Being transgendered does lead you to some pretty odd moments. Yesterday was no exception. Much to my genuine happiness, Mrs A has begun to wear make up. She has phenomenal skin and looks much younger than her age, so she has always avoided it in the past. But a combination of us both nearing 40 and children keeping her, in particular, up at night has led to some darker circles appearing below her eyes. As she uses darkish eye shadow and has fair skin just below the brow, the total effect is that her eyes look like they are more sunken than they are and that her eyebrows protrude slightly.
Noticing this, I wasn’t sure that it was actually a good idea to say anything. For a start, I didn’t want to remind her that my knowledge of woman’s make up is quite good and lead her to start asking me difficult questions. But, with no attempt on my behalf to raise the subject, a discussion began about her make up. I pointed out that I’d noticed she was wearing some and asked whether I was allowed to comment. It went slightly weird for a moment, so I pulled back and didn’t say anything.
Working in my office a little later in the day, she came in and asked me what I was going to say about her make up. So I basically gave her the benefit of my knowledge and we talked about the kinds of products she could use to help reduce the problem and how to apply it. I said that she should get some and she said she would think about it and left the conversation there.
Given that she is very anti-Rhiannon, it was a genuinely weird conversation to have with her to be honest. If you are against your spouse having gender issues and wearing clothes and make up, would you even enter into that conversation? While we were finishing talking, there was a moment when I almost asked whether she wanted to borrow some of my product. I have the same problem and use this great product that was recommended to me. But I didn’t. I really did think that would make the conversation go in the wrong direction: I’m not supposed to have anything at all. I got rid of it all remember?
Its almost like she likes that I have a feminine character and that I know lots about clothes and make up, but that I’m not allowed to express it at all. Except when it’s helpful to her of course. Still it was really nice to be able to talk about it with her, even if it was just fleetingly. Part of me is tempted to read too much into it: that she is coming round to the idea. But seriously, that isn’t going to happen. But it was nice to have five minutes knowing how the other half live!
Monday, 13 February 2012
Sunday, 12 February 2012
Numbness - part 2
Sorry, it’s been a while. And actually whilst lots of things – very positive things have happened, I’m left currently with a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. One that leaves me quite unsure about myself.
So first, the good stuff. Over the last couple of months – shamefully since my last blog, I’ve had some real highs. In addition to having come out to a few more people, who were lovely in their responses, to having setting up a profile on Roses Forum, which provided some interesting and useful advice and to having bought some new breasts, I have pushed the envelope further.
Before Christmas, I went shopping. Not just shopping you understand. Shopping. I went shopping in girl clothes. Well, boots, jeans and a girl top. But when I was out, I didn’t just go shopping for clothes, I went for make up too. I stood in a department store in the centre of a city and had make up applied to me while the ordinary punters milled around. And actually, I didn’t really care whether they liked it or not. I was trying to improve on my foundational make up and facial preparation and the male make up artist slash salesperson was very helpful indeed. Set up by one of my fabulous real girl friends who then went for supper with me. I had a ball.
Then in January, despite having the most horrendous time at work and not to mention an even worse workload than ever before, I took the evening off and I went out. Full on Rhiannon – the whole shebang. ‘She’ being the operative part of that sentence. Before you start thinking I was actually brave, it was only to a support group. A fantastic support group (Nottingham Chams) nonetheless, but still a safe haven of other transpeople. The brave part actually was walking from the hotel room to the car. It was a very fun evening. Lots of very kind, very interesting characters. From the photos that the very lovely and spectacularly amusing Lynn Jones took, it was clear that I was having a wig malfunction. I’m growing my hair out and the fasteners had snapped with too much hair volume under the wig. I know – I’m getting a skullcap for next time.
But its what has happened since that is odd and slightly inexplicable. I just don’t feel like wanting to be the girl anymore. I’m feeling numb to the world around me. I had a similar experience back in July last year and blogged on the subject. I normally have an irrepressible need to dress like a girl, to blog, to talk about it, to email my t-girl friends, to engage with the community I have fledglingly become a part of, but at the moment I’m not. Three things have happened recently that have just winded me completely:
Firstly, at work, I’ve had a several negative sets of feedback about work I’ve done. It has been like the feedback just drained all semblance of confidence from me. I was feeling fragile already and now I feel worse. I wonder whether I can ever bounce back from what I’m feeling inside. I always considered myself to be good at what I do, but the last 3 months have stripped me bare in how I feel about my capability. I tie a lot of my self-esteem into my work and nothing feels right anymore. I just stare at the screen not knowing where to start.
