Back in the Saddle

 The first big holiday and the official kick off for summer has happened and moved on. It was also Memorial Day which I believe is not celebrated for the right reasons by too many people in the United States. They are more concerned with having a good time, rather than remembering all of those who lost their lives in any of the seemingly endless wars we as a country become involved in. None of that matters to all of those who served and paid the ultimate sacrifice.

 Putting all of that behind us, summer is finally here around where I live in Southwest Ohio, Cincinnati, USA. On cue, the temperatures have risen and it's time to pull out all of my tank tops and T shirts out of my wardrobe and wear them again. Seasonal changes around here to me allow me one of the fun things of being a transgender woman. Back in the day when I was a cross dresser before I transitioned, I couldn't wait for certain seasons to roll around. Specifically fall when I could wear my leggings and sweaters. Back then I had considerably more to cover up. Examples would be my hairy arms and legs.

These days of course hormone replacement therapy has reduced my body hair to a fraction of what is was and my breasts are large enough to notice in a tank top or tee shirt. I am so fortunate to finally be able to tie my hair back in a long pony tail wear no makeup and take the dog for a walk. All those years of being so envious of other women are nearly totally in my past. One of first things I noticed about HRT was when my body's thermostat had changed. All of a sudden I felt colder than I ever felt before. Quickly I understood all the women I secretly made fun for being cold weren't kidding. Most certainly my new thermostat does help in the warmer months of summer time.

Yesterday, it all seemingly came together when my partner Liz and I were invited to her son's new apartment for supper. On the way over, we stopped at a convenience store to pick up beverages and ice cream. It was fun and satisfying to be referred to as "ladies" twice when we were in the store. Of course the men who called us "ladies" had no way of knowing how long and hard I had worked to earn that title.

Other than that, the weekend was very uneventful for us. I am still trying to build up my endurance to see if I can attempt the "Cincinnati Pride" pub crawl which returns this year following it's Covid hiatus of two years, It's coming up in approximately three weeks, so I still have a little time to work on it. 

In the meantime, I am attempting to change my walks around to not having to face the hot/humid weather we have right now. 

Memorial Day

 Once again here in the United States, Memorial Day rolls around . Memorial Day is meant to honor those who paid the ultimate sacrifice for their country.

Most of you regulars know , I am a transgender veteran. A fortunate one in that I survived a very ugly, unpopular and destructive conflict known as the Vietnam War. I have friends who didn't survive  or returned with psychical/mental scars which never healed. 

I always try to mention too, the inordinate amount of transgender veterans  who served in their closets while attempting to reclaim their masculine gender status. When I see the number of graves and crosses spotlighted in media news shows on Memorial Day, I wonder how many of them took their gender secrets with them to their graves. 

What really upsets me too are the number of people who see Memorial Day as just another day off to BBQ and not spend just a minute to remember those who served and lost their lives. 

Without them, we would all be lost.

When Nature Calls

 This was actually written in the summer of 2021:

"Amanda not so long ago wrote into my email describing a few of her experiences using the women's room when nature calls and she has to simply go to the bathroom.

She also asked for some of my experiences. First of all, I haven't used a man's restroom for over a decade now but my introduction into using the women's room wasn't an easy one. I have written before when I had the police called on me several times when all I was trying to do was relieve myself of excess beer. 

Looking back, realistically, I brought on most of the problems I had upon myself.  As I explored the feminine world in the early days, primarily I fell victim to ill fitting wigs which were poor fashion choices. Until I was able to grow my own hair, was I able to present more effectively as a woman. Which in turn enabled me to have my own female rest room "pass". No pun intended.

Other factors which helped me immensely were how I viewed and adapted myself to the new rest room etiquette I was being exposed to. I made sure I was neat and tidy as I took care of essential business even to the point of trying to duplicate the sound of women peeing in the toilet bowl as close as I could. Plus, just to make sure I was prepared years ago, I always carried a feminine hygiene product in my purse in case anyone asked to try me. 

The rest was relatively easy.  I had to learn to adjust my urges to the normally longer lines to the women's restrooms. Plus I had to learn to make eye contact and not be afraid to converse with other women in line. 

Finally, I had to make sure I quickly checked my hair and makeup as I always washed my hands and quickly (or efficiently) left and returned to my seat. To this day though, I still retain the scars of my early experiences in the rest rooms. I always check to see if anyone is going out of their way to stare at me or even glare. 

