What’s Next?

Seemingly, the more I think about my past, the more I consider the future. Realistically speaking, most of my life lies behind me and I have written many times here in Cyrsti;s Condo concerning my fear of being “cared” for in a nursing home with a very transphobic staff. Hopefully society will continue to inch forward in it’s knowledge and support of transgender women and men. 

Then quickly my mind returns to thinking about my past experiences I can put in the book. Many are buried deeply in my mind to a point where I can barely remember them.

Currently, I am writing about the very few men in my life including the first one. My meeting with him was brief and happened the night of my first professional make over at one of the transvestite mixers I went to. I guess I could say I had interactions with two guys that night since the make up expert who worked his magic on me was the first. Indirectly leading to the second. 

During these mixers, I loosely tagged along with the “A” crowd or as I also called them, “The Mean Girls.”  Approximately five or six of them always formed a clique which very few others were ever welcomed into. It turned out on that magical night, not even did I tag along, I crashed the clique. 

Perhaps you noticed I said “crashed” and not joined. No matter how popular I became for one night, there was no way I ever wanted to become a permanent part of their exclusive group. 

Now, back to the evening.  As I said, the make up expert did a wonderful job on me and even I was amazed. It was my first experience with someone else (who knew what they were doing) doing my makeup.

As I have written about before, the clique of the most attractive cross dressers or transgender women (before there was such a word) went out to party at gay venues after the mixer. Early in the evening I had the usual unremarkable time tagging along. It was later on when I was approached by a guy in the last venue we went to. He asked me to stay and he would by me a drink. Since I was dependent on the clique to get me back to the hotel, I declined.

More importantly though, the clique was dazzled I was approached and none of them were. 

Sadly, the next day I had to go back to my usual male boring existence.

What Was I Thinking?

I still can’t get enough of the decade just past. The more I think of it, the more I remember doing crazy things. A few I remember vividly.

When I first started seriously down the feminine road, very early I decided I really didn’t like the gay bars I was going into. It was about that time I discovered two small lesbian bars I began to frequent. One of which was the equivalent of a dyke biker bar. To say the least, they hated me there. The other was a different story and was the venue where I was strongly encouraged to sing karaoke by a super butch lesbian in a cowboy hat. I was also told one night by another lesbian I was pretty cute and maybe I should go home with her.  The major problem was I had a spouse to go home to!

Them again, there was the one evening I will always regret not being able to experience. That night  a group of stripper were supposed to entertain at the bar one night. Unfortunately, my wife was due home and I had to get back and change back into my male self.

Along the way, a few guys (including one trans guy) did enter my life. It was quite the adjustment and one it turns out I didn’t have to accept. Every time I turned around, it seemed my life pushed me towards lesbians.  One of the highlights was acting as a “wing person” for one of my lesbian friends.

About this time too, as I have written about before, is when I met Liz. I was coming out of an intensely sad period of my life. I had just lost my wife of twenty five years and three out of five of my closest male friends to heart disease and cancer. I met Liz on an on-line dating site eight years ago and we have been together ever since.

Here is a New Years Eve picture of Liz and I.

The final point I need to make was, how difficult the decade really was. As with anything else in life you remember the upside and have a tendency to downplay the downside. Like the time I went to a downtown urban summer festival one night in Dayton and another time I went to a Christmas festival in my favorite boots, leggings and sweater. I remember the excitement and satisfaction of living the feminine experience but not the loneliness of doing it alone.

The only words of wisdom I can offer are, no matter how lonely and lost you are, if you don’t keep putting yourself out there, nothing will change!

We Got Mail

I received two great comments about the Cyrsti’s Condo post yesterday which primarily revolved around accepting compliments and hair. The first came from Paula across the pond in the UK:

“I found that it was only when I abandoned the wigs that I began to truly be me, before that I was always playing a part, maybe it was two different parts, but still playing acting. When I could start wearing my own hair it became real!

I think the thing about compliments of common to a lot of Trans women; we were programmed like men, we were expected to give compliments not to receive them, it goes against all our conditioning to simply accept the compliment and say “Thank you”.

Excellent points Paula! As I wrote before, I was exceedingly bad at attempting to buy the right wigs. For the most part, I was either trying to go more blond or with more hair than I could pull off. 