Secondly, I seem to lack any motivation and the energy to want to do it. Its like a switch has been flicked off inside. I have regressed into myself where work is about the only thing I force myself, kicking and screaming, to do. I’m really not sure what is wrong. For the first time this morning in weeks, I thought that putting a skirt on would make me feel normal again. So maybe I’m coming up the other side. But it is like when you have an injection in your gum for dental work and you can’t feel it, when you touch your face afterwards you can’t feel it and its almost like its someone else’s face. I just don’t feel like doing anything at all. Combine that with the fact that I’m supposed to be losing weight and I’m not. I just hate the way I look at the moment – all chubby and horrible.
Thirdly, that night at the support group, as wonderful as people were – and they were lovely, I looked around and felt like a man in a dress. I felt like I was a fraud. Most of the people there just carried it off better and were womanlier in their mannerism, speech patterns and in the things they said. I guess when you hide in the closet for a long time, you don’t know how far behind the curve you are. Or maybe too many curves is the problem.
I know the immediate thing to say is that I’m probably being hard on myself. But I’m really not. Actually I feel I’m lazy and self-pitying. I feel like I should tell myself to just get over myself and to stop being such a wuss. But when I do that, I make myself cry, so I’ve stopped that. I’m not coming from a place of wanting attention either. Recording these things on a blog may say the opposite, but I write more because I haven’t blogged for so long that I wanted to explain a little of where I'm at. I actually hate drawing attention to myself.
I don’t want to go back to being really negative in what I write, but this is a weird thing that I’ve caught and I sometimes don’t really know what to do.
So first, the good stuff. Over the last couple of months – shamefully since my last blog, I’ve had some real highs. In addition to having come out to a few more people, who were lovely in their responses, to having setting up a profile on Roses Forum, which provided some interesting and useful advice and to having bought some new breasts, I have pushed the envelope further.
Before Christmas, I went shopping. Not just shopping you understand. Shopping. I went shopping in girl clothes. Well, boots, jeans and a girl top. But when I was out, I didn’t just go shopping for clothes, I went for make up too. I stood in a department store in the centre of a city and had make up applied to me while the ordinary punters milled around. And actually, I didn’t really care whether they liked it or not. I was trying to improve on my foundational make up and facial preparation and the male make up artist slash salesperson was very helpful indeed. Set up by one of my fabulous real girl friends who then went for supper with me. I had a ball.
Then in January, despite having the most horrendous time at work and not to mention an even worse workload than ever before, I took the evening off and I went out. Full on Rhiannon – the whole shebang. ‘She’ being the operative part of that sentence. Before you start thinking I was actually brave, it was only to a support group. A fantastic support group (Nottingham Chams) nonetheless, but still a safe haven of other transpeople. The brave part actually was walking from the hotel room to the car. It was a very fun evening. Lots of very kind, very interesting characters. From the photos that the very lovely and spectacularly amusing Lynn Jones took, it was clear that I was having a wig malfunction. I’m growing my hair out and the fasteners had snapped with too much hair volume under the wig. I know – I’m getting a skullcap for next time.
But its what has happened since that is odd and slightly inexplicable. I just don’t feel like wanting to be the girl anymore. I’m feeling numb to the world around me. I had a similar experience back in July last year and blogged on the subject. I normally have an irrepressible need to dress like a girl, to blog, to talk about it, to email my t-girl friends, to engage with the community I have fledglingly become a part of, but at the moment I’m not. Three things have happened recently that have just winded me completely:
Firstly, at work, I’ve had a several negative sets of feedback about work I’ve done. It has been like the feedback just drained all semblance of confidence from me. I was feeling fragile already and now I feel worse. I wonder whether I can ever bounce back from what I’m feeling inside. I always considered myself to be good at what I do, but the last 3 months have stripped me bare in how I feel about my capability. I tie a lot of my self-esteem into my work and nothing feels right anymore. I just stare at the screen not knowing where to start.
