The Little Reminders

I got a comment on my post last week from Pat who said, I wear panties and pantyhose (and sometimes bras and camis) under my male clothes about 90% of the time. I find that the garments serve as a tactile connection to my femme nature.

As you know, I can relate. When I decided to transition, I started wearing panties everyday. I think we all have little things we do that help us bend the masculine role we play.

I share a bathroom with my daughter and she isn’t the tidiest housekeeper. Often when I pass by her makeup, I put something on even though I’m on my way back to bed.

The other day, I stepped out of the shower and misted myself with her perfume. I went to work and smelled it all day. The aroma was a reminder of my transition and it made me smile.

Love Francine

It Sparkles

I’m married, and although it might not be a perfect union, I made promises. While shopping one day, I decided to purchase a cheap wedding ring. Not that I’m a raging beauty, but I want to make it clear when I go out in Francine mode. (I really don’t think it matters, but you never know, I might meet a near sighted sugar daddy).

More than marriage vows, though, the ring looks fabulous and it makes my fingers look great. I wore it the other day while writing in the car when the sun hit my hand and lit up the stone. If I didn’t know how much I paid, I’d swear it was a real brilliant cut diamond. Shafts of light flow through the prism and cast it casts colored spots everywhere. It sparkles with the brilliance of a real stone.

My life is a lot like that fake stone. Every once in a while, the light is just right and I look like the real thing, a genetic woman. I look forward to the time after counseling, when I start HRT and my body changes. Eventually, I won’t be fake anymore. I will sparkle, too.

I hope you have a wonderful day. Love Francine.

Fighting a Battle

Some of you will understand this post, others will think I’m crazy. First of all, let me say I am Francine. I am transgender, but my alter ego has other ideas. When I emerged as transgender-male to female, I gave up the old life, or so I thought. Everyday, I face the mirror with razor in hand trying to shave off the beard my alter ego has treasured for so long.

Everyday, he wins the battle. He’s afraid to face the world without the beard and I need it gone so my makeup won’t look like a joke. Damn I want it gone. If only I could get kidnapped by a demented group of laser hair removal specialists. They would remove the beard once and for all and he would have to deal with it.

There will come a time when I won’t need him anymore. Hell, I don’t need him now, but the life we temporarily live requires his presence. If only the world knew what kind of underwear I’m wearing . . .

He knows, and he tries to get me to grab a pair of shorts everyday. I’m winning the battle, though. I will be Francine and I’m going to throw a coming out party.

Does that sound crazy? I bet it does. As the subtitle of my blog says, I’m taking baby steps, even though my soul wants it over. I know it’s a gradual process, both mentally and physically. Wish my luck.

                                                             Love Francine

Working out the Kinks

Working out the Kinks

Since I decided to transition, I’ve been wearing feminine underwear everyday. It’s a baby step, but that’s what this bog is all about. Being who I am must begin somewhere. I’ve also been using the bathroom, sitting down.

The other day, however, my male prostate woke me and I needed to go. I didn’t have time to sit down and I wondered if I’d make it through SRS. As I stood there looking at my daughter’s makeup, the words to an old song came to mind,

I am strong

I am invincible

I am Woman.

check it out here
I am female and I always have been. Moreover, I always will be. There are many more steps to go in my journey, but I’ll make it. I am strong. I am invincible. I will be who I am.

I was reading blogs and social media postings the other day and I wondered about articles of clothing. What was the first piece of female clothing you owned, and how did you acquire it? I’m not talking about the laundry basket where we borrowed our mother’s clothes.

I used to make clothes from material my mother stored. I admit, I was never a good seamstress but it was all about fantasy in those days, anyway. Puberty has a way of doing that to you. Oh, if I only knew then, what I know now.

I’ll never forget the first time I purchased something. It was after years of trying to bury my feminine nature. I was married and I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I went into the store armed with a sale ad, and pretended to be buying a bra for a female someone. I pointed to the ad and said, "I need one of those."

The clerk asked about size.

"I think she needs 48."

"What is the cup size?"

Not wanting to blow my cover I pretended I didn’t know. I needed a D (I was always big), but they didn’t have one. The clerk gave me a look of consternation when I said, just give me a C.

I hated that bra. I also hated the suspicious look the clerk gave me. Still, it got easier after that.

Tell me about your first piece of clothing, traditionally worn by a member of the opposite sex, (well, opposite of your assigned gender).

Backsliding

After writing about my goals last time, I ran head long into a problem. I hadn’t considered my condition. I cut my food consumption to practically nothing and started eating foods with no fat and no calories. I’m diabetic and I had an episode at work the other day. When it happened again, I pigged out and felt better.

