"What
The Hell Have I Gotten Myself Into Now?
or, how did a mean, unfulfilled, fat,
closeted, jerk of a trannie who wanted to die at age 37 become
the Transgendered Road Mistress before turning 38?
It took the right people along the way.
It took a very good friend doing a tough, loving thing that
seemed incredibly mean at the time. It took another great friend
I met on my first night on the Web. It took a good, caring boss
who lets me run his business as if it were my own and doesn't
care how I dress when I'm not working. It took the understanding
and caring of the many new friends I've met along the
transgendered interstate. It definitely took a lot of nerve. But,
I did it.
Flash back to June of 1996. My best
friend Amy was employed by me as a housekeeper. My parents lived
with me, and are chronically ill in their 80s with senile
dementia and other problems. I have a job that demands 60 hours
per week of my time. I am forced to take over my parents affairs
and have no clue how to do it or how the files are arranged. I
never had time to dress (up until that time, I'd found excuses
for "business trips" to dress in hotel rooms with
blinds drawn nearly every month). I walked around with my head
hanging, the entire weight of the lives of 4 people crushing me.
I had no outlet, and had no idea that anyone else like me
existed. My only public excursions had been on Halloweens, an
annual ritual, after which I had to be a pumpkin for another
year. I ate to excess. I snapped and was mean to everyone I ever
encountered, and I thought that every unintended slight was a
sign that I was not needed. I told Amy, the only person who knew
of my crossdressing, that I wanted to die for the first time in
January of 1996, and almost did it then. I almost took her down
with me, she was facing problems of her own. I got over it for
awhile but remained in denial about my dressing. I felt that way
by the time I turned 37 on June 22, 1996.
The spiral continued downward until
August 23, 1996. The day before that, I exploded at a landscaping
contractor who rang my doorbell at 8AM looking for another house
in my neighborhood. I had been up all night the night before
staring into space, not sure why I was unhappy. I snapped and
chased him around the neighborhood in my car, ramming him twice.
This alarmed Amy; as did the note I left her after she dared to
leave early to spend time with another friend. She quit and moved
out on me, leaving the house keys in the lock, while I was
delivering my Dad to the emergency room, all the time an employee
at my store was no showing/no calling to work on a busy Friday
night. At 5:15 that afternoon, I stood on my driveway, staring at
my house, tears streaming down my face, feeling the elevator hit
the subbasement. I went to work, lacking any other course to
follow, survived the night, and spent the next week without
sleep, realizing who was totally to blame for my problems and
staring him in the face in a mirror.
I submitted to therapy, not for me, but
for the fact that my parents needed me alive. I didn't care at
that point. I tried to establish contact with Amy again, but she
knew I wasn't right and needed to protect herself. I didn't blame
her, I knew I was a horrible person. I tried a psychiatrist, who
wanted to turn me into a druggie. I told Stacy, the therapist I
was assigned, nothing of my crossdressing. Funny thing, she told
me 4 difficult sessions later that she knew it all along. She
should have known, she is a TS, and I never read her.
I finally came to grips with my
crossdressing in late October, it was nearly time to go out for
Halloween, and I wasn't missing that. At the same time, I was
having my computer refitted to surf the Web, not knowing that the
two would open up my horizons. I got on line on October 29th, and
on my first night on line, punched up "crossdress" and
"transgender" in Yahoo. One of the first entries I
found was the site of the Tennessee Vals, and I entered
my new world. I spent nearly a whole night reading the past
newsletters and the web pages of the people involved, and one
thought occured to me: "I'm reading about myself." I
sent my first EMail to Jennileigh, stupidly attaching a document
I wrote from WordPerfect instead of just using the notepad. She
responded, and welcomed me to the TG world, and invited me to a
Vals meeting the following weekend.
Fade to February 8th, 1997. I'm going to
my fourth Vals meeting tonight to see my great friends there and
party a bit. I sent out the first issue of the newsletter of the
new group I have helped start in Lexington, called the Bluegrass Belles, this week,
and I am bringing a couple Belles to the Vals meeting. I will
hand Jennileigh a disc containing some ruminations to publish
that I wrote in preparation for my trip to DC to lobby for
transgendered employment rights. I am out to most of my friends
and employees with their support, and my mother without her
approval but at least not her condemnation. I have shopped, eaten
out, gone to movies, attended meetings, and driven interstate
while totally crossdressed. I have lost 70 pounds, and will keep
losing until I can wear that size 16 dress, you know the one, the
one that is black, skimpy, off the shoulder, showing serious
cleavage. And, Amy is again my best friend, accompanying me to
meetings, going shopping, and out to dinner with me en femme. I
have never been so happy despite still having many pressures on
me. I still have seriously ill parents. I still have a
challenging career. I am happy, and am glad I didn't do anything
stupid in 1995-96 when life seemed not worth living.
I wrote that in February 1997. It's now
January 1998. My parents are still very sick, both in a nursing
facility, and I'm watching their life savings slowly piss away.
I've managed, despite this, to attend the 1997 Be-All and
Southern Comfort; to lobby Congress twice in 1997 (planning to do
it again in April 1998); to speak to groups on the subject of
transgenderism; and attended a professional conference in femme
mode. I wear my hair long, and haven't used a wig in quite
awhile, and just about everyone who know me knows what i do when
I'm not working. I don't know what the future will bring -
dealing with the deterioration of my parents is not pleasant, and
the myriad responsibilities of my life and sheer volume of work I
must perform daily is sometimes overwhelming. I'm also wrestling
a bit with the question of where I fit in the transgendered world
and how far I have the need to go: i.e. am I a TS, should I
consider transitioning, or is being a very public crossdresser
good enough? That is a question I'm tabling for now.
I will never enter the closet again. I
have too much fun this way. Too many memorable things have
happened to me. Most importantly, I cannot describe adequately
the feeling I get when I get my hair and makeup just right, and
dress the part, and look in the mirror. I go out in public and
pass. I am a girl when I want to be, and can pull it off, and
when I do, ooh lah lah what a feeling. I don't fear being read,
only being recongnized, and the chances of that are nearly zero.
Best of all, I don't closet my emotions anymore; I did that with
myself. I hug my friends, tell people I care about them, and help
others to a fault. I am finally much of the way toward being the
person I want to end up being.
If you are where I was a few short
months' ago, and this sounds familiar, please do yourself a favor
and come out. Go to your local TG group, even if you must do it
in drab. Let that part of your personality out of that closet.
Get out there and be yourself. Use your head, but you can do it
safely. Visit a TG friendly club or restaurant, and you will see
we aren't all that rare. For every one that is out, as I am, I am
sure there are 3 others hiding their panties from a wife, mom,
roommate, boss, so forth. It's really not as hard or dangerous as
you would think if you use your head. You might as well have a
good time!
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