Secondly, I seem to lack any motivation and the energy to want to do it. Its like a switch has been flicked off inside. I have regressed into myself where work is about the only thing I force myself, kicking and screaming, to do. I’m really not sure what is wrong. For the first time this morning in weeks, I thought that putting a skirt on would make me feel normal again. So maybe I’m coming up the other side. But it is like when you have an injection in your gum for dental work and you can’t feel it, when you touch your face afterwards you can’t feel it and its almost like its someone else’s face. I just don’t feel like doing anything at all. Combine that with the fact that I’m supposed to be losing weight and I’m not. I just hate the way I look at the moment – all chubby and horrible.
Thirdly, that night at the support group, as wonderful as people were – and they were lovely, I looked around and felt like a man in a dress. I felt like I was a fraud. Most of the people there just carried it off better and were womanlier in their mannerism, speech patterns and in the things they said. I guess when you hide in the closet for a long time, you don’t know how far behind the curve you are. Or maybe too many curves is the problem.
I know the immediate thing to say is that I’m probably being hard on myself. But I’m really not. Actually I feel I’m lazy and self-pitying. I feel like I should tell myself to just get over myself and to stop being such a wuss. But when I do that, I make myself cry, so I’ve stopped that. I’m not coming from a place of wanting attention either. Recording these things on a blog may say the opposite, but I write more because I haven’t blogged for so long that I wanted to explain a little of where I'm at. I actually hate drawing attention to myself.
I don’t want to go back to being really negative in what I write, but this is a weird thing that I’ve caught and I sometimes don’t really know what to do.
Saturday, 10 December 2011
An unexpected outing...
Let me ask you this: how many times has someone told you a secret and followed it up with, “you mustn’t tell anyone else” or “please don’t tell anyone” or “I’m telling you this but only between these four walls”? I’m guessing lots of times. As a community, we have a higher capability than most to keep secrets. As well as my own, lots of people have shared things with me that they wouldn’t tell anyone else.
My experience tells me that asking someone not to pass on your secret often has the opposite effect. Especially when its about our particular situations. I mean, come on, how juicy is our secret? In my case that I’m an ordinary, straight laced guy who works hard, is seemingly very normal and relatively successful. But lurking underneath is a tortured transgendered bi-sexual who struggles with their gender and sexuality every day, and has been known to go out in public wearing a skirt etc. I’m not being funny, but seriously, that is far better than many of the very mundane secrets that get shared with me.
My point is that it's the kind of secret that some people are going to find hard to keep. And that telling someone they can know my secret but that they can’t tell anyone is a recipe for disaster. I’m sure you know the feeling when you have trusted someone with a secret and that they have let you down. You feel utterly betrayed. Hurt. Offended. Upset. Numb. All those words and probably more. Don’t get me wrong in all of this, I think I should be able to share a confidence and it not go any further, but I’m also realistic about human nature.
So as a result, I have a policy. Its not written down or formalised or anything, but its a policy all the same. When I let people in on my big secret, I don’t ask them to keep it secret. That perhaps sounds bizarre, but it isn’t really. At this stage in my journey, I choose to tell people who I know care about me and who have my best interests at heart. When I out myself to them I say something like, “Clearly, I’m telling you this because I trust you and I want you to know that if there is anyone that you feel you really need to tell, then I understand that and I don’t mind.”
Most people’s responses to that are looks of horror. They say that they wouldn’t want to and that it isn’t their news to tell etc and I know that some won’t pass it on. Often, particularly with my male friends, they say that they want to tell their partner and I don’t have a problem with that at all. In all the time I’ve been doing this I think I have only twice named specific people I would rather weren’t told. To be honest, even those were a while ago and I’m not sure I’d be bothered about them knowing any more.
What’s really interesting is the way 'the policy' makes me feel. I care about the person I’m telling and the effect that the news will have on them. We all know people who have been badly affected by finding out the news that we are transgendered. But its me I have to live with, not them. By not restricting people and showing that I trust them, I have found that on the few occasions that someone has told other people and passed my secret on, I’ve been really pleased and thought, “actually, I would have told that person too, I’m really happy they did that.” But it also leaves me not worrying whether someone is going to betray me and that if they do tell someone, they are not going behind my back. 99% of the time they tell me who they've told because they know I'm unlikely to be upset about it.
