18 February 2012 by kathleen.

I have not yet abandoned this blog.  For the past few weeks, however, some health issues have sapped my strength.

Before, during, and immediately after our transition or surgery, our transsexual events take center stage.  Now that my surgery is 3 years behind me, plain old ordinary living takes over: stuffy head, runny nose, etc.  There is nothing dramatic, just the mundane discomforts of civilized living.

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28 January 2012 by kathleen.

I wrote a few days ago about contra dancing. The dance was a powerful experience for me, as you might guess because this is my second blog post about it. Despite being tired from 3-1/2 hours of nearly constant movement Saturday evening, I couldn’t sleep when I got home.

I never danced very much as a man. I was in high school when the Twist was popular, but my Twist always turned into a tangle! My family used to kid me that I looked like I was doing the Lumberjack Waltz. It sounded funny to them, but they actually picked up on the stiffness and clumsiness I felt; my feet seemed to be blocks of wood. So even though I took a few lessons in ballroom dancing in the mid-70’s (I was in my early 20’s), I never got confident enough to try to actually use what I learned.

My female cousins tried to teach me to dance when I was in college, but they weren’t much help. People kept telling me that I should just move however I felt, but when I did, women laughed out loud. My heritage is Polish and German-Irish; polka was what I saw my parents doing when I grew up. I felt OK doing the polka, though I was never very good at it, and there’s not much polka music playing in southeastern Virginia.

Because the contra dancing cycled me through nearly everyone in the room over the course of the evening, I had the chance to touch a lot of men in non-threatening, non-intimate ways. Wow! What a difference from one man to the next — what a wealth of information you can pick up in just a few seconds. I was surprised how quickly I could identify a man who just wanted a piece of meat to show off his dancing, versus a man who respected both himself and his partner, regardless of how well he danced.

That experience gave me a new perspective on choosing a life partner. I realized, too, that nearly all the men who made good dance partners were already married.

Posted in Being/staying married, AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

22 January 2012 by kathleen.

Last night I attended my first contra dance. My fiddle teacher suggested I might want to attend. This is the kind of music I have been studying, and her band was playing. Since my partner was out of town and I had nothing else going on, I decided to go.

In a contra dance, unlike a square dance, groups of four continually form and reform through the dance, so that by the end of the night it is almost certain that you will dance with everyone in the room at least once. And unlike contemporary club dancing with thumping music, dim lighting, and people dancing individually next to each other, in contra dancing you actually touch other people (what a concept!).

I began to get nervous yesterday afternoon. Throughout my life I have found that if ahead of time I think of some bad thing happening it never does. This history prompts me to imagine as many bad incidents as I can, in order to prevent them from happening. The two awful things I could imagine happening were my hairpiece falling off, and my butt (a Classic Curves Veronica 2) sliding down my legs as I danced.

Neither of those things happened, of course. My imagination failed me; unimagined things happened instead. First, during the teaching hour set aside for newbies, I was partnered with someone I worked with 15 or so years ago; he was there with his wife. I was pretty sure he didn’t recognize me since we never worked closely together, but throughout the night I was afraid he’d recognize my voice or some other quirk of my personality and become surly.

This was the first time I ever danced with a man; many men, actually, as the night wore on. I had never danced much as a man, but I had taken some dance lessons 30 years ago. I was hoping I had forgotten all traces of dancing as a man. All night I was tense, clumsy, and slow, partly in fear of giving myself away as a former male, partly because I am on the chubby side, and partly because this was so new to me.

I had also forgotten about testosterone — not mine but that of the men dancing. A few of the men danced like maniacs. I don’t know if they were high on testosterone, or if they thought the faster they swung their partner the better dancer they were. Good Lord! If you’ve never danced with men you have no idea what women go through. I still don’t know if their dancing was extreme, or if my clumsiness was the problem.

The fourth issue was my voice.  It’s usually pretty believably female if you’re looking at me, but as the night wore on, I was getting fatigued and my voice started giving out unladylike grunts.

