Jeepers Creeps II

Received plenty of response to my Jeepers Creepers post yesterday in Cyrsti's Condo. To refresh your memory the post was about a guy who was making me feel very uneasy at a restaurant the other night.

The first from Jeni: "I'm coming up with a different scenario.
The guy hates trans, and was staring at you, not sure if you were trans or not.
If he had made up his mind that you were trans, then trans hate crime murder jumps to the top of the list for outcomes."

Geeze I hope not!

The second from Mandy: "I hope the creep didn't follow you...I suspect I might have driven to the nearest police station."

Mandy, even though Liz wasn't watching to see if he followed, I was!!!!

The third from Connie: "I was shopping in a Wallgreen's one night, and a guy (unsuccessfully) tried to be discreet as he followed me around the store. I, of course, carefully ignored him. I wasn't about to leave the store until he was long gone, but he remained long after I had gathered my products for purchase. I decided to stop in front of the "incontinence" display (surely, that would make me appear to be unattractive, so I thought). He showed himself at the end of the isle, though, stared at me for a half-a-minute, and then approached me.

"You're so beautiful, blah blah blah," he said. With a half-smile, I thanked him and then picked up a package of Depends, pretend to examine it. "I don't usually do this kind of thing, but I was wondering if I could buy you a drink," I heard from behind me. Without looking at him, I politely said "No, thank you," and moved down the aisle away from him. He followed me, keeping some distance, and I could tell he wasn't ready to take "No" for an answer. Before he could say any more, I turned around - still with the Depends in my hand - and said, "I've really got to get home now!" I don't know if he understood that maybe I was having a crisis situation, but he did stop following me. 

Then, I began stalking him, just to make sure he was leaving the store. I watched him as he went to the check-out counter to ask for a bottle of cheap whiskey. Was that what he meant by buying me a drink, I thought. Did he expect me to go out in the alley and share swigs with him before he got me drunk enough to give in to him? He was creepy enough that I thought he might have even been turned on by my expressed incontinence, and maybe he'd even like to be peed on. Anyway, the threat was over when I watched him leave with his bottle, crossing the busy street to a safe-enough distance so that I could get to my car parked in the lot. During my drive home, I came up with a better answer to his advances. I should have said that my husband was waiting for me in the car, and that he was probably already getting his temper up because I had been so long in the store. That's what I'll say next time, and it's a matter of "when", not "if", that it will.

BTW, I left the Depends on the counter; they were only a prop! The whole experience was worthy of peeing my pants, though - both out of fear and anger."

That's scary!

I always operate out of the possibility most guys know I am transgender and go from there. Plus, I am really fortunate these days to nearly never be alone much which gives me strength in numbers of course.

In a future post, I will have to pass along a few stories from the Witch's Balls I attended here in Cincinnati. Nothing dangerous because most witches don't have balls :) just fun interaction with a couple men.

Building Walls?

At the risk of erroneously lumping topics into one of interest. I have mentioned over the past week or so of being found by an accepting old friend. Obviously, all of that was good until I covered the subject again of not going to my 50th high school class reunion this year. My feelings have always been if they (classmates) didn't particularly want to see me then-why now? And, their are damn few I still want to see, let alone be some sort of center of attraction. For the wrong reasons.

As far as building walls, Connie wrote: "I understand the idea of distancing, and taking advantage of making a clean break. I had to move to another city just at the end of my junior year in high school. My plan was to not only leave everything and everybody behind, but also to be careful not to develop any close relationships in my new environment. It was my one and only purge, as I had also decided to break off with myself - insofar as my gender identity was concerned. 

Although my suppression of self lasted for seventeen years, my vow to avoid close relationships ended only four months later, on September 23, 1968 (I can still remember the exact place and situation, too), the day I met the girl to whom I would later be married. As it relates to my internal battle of suppression, it was the power of testosterone and social convention over my female brain to which I caved. Also, I just wanted to be loved by someone, and I could not see that happening had I been whatever I was trying so hard not to be.

I sometimes wonder where I'd be had I stuck with my original plan, but as badly as I've messed up lives of those I love over the past three decades, at least there is still some kind of love that has survived. As for the rest of the people from my past, the ones I managed to keep a safe distance from, I really don't care too much who they might think me to be today. For them, and with them, there was little investment in the first place."

Thanks again Connie for your insight!

"Jeepers-Creepers"

Every now and then I get a dose of heavy feminine reality. Friday night, Liz and I went out to eat at a slightly upscale family dining restaurant. Very rarely do I feel good about the way I look as a transgender woman, but I did Friday. Clothes, make-up, hair all seemed to be working together.

Let me say though, in no way will I ever consider myself to be a beauty queen candidate in this lifetime.

The place we went to had a small soup and salad bar which I ordered with a fish sandwich on rye. I am not Catholic, but seemingly almost everyone else in Cincinnati is and there are several good fish sandwiches available this time of year.

