No Fun

 My partner Liz asked me the other day not to write anymore when it ceased to be fun. I’m sure anyone who has ever attempted to write a daily blog will tell you there are so many times when writing is the last thing I really wanted to do. Definitely not what I would call fun. So, you may ask why to I keep doing it. 

The easy answer is the great majority of days  I do enjoy writing, which I separate from fun. An example would be back in the day when I first started exploring wearing my Mom’s clothes then began using my meager funds to buy select items of makeup and/or clothes on my own. It all was so exciting and fun but all too soon it wore off. Looking back at it now, it was the first milestone in my life when I should have known my gender issues were far from being just wanting to wear feminine clothes. I wish I had realized there was so much more to just looking like a girl…I wanted to be one. As the fun began to wane, a sense of satisfaction set in when I thought I had achieved a certain level of excellence when I adored myself in the mirror. 

As the years went by, I learned an even more important lesson. Not only did I enjoy the feminine world I was increasingly enjoying, the lesson was how natural the whole process felt.

Maybe writing is the same way. I started this blog hoping to help others dealing with their similar transgender issues. At the time, of course I had no idea that over ten years later I would still be writing as many times as I do. Along the way I have managed over 6000 posts and I wonder how I can come up with different things to write about. I enjoy blaming my friend Connie for the whole blogging adventure when we shared experiences with each other about our feminine lives on another transgender – cross dresser web site. I wish I could bring back a few of the exchanges she had with a few of the other participants who we ended up calling “trans-Nazi’s”   They were the ones who felt they were better than you because they had more operations to prove their femininity. In today’s world, they would be the bigots who want to point out they are more transgender than you. Many just for the reason they started to transition earlier than you did.

Maybe there was very little fun along the way because crossing the gender frontier is such a deadly serious journey. Often at stake are families, jobs and friends. Very few of us also are lucky get through the process unscathed.

Whatever the process has been for you, I hope you have managed have a little fun along the way. The same is true for my writing. Even though certain days it is not easy to write and I hope I don’t recount the same experiences from my past very often. The problem is many of the happenings are tied together similar to a huge collage of my life.

Thanks for being along.
 

There is a World Out There

Amazingly, my partner Liz got off of work at the right time. A time which gave us plenty of chance to get ready and actually could go to one of the cross dresser – transgender socials which have literally been scheduled for years. 

I was surprised Liz wanted to go because  of the ongoing Covid threat and the fact the temperatures were in the teens (F). But she did, I jumped at the opportunity to get out of the house. Plus we have both been fully vaccinated and even had our boosters. So, I was excited! Two days in a row out of the house. 

After I found out I was going out, then I had to figure out what I was going to wear. I went with my normal fuzzy green scalloped sweater which extends down over my newly forming hips and in addition, is very warm. I wore the sweater with my black leggings and charcoal gray boots. After adding a light layer of eye makeup and lipstick, I brushed back and clipped my hair and was ready to go. 

Once we arrived, the “group” turned out to be just two other transgender women. Without being too blunt, the two women had social skills which was great.  Of course much of the conversation revolved around the coming out process and family Since most of my family (Liz) was there, it was easy to refer to her as being the main reason my MtF gender transition was as easy as it was. 

Along the way we also chatted about the influence our families had once we had come out. It turns out most all of us had lost a significant number of persons in our life (to death) and had a clean slate to start all over again. As Liz puts it, rarely does a human being have a chance at a “do over” so don’t screw it up.  

Ironically, one of the other trans women who came has a transgender sister. It turned out also, all had accepting children  and the only person who had a parent who was still alive was accepting too. 

The nice thing about having a small group to me was the communication was better and I could even hear everyone at the table. 

It turned out also I ordered the Meatloaf not knowing the musical artist of the same name had passed away. Now I can eat a wonderful cold meatloaf sandwich in his honor.