I must say though, along the way, similar to the rest of the transgender journey I have chosen, I have been exposed to a number of humorous or even surprising rest room experiences. The most interesting one was at a Cincinnati Pride

Picture from Pride
Photo Courtesy Jessie Hart

event a couple summers ago when one of the few free standing restrooms available was half closed due to a hornet infestation.  All the men were forced to use the women's room and the response was comical and classic as toilet paper was passed along the line. The most surprising experience I ever had was when I was at a concert one night and was waiting in the woman's room line. Once I finally made it close enough to the room itself, I observed a woman swinging from one of the stalls trying to break the lock off the door. My ideas of women respecting their restroom more than men was forever shattered. 

Overall, I think attitudes over restroom usage have definitely lightened up. Plus the number of gender neutral restrooms have increased.

Thanks Amanda for the question. "

Nothing much has changed concerning my "TPTSD" (Transgender PTSD) as far as I am concerned. I still harbor the scars from early in my male to female gender transition. During the period of time I had the police called on me and was even referred to as a pervert. Perhaps I will always suffer from those restroom scars. After all I am only trying to answer nature's call.

It's a Calling

 On Saturday mornings Liz and I normally watch the CBS morning news show. If you are not familiar, CBS wraps up the show with a musical act. This morning, I noticed the musician refer to her music as a calling of sorts. 

Of course very quickly my mind wondered to being transgender. When was I called to the transgender side of humanity.

My Gender was Calling
I wasn't Listening.
Photo Courtesy Jessie
Hart

Was it when I first heard the term in the late 1970's or early 80's, as I vaguely remember. Looking back I do know the terminology resonated with me. Maybe now I had found a label which described my gender dysphoria. I was discovering sadly once again I didn't fit once I began to explore the transvestite mixers I was beginning to attend. In other words, I knew I really didn't fit in with most of the cross dressers in the room and I wasn't ready to think of myself as a full fledged transsexual, as they were known in those days. These were the individuals who were prepared to change everything in their life to change their gender. It was recommended then people who went through a sex change undergo the surgery, then move away and start a completely new life. I was frustrated. I thought I was making huge strides towards understanding my 

gender issues but the end result was once again I was the round peg being pounded into a square hole. Ultimately, being transgender solved my label problem. 

Through all of the early years, the more I explored my gender roots, the more I knew I felt more natural in the feminine world as a transgender woman. More than ever I knew my gender calling was learning how to stop cross dressing as a man and live as my authentic self.

Of course if I was listening, there were plenty of other desperate calls from my authentic self. I can go all the way back when I was exploring my Mom's clothes and makeup as well as purchasing (then hiding) my own "collection." I did manage to learn my new, thrilling feminine image in the mirror was only a stop gap measure. My true calling was I was actually trying to be the girl. Not just wear the clothes which allowed me to look like one.

Over the many years, I tried to ignore my gender calling by pursuing  a frenetic life. Aided by moving all over, changing jobs and drinking way too much. Needless to say, none of my attempts worked. The more I tried to fight my urges to be a woman, the worse I felt. Even to the point of trying self harm several times.

These days I am selfish. I want all the time and energy returned to me that I wasted chasing a male existence which was foreign to me. 

Would of, should of, could of been listening to my true calling all those years. I was so stubborn, I just couldn't hear or face the truth of my true calling as a transgender woman. 

The Pedestal is Slippery

 A few days ago I wrote a post on the subject of transgender "de-transitioning." Shortly after I wrote it I began to worry if  I sounded too flippant about the subject. Even bordering on sounding if I was "being more transgender than you." Of course all of that would be the farthest from the truth.

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

My point is everyone's gender transition is different and it is not up to me to decide the level of difficulty, especially when it comes to the drastic move of de-transitioning. 

It's no secret rejection from family and friends plays a huge role in a smooth transition. In my case my parents had long since passed away, so I didn't have to worry about coming out to them. That left me with my only brother and my daughter as the only blood family I had left to reveal my authentic self to. Not many people compared to others I know. 

As most of you may know, my daughter turned out to be one of my biggest fans. She even treated me to a visit to her upscale beauty salon for my birthday when I came out to her. At the same time, my brother and sister in law were totally the opposite. At the time, it was near Thanksgiving which was the only holiday we still celebrated as a family. Out of respect to my brother I gave him the choice of me attending the family get together as my authentic self. After discussion on their part, they told me they preferred I didn't attend. Since then I have not spoken to him. Sadly it has been nearly ten years now. The problem with him is (as I see it) , he chose not to support me because he was afraid of all the negative feedback he would face from all of his right wing Southern Baptist in laws. 