At any rate, I went to the soup bar for some corn chowder when out of the corner of my eye, I caught this creepy guy staring at me. I didn't think much of it and went back to sit down and eat my soup. Before my meal came, I went back to the "bar" for some salad items to eat with my sandwich and there he was again-staring.

By this time I was thinking I was his vision of loveliness or he was into trans women. Either way, I was beginning to feel more than a little creeped out. So I went back to the table and told Liz. We had a little chuckle and went on eating.

Finally, I figured he would be gone and I went back up to get some fruit for dessert, but no, he was still there and still fixated on me.

As we got up to pay our bill and leave, I noticed so did he. Plus he just happened to sit in his car until we left the restaurant.

I told Liz I had a stalker and wasn't kidding. He made me feel really uneasy as he was bigger than me and didn't seem to be all there (if you know what I mean.) Liz merely said relax we are leaving and obviously I attract only top shelf men (Haha!).

The moral or immoral to the story is, we have to learn again and again to develop a feminine sixth sense to keep us safe. No matter where we go anymore.

In the Backseat of my Ol' 63.

On FB recently, someone posted a picture of a very nice 1963 Black Chevy Impala with the comment "Have you ever sat in one of these?"

In fact, back in the day, many more than one. My Dad of all people had the nicest one I had ever seen. A Gunmetal Blue Super Sport convertible. Which by the way was off limits for my brother and I to drive.

In later years, I acquired another less impressive Impala whose back seat served as a weak drive in training ground for my teen aged girlfriends. Over the years, I wonder what the girls thought and more importantly what it would have been like to switch places with them. Along the way, I thought my awkward moves may have sent a couple of them to the lesbian side of the ledger.

Regardless a few of them allowed us to "cuddle" in the back seat, away from those pesky bucket seats and gear shift handle. Although, if the girl was sitting too close, sometimes you could be "sly" and touch a little leg when your hand "accidentally" slipped off the shift knob. I am sure through all of this the girls knew exactly what was going to happen. Although similar to a cheap adventure show, no one was sure when or what was going to happen.

My only two car claim to fame's came when I bought a 67 GTO (used) and a 63 Cadillac Hearse (used) to drive a short distance back a forth to college. Obviously, gas for both was much cheaper back in the day. The Hearse of course was some sort of a chick magnet...or the opposite. I ended up selling the GTO when I went away to the Army and blew the head gaskets out of the Hearse and junked it.

I wish I could say I had this wonderful sexual mosaic to write about, but I just don't. I think I had too much respect for women and put them too high on pedestals to think about what I was doing. Regardless of my conquests, I ended up moving on or being someone's possible best friend.

Of course it all came to an end when I had to take off three years for the Army's fun and games. At that time I made a real effort to have a clean slate and not have any "girlfriends" when I left. Looking back now, I think I was distancing myself from others because of my gender dysphoria.  The fewer people I had to tell in the future the better.

Fortunately, I have no way of even seeing or contacting those girls of so long ago. The only way would be my 50th year high school reunion this year. Which I am not going to.

We will get to why, in a later post.

No Pressure Here?

Well, once again yesterday, I experienced a major malfunction with my lap top which has all sorts of far reaching implications. In fact yesterday's post was completed on another computer.

As luck would have it and I really don't know why (knock on wood) so far we are up and running today. Under pressure to complete another post before the bottom can

fall out. Sometimes I don't know how I could feel much pressure after Mtf transitioning. After all, could there be any more pressure packed feelings than venturing out in the world as a member of the opposite gender?

I guess pressure is what you make of it though. It is like my trips to the auto repair center which positively drive me up a wall. The same wall as my name is probably written on there. For example, the last time my car was picked up, Liz went in to get it and barely had enough time to get my name out before the guy behind the counter did.

Most certainly, at the least, people remember me. Good I hope! I am positive I have never had a drink with the guy before :).

Perhaps we transgender women are similar to athletes in that we grow into, or even thrive on pressure. It drives us on to better presentations.

As far as pressure goes, I am going to wrap this post up while I can!

Here's Waving at 'Ya' Kid!

I keep thinking after all this time of Mtf gender transitioning, all the nuances would be lost on me, but fortunately they are not.

Last night for example, after I washed by hair, I lightly brushed it out wet rather than applying mousse and letting it dry. I found what it got me were long waves instead of tighter curls which I could pick out with a "pick".

This morning when I woke up, I was amazed at the results. I guess it doesn't take much to get my attention. Or, as Connie said "Oh! You girls and your hair." The proof to me though will be if I can keep it a couple days before the waves go out as it is almost time for another coloring.

It's always about this time in my hair cycle when I see what women see in the value of wigs and weaves to keep bad hair days down to a minimum.

The picture I have added was taken with a wig which matched my natural hair color.

While I think when I was able to wear my own hair was an enlightening point in my transition. Sometimes I miss my wigs from "back in the day."

LGBT Privilege?

Privilege? We haven't discussed it for awhile here in Cyrsti's Condo, so pull up a chair and have a seat.