Hopefully, it won’t be as long again until we can get out of the house again as I enjoyed last night so much. Plus it was good to be around transgender women who all had positive stories. Perhaps the world out there is changing for the best. 

When a Plan Comes Together

On exceedingly rare occasions when I get up in the morning and look in the mirror it screams woman. Most of the time though, the opposite is true. In fact what I think is not printable. 

Yesterday was one of those rare days when the mirror said, I was doing the right things in the gender department to live easily in a feminine world. Of course I was dubious because the mirror has lied so many times to me in the past.

Plus, recently I have been so secluded from the world. who would know anyhow?  Because he was vaccinated Liz’s son had a mild case of the Covid virus and came out of it fine. So after he served his time in quarantine, he was finally free to buy another car. That’s where I came in. Since he hadn’t much knowledge in the car buying world, Liz wanted me to go with him. As much as I am far from being a used car expert, I’m not sure I wanted to go at all. 

To make a long story short, I went and with no pressure (ha) agreed with Liz’s son the car would be OK to purchase. I also was pleasantly surprised when the gruff looking man who sold him the car was nice to me. Maybe the mirror didn’t lie to me after all. Maybe I had reached gender nirvana and I could finally take the trans out of my trans woman description. I know what you are thinking and I agree. He was being nice because he wanted to sell the car. 

In the end run, it didn’t matter. The car was purchased and I had escaped yet another gender meeting I preferred not to do unscathed. Someday I will learn men in that kind of situation have a tendency to ignore women anyhow. Unless they want something. I hate to think I would be taken advantage of though. Just because of my gender. Just one of the problems of losing male privileges’. Or don’t try to “mansplain” to me why a car “works”. 

 Whatever it was, the guy gave me a shy wave and a grin . I hope all he saw was a woman  accompanying her son on a car buying adventure.

Who knows? The guy at the car place got his money, Liz’s son got his car and in a off the wall way I got my chance to again conquer the world as a woman. 

Maybe I should relax and take mansplaining as yet another step I have to negotiate the feminine world. On the other hand, the whole process infuriates me as it negates  much of my life’s experiences. What would my mirror say? Very simply, this is what you asked for and worked so long to achieve. And, as I was told so long ago, there was so much more to a woman’s life than being the “pretty pretty princess.”

Sometimes a plan comes together and it does work. 

Spilled Estrogen and Health

Along the way here in Cyrsti’s Condo, I enjoy reading other experiences from other transgender women who share a similar age to me. Five (at least) are transgender veterans and it seems I am learning of more trans vets daily. By reading their comments, what the typical person doesn’t realize I think is the wide range of care you can receive in various Veterans Administration Hospitals. 

Photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabonao on Unsplash

Also, trans persons in my age range (65-70 plus) go through being an educational experiment. Meaning, we are educating our medical providers about the needs of transgender patients. As it has turned out, I have been on both sides of becoming a self care provider.  I do think over the years, more and more medical professionals are being educated to us. When I look back at my experiences mostly at the Dayton, Ohio VA center, they have many residents from nearby universities following around my regular doctors. I always take it as a good sign when a young college aged professional has the opportunity to see a transgender woman such as me be cared for. 

Unfortunately I know all haven’t been able to  have the same beneficial experiences. I know I am mostly speaking to the choir here but imagine if you have to fight through personal and or  religious discrimination to even receive quality transgender care such as hormone replacement therapy. Which studies have proven to be mentally helpful to the mental health of so many gender dysphoric individuals. Alternatives such as Equitas Health are proving to be life saving medical providers for the LGBTQ community if you are lucky enough to live near one of their offices in the Midwestern United States.

Now, let’s go back to another major service the VA provides for transgender veterans…mental health care. Again, from the comments I receive, the care a vet receives varies widely from VA center to center. As I have previously written my original therapist at the VA has been with me all the way and has been completely sympathetic and proactive to my needs. Of course HRT meds come to mind but there was so much more such as providing paperwork to help with name and gender changes within and out of the system. 