Overall, I’m glad I had the experience, but at the moment I don’t feel an inclination to repeat it. That inclination could change over the next weeks, because between the scary parts it felt good to move my body and to touch other bodies.

Posted in Passing, AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

18 January 2012 by kathleen.

Some years before I started sequence of tasks leading up to transition, I considered the options I had in dealing with my transgender.  The primary goal was to be rid of maleness, and for me that put the testicles at the top of the disposal list.

As a male-bodied person without male reproductive organs, how could I continue to live my life?  I wasn’t adequately aggressive for a man even with the testosterone I had; removing the source of testosterone might relieve pressure in some ways, but would probably make my life harder in others.

I concluded that — for me — the right thing to do was to live as a woman.

You don’t have to agree with me.  That conclusion was, and is, right for me.  Something else might be right for you.  I ponder important decisions for a long time, but once I decide, I pull out all the stops.  I decided to become a woman as completely and as thoroughly as I could be.

Back in the mists of time, I had a manager whose key word was discipline, by which he meant, “Do it my way.”  I developed my own definition: discipline is doing the right thing, whether you feel like doing it or not.

Some of the things I’ve written about passing in recent weeks remind me of things I chose to do because I decided they were the right thing for me to do as the woman I was becoming. They would not have been the right thing if I’d decided to remain male, but having chosen to become female, it “fit” to do them. I wrote once before about doing what is expected, which is to say, doing whatever it is that fits the situation you’re in.

It is not my place to say what you should be, how you should live your life, or how you should express your transgender. You need to identify what is right for you, then live that rightness, all day every day, whether you feel like it or not.

Posted in Passing, AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

23 December 2011 by kathleen.

It’s time for a Christmas blog post.  I had a good family growing up — except at Christmas.  By the time I was in college, I needed bourbon to get through the family gift exchange.

I told my mother that I liked to wear women’s clothes during the summer of 1966.  During the  family gift exchange Christmas a year and a half later, I unwrapped a clothing-shaped box (you know, about 2 inches by 12 inches by 18 inches).  The box was printed with the name of a prominent women’s apparel store in my hometown.

My guilt flared.  Would mom have gotten a nightie or something?  What could she get me at that store that wouldn’t embarrass me?  In my bourbon-infused state, my mind raced over the possibilities, and my face reddened alarmingly.

Let me just tell you about mom’s sense of humor.  Back in the sixth grade, mom had packed me a school breakfast (Catholic school….. Breakfast after communion at mass before classes).  This particular day happened to be April 1, 1959.  I bit into my peanut butter and jelly sandwich to find an April Fool trick from mom: she’d placed a piece of thin cardboard in the middle of my sandwich!

The teacher didn’t think it was funny when I burst out laughing, and so did the kids around me.  This was a loving mother, but one that was capable of a harmless trick now and then.

And this Christmas it was a trick that I got in the apparel box: a man’s shirt.  When I opened it and saw it was just a shirt, I laughed and laughed, but mom was the only one who knew why I was laughing. Mom wouldn’t have embarrassed me that way in front of all the family; that was clear when I looked back over the incident.  My own internalized guilt and my intoxication joined with mom’s playfulness to spark my imagination and my fantasies.

When I recognized the name on the box, I both hoped and dreaded that she’d bought me something feminine.  You may think mom just used that box because it fit the shirt, but I know her better than that.  She had a ton of clothing boxes from previous Christmases — there’s no doubt in my mind that she was deliberately teasing me 44 years ago.  It was a private joke between her and me, and no harm was done.  I still regret that she before I recognized myself as Kathleen, the name she gave me.

What ever your situation, I hope you can look back on at least a few pleasant memories  of your mother and father, as I have done here.

Posted in AutoBiog | 2 Comments »

20 December 2011 by kathleen.

I mentioned my Mexican vacation last time.  On our fourth day of our stay, we took a snorkeling excursion.  My partner likes to snorkel, and we bought a swim mask with underwater camera attached.