As I look down from my pedestal I have a tendency to forget how incredibly fortunate  I was when my daughter's in laws supported me as did my partner Liz's family. As in any transgender situation it could have gone either way. 

This is an another example of coming out into a larger family. It comes from Connie:

"  When I decided I had to transition I had already been living a 90% out-existence. I had only been presenting as the father, grandfather, brother-in-law, and son-in-law at family get-togethers. My wife had come to accept me for who I was, and we each worked on our respective transitions. My mother and brother had passed away a year or so earlier, and then a beloved sister-in-law, to whom I had come out, died from a very painful bout with cancer. I put on the only suit and tie that I had, and I delivered the eulogy at her funeral Mass. The next day, I got rid of all of my men's clothing, and I proceeded to notify everyone in my family that I hereafter would be the woman that I was born to be. There was no way I was going to turn back at that point, and I've never even considered the possibility of doing so.

It was not easy transitioning with family. My wife is one of 13 children, and there are close to 150 extended family members. I think I've been seen by all of them by now, and I am accepted by most of them. After going through all of that, demonstrating my commitment to live as a woman, I would be more embarrassed and guilt-ridden should I detransition than I ever was about being a transgender woman in the first place.

Photo Compliments: Jessie Hart

Physically, I could detransition as fast as it would take me to get undressed and remove my wig to reveal my male pattern baldness. I have had no surgeries or HRT that would have caused changes to my body, so, given a few days to show a stubbly beard, I could easily pass as a man. I just wouldn't be one, though. I guess you could say I would be cross dressing as a man, but I would be doing it under duress (as opposed to when I used to cross dress under a dress).

As is a fear for you, I can't see how I would make it in a care facility. I would be completely exposed, shaving would not be as frequent or thorough as would be necessary, and wigs just don't hold up well when one is bedridden. Still, I would not detransition. I'm pretty sure I would find a way to end it, though. Until then, this girl is going to live it up!"

Speaking of  age, I think my pedestal  was easier to climb because I was older. I was to the point of my life (in my early sixties) when I was tired of  worrying about others thought of me. I can't forget also the world was slowly being educated to what a transgender woman or man was, 

One way or another, we all have our transgender pedestals to climb. The farther up we go the better we can see our futures as our authentic selves. I can only hope your climb is worth it. Mine was!

Connie, maybe we can get adjoining rooms.

She's a Doll! Literally

 The Laverne Cox Barbie is the fourth in the Tribute Collection that "celebrate visionaries for their incredible contributions, impact, and legacy as trailblazers." Cox is a four-time Emmy nominated actress, Emmy winning producer, and the first transgender woman of color to have a leading role on a scripted TV show.

Laverne Cox with her Barbie

De-Transition?

 This morning on a couple of my social media accounts, I noticed two transgender women thinking about reversing all the time and effort they had put into transitioning into the feminine world. To coin an old term, I was in "shock and awe" they would even consider such a move. 

Looking back I began to think of why I moved forward through the dark days of my own MtF gender transition. All the days I was stared at, laughed at and even singled out for pictures. I have written many times concerning the times I returned to the safety of my own home and collapsed on the bed in shame. Somehow, each time I was able to pull myself together and try to improve my feminine presentation.

Transition Picture
Jessie Hart

Through it all, I searched deeply internally for signs I was doing the right thing. The stakes were high. The possibility of losing family, friends and a great job was a huge burden. Surely, many times, the thought of going back to living exclusively as a male was a wonderful proposition. No matter how many times I tried to "purge" myself of my feminine clothes and makeup, in a short period of time I couldn't help replacing my "supply" and starting again. My over-riding thought was I would find the magical clothes and become so good at makeup I would become the beautiful, attractive feminine being I dreamed of being. Of course it never happened the way I dreamed it would be. The best I hoped for was I did become better at choosing better clothes and I did become proficient at applying my makeup. Even though I did receive help on occasion by being courageous and subjecting myself to a makeover at a transvestite mixer I attended. The makeover led to a magical evening on the town.

It was evenings such as the makeover night which led me through quite a few really dark times during my transition to the full time feminine world. Deep down I knew I could accomplish the easy part which was perfecting my appearance as a transgender woman. Later on, I was to discover the harder part was to learn all the layers to exist in the world. Life in the girl's sandbox for me provided several miserable outcomes until I learned how to play the game. 

