper and of course I began to grow breasts.

Of course two powerful memories come back to me. The first time I sat and cried for no real reason and my first set of hot flashes. I thought I was going to internally combust and looked around to see if anyone else was on fire. The hot flashes passed on pretty quick, sort of how the many times I tear up for seemingly small things.

So, HRT proved to be as powerful an impact on me that I thought it would and being the drama queen I am, I opted to start on New Years Eve four years ago on a very minimum dosage. Knowing full well any health complications could get my meds taken away. Which did happen for about six months.

The whole HRT process is similar to the chicken and the egg story (which came first). Of course the hormones didn't come first. I was always transgender. The meds just gave me a better way to express it.

Cyrsti's Condo Weekend "Archive Post"

Thursday, September 25, 2014

It's All in the Eyes?

Continuing on my last post about those pesky lesbians jamming my "trans-dar"- I brought up the question, "How does one know the difference when a lesbian does cross the border into transgender territory. Well, of course, one normally doesn't but of course I have formed a few opinions the hard way.

First of all, I am not the definitive resource on lesbians but have found out a number of factoids over the last few years. First of all, they are very possessive within their culture.  I have be invited to several lesbian "mixers" with friends over the years.  One of the first lessons I learned was, if my friend's perceived a woman they were interested in had a partner there-that was it. Look but don't touch.

Of course, after I calmed down about being there at all, I became interested about how I was perceived. I took for granted, that for the most part, all of the "mixers" knew I was transgender.  Truly, I never had to worry.  No one was mean, most ignored me but then again a few did approached me.  Once I was even asked if "I belonged to my friend I as with."  So I never did really encounter the "Terf" hate from radical lesbians which is so prominently written about-there. 

Possibly, I did though on two other occasions from two butch's who jammed my "trans-dar."  One came from the eyes of the woman I told you about in the last post with her husband and the other, from a very, very, very, butch in a gay venue I go to. As I was talking to her partner one night.   If looks could kill, I would have been a goner-twice!So, I assume even though both looked as if they could be transitioning, they weren't.

Now, if you switch gears to the transgender men I know, and the few I have met-their eyes are softer.  So for some reason, I don't threaten them.  The ironic part is, if I hadn't been told ahead of time, I wouldn't have known at all they were trans men.

What's happening here? Has the introduction of mean old testosterone into the Ftm men's lives helped to mold a kinder, multi layered man?  After all, we are so quick to toot our own horns about being some sort of "hybrid" gender, perhaps the Ftm's are more so? Even the trans men at the symposium I went to said not being raised in similar strict rigid gender boxes the boys were subjected to, helped them later to transition.

At the least, interesting "theories", at the best, I'm just happy I'm still alive to write about it!!!!

Life Turns on a Dime - Part Nine

This post I could have called turned on a quarter because of what happened.

As I wrote before, I was pretty well freed up to finally choose a feminine transgender path if I wanted one.  As I was seemingly taking my good old sweet time, the sun, the moon and the stars parted and showed me the way.

It was about this time the Veterans Administration announced it would cover HRT treatment for transgender veterans if I was approved and I went for it by signing up for a round of therapy. Also around this time my group of friends was showing me down a feminine path, more than they ever realized and finally I was close enough to take early Social Security retirement at the age of 63. So I could be freed up not to try to transition on a job.

So one night I was sitting by myself and the blinding realization came to me this was a golden opportunity to fulfill basically was a lifelong dream-to be a girl. And, all of a sudden the weight of tons of guilt fell from my shoulders and a murky path was clear.

Besides just living the feminine experience as a trans woman instead of a cross dresser, hormones were to make a tremendous difference for me.

This is where my story gets a little tender, because I don't belittle crossdressers at all or even trans girls who are not on HRT. Because I know at my age, I know I am but one health condition away from going off my hormones.

But to me, estrogen was going to make an almost immediate positive impact on my life and one my friends would notice.

So much so, it deserves it's own post.

Cyrsti's Condo "Archive Post"

I picked this old post because it fits in with our "Dime" posts: from 2013:

Monday, December 16, 2013

Problem?

Two ladies commented on the Cyrsti's Condo "Sunday Edition Post".  "Billie" commented the evening must have been wonderful, but asked where was the "problem" I mentioned.
The "problem" was simply one of "habit".  As I struggled to learn more and more of what this feminine life is really all about, it was tough.  Of course, the whole process of dressing yourself, moving correctly and interacting with the public was tough enough.  As difficult though, was having to accomplish the task in "bits and pieces".  I resorted to one to three days a week living as much feminine life as I could.  Naturally, I would lose much of what I learned when I lived as a guy again then started all over.

My problem now is, I have flashbacks to those days.  The rare times from my past when everything seemed to be "working" and I felt good as a woman, I really began to relax, enjoy myself and invariably slip back into male habits.  I had to constantly remind myself of which gender role I was occupying at the time.

I found myself "reminding myself" of the same habits at the party.  The problem is the process really disrupts me being me.  I know I'm relatively outgoing and I enjoy the process more as a woman.  For the most part, men still don't migrate towards me but women do and I enjoy the interaction.  Women of course are naturally curious and want to learn more about what makes me tick so the process works well.

The "problem" becomes when I start "thinking" about the process. When and if any of my male past slips through to my personality, so what?  He has been part of me for so long.  The transgender mix which defines me makes me what I am.

The incredible process I'm going through now, of course is tipping my gender scales more to the feminine side.  I should worry less and less about who I was but ironically now HRT has made worrying about less a bigger force in my life so worrying needlessly about problems such as this comes with the territory?

