For personal real life issues, like not being allowed access to my grandchildren, I cannot live full-time as a woman. However, I find relief in going for regular make-overs to a very professional lady on the Gold Coast of Queensland (isn't that an ironic name?) who does a great job of transforming me into a somewhat realistic semblance of a female. I have to say that I love myself after she has performed her magic upon me, even though I can only maintain the illusion for a relatively short time.
So I visited her on Thursday and had a great time trying on a number of outfits after she had transformed my face into as close as I can get to being female these days and when I left her salon, still en femme, I drove to visit a dear friend who has gone the whole way and is now fully female.
She is much braver than me. We had a cup of tea and a lovely chat and it was a nice visit. I have to say I feel so good about myself when I am properly dressed. Being relaxed in your own gender is just such a blast. Most of you will know exactly what I mean. And I had on a great outfit which I just loved. My friend took a heap of selfies to spread around to mutual acquaintances and we had a great couple of hours.
Anyway, I live in Brisbane, in a block of apartments, so I drove home, still on a bit of a high, parked the car and called for the lift (elevator, for our transatlantic friends). The doors opened and there were my next-door neighbours, also on their way up to our ninth-floor apartments.
What can you do? They are a mother and daughter, both very good-looking, no point in cringeing or trying to hide, so I walked into the lift and gave them a big smile and said "Well, what do you think?" When their jaws had finished dropping they asked me what was going on, so I told a LITTLE white lie and said I was going to a cross-dressing party.
They then told me I looked as good as Caitlyn Jenner (Ooh, I do love flattering liars!) and we were all having a good laugh by the time we got out of the lift and went to our separate apartments.
I suppose the reason I am posting this is to say that you don't have to be terrified when you get sprung. People can be quite nice.
Comments
Your name came up in therapy....
my therapist encouraged me to talk to Mrs. D about the friends I have whom she doesn't know are TG (she's aware of a few dears already) so I'm going to show her your pic when she comes back from her trip to the Jersey Shore with her best friend. Love you dearly!
Love, Andrea Lena
I Do Hope She Doesn't Freak Out
You know I love you, 'Drea, so I hope it works out and she can understand that we actually have no choice. It's hard-wired into us, heart and soul and mind. It's not just a whim.
Well?
She knows about a few of my friends, but she's not married to them, you know? She's clinical enough as a nurse to understand the process of development and the 'hard wiring' of the brain, so she's able to accept that a lot of folks indeed ARE transgender. Me? Not so much so far, but she knows I write and that's a start.
Love, Andrea Lena
Me 2
Lovely photo. I wonder what an expert transformation service could do for me? Of course, I can only wonder, because there are more important things…like a roof over my head, and an occasional bite to eat.
The last time I went anywhere as a woman, it was a Halloween night out with friends. We dropped in on some of their friends, and I waited on the walkway to their front door while my friends knocked to inquire if our surprise visit was welcome. It was a dark night, the nearest streetlight was several houses away, and their porch light was off. Nevertheless, a couple of guys walking by on the sidewalk “made” me from several yards away: “Hey, look at that guy! Doesn’t he look great?” From that experience, and from being aware of my definitely male build, I am convinced that no amount of cosmetics, prostheses, or even surgery could ever make me look authentically female.
So, I compromise. I go out in a (usually) modest pair of stiletto heels, with shirt and trousers tastefully coordinated to match—not loud and flamboyant, but not drab, either. (Occasionally though, I go out in these 80’s bad girl rocker boots, which I really love…)
I get all sorts of responses. Usually, I get ignored. When I catch a woman staring, I will sometimes ask, “Do you like them?” Next time I catch a guy staring, I think I will do the same. :3 Once while in the grocery checkout queue while wearing the bad girl rocker boots, the next guy stood back a far way behind me; I think I must’ve terrified him. In another pair, a woman once remarked to me somewhat sourly, “Nice boots.” So, I just said “Thank you” and went my way. At the local neighborhood pharmacy, I have the whole staff wondering what I will wear in there next.
Anyway (sorry for the ramble), I also live in a large apartment block. I usually change shoes to avoid traumatizing the neighbors, but occasionally I do not, because I am sick of hiding. I have been “sprung” any number of times.
I’ve had no actual nasty comments, but one woman nearly fell on her face bending over to look at my shoes (I just kept walking right past her, while offering a sour “Hello, Sara!”). I’ve had an occasional sour look or quick snort and head shake.
One woman emerged from her apartment as I was walking by, walked with me in her block-heel boots, and remarked, “We sound like a couple of high-heel horses.” She didn’t seem to appreciate my rejoinder about “Here comes the cavalry!”
I seemed to put one poor Ethiopian woman into shock as she remarked more to herself than me, “Oh My God, high heel…” followed by something about how I seemed to manage them well. Feeling caught out and a bit foolish myself, I had no response for her.
I used to be terrified all the time, making the usual excuses while out shopping. And, funnily enough, it was on those occasions when I got the nasty remarks (though that was many years ago–things have changed, somewhat). So, I just didn’t shop there, any more. But I got used to shopping for myself, tried shoes on in the store, and treated the whole thing as no big deal, which made it much more difficult for other people to raise a ruckus.
And, at my apartments? It’s just as you say: “What can you do?” Well, I can brass it out each time until I get to the point where I mentally shrug my shoulders and just go with it. Ultimately, I guess I am just too old and tired to care how they respond, any more (though I do still hope not to get assaulted over it).
Love Those Boots!
If you have any spare, I'll have them!
Oh, how I wish!
I have seen a few more pair like those come up for sale in the online vintage trade, but always in teeny-tiny sizes! Finding those was a sheer stroke of luck, and then it was off to the cobblers with them for a good bit of mending, for they were hard worn and in a sorry state on the insides. But it was all worth it, they do indeed rock, and heels like those are not made anywhere, any more.
Very nice
Didn't I meet you in Singapore?
Portia
Nearly, My Dear
But you met my male shadow! Not ME!
Nice
You look very good Joanne. Seeing another Aussie here is really great, too.
Most people these days are quite accepting of gender diversity - at least here it seems.
Live "down the coast" in that grim city of Sydney lol
Joanna
Thank You, Joanna
Sydney's not so grim. In fact, it's a lovely city, even if it can get a bit coolish at times. Where else can you find an Opera House and a bridge like that? There are a few of us here on BC too, and thanks for the compliment!