The Point of No Return

 Yesterday was one of the days I was scheduled to change my synthetic Estrogen patches. Every now and then I pause to remember all the changes I have gone through over the years. 

I usually hesitate to write about the HRT process because hormone replacement therapy is such a unique topic. In other words, it can vary so much between individuals. Age, dosage and current physical condition all factor in. HRT is certainly not for everyone and should not be undertaken without the help of a medical professional. As I set my usual disclaimer aside, it's time to describe my own personal hormonal gender journey for those of you who may be considering it. 

At the very beginning, I can only describe myself as a very serious cross dresser. I normally tried to sooth my extreme gender dysphoria by dressing as a woman two or even three times a week. Through all of it deep down I knew living with feet in both of the binary genders was never going to be a long term solution to my gender questions .I also knew adding synthetic estrogen to my body was going to be my next logical step towards rebuilding my life as a novice transgender woman.

Before I did I had to be checked out by a family doctor who I heard of through the grapevine. He was   a LGBT friendly physician in the Dayton, Ohio area. By this time, my wife had passed away and I was free to take what gender action I wanted to transition or not. Of course you know that I did and the appointment was made. 

Photo Courtesy: During my CD days
Jessie Hart

The doctor's visit itself was very straight forward and simple. He asked me if I knew my breasts would grow along with my hair and my sex drive would for the most part go away. When I accepted all those possibilities, he wrote me the magical prescription I had long dreamed of. The meds were pills with synthetic estrogen along with a med which would decrease my testosterone. By mutual agreement, we decided to begin my HRT on a very minimum dosage to determine how my body would react. Happily, I had no adverse reactions and was given a slightly higher dosage. All in all, I was still impatient for all the feminizing changes I was expecting. I could feel my breasts starting to change and I never had a problem growing hair, so I wanted more.

More would come. This time compliments of the Veteran's Administration. At this time, I was experiencing severe financial problems and had lost my regular health insurance. I desperately needed the health care the VA offered. For the most part, free to me for my service in the military. To continue my hormone replacement therapy with the VA, I had to go back through the process of seeing a doctor, including a therapist. I was fortunate in that the therapist who was assigned to me had a basis of knowledge of transgender and/or gender dysphoric individuals. She promptly wrote me a letter of acceptance and it was up to me to do the rest. 

I did have a bump in the road when the VA hospital I was a patient of did not have an endocrinologist to monitor my meds. It took awhile but I finally received approval to see an Endo doc outside of the Va which they would pay for. Once I got used to seeing him, I was able to move back into the VA system for monitoring until I was diagnosed with a liver problem and again was taken off my hormones. 

The liver problem was conquered and I was allowed to resume my HRT. The good news was I was able to increase my dosages and change to patches to save extra wear and tear on my liver. 

The increased dosage began the changes I had longed hope for. My face began to soften along with my skin. Body hair started to thin (except for my beard) and my breasts really started to grow. All of those changes couldn't compare with my inner changes. I will never forget my first hot flash when I was sitting in a sports bar sipping on a beer. I was sure I was going to internally combust! Then, there were the tears. During my male life, I rarely, if at all ever cried. Now I can cry over bad and good things. What a change.

As I look back, I still consider hormone replacement therapy was the second of several major gender transitions I went through.  Just when I thought there were only two transitions, I found myself going through another. 

More on that later in another post.

Transgender Validation?

 Over the years and especially in the very beginning, I worked very hard to achieve my validation as a transgender woman. Or, better yet, being validated as a woman at all. To arrive at where I desperately wanted to be, I had to go through many steps...literally.  My example is was when I would practice walking femininely when I perceived I was reasonably alone in larger venues such as big box stores. Even though I was fairly certain I was not being observed, I am sure I probably made a security person's night on occasion. Regardless, I was obsessed with all things feminine. 

