Transgender Technology

If I were a drag queen, you might think the title of this post refers to panty girdles or breast forms. I’m not a drag queen, however, and my dysphoria is not about the clothes. At least, it hasn’t been since I was fourteen.

While writing the other day, I contemplated the changes in our world. Many lives have both improved and degraded in the last twenty years. Opportunities to live your dreams present themselves like at no other time in history. Transgender issues are going away.

As a twenty something year old, crossdresser I lived in fear of discovery. I tried to live in stealth, but my genderhad a way of "slipping" out. Like the time I wore a slip under my male clothes for a quick trip to the video rental store. While standing in line, the garment slipped out. I was mortified. Fear of my fellow man took over and I exited the store.

I don’t know why I chose to keep it on rather than just go to the store as a man, today, I would just finish the outfit. In those days, one just didn’t go to mainstream establishments dressed like a girl. Especially, not that early in the evening.

Life as a transgender woman is much easier. With the invention of the microcomputer and the Internet, many of us discovered we are not alone. Others have our same affliction. We all wish were born female.

I can read blogposts about similar experiences. Many of my sisters talk about their reasons and feelings behind what we do. In one post you might recognize, My sister talked about feeling pretty dressed as a girl, as opposed to feeling ugly as a boy. It was her chance to shine and feel better about herself. Before the Internet, most of us thought we were crazy. We didn’t know a boy playing with dolls wasn’t abnormal.

Shopping is easier, too. We no longer need to suffer the judgement and disapproval of salesclerks. Just go on a website, click and enter a credit card number. In my day, we could order from catalogs, but we still had to face the clerk behind the counter.

The Internet, and the media has made life safe for those who would. Most of us, (old timers) can tell you horror stories about the times when you could get arrested for crossdressing in public. Now, there are many who gravitate toward the lifestyle but I wonder if they are just bored. I suspect some of them can’t relate to feeling mis-gendered.

Still and all, there are myriad improvements, allowing transgender people the freedom to be. As a teenager, when I was seriously dealing with these issues, hoping and praying I could magically be the girl I wanted to be, the options were closed.

I read about Renae Richards in Penthouse Magazine. SRS was called Sex change operations, and the results were often tragic. Adding to the angst, was they were performed in some far off place in Europe and the cost was more money than I would see in a lifetime.

Now, medical technology and the science of gender reassignment have improved so much, it can be done with ease. The half-hearted transsexual now has the opportunity to live the life I fantasized about. Why couldn’t we get today’s successful results when I was fourteen? There is no doubt in my mind, I would’ve jumped at the chance. If only . . .

If the average life span is somewhere around ninety, I am in the last half of my life. I spent so much of it, fighting against my desires. I built a house of cards and a family. I have to consider, is it worth it now.

I also wonder, if technology hadn’t improved since I was fourteen, How many of us would’ve stayed in the closet? Would we have accepted our lot, and lived our lives in quiet desperation? I wonder about the kids coming out these days. I can’t believe they all have Gender Dysphoria. Are our feelings and secret desires becoming popular because of technology?

One thing is true, it is easier to be transgender these days, mostly because of technology. When I think of the generations that came before me, I wonder how many of them suffered in silence? How many of them gave up their desires because of fear? I wonder how many there were of us. I also wonder how many of them would’ve transitioned, had the technology been available.

It Doesn't Go Away

Many of the "gifted" people in our society, the concert musicians, poets, and even politicians, will tell you they’ve always done what they do. Pianists sometimes talk about doing recitals at a very young age. They seem to have come hardwired to be what they are.

When I think of my life, I think of the fads I went through. When I liked the Black Sabbath band, my father heard that younger kids like them but eighteen-year olds don’t. He was right, at least in my case. I grew out of that phase. I went through slitting the outside seams of my jeans. About six inches up the leg, down by the ankle. I don’t know why I did that, other than it was a fad.

I got into the citizens band radio craze in the nineteen-seventies. Then I got out of it. I didn’t do all the fads and I wouldn’t recommend some of them to anyone, but I did a few. Through it all, I’ve been transgender. Of course the word didn’t exist when I was young. I remember the first time I learned the word transvestite and decided I was, except for my female mind.