Plus, even though I had to educate my initial endocrinologists, my current “Endo” is also a wonderful provider who monitors and takes care of my needs. 

Through all of this, I hoped I would be the rule, not the exception. But from many of the comments I receive I am afraid I am not. it is too late to cry over spilled estrogen when you are 72. Sure, such as many of you I wish I had worked my way out of cross dressing and into a transgender life much earlier than I did. It seemed my gender crystal ball was a bit cloudy and the life I so meticulously built and protected as a man was too good to give up. 

I hope your journey across the gender frontier has brought you to where you want to be. No matter the years it took you to get there and the experiences you had with your health care.

Another View

The more I write about or feature other comments concerning attending sporting events as a transgender woman here on the blog, the more ideas I receive. Which is wonderful. The latest comes from Paula who puts together the Paula ‘s Place Blog:

Pride Photo Courtesy Paula

“Here in the UK the crowds at different sports have very different characters. ON Saturday I watched my old Rugby club win an important league game, I may have caused a little confusion but everyone was very accepting and friendly, 

I recently watched an professional American Football game at Wembley, this is a vast stadium, but was very far from full, there was a great atmosphere, and everyone was happy chatting to their neighbours (I was surprised how little time they actually spent playing football though). 

At a Cricket match I think much depends where you sit, I usually manage a seat in the clubhouse as my Brother is a member of our County Club. On the other hand there is no way on God’s earth that you would get me to go to a pro football (soccer) game. The crowds there are tribally partisan, and within the game there are still major problems with racism and homophobia, I just wouldn’t risk it.”

Self admittedly, I am not very familiar with Cricket or even Rugby but I do know enough about the European brand of pro soccer to very much agree. In fact. a few of the major sports bars feature the matches when they happen to time up correctly. Regardless, I can understand your point. 

Way back in the day during my novice transgender trips into the world. I stood the chance of being harassed when I would go to watch the games. Mainly if I tried to use the women’s rest room. Which I always did anyhow. Of course all of that began to change when I started to build up my own circle of women friends who were happy to watch the games with me. There is nothing as protective as a supportive group around you. I always point out too they were lesbians so there was very little outside interaction with men at all. It all taught me I didn’t need male validation to confirm my femininity. I was able to build my own personality doing what I liked in a circle of women. Since I had always struggled to establish close bonds with other men anyhow as I was attempting to exist as a man, the entire process felt so natural and at times easy. 

Thank you Paula for the insight to sporting events in the UK. Yes it is true how little time a football team uses to actually play the game. After all they have to sell commercials.

If you are considering a gender change and you love sports, I would encourage you to do it. Just be aware of your surroundings and venue. An untimely police visit can ruin your evening. Been there, done it.

Togethernss and the Bat Girl

 Last night the Cincinnati Bengals did win their first professional football playoff win in 31 years. Predictably, it wasn’t easy and not without it’s controversy. If you watched the game and wondered what the “Who Dey” fuss was all about, as Connie did, “Who Dey” comes from the Cincinnati version of “Who Dey think is gonna beat those Bengals.” With all due respect to the folks in New Orleans who use “Who Dat”, it’s our own special brand of cheering.

Along the way I have received several comments concerning my sports posts which in a way have surprised me since this is a blog about transgender women. I guess it shouldn’t  because many transgender women resorted to sports early in their lives to fight their gender urges. Plus, as Jaron commented on Medium “Does sports bring people together?” I would say for the most part yes. Of course there are exceptions such as regional rivalries such as when The Ohio State Buckeyes play that state up north. It is in bad taste to even mention them if you are a true fan. 

Also I need to share Connie’s post concerning one of her visit’s to a professional baseball game in Seattle:

Photo Courtesy Connie Malone

 “Baseball games have to be the worst for the nervous trans woman. Three hours, sitting with the same people surrounding you, is about the same amount of time as for a football game. The difference is that baseball is so much slower, and it allows more time for people watching (people watching me is what I used to feel). Football games have a totally different vibe, and there’s so much more action on the field that nobody is really paying much attention to the other fans. 