Now, let’s check in with Connie:

“I was once told by another trans woman that I would never be able to transition successfully because I wear wigs – no better than a “professional cross dresser,” she said. Having a good head of hair is definitely a luxury for a trans woman, but it’s certainly not a necessity. I know that I am, at least, more of a lady than she is, and some people may be no better than a “professional bitch,” I suppose.
I receive compliments on my hair from time to time. Some may not know that I’m wearing a wig at all. A friend I’ve known for five years did not realize that I wore wigs until just a few weeks ago. She had invited me to spend a girls’ weekend with her at a nearby casino, and I must admit that I accepted the invitation with some trepidation. I was flattered that she felt accepting enough to be sharing a hotel room with me, a trans woman, not to mention that she also felt safe enough to be doing so. I wasn’t sure how I was going to conceal all of the causes of my dysphoria, including my bald head, and her touting the wonderful pool and spa that we could use did not help. I finally told her that I don’t swim because of my wig, and I don’t think she thought any less of me for wearing one.

It’s been years since anyone has seen my bald head. Even I will spend as little time as possible looking at it. If it’s not a wig on my head, there’s almost always something covering it – whether it’s a turbine or just a towel wrapped around it. I will sleep in a wig if there is a chance that someone may see me. I did it with my friend in the room, and I even left my eye makeup on for good measure. Everything else was covered up, too. ;-)”
Thanks Connie! I think Stana ofFemulate  blogging fame is another transgender woman  who does an excellent job with her hair and shows having your own hair is not a necessity for a successful Mtf transition. In fact it sounds like one of those “I’m more trans than you” statements. 

I’m sure too, since I have opted not to have anyΒ genitalΒ surgery some would think I am no better than a professional cross dresser too. Regardless, I have decided to do the very best I can!Β 
The picture above is one of me in one of the few wigs I bought I really liked.

A Hair Better?

It all started with the compliment I didn’t know what to do with from my ex wife on Thanksgiving. It continued with Connie thanking me for the compliment I gave her after the picture she sent in. And, I was complimented on my hair today by my therapist. 

I am guessing but I think my inability to respond to compliments or give them goes back to my parents. Growing up, I can not remember a time when I received a compliment which wasn’t tied to a qualifier. In other words, you (me) did good, but…

I think also, I have a difficult time with feminine based compliments because I think the “qualifier” is still there. An example would be looking good as a woman for a transgender person or a man. 

Truthfully though, I am on cloud nine (where ever that is) following all the compliments I have received on my hair. The qualifier this time is being fortunate enough to still have a full head of hair to not have to deal with wigs anymore. Unlike Connie, who looks great, I was usually hit or miss in the wig department. Mostly miss from quite a few fashion mistakes. I have always believed I was really able to navigate the feminine world as a transgender person after I began to grow my own hair.

Plus, I feel as if I am being repaid hair karma from my time in the 70’s when I was in the Army and had to have short hair when everyone else I knew had longish hair. Of course I also completely envied the hippie girls with all of their long hair. 

If I knew then what I know now, I would have complimented more women on their hair. I have come to the understanding now why so many women rely on their hairdressers for an occasional boost. Figuratively and literally, it makes us feel better about ourselves. 

The bad news is now I will have to find a new stylist to do my hair. My current one had to retire due to carpal tunnel hand problems. 

I will miss the pampering I received every two months when I went to the salon and all those pesky compliments which came my way.

Life is nothing without change though and finding a new stylist will be exciting in it’s own way. 

New life based challenges are good too when you are 70 as I am. There is still plenty of time to get better. I hope!

“Hair” and Gone

My final visit to my “magician” has come and gone. As I previously wrote about here in Cyrsti’s Condo, I am going to have to find another hair dresser to go to. Sadly my regular stylist retired. I found out during my final appointment she is suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome. Which causes pain in the hands. 

As we said our goodbyes, I almost teared up (damn hormones). As you may recall, she, my stylist, is the one with a transgender son. As always, she worked her magic with my hair and I went upon my way.

My hair grows relatively fast, so I will be on the outlook for another stylist. 