As I noted in an earlier post, I am quite bald.  I didn’t feel the turban mentioned in that post was very appropriate to an all-day sailing trip, but I needed something to keep my hairpiece on.  In case you’ve never been on a 30- or 40-foot sailing vessel, let me tell you it gets pretty windy.

I searched some of the shops in Cancun for some sort of head scarf.  I found a shaped scarf in a hideous shade of pink — a shade I believed was not one that any male would allow himself to be seen in.

What do you think? Did I pass? I think I did, because I didn’t hear any unpleasant remarks. There was no way I could snorkel — or even swim. I own a couple of rubber bathing caps, but even if I could wear them over my hairpiece (which I cannot), the piece would come off if I removed the cap. I would have had to wear the bathing cap all day.

I’ve tried this at home, you see. I take off my hairpiece, pull my own hair back with a small scrunchee, and put on the bathing cap. The cap does not seal perfectly, so my own hair gets soaked under the cap. When I take off the rubber cap, I have to blow dry my hair to get it ready to blend with the hair piece. There was no way I could do that on a boat.

I took a big risk of embarrassment. I trusted that the scarf, ugly as it was, would keep my hairpiece from blowing off, and would still look feminine enough to preserve my image. It would have been humiliating if I’d bumped my head and knocked the hairpiece off, or worse yet if I’d fallen off the boat. Taking risks is part of living; nothing provides certainty this side of the grave.

If you’re still believing that SRS will take care of all your problems, please get a grip and come back to reality.  Living life as a woman is satisfying, but it is rarely without risk.

Posted in Passing, AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

18 December 2011 by kathleen.

My partner (who has been known to comment here from time to time as The Wife) and I just returned from a one-week vacation in Mexico.  What makes this event a subject for this blog is that it was my first trip outside the USA as Kathleen.

I didn’t anticipate any legal trouble because I successfully updated my passport after my surgery in March, 2009.  I felt an increased degree of vulnerability, however, when we left the US.  Let me explain.

We went to Cancun, Mexico, a destination chosen owing to receipt of a gift certificate for a one-week stay at one of several hundred possible resorts around the world.  By the time we juggled our availability, the availability of the selected resorts, and the expiration of the certificate, we settled on a hotel in Cancun for last week.  The gift certificate was not exactly what it appeared to be; yes, we stayed a week but it wasn’t quite free.  That saga, however, is out of scope in this blog.

What is in scope is the language barrier.  You might hear someone say, “Oh, everyone there speaks English.  You won’t have any problem.”  I beg to differ.  If you can point to what you want, there is a hope of being understood; otherwise, forget it.  The only people with good English skills are the salesmen — and they are all men! — for time-share condos and for day trips to places of interest around Cancun.  Hotel clerks, waiters, shopkeepers, etc., can respond to your pointing finger but not much else.  Then when you finally think you’ve been understood, you can still get a surprise.

That’s why I felt more vulnerable than I do here.  Because of the language difference, I do not feel confident that I could explain to municipal or national police just what my status is, and just what is my relationship to The Wife.  I mean, we’re not even exactly a same-sex couple — yes, we are mostly, and I guess legally.  But trying to explain that we’re still married even though one of us changed sex… I don’t know enough Spanish to know where to begin.

The good news is that we had neither legal nor medical difficulties, and there was no need to try to explain anything.  I hate to think what might have happened if I’d had medical problems in Cancun the way Erin Vaught had them in Muncie, Indiana, in July, 2010.  That’s why I was anxious.

Posted in AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

22 November 2011 by kathleen.

50 years — that’s how long it’s been since I graduated from the 8th grade at an Ursuline-run Catholic school in Euclid, Ohio. A few hard-working people put together the reunion, even though most people don’t bother with grade school reunions.

I had been reluctant to attend because of the reputation that the Catholic church has toward transsexuality, but my fears were groundless. Regardless of the official position, I was welcomed and treated respectfully. A few of my former classmates didn’t want to talk to me at all, but most were willing to exchange social pleasantries and swap biographies. Several people complimented my courage.

