It seems that the more that I write, the more that I add to my story, the less I think of myself. Marriage is something sacred to me. It is important in this world, and no more than a moment after I tell you that I was willing to work on my marriage, it seems that I am giving up without a fight.
You may be saying that you don’t think poorly of me for the choices that I am making. The problem is that I think poorly of myself. I want to believe that I’m a good person and that I live up to my beliefs. The problem is that as I read the choices that I made for no real good reason other than that I wanted to.
That’s not exactly right either. I know my wife. Sam is the sort of person who has specific goals in life and has a truly strong sense of who she is other people’s perception of her be damned. It’s part of what attracted me to her in the first place. She has aspects of the masculine without being anything other than feminine.
People defy description and don’t really like being put in nice little boxes. As many people who are, that is how many types of people exist in this world. You can make generalities, like this spectrum is ‘male’ and that spectrum is ‘female,’ but if you go beyond that you are asking for trouble.
Something we often do while trying to write literature for or about the transgender community is lessen who we are as people. Not a one of us is anything remotely approaching normal. That’s a good thing. Normal is a statistical anomaly, so by it’s definition is an impossibility in a world made up of real people.
Every one of us could find a description of at least one of our quirks in a text about abnormal psychology.
The problem occurs when you begin to try and create a baseline about what is a ‘normal’ girl and then force yourself into that mold so society will accept you.
Oh, god. I’m ranting again. You don’t need me to tell you who you are. You already know.
You know what just occurred to me? I think the reason we are afraid of being ‘found out’ is equal parts fear for our own safety from the bigots in the world and the fact that we are basically decent individuals.
A lie of omission is still a lie, and it rankles in the soul that to a certain degree we feel ourselves to be dishonest in our presentation if we don’t tell everyone our big secret. Guess what? Your big secret is that you’ve always been a girl. Accept it, believe it, and move on with my blessing, for whatever it’s worth.
Admittedly you don’t know me, save from the inadequate text that I here write. But you do know me, because I am you. We are all of us a little messed up here, to truly butcher a nice quote for Lewis Carol.
True to her word, Sam moved out into another room in our home. We had a guest room which she transferred her clothing to. That first night alone I had a horrible time getting to sleep. I was lonely. I knew that there would be nothing even resembling sex, but it wasn’t about the sex. I wanted my wife there with me. I loved this woman so much at this moment, even more so because she was in another room, giving both of us space in which to move on in our lives.
That night I cried for the first time since becoming a woman. I mourned the death of Bill Carson. As much as I was still alive I knew that he was dead. It may sound a bit like dissociative identity disorder when I say it that way, but it isn’t. The person you are today is not the same person you were when you were fifteen. Were you to travel back in your own timeline, people would notice a difference.
So I cried for someone I knew so well, someone I would never meet again, even if there is a life after this one. I cried because I was losing the future that I’d imagined for myself growing old with Sam. I cried for the children we wouldn’t have. I cried because deep inside I hoped that now I would be able to bear children, and it felt like a betrayal of Sam to even think it.
I cried because I would never get a daddy daughter dance, or get the father’s dance when she got married.
Here I was being given everything that I’d ever wanted on a silver platter, and the only things I thought about were the things I was losing, nothing that I would be gaining. Unfortunately, that was the black mood that I was in that night, and I cried myself to sleep.
The next morning dawned before the sun arose, and once again I was up and getting ready for work. This time, I would go in prepared as I now had my carry letter, something I had to laugh at. A strip search would be equal to the task, but I needed to maintain the illusion for now. Eventually I’d just admit to being physically female, but I needed time, and I could get a nice 3 or 4 week paid medical leave out of it in about a year. Not that it was a real consideration in what I was doing, but the thought did cross my mind.
I made sure not to get my hair wet this morning, remembering the problems from yesterday. Having limited options I slipped back into the Skirt and top and my new ballet flats from yesterday but with clean underwear. I grabbed my lanyard and a scrunchie and headed out the door so Sam could drive me in to work again. She liked to have the card during the day and who was I to deny her. I dropped the note off at Troy’s desk and headed to my own where I began another scintillating day of supporting people’s web sites.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job, but it can be grating at times. And while I didn’t feel like wanting to bite everyone’s heads off like normal, I got to see the other side of the coin where I got talked down to because I was a woman in a “man’s” job. Since my anger wasn’t as close to the surface as it had been, I used my wit to my advantage and soothed the male ego at the same time as I insulted them. You know how it goes:
“So, my Sprocket isn’t working any more. It did yesterday, but it doesn’t today.”