Now, onto another topic. fellow Blogger Mandy Sherman  wrote in with a comment about my trip to the auto repair shop: 

“Good for you about going to the shop en femme. My mechanics know me, so doing that wouldn’t work well…although I go in capris, a blouse, and flats when the weather is warm. Such fun!” 

Thanks Mandy! I thought it was a good time to explain a couple things about me for any of you new comers to the blog. First and foremost, I am a full time transgender woman. Using hormone replacement therapy very much blocked any return to being a male I ever had. These days, I would have to find a way to bind my breasts and tie my hair back to minimally even look male at all. The best I can hope for is to be androgynous…if I ever tried. 

I am fortunate though, because I never run into anyone I knew before my Mtf gender transition. They have to accept me for what I am. 

I like to say, I am a little slow…but not stupid. I knew totally when I entered into the feminine world, all of it wouldn’t be a great time. That is why I heard so many times from my cis women friends when I transitioned, welcome to our world. 

As I sum this up, I need to say, I would never give up anything I have earned crossing the gender divide. 

To quote another familiar phrase, “What a long, strange trip it has been.” And let me add, a wonderful one too!

Too Much Wasted Stress

Well. my trip to the auto store to get the oil changed turned out to be very uneventful.  In fact the guy at the counter barely looked at me as he made small chat about the vastly newer car I brought in to replace one of our ancient ones. I thought at the time he was somehow afraid to look at me but as the afternoon progressed, no one else paid me much attention either. It was highly satisfying just to blend into society and not be outwardly read as a transgender woman.

Last night I continued my string of good luck by going to one of the socials put on by my cross dresser – transgender support group. Anymore it is fun for me to just sit back and watch some of the more flamboyant cross dressers out themselves. However, it’s a very inclusive group anymore since sitting close to me were two acquaintances who are scheduled to go under the surgeons knife in the upcoming month by undergoing genital realignment surgery. Both have a lot more courage than I have! Not so long ago, we had a person close to the group pass away from complications after her surgery. 

Onto another topic. This afternoon is the final appointment with my hair dresser I love so much. It seems her husband is getting another job and they are moving out of town. 

I have found the older I get, change is harder to accept. Now, in the not so distant future, I will have to find another hair dresser. 

All in all, if that is all I have to whine about, life is good.    

A Different Transition

Well, as expected, the weather around here in Southwestern Ohio is making a dramatic turn from fall to winter. 

Fall has always been my favorite season of the year and I am always sad to see it go. Why? Primarily I have always liked the fashions and maybe on a separate level, football has always been my favorite sport. Long ago I decided just becoming a woman should not stop me from enjoying part of my male life I so loved.  Also, fall has always meant a time of deep change to me. Somehow I always have equated fall with my gender transformation.  

Perhaps it had to do with Halloween’s effects on the season too.  Long suppressed gender feelings of being a girl were reawakened.  Plus, the successes of going out on Halloween in a feminine costume just urged me on to go farther. 

One thing led to another and all of a sudden I was at the tipping point of living full time as a transgender woman. 

It seemed too, fall was a great fashion time to present as a woman. As I did, I learned the basics of shopping for myself, experimenting with makeup and adding the proper accessories. In doing so, I found I needed to communicate with the public, which in turn taught me the very different basics of gender communication. 

I know I am giving too much credit to the season because the gender learning curve for me lasted for years, not months. But I vividly remember the joy when the weather cooled off and my makeup didn’t melt off. 

In the meantime, as Mother Nature transitions into winter around here, there is plenty of time to enjoy boots, warm fuzzy sweaters and soft leggings!

Say it Ain’t So!

It doesn’t seem possible but Christmas is right around the corner and parties are already being scheduled.  In fact, I have one coming up on December 19th.

As soon as I found out, I did what most other cis women would do. I scheduled (or tried to) an appointment with my hair stylist.

I found out the soonest I could get in was November 22nd. Not my ideal choice but I found out it was the best I could do. Because I learned she was moving out of town and closing down her business.

She is the one who has a transgender son and is so understanding to the trans cause.  Plus, more importantly, she does such a great job.

Now I have to find another stylist or just let my hair grow out again.

I probably will do a little of both.