My obsession's of course led me into all sorts of clothes and fashion accessories. Money became the biggest concern before and after my wife's death. Before she passed away, I saved all the change and extra money I could to sneak out and shop for new clothes which I was certain would enable me to become the desirable feminine person of my dreams. I became very good at shopping discount racks at stores and going to thrift stores hunting for bargains. The mirrors in more than a few of these stores became my instant friend, for better or for worse. Another example was a powder blue wool coat I fell madly in love with at a certain  coat warehouse store. I went back so many times to try it on I am surprised I didn't get asked to leave. Sadly, I was never able to afford the coat.

Once I was able to afford a few cherished articles of feminine attire, I had to decide how "cherished" they really were and where I was going to hide them from my wife at home, It took me awhile to gather up the courage to use the women's dressing room, so even though I was getting better at sizes, it was still basically taking chances on which clothing's sizes would actually fit. What I mean is, one company's large would be another companies' medium. Plus, I had to go through my "teen girl" years when I tried to wear everything too short or too tight. It was no way to be validated anywhere but in the mirror which was lying to me. 

Now, lets get back to where I could actually put the items I purchased. Fortunately we lived in a big two story 1860's brick I was restoring, so we had plenty of storage space in out of the way closets. Closets that for some reason my wife never looked in. If she had, I am sure all hell would have broken loose if she had discovered the short, flirty tennis outfit I had put together to wear to the mall. All in all I think I probably ended up with three storage closets for my ever increasing wardrobe. 

Photo Courtesy
Jessie Hart

Looking back, I suppose all my obsession with women's fashion was a natural progression in my search for validation as a novice transgender woman. Today, I am more utilitarian in my approach to fashion. With the condition of my ankles there is no way I can wear heels of any height. So my charcoal boots with the one inch heel is the best I can do. The boots go well with my leggings, jeans and sweaters. Now with spring and summer approaching of course I have to shift wardrobe gears back to my collections of tank tops, t-shirts and blouses. I also have two soft maxi dresses which I adore. I save them for the hot summer months. 

 For me, a large part of my transgender validation now comes from the fact my breasts, hair and hips are all mine, From hormone replacement therapy of course. 

I still believe the tipping point for me in my validation came when I discovered I should be dressing for other women, not men. By doing so, I could blend in much easier with society and be accepted. Once I reached that point, my life as a novice transgender woman became clearer. 

Being human (I think) the fascinating part of all of this comes from the fact we are all different. More and more I am learning about couples staying together as one of them transitions. Yet, there are so many others who are forced to face the task of crossing the gender border to play in the sandbox  by themselves. Thus the points of validating your transgender self can be a highly fluid process. 

It's too bad the path to transgender validation can't be easier and more enjoyable. Not one of the most difficult journeys a human can take. 

Side Chick?

For years I have thought of the many times I went out into a feminine world to explore the possibility of living full time as a transgender woman. The more I did it, the more natural it became. In essense I learned fairly quickly I could exist in a feminine world. 

After my wife passed away and I started hormone replacement therapy, I became very lonely. To battle being alone, I essentially did what I called going out to be alone. Because I rarely interacted in the beginning with anyone until I began to form a whole new circle of friends. As I look back, I found I needed a better way to express what I was doing. 

Finally I came up with this blinding reality. I was slowing becoming my own "side chick." Unfortunately  for me it all starred when my wife was still alive. During all the nights I was out and about cross dressed as a woman when she was still at work. Those were the days when my self esteem as a man was at an all time low due to all the lying I was doing to her when at the same time my self esteem as a novice transgender woman was growing by leaps and bounds. All in all, it was a process I couldn't maintain. Living life with a foot in each of the binary genders was killing me. 

Becoming my own "side chick" definitely came with it's own set of ups and downs. I started the process by going to so called "safe" places such as predominately male gay venues. I found out quickly I wasn't really accepted there either. Plus I didn't like the music much anyhow. At that point I began to seek out two of the smaller lesbian bars which were relatively close to me. At one of them, they hated me but at the other I was accepted and had several interesting experiences. Which I will save for another post.