“Did you make any changes to the site in the last twenty four hours?”
“No, it just stopped working. It must be the crappy server you have me on.” Ok, they are usually more descriptive and insulting, but this is basically what they’re saying. Of course, when I asked them if they’d made any changes, that was a courtesy, since I can look at the time stamps for the files as easily as the next girl.
“The file problem.html seems…”
“Can you just transfer me to a higher ranked individual? I’m sure you’re good at what you do, but I don’t need tier I support. I need a specialist.”
“Oh, I see. So being the expert that you are, I’m sure you notice that you commented out all of the code related to your Sprocket? And I’m sure that you already tried removing it like I just did for you, because you of course are better informed than I am. Here, let me transfer you as requested.”
“Oh, it’s working now.”
“Really, it’s no bother if you still want to talk to that specialist. It really sounds like you have a difficult problem here.”
“Thank you for your time.”
Now, just reading the words, you realize how biting they are. Said in the right tone of voice, however, with just enough sweetness and they don’t realize how much I insulted them.
I got a lot of practice that first day.
On a high note they took me to security about noon and I got a new ID badge. It was my first piece of ID with my new name on it and I have to admit I teared up a little. When I got back Troy walked up to me.
“Take this back to Frank’s office. He’s waiting for you,” he said, handing me my doctor’s letter.
I smiled at him and headed back to Frank’s office.
“Welcome back, Cosette. You have something for me?”
“Yes, I do,” I said. I handed the letter to him and then took a seat. I made sure to keep my knees together this time. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I’d always been one to simply plop into a chair with no consideration to how I looked or how I was sitting. Now, however, I cared how I looked. For the first time in my life I was who I believe I should have been from the beginning and it mattered to me how people perceived me.
“Well, I have to say that you look much more the part today,” Frank said.
“Thank you,” I said with a little smile.
“So, you’re sure this is something you want to do?”
“Frank, this has nothing to do with desire. This isn’t about what I want or even need. This is simply about who I am.” He looked at me with confusion suffusing his features so I continued, “My mind has never agreed with anyone else where my gender is concerned. When I was born, a doctor took one look at the surface and declared, ‘it’s a boy.’ When I first began to understand what that meant, I started to realize there was something wrong with me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Most people don’t. Most people in this world have a synergy between their body and their mind. Your mind says ‘I am male,’ and your body says, ‘yup.’” He just looked at me for a moment, but he didn’t add anything so I again continued, “This is who I am, who I’ve always been. This is who I should have been from the beginning, how I should have grown up.”
“But your wife, how does that work.”
I looked at him sadly, “It doesn’t work. Part of the reason I waited so long was that I knew I wouldn’t be accepted by my family and also that it would destroy my relationship with my wife.”
“Why did you do it even now?”
“I had no choice,” I said and left it at that. The fewer people I had to tell about my spontaneous gender switch, the better.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight over the past week. Have you been to a doctor yet?”
“Yes, but I think I should go back.”
“Take care of your health, Cosette. Not on company time, of course, but take care of yourself. And thanks for the letter. It was necessary, but still something that I would have liked to have been able to do without.”
“Thank you, Frank.”
I got up to leave and Frank called out to me, “So, have you started dating yet?”
“Frank,” I exclaimed, “You’re old enough to be my father…grandfather actually.”
He blushed, “I wasn’t asking for myself. I was asking for one of my grandkids. He’s a bit younger than you, but I’ve been trying to get him together with a good girl for years now.”
“But, you know…”
“Cosette, you are a good person. I’ve never had a complaint about you, and in fact have heard many complimentary things. In fact the last time lay-offs were discussed both your supervisor and manager said that they didn’t care who they lost as long as it wasn’t you.”
I stood there a bit shocked, sure that he wasn’t supposed to be saying things like this and almost unable to believe it even though he was the one who shared it with me.
“Look, I understand that the physical stuff takes time, but I’m not asking for you to sleep with him. Just go on a date or two when you’re free. It’s all I ask.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Can I give him your number?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said and grinned as I walked out the door.
The rest of the day went without incident, something I was increasingly thankful for. I did, however, call the clinic when I returned to my desk. The same doctor as before would be able to see me that same evening, and had been planning on calling me because there were some issues with my blood work.
I told Sam what was up when I got in the car, and like everything else that had happened recently she took it in stride.
“So, do you think we have time to visit your family before the appointment?”
“I think so, sure,” I said. It felt like the bottom fell out when I said it, but I knew this wasn’t something I could put off forever. We drove south along the freeway and my trepidation increased the further we went.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want,” Sam said.