I did make the giant screen at a Mariners game once, though, when I snagged a foul ball in a not-so-lady-like fashion. The ball had bounced off the stairs, and it was coming right at me. A guy figured he could jump in front of me, but I pushed him off and grabbed the ball over the top of him. I was full of both pride and embarrassment for the next hour. At least, I didn’t lose my wig in the process. lol”

I went to many many games over the years and never had the opportunity to try to catch a foul ball and when I started to go as a transgender woman the pattern continued. Plus, when I went (with one of my lesbian friends) she acted much more masculine than I was (naturally) so in the nearly empty stands, the Cincinnati Reds were terrible we had plenty of room to spread out. Protecting our beer was more important than catching a baseball anyhow. 

I am surprised the Mariners didn’t make Connie an honorary “bat girl”. No cheap shots! 

It’s Playoff Time

As I have written about previously, football is a big deal around here  Statewide people are fans of The Ohio State Buckeyes while here in Cincinnati, this year was a big year for the Cincinnati Bearcats who made it to the college football playoffs and the professional Cincinnati Bengals who have one of the youngest teams in this years NFL playoffs. 

Photo by Dave Adamson on Unsplash

All of this brings me to a long ago evening when I was invited as my authentic self to attend a NFL Monday Night Football game with friends. Even though I was shocked at the invitation, I hitched up my big girl panties and said yes. 

Of course saying yes was the easiest thing I could do. Then I had to figure out what I was going to wear and immediately what I was going to do about rest room usage. Keep in mind this all happened a couple decades ago when I was very much a novice at navigating the world as a transgender woman. I envisioned being called out at every turn for being a cross dresser. 

Back in those days also, I was still wearing wigs. I needed to take care to wear one wig which my hosts had seen me in the most. I chose one plus one of my Bengals jerseys. To be sure not so feminine but it would be worn under my jacket anyhow. 

All too soon, it was game time and we were making the hours drive to the game. Once we arrived and unsavory as it was, I decided to stop and use one of the parking lot portable toilets. Quickly I took care of business adjusted my wig and hoped for the best. 

My first test came as we approached the stadium and needed to be “checked in” by a security person before they took our tickets. For some reason, I was comforted when I was checked in by another woman. It helped when she smiled and told me she hoped I enjoyed the game because I was close to being in total panic mode. Somehow I maintained as we stopped for a adult beverage and made our way to our seats. As we sat down, the stadium was still filling up so I couldn’t get a read on who was going to be sitting close to us. The last thing I needed was a redneck fan sitting next to or close to me . My impostor transgender syndrome was in full swing. I felt insecure enough when the television field camera seemed to stop and focus on me. Finally I managed to stop all the paranoia and enjoy the game. 

Sadly but predictably, my team lost and the person who invited me along won. So I had to put up with a little abuse but overall the game went off fine. I didn’t get “clocked” as a man in women’s clothes and outside of a few glances nothing happened. I even braved the long line to the women’s room and again took care of business in a better environment than the portable toilet in the parking lot. 

The whole experience was totally amazing and I still remain in contact with the woman and her daughter who invited me. Even more amazing was the fact they accepted me so totally as my authentic self. 

I owe them so much more than I can ever say and you might ask how did I meet them. The daughter was a bartender in a sports bar venue I became a regular in as I started to explore the feminine world. She would eventually introduce me to her Mom. The rest as they say, is history. So the whole meetup was sheer destiny,  

You may also ask if I have ever been back to another game. The answer is no not football but yes I have been to professional baseball games. The biggest reason now is not because I am transgender, It is because of my increasingly poor mobility. I am starting the process to securing a handicap  brochure and since Liz wants to go to her first The Ohio State Buckeye football game next year, maybe we will be able to do it.