Long preamble, but assuming you are still with me, the game changed this week. Someone who has my secret passed it on to someone I wouldn’t have told myself. Its really the first time that has happened and I have to say that initially I wasn’t completely sure about it.
Its interesting but recently, a few people at the edges of my friendship circles have been asking the people who are close to me whether I’m gay. I’m not sure why, I act and behave the same as ever, nothing is really changed day-to-day but it has happened a few times. So in fairness to my friend who gave away the secret, she was directly asked the question, “Is he gay?”. The person who asked is someone she trusts, so it works in terms of my policy, and I don't think he'll spread my secret. I know him too a little, but not well.
But in writing all of this, I realise what the problem really is - it's the first time (that I am aware of) where I have lost control of the message. I could write you a list of people who know my secret and how they found out and how I gave permission for them to know. The person who now knows my secret is the first one on a very different list. This list is of the people who have found out without me being able to protect myself, where I couldn’t give them my story, my way, with my controlled version.
It’s left me feeling like I’ve entered a new phase that I really don’t know how to navigate yet.
My experience tells me that asking someone not to pass on your secret often has the opposite effect. Especially when its about our particular situations. I mean, come on, how juicy is our secret? In my case that I’m an ordinary, straight laced guy who works hard, is seemingly very normal and relatively successful. But lurking underneath is a tortured transgendered bi-sexual who struggles with their gender and sexuality every day, and has been known to go out in public wearing a skirt etc. I’m not being funny, but seriously, that is far better than many of the very mundane secrets that get shared with me.
My point is that it's the kind of secret that some people are going to find hard to keep. And that telling someone they can know my secret but that they can’t tell anyone is a recipe for disaster. I’m sure you know the feeling when you have trusted someone with a secret and that they have let you down. You feel utterly betrayed. Hurt. Offended. Upset. Numb. All those words and probably more. Don’t get me wrong in all of this, I think I should be able to share a confidence and it not go any further, but I’m also realistic about human nature.
So as a result, I have a policy. Its not written down or formalised or anything, but its a policy all the same. When I let people in on my big secret, I don’t ask them to keep it secret. That perhaps sounds bizarre, but it isn’t really. At this stage in my journey, I choose to tell people who I know care about me and who have my best interests at heart. When I out myself to them I say something like, “Clearly, I’m telling you this because I trust you and I want you to know that if there is anyone that you feel you really need to tell, then I understand that and I don’t mind.”
Most people’s responses to that are looks of horror. They say that they wouldn’t want to and that it isn’t their news to tell etc and I know that some won’t pass it on. Often, particularly with my male friends, they say that they want to tell their partner and I don’t have a problem with that at all. In all the time I’ve been doing this I think I have only twice named specific people I would rather weren’t told. To be honest, even those were a while ago and I’m not sure I’d be bothered about them knowing any more.
What’s really interesting is the way 'the policy' makes me feel. I care about the person I’m telling and the effect that the news will have on them. We all know people who have been badly affected by finding out the news that we are transgendered. But its me I have to live with, not them. By not restricting people and showing that I trust them, I have found that on the few occasions that someone has told other people and passed my secret on, I’ve been really pleased and thought, “actually, I would have told that person too, I’m really happy they did that.” But it also leaves me not worrying whether someone is going to betray me and that if they do tell someone, they are not going behind my back. 99% of the time they tell me who they've told because they know I'm unlikely to be upset about it.
Long preamble, but assuming you are still with me, the game changed this week. Someone who has my secret passed it on to someone I wouldn’t have told myself. Its really the first time that has happened and I have to say that initially I wasn’t completely sure about it.
Its interesting but recently, a few people at the edges of my friendship circles have been asking the people who are close to me whether I’m gay. I’m not sure why, I act and behave the same as ever, nothing is really changed day-to-day but it has happened a few times. So in fairness to my friend who gave away the secret, she was directly asked the question, “Is he gay?”. The person who asked is someone she trusts, so it works in terms of my policy, and I don't think he'll spread my secret. I know him too a little, but not well.
But in writing all of this, I realise what the problem really is - it's the first time (that I am aware of) where I have lost control of the message. I could write you a list of people who know my secret and how they found out and how I gave permission for them to know. The person who now knows my secret is the first one on a very different list. This list is of the people who have found out without me being able to protect myself, where I couldn’t give them my story, my way, with my controlled version.