“I don’t want to do this, but I have to do in anyway. This is my life now, Sam. What other choice do I have?”
“You could always change back…”
“You know there is no surgery that would make me into the man I used to be.”
“You could try. Damn it, Bill, you’re just accepting this as if it is a foregone conclusion.”
“My name isn’t Bill.” I said coldly.
“Fine, Andi, whatever, but you’re just too accepting of all of this.”
I grabbed my breasts and pulled painfully on them, “Is this what you’re talking about, Sam? Is it? This is me. This is my body. This isn’t some costume that I’m putting on for the sick pleasure of it.”
“Fine, but what if it were? What if you’d finally decided to ‘transform’ or whatever it’s called?”
“What if I did? The same hormones that are at work in any woman’s body would have worked on mine. Sure, I might not have gotten the figure I now have, but I would have gotten breasts and lost muscle tone. I would have been a woman either way.”
“How can you say that a mutilation like you’re suggesting would make you a woman?”
“Stop the car.”
“Andi…”
“Stop the car. I’ll walk from here.”
“You can’t be serious. We’re on the freeway.”
“I’m deadly serious, Sam. You don’t have to agree with me or anyone like me, but I will not be insulted like this. Stop the car or I’m getting out right here, right now.”
“We’re traveling at sixty miles an hour…”
I unlocked the door and undid my seatbelt. She quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned off the ignition.
“Don’t go,” she said quietly.
“Why not? I’m an abomination to you.”
“I never said that.”
“Wasn’t it what you were thinking?”
Sam sat there quietly and I opened my door. My shoes really weren’t meant for walking long distances. They were meant to look pretty. They’d have to do.
“I’m sorry. I just feel like I lost my best friend.”
“I’m not gone, Sam. It’s just I’m not your husband anymore. I’m your girlfriend.”
“I have enough girlfriends.”
“You can never have enough girlfriends,” I said with a goofy little smile on my face.
“Why did this have to happen to you?”
“I don’t know, but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You know I was never as...virile as I could have been.”
“Don’t give me that. I was pregnant more than once.”
She tried to play it off, but I can’t accept that it wasn’t my fault. Sure, she got pregnant, but it was infrequently in the ten years we were married. Some of those pregnancies failed. One came to term, and that was my beautiful daughter Rose.
“Maybe a real man would have been able to…”
“You were my man, Andi.”
“But I’m not a man,” I said, tears threatening to pour out and drench the both of us.
“I know that, Andi. I’ve always known it. I just wished that it weren’t true.”
I began to cry and put my hand on hers in comfort. She laced her fingers through mine. It was truly sad that our fingers seemed to fid better now that I had much more slender hands.
“I wanted the person I loved more than life itself to be the man of my dreams, but what I got was the best friend I could ever ask for.”
“How can you say that? I’m ruining your life.”
“You gave me Rose, something I will always be truly grateful for. Sure, life is changing with this last little mess, but I wouldn’t trade anything for the time we had.”
“I’m sorry, for everything.”
“I’m not. I’m just sorry that you changed.”
We hugged and cried for a minute or two and then continued to drive to my parents’ home. We pulled up in front of the house and I began to shake. I was still shivering as I got out of the car and walked up to my parents’ door. Like normal, we walked in.
“Anyone home,” Sam called out.
“We’re up here,” my mom’s voice called out from her room, “we’ll be down in a moment.”
We sat there next to each other on the couch and waited for my parents to come down.
“Hello, Sam. It’s always nice to see you,” My dad said as he entered the room, “Who’s your friend?”
“Hi, dad.”
He stopped, turned and looked at me, blinked for a moment or two and then just stood there silently. It was even worse than I thought. My mother came into the room in her normal cheerful manner, took one look at me and said, “Get out.”
“Mom…”
“Don’t you ‘mom’ me. I’ve told you in the past that we won’t tolerate any deviant behavior from you.”
“Let me explain,” I said, beginning to cry.
“Get out of my house,” she said with venom.
“Mom, don’t be like this. This isn’t my choice.”
“Of course it is. There’s always a choice for you to make, and we’ll make our choice,” my dad said coldly.
“Dad, say something. Don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything that you don’t deserve,” he said.
“This isn’t fair,” Sam said. I tried to shush her, but she was having none of it. “Andi didn’t do anything wrong.”
“His name isn’t Andi.”
“Her name is Cosette Andrea Carson. She didn’t do anything other than wake up two days ago as a woman.”
“That doesn’t happen,” My mom said. There was a sneer on her face.