In the meantime…GO Cincinnati Bengals!

Sports Crazy

 Recently I wrote a post called “Baggage” which questioned my desire to bring my love of sports with me as I transitioned into my life as a full time transgender woman. To make a long story or post short I concluded I could because as I looked around I discovered many other cis women who follow sports. I was thrilled when I found several other women friends who I could share a game in a sports bar with, along with a beer (or two, or three…) 

Photo courtesy of Paula

I also received a couple of other comments from regular readers who shared their sporting experiences. The first is from Paula in the UK:

“My sporting passion is Rugby, I used to play before there was a women’s game, so when I start pontificating about a game I often get the “what do you know about it anyway” attitude from guys. Sometimes I fail to resist the temptation to tell them I played in the front row for nearly 30 years!

I’ve only been to a couple of big games since transitioning, one of the joys is these are at least one of the rare occasions when I’m not the one queuing up for the loo!”The second comes from Connie :

“I’ve not changed my lifestyle much, at all, since the onset of my transition. I enjoy sports, just as I always have, and I’m not ashamed of sharing my sports knowledge with anybody. There are plenty of women who know more than I do, so I don’t feel any less feminine for sharing what I know. I do, however, usually refrain from adding my war stories from playing high school football to the discussion (even if they might be perceived to be first-hand expertise on the subject at hand). I don’t enter into these discussions in a competitive way, as I might have done in the past. I’m so relieved that I’m not expected to prove myself on such matters these days.

Photo Courtesy Connie Malone

My wife had grown to enjoy sports over the years, and so we continue to watch football and baseball together. I’ve even enjoyed watching figure skating with her without feigning disinterest (as I used to do). I always get a little chuckle, recalling my official “coming out” to her:

My dysphoria had gotten the best of me, and I’d reached the point of finding my male life intolerable. I had locked myself in my basement office for two full days, and my wife had had enough of it. She left the house that Saturday morning, and, having heard her go out the door, I felt it safe to come out from hiding. The letter she’d left for me on the kitchen counter was an ultimatum, and I knew that I had to finally confront her. She knew what I had been doing (cross dressing), but she didn’t understand anything about it (I can tell you that explaining the X’s and O’s of football is easier than explaining the XX and XY of gender identity). So, I responded to her letter with a short note stating that I could only be completely honest with her, and that I had to do so as the woman she’d never seen or met. I then went about the business of cleaning myself up as preparation for her return home (she hadn’t taken the large suitcase, so I knew she’d be back before the weekend was over).

When my wife came home on Sunday afternoon, I was in the bathroom finishing my makeup. After she’d read my note, she asked me, through the door, if I was coming out of the bathroom soon. I said back that I would be out soon, and asked if it were OK that I did so in complete honesty. She answered, “Yes,” and then turned the TV on to watch the NFL playoff game. When I appeared to her, it was as if nothing was really different. I knew that she was playing it cool, and she wasn’t about to give me the satisfaction of receiving a big reaction to my big reveal.

As I began to try to explain myself, she seemed to be distracted by the game on the TV. I finally said that I would just wait until half-time to try to talk to her, since the game seemed to be more interesting than what I had to say (a little passive-aggressive on both our parts). I then proceeded to prepare some nachos and a batch of Margaritas. By the time the second half of the game began, I’d made her understand that I had to live as a woman, and that I would never hide from her again. She made it clear to me that she was not a Lesbian. Then we both enjoyed the game together, just as we always had done before. I think that the Margaritas helped a lot, even if the second blender-full didn’t lead to a sexual encounter (as it might well have done in the past). :-)”

Thank you both for the enlightening comments! As I have written about in the past, and will in the future my very scary yet thrilling trip to a Monday night pro football game here in Cincinnati as a woman. Since enthusiasm is building to a fever pitch around here for the big Bengals/Raiders pro football Saturday, I have decided to save the post as we get closer to the game on Saturday.   