It’s left me feeling like I’ve entered a new phase that I really don’t know how to navigate yet.
Monday, 28 November 2011
I'm scared
I have just finished writing an eloquent blog on why I’m feeling angry and frustrated and that it’s spilling out. The paragraph from that, which is the only one that has survived, is the one that made me realise what the problem really was:
“As I write this, I realise my train of thought is in the same direction as my last post. I’m just looking for a way to cope. I’m just looking at the same problem again from a different angle. I’m wasting my mental energy on a problem I’ve already solved, but that I’m afraid to take action on.”
I now know what I need to do, but honestly, I’m scared to do it. My last post on how to cope received some elegant and helpful responses from some very kind ladies. Together with my mulling, I realise there are five things I need to do urgently:
Lynn Jones captured it well, as she tends to, with: “it's not going to be bad forever.... but you may have to step out of your comfort zone to get out of the mire”. That’s the problem and therein too, the rub. All five of those things are outside of my current comfort zone and I’ve never been well known for being able to ‘man up’ to the challenge.
I’ve cogitated on the advice for a while now. Tried to find ways of getting different advice that was easier to do. Ran in and out of the heavy storm a couple of times. But never really stood out in it properly and got soaked to the skin. I guess it’s just about putting one foot in front of the other and to keeping doing that until you aren’t angry and frustrated anymore and that instead you are in a happy place. Not sure that place exists at the moment, but its time to find out.
“As I write this, I realise my train of thought is in the same direction as my last post. I’m just looking for a way to cope. I’m just looking at the same problem again from a different angle. I’m wasting my mental energy on a problem I’ve already solved, but that I’m afraid to take action on.”
I now know what I need to do, but honestly, I’m scared to do it. My last post on how to cope received some elegant and helpful responses from some very kind ladies. Together with my mulling, I realise there are five things I need to do urgently:
- Seek professional support – my doctor is a good place to start and I think they’ll be able to help.
- Find people to talk to about it – ‘nebby’ (Midland-ish for nosy – who knew?) bloggers and other people who I know care about me.
- Go to a support group and talk to other people in my situation. Does anyone know if such groups mind having really fat girls attending their meetings? Most seem more glamourous, skinny and chique than I could even dream of being.
- Find ways of incorporating Rhiannon in without it necessarily being too obvious.
- Cut down my work and find time to relax properly. I’ve been overdoing it for far too long now.
Lynn Jones captured it well, as she tends to, with: “it's not going to be bad forever.... but you may have to step out of your comfort zone to get out of the mire”. That’s the problem and therein too, the rub. All five of those things are outside of my current comfort zone and I’ve never been well known for being able to ‘man up’ to the challenge.
I’ve cogitated on the advice for a while now. Tried to find ways of getting different advice that was easier to do. Ran in and out of the heavy storm a couple of times. But never really stood out in it properly and got soaked to the skin. I guess it’s just about putting one foot in front of the other and to keeping doing that until you aren’t angry and frustrated anymore and that instead you are in a happy place. Not sure that place exists at the moment, but its time to find out.
Monday, 21 November 2011
How do you cope?
I don’t know about you, but I find this life quite tough. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to change it. I live for the times when I’m able to present the person I actually am on the inside to the rest of the world. But it happens only infrequently and it is that infrequency that is the cause of my angst. And it causes me to have to try to find a way to cope.
It seems hard for people who don’t live with it to understand. Maybe I’m alone in feeling like this, but it is there with me all the time. I never go for more than a few minutes without thinking about it. Every time I look around you, everything I watch on television, every day at work, whenever I go out, there are reminders of what I can’t be and what I can’t have. But worse than that is the ongoing pangs of regret at how things turned out. Don’t get me wrong, my family, in particular, is important, but I also know that the more I increasingly follow my heart, the more hurt and pain I am likely to cause to them. Its hard to live with that and it tears at my thoughts all the time and makes me feel sad.
