I think I’ve established, at least in my own mind, that I am transgender. I tried hard not to be. I’ve been bingeing and purging with gender specific clothing since . . . well, forever. In childhood, and all through the years, My feminine expressions were squelched. Like all of us, I tried desperately to overcome my need to be a girl.
When my masculine body grew up, my feminine mind went along. They’ve been at war the whole time. Life long erectile dysfunction finally cleared the field for mind to win. I’ve gone the route. I’ve battled depression and low self-esteem. I followed the path of least resistance, and I never took the road less traveled.
If you haven’t figured it out, the reference to the Robert Frost poem, infers that I never transitioned. I’m sure you younger trans, get tired of us older ones complaining that transition just wasn’t an option, but it’s true. That route, is a relatively new blessing and surgeons have honed their talents in just the past few years.
So, going down my well traveled, road has put me at odds with nature. I probably mentioned that I write fiction. In my current manuscript, my character claims that, in the beginning, every fetus is female. Then at one point some become male in the womb, She asks, "Why are some babies born male and others born female? Who gave nature the right to choose?"All of this preamble, is intended to lead up the point that I’ve paid dues. Others have paid a higher price. Some have suffered extreme hardship, but I’m not new to this.
I requested friendship from a beautiful lady on Facebook the other day. She is transgender. At least I think she is. She caught my eye because of the pictures she posted of her and another of my Facebook friends. She apparently lives in the area where I live, and a girl cannot have too many close friends.
I admired her transition. By that, I mean she looks great. I envy her. She seems happy and she carries her femininity well. Hopefully I will meet her (in real time) someday, and learn her secrets. Anyway, while I requested her friendship I thought about my profile picture as compared to hers. I figured, she’s going to look at my profile and think I’m a wannabe.
For a couple of reasons, my Facebook profile picture shows my upper torso, only. I don’t have a good wig, and my masculine self is well known. I’m afraid of the risk. Besides, I want to control the reactions, and the pace, when my house of cards collapses.
It’s true, however. I’m a transgender wannabe. I want to be like Jennifer Bryant who recently came out to the world and is living the dream. She is absolutely beautiful, inside and out. She is an inspiration to us all. I want to be like Janet Mock, Laverne Cox, Krista, and so many others. As it is, I am the candidate for myriad surgical procedures.
Because of finances, and that proverbial house of cards I mentioned, You might say I’m pre-transition transgender. Like the air we breathe, I crave HRT, but my body has been changing and I can’t explain why. I’m enjoying my life for the first time. I am a woman dammit.
I still have a long way to go before I’m done. I hope to have my new house built before the one above collapses. It will not be made of straw, or cards. It will be made of titanium, with pink and purple sequins. Then, I will post a full head shot on Facebook. I’m a realist however, and I know I’ll be picking up the pieces of the old house before the new one is finished. I’ve delayed long enough—it’s time to come out.
Love you guys.