Before anyone else said anything I stripped off my skirt and underwear. “You mean I’m imagining this?” I growled. “Or how about these? Could these have just happened?” I said as I stripped out of my shirt. My dad beat a hasty retreat.
“Put your clothing back on,”
“Why, because I sicken you?”
“Because a lady doesn’t parade around half naked,” She said with a little smirk. I flushed bright red in embarrassment and quickly got myself dressed again.
“Well, the main question now is, are you my son or just someone who happened to look like him.”
“Mom…”
“I know, you act a bit like him, especially your impulsive nakedness.”
“Mom!”
“Sam, did I ever tell you about all of the times I had to chase him down the street because he was running around naked?”
Sam laughed at this and I just hid my face in my hands.
“Knees together...Andi.”
I snapped my knees together and looked through my fingers at my mom, “You called me ‘Andi.’”
“I still don’t know that I accept this...but you are my child. I might still have to disown you…”
“I didn’t choose this, Mom. It just happened.”
“It certainly looks that way, unless you’ve been coming here in a fat suit for months. You look really good, by the way. And you’re beautiful.”
I began to cry and my mom came and sat down next to me and gathered me in her arms. “We can get through this, Andi. Hopefully there will be someway to change you back…”
“What if I don’t want to go back,” I said through my sobs.
“I know you don’t sweety. We don’t get to choose our gender, though.”
“I didn’t choose to be a boy, mom. You know that. I never liked who I had become and it was slowly killing me. Now, maybe I can be happy.”
“With cramps and pregnancy and childbirth? Bloating and hormones and all of that?”
“Especially with all of that. I would consider it a miracle to be able to give birth, mom.”
“I always considered it one myself,” she said quietly as she just hugged me. “But that’s not for you,” she said, sadly.
“It wasn’t for me. I don’t know if this is even permanent, or some strange temporary thing. If it is permanent, though…”
“Oh, Honey. I hope for your sake it isn’t.”
“Mom…”
“Hear me out. Life is difficult enough, man or woman, that you don’t need to add other people’s prejudice into it. It is going to be difficult for you at church after this.”
I just looked at her and she smiled sadly at me. We discussed the changes that there would be for me there. I know many in my audience are uncomfortable with religion in general, so I’ll not bore you with the details. Anyone who is interested could talk to my friend Faeriemage, but for me, for now, I knew before what it would entail, and it was never part of the reasoning why I wasn’t transitioning.
The short form of this is that in my faith the men and women segregate for the last block of meetings on Sunday. The men talk about their responsibilities to the home as the patriarchal head. The men are not in charge, they just preside. The women have a much more social gathering where they provide support to one another and talk about the joy they find in the gospel of Christ.
This was a society that I simply didn’t have the language to interact with, and I would be shown as an outsider. It would be like being a new convert to the church even though I had been born into it. It would also be a great moment to run smack into the difference between ‘love the sinner, hate the sin,’ and ‘bigotry united,’ which seems to exist in any organization that has a basis in absolute morality.
My dad eventually joined in the conversation and even replaced my mom on the couch just holding me. We wound down and I just sat there, my head on my dad’s shoulder. I was more comfortable in my own skin at that moment than at any other moment in my life.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Princess.”
“Are you okay with all this,” I asked quietly.
“Not really, Andi, but I can survive. All that matters is that you’re okay with it. You know how we both feel, and you have to make your own decisions. Unfortunately your brothers and sister have to make their decisions as well.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” I said a little hotly.
“I know, but that doesn’t matter. Especially with one of your nephews already having some gender confusion.”
“That was a long time ago. He’s grown out of his wish to dress up as a princess for Halloween.”
“Has he? Have you?”
“Dad...I never wanted to dress up as a princess.”
“Technically, that’s not true,” my mom said with a smile.
“Oh?” I said, arching an eyebrow at her. I was too comfortable in my father’s arms to do any more than that.
“Yep. Wonder Woman was an amazonian princess before she came to live with the mortals,” she said with a straight face. I just giggled a bit at that and Sam and my dad laughed. Eventually my mom joined in on the laughter.
“You wanted to be Wonder Woman for halloween?”
“Or Bat Girl. I wasn’t really particular. I ended up as Batman.”
“You seemed to enjoy it,” my mom said. She was referring to the smile that I had on my face in the picture that she still had of me and my two brother’s in our gotham crime fighter outfits.
“That’s only because in my mind I was really Bat Girl. She has a similar outfit to Batman’s”
“You little minx,” my mom said in shock and we all laughed again.
She got out the album with the image in it and looked at it again. “I can see it. All we would have needed was to give you a wig and you could have been Bat Girl.”