I was surprised how many people looked similar to what I remembered from 50 years ago. They were 13 or 14 years old when I last saw them, but some facial features seemed to be unchanging.

I visited my cousin and a high school friend on the trip, too. In the months leading up the the event, I felt a need to attend — not for them, but for me. A year and a half ago my high school had a 45th reunion; it would have been only 15 months after my surgery.  I wasn’t ready then, and I didn’t attend.

This time, nearly 4 years after my transition, going back felt right; I felt ready and in need of closure. I’m glad I went, for I have a sense that the early chapters of my life are now closed: I can let them go.

Posted in AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

13 November 2011 by kathleen.

I’ve been on trans-dermal estrogen for about 4-1/2 years.  Because I was 60 years old when I started estrogen, my breasts have not grown as fast or as large as they would have if I’d started estrogen in my teens or twenties.

Instead of the sagging breasts of a woman in her 60’s, I have the pert booblets of a 15-year-old.  That is not a good thing for a woman my age.  In fact, when I went to the dermatologist for a skin cancer checkup two years ago, I had the distinct impression the horny old doctor looked more at my breasts than at any possibly-cancerous growths elsewhere on my skin.  No, he didn’t touch me inappropriately, but he sure looked a lot harder at some places than others.

So it’s not always a good thing to have pert booblets.  I will go bra-less around the house, but that’s about it.  For those of you who don’t have breasts yet, let me tell you that bras don’t only support the breasts, they also minimize the outline of the nipples under your blouse or tee-shirt.

Certainly when you’re trying to attract someone’s attention at a nightclub or party, visible nipples are a Good Thing.  But not when you’re raking leaves, or shopping for Thanksgiving dinner, or having a skin cancer screening.

Posted in AutoBiog, General MtF topics | 2 Comments »

8 November 2011 by kathleen.

About three weeks after my transition at work, I was driving alone to an evening event. I used my left turn signal and pulled into the left turn lane at a large intersection. A police car pulled up behind me.

I made my turn when the light changed, but I hadn’t gone 100 feet before the red and blue lights started flashing. I pulled into a parking lot, then got out my driver’s license and registration. I rolled down my window and handed them to the officer, a 30-ish male.

I had had my driver’s license changed to show my new name, but the dreaded ‘M’ was still on it. The registration, however, still had my former name. After looking over the documents, he asked me if this was my car. I said ‘yes’. Well, he said, the left rear turn signal was out, and I should get it repaired as soon as possible.

That was it. All done; no hassle, no summons, just get the signal fixed.

Whew! What a relief!

I went on my way, and so did he. I was still shaking a bit (for no reason, really), and started thinking back over what happened. That’s when I started to get mad. Were the police hassling me because I am transgendered? Why did he really stop me?  Was he curious what a tranny might look like?

Like you, I’ve heard a lot of stories about transpeople being busted for no reason at all, and in fact I’d been hassled plenty just a few weeks earlier.  The clerks at the motor vehicle office said I had to take off all makeup and earrings to get a photo for my license because there was an M on it. Oh, yeah — there was enough for me to get paranoid about.

So I did a slow boil for another mile or two, but then just before I got on the interstate, another idea came into my head: my guardian angel revealed to me that I was watched over that night. No, I didn’t hear any trumpets; nobody whispered in my ear; I didn’t hear voices.  I just started thinking it. My angel wanted me to know, that’s all: somebody was watching out for me. My transition was good, my existence as Kathleen was good, and my errand for the evening was good.

That’s one example of what I said last time, that distance from an event can make a big difference in one’s perception of it.

And by the way, I told this angel story to a police officer who actually worked in that precinct about the time the event occurred.  She promised to carry the story back to the precinct if she could. It’s a reminder that police — and all of us, really — can have unintended good effects.

Posted in AutoBiog | 1 Comment »