From the lesbian venues, I began to pull up my big girl panties by going to two of the big sports bars I used to frequent as a guy. All proceeded well as I slowly began to know several of the bartenders and or servers who looked out for me. The problem was I was a single woman in a venue which normally attracted many men. Many times, the trick I used to act like I was expecting company was to pull out my cell phone as if I was going to have a call. 

Even though being my own "side chick" was working for me, nothing could help when my wife passed away. Naturally I was very lonely and had pretty much been a social person for most of my life. Destiny was about to work in my direction and rescue me. The first big happening occurred when one of the bartenders I knew asked me if I would like to have a casual drink with her single mother. It all worked out very well and we remain friends to this day and I think of her daily. 

The second major meetup happened when another woman came into the sports bar to pick up a carryout order and slid me a note down the bar. The three of us used to get together at least once a week and even attended several lesbian mixers together.  Good times!

Photo Courtesy
Jessie Hart

By now, perhaps you regulars (thank you!) are maybe wondering where my partner Liz entered the picture with me. During this time also, I was still sorting all the trash I was receiving from several so called dating sites. I did have a couple quality dates when men but overall the selections were very slim. What did happen was Liz answered my "ad" saying I had sad eyes. In fact, I think I still have the "sad eyes" picture to share from ten years ago. We started corresponding and talking and I ended up moving in with her in Cincinnati.

As I look back on my "side chick " days the memories are certainly bittersweet. They were times of extremely terrifying yet exciting experiences as I was discovering all my authentic gender self had to offer.

Rest in peace side chick...hello real world. 

Monumental Woman

 This comment comes from Connie when I referred to her post about being called a "monumental woman"

"Being a “Monumental Woman” should be embraced. When the man in the grocery store called me that, I wasn’t, immediately, sure what he meant by it. It seemed to have been presented as a compliment, although it bordered on being a bit inappropriate. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean that I strikingly resembled the Statue of Liberty, or that my face should be carved into the wall of Mt. Rushmore. Nevertheless, it did give cause for some self-reflection.

Photo Courtesy :
Connie Malone

For most of my life, living as a man, I was barely noticed at all. There was nothing about me that would cause heads to turn when I entered a room, anyway. Even during those years when I was pumping the weights to make my body large and rock-hard, there was nothing monumental about me. I’ll admit that there was some euphoria experienced when I flexed my 17” biceps, but it would always end up giving way to my gender dysphoria at some point. The whole effort was only a form of self-imposed conversion therapy, after all. As physically painful as it was when I decimated a rotator cuff, it was a relief to have it be an excuse for putting an end to my body building. *By the way, I had shoulder surgery at the same time a friend underwent gender reassignment surgery, and she recovered two months before I did.

I’m not very tall, really – 5’9”. When I wear heels, they are at least 3 ½”, because I think the shoes look better with a higher heel, considering the ratio to the length of a size 11 shoe. I have a few pairs that are 5”, but they’re for special occasions. So, in heels, I’m over 6 feet tall. That’s still not so very tall for a woman, but when I’m out with my wife I tower over her. She’s 5’2” tall and wears size 4 clothing. I usually check to see what height heels she’s wearing before we go out together. While she tells me that the height difference does not matter to her, I don’t feel like I need to make it any more apparent than it already is.

No matter where I go, or what the height of my heels are, I practice the same posture that my mother taught me. I hold my head high. When I walk into a room these days, I expect to be noticed. It’s not that I expect to be put on a pedestal like Lady Liberty, although I quite enjoy the liberty to be a statuesque lady (so to speak)."

Interesting! Thanks :)

It's Your Day Too!

 Since it is International Woman's Day, it's a great time to recognize it is for all women. The day includes out transgender women plus all of you who still are trapped in your gender closets.

I am sure there are many cis women who may disagree but I am completely biased when I say I consider myself a woman to be reckoned with. After all I spent all those years as I lived a lie living with toxic masculinity. Cis women weren't born women, they were born female. It's a major difference. The socialization aspect of growing into gender roles is the deciding factor.