I now know, this won’t be the proverbial walk in the park, but I’m still getting there. I’m eating salads and trying to understand my condition. I’m transgender however, and I will achieve my goals. Losing all those extra pounds will probably alleviate the diabetes anyway, then I’ll be on my way.

In a conversation with me the other day, a friend of mine talked about people who move too fast through transition. She is perfectly happy to remain transgender without the surgery. "Those who move too quickly," she said. "Often regret it later.

I assure you, I’m taking baby steps. I’ll be absolutely positive of my need before I submit to surgery. I do feel pressed, however, but only because of my age. I’ve missed so much in my life.

Which, again, raises the questions I’ve been dealing with on my previous blog: Can I be happy without complete transition? Will cross-dressing be sufficient? Could I be happy with hormones alone? There is also the question of, could I sacrifice my family on the altar of femininity? Oh, how I hope for an understanding relationship that allows for my expression.

Believe me, I plan to re-examine these questions during each stage of the process. Hopefully, you’ll be here to help me make those choices. Every time something else happens, You’ll be the first people I tell.

Going Forward and I'm Thrilled

Now that I’ve decided to transition, All the baggage that popped up amazes me. Thousands of little details from my life have come to the surface. Things like catching myself making a feminine hand gesture and rebuking my hand, hoping nobody noticed. I spent my youth trying, but failing, to succeed in sports. I dismissed my inability by chalking it up to being overweight.

I finally got good at football and wrestling, because I turned my frustration into aggression, which I used against my opponents. I was willing to go further with my anger than they were. It earned a kind of respect for me, but I still went home and played make believe. I was the girl character, but I never added it up. I never realized my dysphoria. Although I believe it was XXY syndrome.

Anyway, I know my experiences are not unusual. Many others have been there too, but calling myself transgender instead of crossdresser, has given me a new perspective and I see things with new eyes.

I can’t believe how happy I am. It’s like climbing out of a pit I dug for myself and wondering why I lived in that hole. Life is so much clearer now. I’m not kidding myself, though. I know, there are excruciating struggles ahead, but finally allowing myself freedom to express my feminine me has been very liberating. I made a list of goals Which is a first for me. Tell me what you think.

• Lose pounds. Five dress sizes by Christmas. I know that’s a lot, but my wife left a whole wardrobe in my bedroom closet. She lost a lot of weight and since we sleep in separate parts of the house, I figure the wardrobe is mine. I want to wear some of those things at Diva Las Vegas and, (be still my heart) Southern Comfort next year.

• Secure a better means of support. I need a better job. Especially if I have to make this journey alone. I will need to save a large amount of money for doctors, etc. Anybody know where I could get a signature loan? J

• Get my teeth fixed. I used to have a pretty smile. I was really a girl, after all. ‘nuff said.

• Join several support groups. I need guidance and people to hug and be hugged by. Really though, with the exception of blogging, I’ve never talked to anyone about this and I need to spill my guts. I have a relative who should’ve had the surgery by now. I don’t know, because I’ve been busy hiding my own problems. There’s no better support group than family. I’m going to visit my auntie.

• Come out. They say that confession is good for the soul. This will be hard. But my loved ones have to know.

• Jump through the hoops. Truthfully, I’ve always been wary of mental health professionals, even though I thought I wanted to be one at one time. I don’t like people in my head. Never-the-less in this case they can help me, and they are the gatekeepers. I’m looking forward to living as a female. And I’ve already mentioned my feelings about hormones. (Where have they been all my life?)

I don’t relish the inevitable pain associated with all the surgery, but in the end . . . It’ll be worth it. After all, to finally be who I was born to be. I wish I could’ve gone to the prom. To have worn a Pink silk dress and have my date pin on the corsage. Just above my breast. To have spent the whole day primping and working on my makeup . . . Okay I missed a lot. There is much to make up for.

   
The goal for jumping through the hoops is, of course, a long-term goal. Also there are details that need to be filled in. I wish with all my soul, that time could be rushed forward. I’ve wasted much of life. Still, it would be better to go back and start my life over . . . What we called sex change operations where unusual, but it was being done. Results were sometimes not good. Maybe to have been born in 1990?

It's a New Day & I'm Giddy

Many people would be surprised to here me say this, but for the first time in my life, I feel I'm on the right path. I remember dreamimg about being a girl when I was twelve, but it wasn't possible then. Now, I'm closer. I know there are still hundreds of issues to resolve. Also, thousands of dollars, but I'm happy. It's a new day.