No Days Off

 Yesterday I took a rare day off from all my blogging activities. It was one of the few days I couldn’t come up with anything to write about in the cluttered transgender universe which is my mind. Today as I retrieved and turned on the old lap top (I knock on wood every morning when it comes on.) and proceeded to come up with a new post. 

Photo Credit: Cyrsti Hart

Writing for me is either a labor of love or a real chore. I compare the whole process to the early days when I was exploring the world as my true feminine self. Many days I would feel so confident and good. Other days, the process was not so seamless. It felt like everytime I turned around something was going wrong. An example was the day I was (in my mind) proudly negotiating a mall in my dress, heels and hose when I promptly stepped into a crack in the sidewalk. Needless to say I didn’t feel very feminine as I almost fell and had to retrieve my shoe. Fortunately no one else seemed to notice and I learned another valuable lesson. Watch where I am going and not so much on the publics’ reaction to me. 

Another discovery I made was learning I could never take a day off from the feminization process I was slowly but surely going through. Unfortunately, the whole process made me a very difficult person to live with or work for during what I called my “down” days when I couldn’t cross dress as my true self. Between battling my bi-polar behavior and gender dysphoria, life was no fun. Still I kept going spurred on by working way to hard all the way to changing jobs and moving to different places. Another prime example was when my wife and I moved from one part of Ohio to metro NYC then back again, only to move to  a very rural area of Southeastern Ohio to open restaurants. I learned the hard way no amount of frenetic moving and changing could solve my basic problems. Plus, I won’t even m mention the amount of heavy drinking I did to self medicate my problem.

Along the way, I always considered myself to be a competent but deeply flawed person. Looking back now I see taking any days off from my issues would be impossible until I “manned up” and faced them like a woman. Which is exactly what my wife told me to do. Instead I blundered ahead until I tried suicide. It turned out I even screwed that up and went to work the next day like nothing happened. Looking back of course, I am glad self harm didn’t work for me. 

What did work was finally realizing my inner feminine self was the dominate portion of my being. Once I let her live was when I could relax, build a new life as a transgender woman and take a day off…from myself.  

Dreams

I have been curious, as I add to the years I have lived as my authentic self , how long would/will it take for my dreams to switch over to being exclusively feminine in nature.  Right now nearly all of my dreams are from my male past.

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

I guess living nearly sixty years struggling to live in a male world completely imprinted my subconscious. As much as I dislike it, I seem to bypass the times I spent with my first wife (seven years) and current partner of ten years and go straight to my deceased wife of twenty five years. 

As much as I feel frustrated my dreams are still masculine in nature, obviously it seems there is nothing I can do to flip the switch and be feminine. Perhaps as time goes by and I compile more experiences as a transgender woman, all of this will change. 

I also know in the scope of life, dreams are less of a priority. Just getting by in the world is just more important. 

For example, today Liz and I have several errands to run including her getting a booster vaccine.  It would be a poor time to get harassed over living as my authentic gender. Since I will be wearing a mask, chances are slim. 

Speaking or writing about Liz, she is more of a believer in the power of dreams. So I asked her what she thought of my dreams. She said several things. The first suggestion was did I have specific dreams of being a guy or was I dreaming of being in a male environment. An example would be the time I spent in Army basic training. I rarely if ever dream of being back in basic, instead I dream of re-enlisting. Over and over again.

The second point she brought up was how early in life we become gender objects. In other words, the time our parents begin to make sure they pound us into gender stereotypes. Transgender women and men are unlucky enough to be round pegs pounded into square holes. This process can affect us for life. Including our dreams. 

Finally Liz said I could shape my dreams by training my mind before I went to sleep by thinking feminine thoughts. Of course, as she told me all of this, she couldn’t help but tell me when I sleep with the television on (which I do) does me no good. She didn’t think I had anything to worry about.

Now I can focus on the present, not the past. Until tonight.