I never understood what drove my desires, until the Internet. Through it all, I had crossdressing. Like with everyone, there were times I thought I’d overcame my need, but I went right back. How can a get a dog to stop barking? It’s in their nature. Feminine expression was in my nature. It was my way of keeping my sanity.

Whenever problems arose in the façade of my masculine life, I ran into my female nature and recharged my batteries. What I didn’t know was batteries eventually wear out. After many uses, they won’t take a charge anymore. I reached a point when my masculine batteries wouldn’t take a charge anymore. I retreated from life. Now I’ve resolved to never be male again. I won’t live that life anymore.

My name is Felicity Nerissa Keller, and I won’t be squelched. I refuse to be the means for that man to recharge his batteries. I will be me, he will disappear, and there won’t be a need for batteries. My life is changing as I emerge and he departs there are growing pains but it is worth it.

Hey, Mom. Is Dad turning into a girl?



similar to the one I wear

That was the question my daughter asked the other day. She went on to explain why she’d asked. It seems I’m wearing a butterfly charm, on a chain around my neck. She claims I wear rings, and she listed other things, although her mother didn’t elaborate.

When I heard about her question, I laughed out loud. I didn’t confirm or deny the accusation, but I was proud of her astute observation. She’s always been that way. She’s not the only one to notice changes, however, other people look me over, but can’t put a finger on what’s different. You see, I haven’t told anyone.

They say I look good since I lost weight and shaved my beard, but they keep staring. They see it, even though they don’t know what it is. I’m not taking hormones yet. I haven’t even seen a therapist, but there is a quiet resolve in my soul. I’m in transition and there are days when the aches and pains of getting older subside, and I feel younger.

In several posts here, I’ve mentioned my suspected accidental estrogen overdose. I suspect, although I still don’t know, where it came from, but the symptoms were all there. I loved the positive effects even though the problems were scary.

Now, my body is fighting to be male. Body hair that had slowed and stopped has been growing thicker. Shaving is more frequent. Sometimes, it feels like fighting a losing battle, I need HRT. Still and all, my daughter thinks I’m turning into a girl and I am.

I’ve seen the view from the mountaintop and I will not go back. My quiet resolve shows through, but it’s hard. I feel like a flake when my mind doesn’t know what to do with a quiet afternoon. I try to remember what my masculine self would’ve done and I’m letting chores go, in favor of shopping at the thrift store.

I’m messed up, and people have noticed. I go from blissful self-control to a state of confusion as my mind tries to convince my body it is female. It’s worth the elevated high blood pressure, just to convince my body to get on board. I don’t know what’s hard about making the change. It did it before. Besides there are parts of me that never got the memo about being masculine.

Yes, Daughter. Your dad IS becoming a girl. It’s a daily battle of both mind and body. Adding fuel to dilemma is my transition from working nights to working days. I fall asleep in the afternoon and I’m awake at night. What better time than to dress in my chosen gender and go out on the town?

Still it would be better to dress that way all the time. I need a man to do all the masculine chores and I will do my nails. Yes I’m fighting a war, but he is a she, it’ll just take a little time to convince the powers that be.

A Confession, a Resolution, And a Poem

　

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.

Awake My Transgender Soul--Finish the Training O' Padawan

I last time I posted that I was getting off the train. then I panicked and asked if somebody would let me back on. I came to grips with a simple truth this week . . .  I am transgender. I cannot go back. no matter what failures in live life drove me back to my feminine desires, I must complete my quest.

I want to be the woman I was born to be. We all have similar stories. a boy who is lost in the world. A boy who played with dolls and wanted to be a girl. I had all of that. Gym class was hell, and nobody is more cruel than teenage boys. Except teenage girls that is.

Anyway. my life of trying to fit into the masculine role, failed. I rediscovered my all consuming feminine desires and I persued them.

The seciond chance I mentioned has not helped. I am failing again. I plead with the universe to awaken my transgender soul. let me be the woman I was born to be.

Somebody Stop The train

In my last post, I talked about the transgender railroad train and how we all buy our tickets in different ways. I also mentioned my quest to fill the male role. It’s hard to be the man I was, even harder to be the man everyone expects me to be.

During the past couple of years it was easy to ride the train. I failed at being a man and I had a great excuse to the girl I always wanted to be. If you add my childhood experiences into the mix, transitioning was the best choice. It was the only choice.