During this time, as I was doing all my gender "soul searching" one thing kept me going towards my transition during the dark days. When all else failed, the fact remained I just felt more natural in the feminine world as a transgender woman. At the same time I was able to establish a fun, tight knit group of new friends who accepted me as my autunitic self. In a comparatively short period of time I was able to put any thoughts of cross dressing as a man behind me for good.

Unless you are the rare person who has tried a gender transition and found for whatever reason the whole exceedingly difficult process wasn't for you, I can't imagine going back. Life can't be much fun on a gender roller coaster like that.     

Bad Morning or a Karen?

 I have been taking the dog out for a walk every day, weather permitting. On the plus side, our walks seem to be helping my health immensely. During the times we walk, normally there are very few people we

"Un Karen" Photo
Courtesy Jessie Hart

encounter. I have to be careful to clean up after the dog because every morning he has to take a constitutional in someone's yard. I always I careful to bring a bag along to clean up so I don't aggravate any neighbors. 

This morning I encountered a middle aged woman who lives a couple houses down the street from Liz and I. She was talking to another neighbor as the dog and I approached and by the time we reached them, they moved apart and the woman in question approached us on the sidewalk. 

I always make it a point to try to be the first to speak to a neighbor and I did this morning to her. When I did, she looked right through me and said nothing. 

Of course I immediately thought of two things. Maybe she is a "Karen" who resents anything different existing in  "her" neighborhood. If I am nothing else, I am different. If she knows I am transgender, maybe she will have to try to explain it to the two daughters she has. Along the way recently the girl has stopped Liz and I to pet our dog. 

Yet another factor I always have to consider when or if we encounter a bigoted "Karen" is Liz and I have never been shy about holding hands in public. Maybe "Karen" doesn't like lesbians holding hands in public either. 

Who knows? Maybe I am just over reacting and she was just having a bad day. When I always run into situations such as this, one of the things I have to tell myself is it is not all about me. Maybe some other dog poohed  in her yard or world. Maybe she is concerned also that a family of color has moved into her comfortable white privileged world. 

One of these mornings I am just going to ask her. Until that time, I will make sure I am the first to speak. 

The Power of being Impatient

 I don't see myself as a patient person, even though I am mellowing with age and understand many things happen if you are patient enough to wait. An example I can use is the time I spent in the Army. Looking back on the entire experience, it only took three years out of my life and in return I was able to see three continents. Most importantly I can thank my Army contacts for my beloved daughter. Who is my only child. 

Looking back I can remember how I counted the days until I "served" my time and was honorably discharged. Through it all in the back of my mind were my noticeable (to me) gender issues. I can safely say my issues dominated my thinking. The problem back in those days in the 1970's there was precious little information concerning transgender issues at all. Even the term "transgender" was new. According to Wikipedia transgender became a umbrella term in the mid 1970's.  Regardless, I was desperate to learn more about my gender issues. My impatience caused me to try to outrun my issues. Leading to moving my wife and I several times along me changing jobs numerous times. Due to self destructive behavior impatience caused me to flirt with alcoholism. 

Photo Courtesy Jessie Hart

During the years I was able to redirect my gender frustrations into being able to carve a nice career in the commercial food management business. On the other hand I wish I could reclaim the energy I lost to wanting to become a transgender woman and manage to do it on a full time basis. No such luck and along the way again I overcompensated as a macho male. Heavily into sports and drinking. It worked too well. Except on a few occasions when I was cross dressed as a man and someone would refer to me as a "she" I passed as a guy well. Testosterone over the years had served me well...against my deepest wishes.

I found for me, the most effective way to overcome the effects of testosterone on my body was to begin hormone replacement therapy when I was in my early sixties. As I began the therapy, I was aware a few of the changes would occur over a short term of time but overall, I would have to be patient and wait for other changes. Also age and health was a factor in my medical decision to begin HRT. Fortunately I was cleared medically and I was able (as I saw it) to begin my gender transition from cross dresser to transgender woman. Later on I came to realize switching my hormone balance to the feminine side would aid in my exterior presentation to the world but no matter what I still was transgender. No amount of patience or hormones could change that. In other words, I was correct in assuming mentally I was a girl. 

Having written all of that, I am still extremely impatient when it comes to my hormone replacement therapy. I finally was able to find out my estradiol levels this week, so it is possible I may be in for a slight increase in dosage. On the other hand, I am aware breast size is determined not so much by the amount of hormones but by hereditary history. Also, since all of the sudden I am experiencing growth in my hips, I probably will stay on the Estradiol dosage I am on and not risk any negative health situations.

For once I am going to have to put my impatience behind me.