On a lighter side, Wendy commented about buying a bra as a guy and the register person calling for a "Wonder Bra" price check!  The ultimate in making an embarrassing situation worse!  Another little hint I learned yesterday was a bra made by the same company doesn't necessarily means it will fit the same!

Thanks ladies for the comments!

Life Turns on a Dime -Part Eight

I thought seriously about calling this post "The Slippery Slope." The time period covered is approximately 2007-2010 and is the time right after my wife passed away. Before we go any further, it is fair to note she somewhat supported my cross dressing desires but was dead set against any HRT or transgender moves.

Throughout my life I didn't have many male close friends and the three I did have about this time all passed away during the same time period. Plus I was coming ever closer to losing my business during the recession. So, I was left looking at a bleak social period in my life. To combat the abject loneliness I stepped up my visits to a couple of upscale sports bar/venues I was fast becoming a regular in.

During one of my visits, my regular bartender suggested I ought to meet her lesbian mother which turned out to be a friendship I have to this day. Then, on another night, another woman slid a note down the bar expressing her respect for me being me. I of course thanked her and another long term friendship was born.

Also during this time, I started to try several on line dating sites. Of which, most were dismal failures except the one I met Liz on around 2010-11. So slowly I was starting to rebuild my other life as a woman from the ashes of who I was. None of these people had ever seen or known me as a guy.

The slippery slope came as the three of them began to invite me to all their fun spots as the new me. Even a NFL Monday Night Football game! Finally I figured I had slid so far, these people had pushed me right off my gender cliff. Where is always where I wanted to go anyhow. I just didn't have the courage to do it.

Looking back now, the years were a whirlwind of learning. From learning the basics of using the women's room to dealing with men, almost all was new and exciting. There was one man in particular who treated me with respect and dignity (I enjoyed) among the rest who stood me up or expected me to dress them up. And then there was the experiences of going to lesbian mixers and being accepted (for the most part.) I went from being a "wing person" for one of my friends to being subjected to a giant/mean gender slur by a lesbian at another.

Undoubtedly, the most important part of falling off the cliff was the soft landing. Some of the padding was provided by my friends and other by my tough skin and willingness to learn. That is why I get so amused at those who think this transgender MtF transition process is so much fun or a walk in the park.

Coming up next, the doors open wide.

Thanks "Nat Geo"!

And thanks to all of you who have pointed out it's issue on gender which features a nine year old transgender girl on the cover.

The magazine has come along way and we need it as a respected counter balance to Brucelynn Jenner among others.

I think those of us of a "more mature" age still don't understand all the positive ramifications of a younger generation who see less gender in their world!

Regardless of what happens in the years ahead in Washington, some basics will never change such as when I went to Liz's company party the other night. Following the normal looks I get, everyone settled down and I had a great time and even met the wife of a fellow fledgling transgender person who is trying to find her way.

My only problems came when I was on the road all day and forgot to pack my backup makeup in my purse. I thought I could have presented better but then I always think that.

I would also like to thank Stana from Femulate who was kind enough to plug my book today. Stilettos on Thin Ice made it up to the top 6% of non fiction books on Amazon last week. And yes, book number two is still in the works.

Life Turns on a Dime - Part Seven

Time moved on and I found myself in the mid 1990's beginning one of the most difficult decades of my life for several different reasons.

To make many long stories short, during this time I was taking every possible opportunity to live my life as close to a woman as I could. Plus during this decade I was going to purge a year or so before my wife passed away. I grew a beard and ballooned to 275 pounds. Also, my Dad and three of my dearest friends were going to pass away and I was going to lose almost everything I worked so hard for during the recession.

Since I have jumped so far ahead, now let me back tract to a couple key events I have written about here in the blog during the past which gave me the courage to move on in the feminine world.

Since I became relatively secure in my abilities to negotiate the world in certain "safe" spots such as clothing and book stores, I felt it was time to spend an evening as close to being a woman as I could. Could I go stealth?

I chose an upscale restaurant bar for my trial because running a similar operation was what I did for a living. I knew once I made it past the hostesses, I would have a fairly easy trip to the bar where a group of professional women gathered after work for a drink most nights. I hoped if I dressed the part I could fit right in...sort of. That is if I could breathe because I was sooooo scared.

The five minutes or so I spent in the parking lot gathering my confidence seemed like five hours before I pulled up my big girl panties and went in. As suspected the hostess gave me the once over and asked if I needed a table and I said no "I was only there for a cocktail" and she directed me to the bar which had a couple big wooden posts on each end. Fortunately, there was a seat open near one, so I could do my "wood" impression blended in,  swept back my long blonde hair and ordered a drink. If indeed the bartender knew anything was amiss I don't know to this day but I was served, ordered another, tipped well and left. As I finally began to breathe again, I knew the night was something I wanted to do again and again.

The evening emboldened me to try to go to other similar places. Some of which I was successful and others not so much, mainly because of having to use the women's restroom. Along the way, I got kicked out of one place, had the cops called on me twice and got screamed at once. Through it all though I knew I had to keep on trying.

The biggest lesson I learned was I needed to adopt one similar style and stick with it. Or, quit being a blonde one night, redhead a couple nights later and a curly brunette a couple nights after that. In essence I was building an exterior image to fit my evolving interior.

Unfortunately, my extra curricular activities brought me more and more into possible contact with my wife.  One night after she caught me out again, we had yet another giant fight which led to me taking a whole bottle of one of my meds which luckily didn't kill me. I knew then the only way to stop the lying and sneaking around (which I considered cheating) was to grow a beard.

I'm proud at least I did because a year and half later she would be gone. Passing away from an unexpected heart attack after 25 years of marriage.

Coming up in the next series of "Dime" posts...what's next...or getting pushed down the slope.