In fact, our growth into women has been complicated by factors such just living in the feminine world. The first lesson I had to learn was looks weren't everything...communication was. And, to complicate matters even further, I had none of the feedback cis women have on clothes and makeup growing up. I experienced plenty of growing pains.  In my own way I grew up with makeup, I just had no one to tell when I looked like a clown.

Don't forget you have as much of right as anyone to claim the title of woman. I know in my sense, I always felt so natural being in the feminine world. On the other hand, just staying competitive in the male world was always a struggle. It was especially difficult to give up my male privilege's because I had worked so hard to get them. Along the way, I was fortunate to work in an industry where women were starting to succeed so I could see and hopefully understand what they went through. 

What I don't understand is why some cis women don't want to allow us access to the "womyn only spaces" When we worked so hard to get there. Isn't the idea of the more the merrier relevant instead of the outmoded idea of we are just feminized men trying once again to somehow invade their rights.  

I agree too with Stana of the Femulate blog that the future is feminine. Hopefully, less toxic masculinity in the world can lead to fewer instances of tragic wars like we are seeing in the Ukraine right now. 

I need to stress one more time how International Women's Day impacts all of us in the transgender spectrum. Even those of you who are attempting to open your gender door and live as your authentic self. When it does happen for you (and it will), together we can make the world a better place to be. 

Gender Euphoria

 Sadly, I don't have the occasion to write about "gender euphoria" very often. Most of the time I am dealing with the opposite...gender dysphoria. The dysphoria runs deep with me and has been around in my noggin since early childhood. During that time I learned the hard way not to trust the mirror. In other words the mirror was telling me I was a convincing feminine person when in fact the public was telling me something quite different. Every time I was able to build up a little confidence in myself, it would all come crashing down in an instant for whatever negative reason.

Now, since the threat of Covid has declined and Liz and I are able to barely afford to go out and eat, I have had to step up my feminine game again. So to speak. 

Friday I had the chance when quite unexpectedly Liz asked me If I wanted to go out and eat at a nearby Mexican restaurant where we could eat good food and enjoy a margarita. Most certainly I said yes and immediately started planning what I was going to wear. I ended up choosing an over the hip rather form fitting soft sweater and decided upon my dark blue leggings and boots since the weather hadn't changed for the better yet. 

For once I went overboard and added a pair of dangling earrings with a matching crystal pendent necklace I bought last summer. I pulled my hair back, put on eye makeup with a little lipstick and was ready to go. 

I was really ready to go and I thought I looked kind of nice. As "they" say, confidence is a woman's best accessory. I needed it. When we arrived at the venue, it was packed with all types of couples and families. We waited approximately fifteen minutes to be seated  and waited for our margaritas. Of course we were seated clear across the restaurant from the hostess stand so I had to walk through the entire place seemingly with every eye upon me.

Photo Credit:
J.J Hart

My confidence kicked in though and I did my best to stand up tall and do my version of a feminine "glide". It all must have worked because as far as I could tell, outside of a few glances from male customers all went well. Even to the point of our male server calling us "ladies" everytime he checked back on our order.

Through it all and afterwards, I tried to explain to Liz how good it felt to be accepted as my authentic feminine self . Of course before I could celebrate my victory we had to pay and walk the same route out of the place. It was still completely full and I had to try out my appearance on another set of people. Again I was a success, no one so much as glanced and when they did, they quickly looked away when I glanced back at their direction.

I believe much of the male attention I received always comes from the fact of my size. Even with my diet I am what Connie was called, "A monumental woman." There is nothing I can do about it so I just need to accept it and move on. 

Days later, the euphoria of reaching a goal I have dreamed of for so many years still is with me. Maybe this time I won't have to wait so long to reinforce my euphoria before the mirror comes along and says it's just the same old you again. But through diet and skin care, the mirror is wrong. My face has slimmed out and of course HRT has smoothed my skin and somehow rounded the contours of my face. I certainly am not the same old me. The mirror and the rest of me needs to get used to it! 