Now I’m getting a second chance to be my assigned gender, I no longer have the failure excuse. If I can pull it off, it would make certain things easier. In the past, as a part time crossdresser, I went through binge and purge periods, but my wardrobe is too big now. I cannot purge. If I put everything away, it would be self-defeating. I lie on my bed screaming. I still need to be a woman.

There are so many strong women in the world; Ladies, who take care of their families, girls, who fill both roles. Why can’t I do the same? I’m caught between worlds. The girl I once was wants so badly to live her life. The boy wants to do the right thing. I can’t have both. I don’t want to be a part time crossdresser.

With tears in my eyes I stand here, at the station, begging for the train to stop and let me back on. Please conductor grab me, put me on the train and never let me off. Yes, I’m afraid of failing again. Yes, I crossed over. I’m a woman, trying to be a man. I want to escape in a cloud of estrogen and never look back, but there are people there. Those who expect me to be him are counting on me.

The male side of me placed all his skinny clothes in boxes, during the time he put on weight. The expectation of wearing them again was always there. Now he will put all his fat clothes in boxes, but he never wants to wear them again. Maybe he should just give them away. What do I do with my gender specific clothes? If I put them in boxes, I would expect to wear them again. If I can’t wear them again maybe I should give them away?

This is my quandary. I stand at the crossroads. I can no longer straddle the line. I should do what is best for me, but is that the best thing? These are questions asked by thousands of others on the train. I’m not the first, nor will I be the last. For now, I’m climbing back on the train.

 

Stepping Off the Train

A post on Facebook made me think the other day. A beautiful trans woman said she’d jumped off the train for a couple of days to get some things done. I’ve seen others refer to their journey as a train ride, before.

The image of a transgender railroad train coming into the station and picking up passengers is an accurate one. I think most of us "older ladies" can remember a time when we lay in bed at night, listening to the far off train whistle and not being able to find the station.

It happened each time we looked at a mail order catalog and admired the pretty, gender exclusive clothes. We heard the whistle each time we saw our sister’s panties, in the backyard, drying on the clothesline.

The way we bought our ticket varies with each person, but we all climbed onto the train at some point in our life. Some of us jumped off, only to climb back on later. Some of us jumped off and on, trying to fight our feelings, resolving to be the gender we were born with. After a while the distant train whistle beckoned, and we bought another ticket.

Some of us were blessed with the good sense to accept who were are and stayed on the train. Each time the train pulled into the station, they welcomed the rest of us back.

At first that train had a steam locomotive, now, a fission reactor is pulling the train. The train will never stop.

There are stations in diverse places, some destinations involve GRS, FFS, and complete transformation. Hopefully, those stations lead to happiness for you. Other places lead to suicide. PLEASE, DON’T GET OFF AT THOSE STATIONS.

Recently, I jumped off the train. I don’t want to talk about the reasons, but suffice it to say, I was give a second chance, a "do over", and I’m trying, once again, to fill the role. I still hear the train whistle, however.

I’m so happy for Jennifer Bryant, Sue Lighten, Krista Ann, and so many others. They finally have their ticket punched, they are reaching their destinations.

Here’s to those who continue to cross the line with no intentions of surgery. Ladies like Kimberly Huddle, Stanna Stanna, Crysti Hart, to name only a few. I love you ladies. Your beauty and courage surpass my ability to compliment. I’m jealous of your success, although it breaks my heart to think about the struggles you’ve had.

When I think of Diva Las Vegas, Southern Comfort, Krista’s pool party, or any pride happening, my soul cries out. Those kinds of events didn’t exist when I began to understand myself, some forty-something years ago. Never the less, I will always be drawn to that camaraderie. Not to mention being who I am, and not the lie of male counterpart.

So I am rejoining the journey. I’m giving myself every opportunity to succeed as a male. Somehow, this post feels like a eulogy. If it is, I will love each of you forever. If it’s not, I’ll be seeing you. Even as I write this, I’m planning a trip to the wig shop. Save a place for me at Diva 2015. I have a feeling I’ll be back.

Okay, I can’t do this. I’m going to leave my clothes hanging in the closet . . . well, wish me luck and remember I love you all.