A Day in the Life

Monday morning.  Fresh from a shower, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, surveying my face.  I pluck stray eyebrow hairs and then look critically at my eyes.  I make sure that all traces of mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow are completely removed; there are usually little particles that linger.

To shave or not to shave my face?  The amount of beard is dwindling, but still significant.  Usually I will not shave today, to give my irritated face and neck  a rest after several days of very close shaving.  If I’m having electrolysis in the next day or so, I have to refrain from shaving until then, anyway.  If I’m having laser hair removal, though, I have to make sure to shave closely again.  Am I going anywhere after work?  Do I look too scruffy?  I make the complex calculations and decide to skip shaving.

I get dressed in some of the remaining men’s clothing I have.  Fortunately, I did the laundry this weekend, because I only have enough work clothes to make it through the five-day week.  I put on a tight undershirt with a loose polo shirt over it, to help conceal my breasts.  I slip into my battered old work shoes.  I can’t bring myself to buy any more men’s shoes, so I’m hoping this pair, which I bought 18 years ago, will survive a little while longer.

Now to my hair.  I pull it back and secure it with a rubber band, then, armed with maximum hold hairspray, comb and spray it into submission, finally ending up with a  reasonable facsimile of a man’s haircut.  It looks a little messy, but presentable.

As I walk into my workplace, I settle into the old familiar habits of a lifetime.  My walk, my gestures, and voice become more masculine.  I learned by mimicry long ago to camouflage myself, to blend in with the men like I was “supposed to”.  But I can’t help but notice that my mannerisms have lately become a little more feminine and fluid.  That would have bothered me in times past, but I really don’t care now.  I have even caught myself answering the phone in my more feminine voice.

I go through my day totally focused on work and trying not to think of anything else.  It’s a good day if I don’t hear some bigoted, hateful remark from particular coworkers.  They believe I am “one of them”—i.e., a white, Christian, heterosexual cisgender male—and so don’t bother to censor their remarks.  I want to speak up and call them out, but I feel surrounded and afraid. I stew in silence, chastising myself for my lack of courage.

At times my thoughts drift toward transitioning at work—how would it be if I was myself here?  Some people, I think, may be able to make the adjustment, some, I think, will be at least covertly hostile.  Will they let me use the women’s room?  Will anyone even talk to me?  Will management be actively working to get rid of me?  Will some unhinged person decide enough is enough and bring a gun to work with them (many of my coworkers are proud of their concealed-carry permits)?  Or would someone wait for me outside to physically express their displeasure with my “lifestyle”?

I stop by the grocery store on my way home.  I’m hoping I don’t run into anyone I know; it’s become somewhat embarrassing for me to be seen in “male mode” by people who know me as I really am—kind of like walking around half-naked. I hurry home and put on my “outside clothes” to work in the garden.  I’m generally still afraid of my neighbors’ reaction to my transition, so I am still presenting as a male even here in my own yard.  Soon it’s time to wind down for the day; I put on my PJs and robe, curl up in front of the TV with my cat, and wonder how much longer it will be until I’m able to be totally me.

If They Only Knew

I'm now somewhere in the middle of my transition.  Though I'm mentally ready, and indeed, impatient, there remain some things that I want to have in place before beginning to live completely as a woman.  In the meantime; I am troubled and rather in a quandary regarding when to come out to some of my oldest friends.

Recently I have been getting some invitations to cookouts, parties, game nights, etc. from friends who don't yet know what is happening with me.  Though I still care about them and want to see them, they expect to see me in my male guise, and it is becoming difficult for me to bring myself to "dress in drag" for their sake.  So I make excuses, and the bonds of friendship grow ever weaker.

Why don't I just bite the bullet and tell them, you might ask.  There are two main reasons.  The first is that I fear losing their friendship.  I haven't told these people because I doubt that they will be able to accept me as I really am.  Yes, intellectually I know that if they can't accept me, they weren't really my friends.  The person they have known all these years has been a shadow of my full self, and in a way they really don't know me at all.  Still, the bonds of friendship are old and deep, and I am loath to risk severing them.

The second reason revolves around my job.  I feel it is necessary that my employer and coworkers do not find out about my transition until I am ready to tell them.  Now, I have two main circles of old friends.  In each circle, there is at least one person that has some connection with my employer and/or my coworkers.  If I tell one person in either circle, I think the entire circle will know.  So there is a real risk, especially if they don't react well to my revelation, that word would get out prematurely, and possibly dim my prospects for a successful transition at work.