No Cure for the Transgender Person

 Most of us learn the hard way there is no easy cure for our gender issues. Marriage, kids and the military are a few of the most common so called "cures" Of course we all found out adding the responsibilities of a spouse and/or family just complicated our lives. Here is a comment I received from Sara:

Photo Source
Sara

" I wish I had known more back before the pre internet days! Like getting married WOULD NOT CURE ME! I wouldn't have put the wife and kids through all tis mess, mine comes from the fact that my mom was given something to stop the many miscarriages she had, or something went wrong/right and here I am today, or was it something else?" 

Thanks Sara! I felt the same way even though my two wives knew of my cross dressing desires. The difference was though no one, including me understood my feminine desires went far beyond the occasional desire to put on a dress. 

Sara also refers to the DES drug which was given to Mother's with history of problem pregnancies. Although I can't prove it, I believe my Mother took the medication which flooded the uterus with extra estrogen.  

As far as the military went, I would have never served except when I was drafted into the Army. I just didn't understand how I would ever adjust to being away from my feminine self for three long years. Adjust I did though and was rewarded more than I could ever say. I can't write enough how my daughters support helped me over the years. 

Over the years also, along with the advent of the "information" age, an amazing amount of information is available to help spouses who need it with extra help dealing with a difficult gender transition. This week I encountered both sides of spouses who accepted (or not) their spouses desire to cross the gender border. The first I experienced came on a very sad post from Kira on how she was giving up after ten years of rejection from her spouse. Sadly she was going back to her male life. Mainly after her wife's threats to "out" her to her work and friends. 

On the other side though came a very nice/inspirational comment from Anne: "I am going to share your courageous story with my husband. He/she has been cross dressing since age 12. Looking and feeling feminine was very important but always controversial when parents or siblings discovered cross dressing activities. During Covid my husband has finally felt safe enough to dress as a female at home and occasionally in public away from our community.

He also started over the counter feminizing supplements and herbs last year with some positive results. He is undergoing M2F counseling before formally beginning the HRT protocols.

Your writings are very helpful for both of us as my husband proceeds further."

Thanks to you Anne! I already responded praising her positive response. It is so sad many transgender individuals never have had a chance to take advantage of such a positive outlook from a spouse. Anne also brought up a good point when she pointed out her spouse was seeking professional counseling before undergoing HRT. It's very important to do so!

A transition is never easy and the only cure for crossing the gender border is realizing you have no real choice. For whatever reason. Just accepting your desires and yourself is a giant part of the solution. As I think back to when I finally decided to start hormone replacement therapy (HRT) and begin my femininizing process, I felt a huge weight off my shoulders.

I was on the way to my cure.  

More Transgender Survivor

As I promised, here is the second part of my "Survivor" post in which I went into detail how I survived growing up trans into my college years.

Photo by Denny Ryanto on
Unsplash

Since I have written in depth concerning my three years in the military, I am mostly going to go past the time in my life except to write how much I missed cross dressing during those days. I believe I spent the greatest majority of my free time day dreaming of being feminine again.

When I was discharged I made arrangements to meet my first wife after she was discharged approximately six months after I was. She knew I was a cross dresser and/or a transvestite so that part of my life was temporarily not a problem.  Little did I know, big changes were on their way which had nothing to do with my gender dysphoria. In a relatively short period of time, my daughter was on her way and my life would change for the better, forever. To this day she accepts me completely and has led the way to me being accepted by my three grandkids plus her in laws. Along the way she more than has made up for the lack of support I received from the last remaining member of my family, my brother.

During the earliest years of her life, my gender activities were largely restricted to Halloween adventures which were highly satisfying but all too short. Nearly all the activities proved were yes I could be seen in public and it felt so natural. I just had to figure out how to expand my time as a feminine person. Around this time also, I was stepping up my activities with friends in nearby Columbus, Ohio. One of which in particular gave me all of their feminine supplies when they "retired" and purged themselves from the group. Except for a love/hate relationship with one of the organizers who went on to have genital realignment surgery. Overall, I learned quite a bit from this diverse group who included everyone from the occasional lesbian all the way to several impossibly feminine people who were still deciding on their own gender paths. 