Lets take for granted you were raised as a boy. What privilege did you feel over your girl counterparts? First of all, how do you define privilege? I define it as something you enjoy (or don't) over another person. For example, I was raised in a solid white middle class family. Once you get to that point, you can begin to make a true "apples to apples" comparison.

If you read my posts much, you all know I was thrust into a loving sports existence which kept me "safe" from prying folks for years. After all, how could a football player want to wear a dress and miss out on the adulation of playing? No one ever considered I really wanted to be a cheerleader. Ironically, the grass always looks a little greener on the other side of the privilege pasture because it wasn't till much later in life I experienced true female on female competition. Which can be as intense (or more so) than men.

Then, I thought if I could just wear pretty dresses to school everyday, how much better life would be if the boys were looking at me and asking me out. I had just the slightest concept of how frustrating it must be to try to pick out and afford all those clothes, then wait for a suitable boy to ask me out.

My biggest privilege misconception was that girls had no pressure. Back in those days, for the most part, the girl held all the sexual keys. And if they screwed up, no pun intended, they paid the big time price of having a child without the help of a immature guy.


I guess the true equalizer where I lived was scholastic. Both girls and boys were encouraged to achieve. And, as I remember, there was no insult to get "beaten out" by a girl.

So, as I look back on it, privilege was a pretty shallow animal until I became older. At that point, just achieving a certain age and look earned you the "Sir" title. Women at the same time ended up earning less money and less respect along the way. I distinctly remember the first couple of conversations I had with men. I was naive and shocked when I received a total lack of respect. Privilege then became a very big deal, tipped to the male side.

Finally, there is security privilege or the right to go where you want to, when you want to. Of course women have tremendous problems in this area, cis or trans. It was one of the biggest danger hurdles I had to face and cross.

It seems, for the most part, privilege is what we make of it, within reason. Each gender has it's ups and downs. The problems come when we try to see and negotiate the differences.

Just Exactly What Does it Mean to Me?

Not long ago I ran a post and picture of the most recent winner of the famous Thai beauty contest. I had several of you respond with (I paraphrase) that's nice, but what does it mean to me? Well, of course not much and that's why I entitled the post "Eye Candy."

In the comment section of the post, Connie and I began a brief give and take about the subject and the famous (infamous) area of Thailand where the contest is held yearly. She said: "From the article: "The contest, in its 12th year, was held at the Tiffany's nightclub in the Thai seaside town of Pattaya, which is famous for its transvestite cabaret. Like other beauty pageants, contestants paraded in national costumes, evening gowns and swimsuits." 

Transvestite cabarets and parading around are two things that do not make me feel like I am being accepted by society - not how I want to be, anyway."

As luck would have it, I passed through (no pun intended) the little seaside town of "Pattaya" when it was dominated by a big B-52 AFB over forty years ago. Back then, Thailand did have it's share of "lady-boy" bars and "girls" working the streets but then again there were the "Kathoey's" as defined by Wickopedia:

Nong Tum, internationally recognized Thai Kathoey kick boxer. 

"Kathoey or katoey (Thai: กะเทย; rtgs: Kathoei  [kàtʰɤːj]) is a Thai term that refers to either a transgender woman or an effeminate gay male in Thailand. A significant number of Thais perceive kathoeys as belonging to a third gender, including many kathoeys themselves, while others see them as either a kind of man or a kind of woman.^[1] However, when considering transgender women (MtF) as a group in Thai society, most refer to themselves as phuying (Thai: ผู้หญิง "women"), with a minority referring to themselves as phuying praphet song (a "second kind of woman") and only very few referring to themselves as kathoey.^[2] Related phrases include phet thi sam (Thai: เพศที่สาม, "third gender"), and sao praphet song or phu ying praphet song (Thai: สาวประเภทสอง, ผู้หญิงประเภทสอง— both meaning "second-type female"). The word kathoey is of Khmer origin.^[3] It is most often rendered as ladyboy or lady boy in English conversation with Thais and this latter expression has become popular across Southeast Asia.

It was in Thailand when I first was exposed to the concept of a "third gender."

My only point is. while the glamour queens get all the press (per norm) there are plenty of everyday Thai transgender women struggling to make it in society. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

What Goes Around-Comes Around

"RALEIGH, N.C. (AP) — North Carolina's former governor says he's had trouble finding a job, even part-time teaching positions, because of backlash from legislation he signed involving transgender rights.

Pat McCrory said in a recent podcast with God's World Publications in Asheville that some potential employers are reluctant to hire him.

The ex-governor told The News & Observer of Raleigh (http://bit.ly/2mIhZh7) Monday he's doing consulting and advisory board work but some universities are reluctant to hire him amid fears of student protests.

The law he signed last year struck down local nondiscrimination ordinances and required transgender people to use public bathrooms matching the gender on their birth certificates. The backlash prompted cancellation of some sporting events and concerts in North Carolina."

For more, go here