Following the somewhat frenetic holiday period, things are settling down around here.
Tomorrow though, Liz and I are spending Sunday with our social group participating in what amounts to a spiritual retreat of sorts. I was looking forward to it totally until I found out my former nemesis was going to be there. You may recall the one I referred to as the "Prodder", she wouldn't stay out of my space.
After I began to think about her, I felt I shouldn't be so negative, she reminds me quite a bit of my Mother. FYI, my Mom passed away years ago and was not supportive of my transgender self. So I never had any inkling at all at how a real "mother/daughter" relationship would be. I was never one of the fortunate ones whose Mom's somewhat supported my feminine side.
In fact, the more I think about it, our interaction about my hair (for example) would be exactly what my Mom would say. If you recall, I am letting my hair return to it's natural shade, before we decide to color it again. The "Prodder" pulled no punches as she attacked my soft gray roots, as opposed to silver gray hair which I am against having too. In a couple more months, I will have the chance to choose any color from a soft brown to a blond. It will be worth the wait.
As far as "Mom" went, the last time she saw me my final vestiges of red hair were fading, Plus, I was stepping out of a 35 mile per hour wind/ rainstorm and admittedly my hair didn't look it's best. You can bet tomorrow, I will not forget to bring along a spare brush to "tidy up" my hair before I face her. No pun intended. Although, she will just have to get over my "roots!"
As far as her continual touching goes, I am going to try to separate myself from her as much as possible.
I wonder if she would mind if I called her Mom?
OK, I'll admit that this outfit might have been something from my cross dressing wardrobe of old, but I felt quite confident in my presentation as the woman I am. The 5" heels put me at six-feet, two-inches, but my overall look was proportional, and I don't really feel self-conscious about my height anymore.
Needing to do a little grocery shopping, I thought about ending my dress-up fun, and to change into my regular jeans-look. Seeing the sun shining outside my window, though, I was reminded what had prompted me to choose the outfit in the first place. So, off I went to the grocery store.
As I entered the store, I noticed that I had caught the eye of a middle-age man at the far end of the checkout stands. As I walked toward the shopping carts, he left his wife at the stand to walk toward me. There was a seasonal display to my right (Valentine's Day already?!?), which I diverted my attention toward, so as not to have to confront this man. He stopped, though, right in front of the carts, so I was forced to face him after a few awkward seconds. He looked me straight in the eye, and in a slow and deliberate manner said, "M'am-You-are-(uh-oh, I thought; here it comes)-a-very---MONUMENTAL WOMAN." Since I'd never heard that one before, I was a bit taken aback, and I'm sure that my cheeks turned a color far beyond pastel. "Monumental, well thank you (I think)," I sheepishly answered. As he walked away toward the door, his wife was passing me with her groceries. She was much shorter than her six-foot husband, and so even much more short than I, and she looked up at me with the biggest smile on her face, telling me to have a wonderful day.
I'm still not sure what the man meant by "monumental," but it was followed by "woman," and that's good enough for me! At any rate, I've decided that the weather should not have to dictate what I wear, necessarily, and that it feels good to climb out of the rut once in a while. Changing up our wardrobe choices is one of the privileges we women have; something we may often forget in our day-to-day lives. We do have the power to brighten our own day!"