In many ways I was in the same situation. By this time my first wife and I dissolved our marriage and I moved on to my second wife. Before we became serious though, I let her know too I was a cross dresser. As the years progressed she remained fine with that but she never accepted me being transgender. This set in motion an on again, off again battle between us for twenty five years. Over time I have written about some of the battles when she told me to be "Man enough to be a woman."

Through it all, I was working on doing just that. Of course I loved her completely and did my best to firmly keep a camp in both binary genders. By doing so it tore me up. So much so after breaking yet another promise not to leave the house as my authentic self, she caught me and the fight was on. This time though, I couldn't take it anymore and washed down a whole bottle of anti depressants with Jägermeister.  As my therapist later told me all it would do to me was make me lethargic not kill me.

As you regulars mostly know, she got the last laugh on me by passing away at the age of fifty from a massive heart attack. Naturally, I was devastated but all of a sudden I was free to pursue my ultimate dream of crossing the gender border and living fulltime as a transgender woman.  By doing so proved to me once again how much I still had to learn.

All of this brings me to a group of women I write about consistently who took me in when I was lost and desperately lonely. Plus the all important support from my daughter. Between all of them and my partner of ten years Liz, I was able to learn the basics of creating a new person in a gender I always could just dream of becoming.

Thanks to all of them I survived and the wait was worth it.

Transgender Survivor

 It could be argued we all are transgender survivors. Even if you are not trans but are the ally of one. Crossing the gender border is not for the faint of heart. 

When I think back at all the error and trial I went through as I negotiated a gender transition, I don't know if I would have attempted it at all. 

Perhaps the biggest problem I had was understanding my true gender. Sure I can use the excuse again of  being raised in the pre internet generation. I felt so alone all the time assuming I was the only boy in the world who wanted to be a girl. By crossdressing in the very few feminine clothes I could get my hands on, I was able to survive this part of my formative years. 

Photo Credit
JJ Hart

When I became a teen ager and beyond, I discovered I wasn't the only boy who wanted to be a girl. When I was fifteen and almost old enough to drive I used to hang out with a friend of mine who could drive. On many days we used to stop in at his aunt's small variety store for a bottle of pop and a chance to look at her collection of "racy" magazines. No porn but different. Similar to lower class Playboy magazines. Every once in awhile I was rewarded with an article featuring female impersonators. It was a rare occurrence but enough to show me there was another world out there where impossibly feminine men made their living as women. Mostly in far away cities such as New York and San Francisco. On the rare occasions I found such a magazine, it was impossible for me to buy it because of my friend and his aunt knowing me so well. 

The closest I ever came was finding out a group of softball players who played in drag would be visiting our Midwest city. As badly as I wanted to go, again there was no possible way I could give anyone any indication I wanted to. This continued into high school when even though there were no womanless beauty pageants for the boys,  some occasional drag would creep in mostly for laughs. Except for the occasional participant who was just a little too good. Through it all I managed to survive and make it into college without giving anyone a glimpse of my true self. 

During my first couple years in college the severe changes I was going through being away from home as well as being exposed to new people and ideas led me away from any cross dressing desires. For awhile that is. I ended up transferring back home to a nearby university where I graduated from. While I was back home I also graduated back into exploring my feminine self. It was during this time I really wished I was born female so I wouldn't have to worry about going away to fight in Vietnam. I have written many times on how I survived this time in my life and was rewarded with an interesting three years in the Army.

Following my three years, I entered one of the most active times of my life when it came to exploring my authentic self.  As my first issues of Transvestia magazine arrived I found myself to be within driving distance of several of their regional mixers. As I was able to attend, the whole experience opened up a whole new world to me. I had survived and made it this far. 

During these mixers I found a curious group of attendees who were neither cross dressers or transsexuals. They fit somewhere in between. They were to become known as transgender and they were me. It turned out the easy work was done when I realized where I fit on the gender spectrum. The hardest part was figuring out how I was going to survive it. A topic for another post.