“I still would have preferred Wonder Woman,” I said with a mock pout.
“Then we can do it this year,” my father said.
“What?” my mom and I said at the same time.
“It’s just a couple of months away. that is more than enough time for your mom to make a costume for you.”
“Do you even have the time, mom?” I asked. She’d been subtly shaking her head no, but dad, like normal, had missed it. I was trying to give her an out.
“It’s not a problem,” she said with a false smile.
“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll do something else,” I said in reply, no smile on my face.
“Beth, you can do this, I know you have enough time over the next two months,” my dad said, and I wanted to hide. My parents occasionally have had epic arguments that would make WWI look like a little border skirmish. They drew up their battle lines and they would feud for months as neither would back down from their position. They would have their battles during this time where one or the other would declare a temporary victory.
There wasn’t going to be one over me now.
“I could be a boy again before that. We really don’t know.”
“If it is going to be this once, and never again, then you deserve the opportunity to actually spend halloween as the person you chose, and I have to say that Wonder Woman is an excellent choice.”
“You would know. You watched it on TV with me.”
“But, Bill…”
“Our son deserves to be beautiful once. And if she’s still our daughter she deserves to have been able to go as Wonder Woman at least once.”
“Mom, think about it. I’m not going to be outgrowing this. If I stay a girl, then I will be able to wear it more than just the once.”
My mom stood there for a few minutes, thinking. I held my breath. I hoped with with some well placed shots of logic I might have headed off the war before it could get a full head of steam. For now, the only thing we could do was wait for my mom to come to a decision.
“Well, let’s get you upstairs and get some measurements.”
I got up and did a little happy dance and then followed my mom upstairs.
“Ok, Strip. Leave on your underwear, but take everything else off.”
I did as instructed and she began to measure. She got my leg length as well as arm length.
“Mom, she wears a glorified swimsuit.”
“Oh, I know that, honey. The other measurements are for you. You need to know your measurements as a girl. It will help you to find clothing that actually fits.”
“but isn’t girl’s clothing in arcane measurements that mean nothing regarding shape and so on?”
“Mostly, yes, of course it is. But those sizes have relations to hip and waist and leg length. Using your measurements you can quickly approximate your size. You’ll still need to try clothing on, but it should be easier to find the right selection.”
My mom sat there for a moment on the edge of her bed as I started to get dressed. “Are you sure about this?” my mom said. She was looking at her hands as she worried at the tape measure.
“I’m sure that you’ll make a wonderful costume. You’ve made so many for me in the past…”
“No, not that. With your figure you’d be beautiful in a paper bag...or a burlap sack. I’m seriously considering putting you in a fully covering costume of burlap.”
“I’ll be ok, mom. I promise.”
“I know you will. That’s what worries me. You’ve come alive for the first time in years. I caught glimpses of this person when you were first in love with someone, or you found a new hobby, but it never lasted. I’m afraid…”
“That this too shall pass?” I said with a small lopsided grin. My mother always loved my lopsided grins. They weren’t as natural with my new symmetric face, but I remembered what they felt like.
“How can you be sure that you want this more than being a boy?”
“Mom, I have dreamed so many dreams in which I was changed from a boy into a girl. I had these dreams long before I even realized that I was transgendered. You know what I always felt when this happened in these dreams?”
She shook her head as her tears began to fall and I went to sit next to her.
“It wasn’t happiness, or pleasure or even joy. It was something far more...sublime than that. I simply felt at peace. Some of the methods I dreamed up were painful or scary or both, but in the end, when I was changed, I felt at peace.”
“And what do you feel now?” she said as she put an arm across my shoulders.
I leaned my head into her shoulder, which was an accomplishment given our differences in height. “I feel at peace,” I said quietly and just stay there as she cried.
Comments
“I feel at peace,â€
yeah. I'm getting there. I look in the mirror and see breasts, and I ... relax, just a little.
Hmmm....
That could have gone much worse. After cooler head prevailed (and a little shock therapy!), Cosette's parents seem to be turning the corner to acceptance.
I hope work remains a civil place, as her first day back seemed to indicate. Love how the stories going Faeriemage, keep'em comin' hon. (Hugs) Taarpa
It could have been much
worse, though I suppose it was as bad as it could be as well.
Thanks for sharing this story with us
Goddess Bless you
Love Desiree
I often get that sort of thing, too
I often find women talking down to me when they perceive that I am on their “turf,” or just for principle’s sake, to make sure I “know my place” as a stupid male. Sexism is a two-way street, and so heavily congested in both directions for such a narrow little road.