You see my dilemma.  While I'm in this in-between state, there seems no good solution.  However, it is getting emotionally harder to continue going to work as a male, and my impatience to get on with it is growing.  It may be that I will come to the point that I need to proceed before I have all the desired ducks in a row.  I know difficult times are still ahead, and I look forward to a time when all this is well behind me.

Lifequake

How does one decide to totally upend one's life?  This is a question that has occupied my mind a lot lately.  Readers of this blog will know that I've been wrestling with the idea of transitioning to full-time womanhood for several months now.  I know this is a very big deal, most likely the biggest decision I will ever make.  And I also can see that transitioning would not be easy, or fun, and carries the risk of losing family, friends, and employment.  Given that I am big-decision-averse, I have really been struggling with this.  How does one make a decision this huge?

A curious thing has been happening for the last couple of years.  While the decision-making part of my brain is struggling with this question, the rest of me seems to be going full steam ahead.  Especially since the passing of my dear wife, the pace of change is accelerating.  I still work as a male, but most of the rest of my time is spent as Wendy.  I already have a very tentative and generalized timeline for transition forming.  I'm wrapping up hair removal and thinking about hormones.  Every plan that I make includes a consideration of how my transition would affect it.  Meanwhile, decision-making brain is still asking, "Should I or shouldn't I?"

I guess it's time for me to admit to myself that this is happening.  I want to waffle and hedge and qualify, but if I'm honest, I know that I am transitioning.  I tremble with fear at the immensity of it, but I continue to move forward.  As I stumble toward this lifequake, I'm thankful for the supportive friends and community I have.  I'm going to need all the help and support I can get.

Reality Check

Note: I recently suffered a serious loss, but I'm not going to write about that now.  The wound is still too fresh.

The past couple of weeks I have experienced an unprecedented amount of life as a woman.  Parties, lunches, Zumba, candlelight vigils, and even performing music on the stage.  I'm very out these days...but only in select company.  Specifically, among my church friends and in the local LGBT community.  Sometimes I get caught up in the euphoria of being Wendy and start to forget that my very existence is threatening to some people.  If I'm seriously thinking about living full-time as a woman, I feel like I need to bring myself back to earth by remembering times when I didn't experience such warm acceptance.

Not that I have experienced any real threats or violence so far--thank goodness--but there have been times when I knew I was clearly an alien presence to someone.  A couple of examples will suffice.

One Sunday afternoon a couple of years or so ago, I decided to go out shopping.  I was dressed very casually with the intent to blend in.  I wasn't very successful, apparently.  As I emerged from a store, I encountered two well-dressed middle-aged ladies, obviously fresh from church.  As soon as they saw me, one audibly gasped and dropped her bag in shock.  The other indignantly exclaimed, "Look at him!"  I chose to ignore them and walked to my car, but I was utterly humiliated.  I lost all heart to shop and went home soon after, my tail between my legs.

More recently, I was enjoying a potluck lunch after the service at church when a couple I'd never seen before sat down near me.  This was their first time visiting our church, and a friend introduced me to them.  I smiled and greeted them both.  The wife smiled warmly and said, "Nice to meet you!", but the husband did not speak and refused to look at me.  I could tell I made him very uncomfortable, and he in turn made me very uncomfortable.  After a few minutes he got up and left, never acknowledging my presence in any way.

As you can see, I have never really experienced anything earth-shatteringly bad (yet).  Just enough to remind me that the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and that the farther I walk down this road, the more of these prickly moments I can expect to experience.

Hair

I pause in the midst of a very heartrending and stressful crisis to talk about something totally different and seemingly inconsequential--hair.  After many years of wishing and procrastination, I had my hair done professionally.  More specifically, I had it cut in a feminine style and colored.  No more wigs!

It's amazing how the right haircut can make you feel wonderful!  In a sea of personal upheaval, it is a little buoy of light.  But it's also a rather large milestone in my undeclared, not yet settled-upon, yet ongoing, transition to womanhood.  Though I can make it look masculine for work, by default it is definitely a feminine hairstyle.

I had a new feeling the other day when going from a female gender presentation to male.  Often I feel sad when I go back to guy mode, but this time I felt like I was getting into drag (or drab: DRessed As a Boy).  In other words, I felt like presenting as female was my default and that presenting as male required work and was something of a disguise.  This seems pretty significant to me.

Before this, I rarely looked at myself in the mirror when not in full-on Wendy mode; I really didn't like the guy I saw.  Now, I find I'm looking at myself and smiling.  With the new hairstyle and my beard shadow gone, I can see a woman in the mirror, even without makeup on.  That feels so right.