I clearly don’t begrudge women their gender. My position is nobodies fault, there is no-one to blame. If anything I blame myself. Why did I not realise that this was inevitably going to be the final conclusion in the final analysis. Why did I not stop the world and get off when I was 30 or 20 or even 10. Its not like I didn’t know what I was, even then. When I was growing up, before the internet age, all I had to go on was that transvestism (as it was presented then) was for perverts and weirdos and that society found more deplorable than gay people. I was both of those things (well, bi-sexual at least) and was horrified at feeling like I did.
But the point is that when you have this secret and know what you know, how do you live a normal existence day-by-day? I’m afraid to say I don’t. I work as hard as I possibly can for most of my day - I try to dutifully put the thoughts from my mind and get on. Some days I succeed better than others. But then the evening arrives and the structure disappears. I hold onto work as late as possible - 7, 8 or 9 o’clock. But with that gone, I found the only thing that numbs it all: I eat a hearty meal and drink more than my share of alcohol. Alcohol is useful in this fight. Drinking causes some people to be aggressive, some to gain bravado, some to get loud. I sleep. The soporific calming makes me forget about my feelings. I’ve questioned at times whether I’m an alcoholic if I’m perfectly honest with you. But I know that I can stop for periods of time if I have to or want to, but there is an addiction of sorts in there. The release from my thoughts in exchange for a bottle or two of wine or beer. It seems like a small price to pay.
Except that I'm paying the price: the classic, “moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips” situation. My weight yo-yos anyway, but I’m at the larger end of it at the moment and that makes it worse. The small price is becoming a bigger one that is sitting on my body making me look even less like the beautiful girl I want to be. But also that its not doing my internal organs any favours and I don't want problems into later life.
It strikes me that the only real way of coping is to be what I truly am. 100% out 100% of the time. But its not possible right now. So I found myself wondering what others do to cope with this turmoil. For some I’m sure its sex or drugs, or depression pills or even a shrink.
So can I ask for advice please? I know I’ve asked for it a lot of late, but you are all a lot more experienced than me and it would be nice to have some new strategies to try to master (or mistress) my thoughts and to take control.
It seems hard for people who don’t live with it to understand. Maybe I’m alone in feeling like this, but it is there with me all the time. I never go for more than a few minutes without thinking about it. Every time I look around you, everything I watch on television, every day at work, whenever I go out, there are reminders of what I can’t be and what I can’t have. But worse than that is the ongoing pangs of regret at how things turned out. Don’t get me wrong, my family, in particular, is important, but I also know that the more I increasingly follow my heart, the more hurt and pain I am likely to cause to them. Its hard to live with that and it tears at my thoughts all the time and makes me feel sad.
I clearly don’t begrudge women their gender. My position is nobodies fault, there is no-one to blame. If anything I blame myself. Why did I not realise that this was inevitably going to be the final conclusion in the final analysis. Why did I not stop the world and get off when I was 30 or 20 or even 10. Its not like I didn’t know what I was, even then. When I was growing up, before the internet age, all I had to go on was that transvestism (as it was presented then) was for perverts and weirdos and that society found more deplorable than gay people. I was both of those things (well, bi-sexual at least) and was horrified at feeling like I did.
But the point is that when you have this secret and know what you know, how do you live a normal existence day-by-day? I’m afraid to say I don’t. I work as hard as I possibly can for most of my day - I try to dutifully put the thoughts from my mind and get on. Some days I succeed better than others. But then the evening arrives and the structure disappears. I hold onto work as late as possible - 7, 8 or 9 o’clock. But with that gone, I found the only thing that numbs it all: I eat a hearty meal and drink more than my share of alcohol. Alcohol is useful in this fight. Drinking causes some people to be aggressive, some to gain bravado, some to get loud. I sleep. The soporific calming makes me forget about my feelings. I’ve questioned at times whether I’m an alcoholic if I’m perfectly honest with you. But I know that I can stop for periods of time if I have to or want to, but there is an addiction of sorts in there. The release from my thoughts in exchange for a bottle or two of wine or beer. It seems like a small price to pay.
Except that I'm paying the price: the classic, “moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips” situation. My weight yo-yos anyway, but I’m at the larger end of it at the moment and that makes it worse. The small price is becoming a bigger one that is sitting on my body making me look even less like the beautiful girl I want to be. But also that its not doing my internal organs any favours and I don't want problems into later life.
It strikes me that the only real way of coping is to be what I truly am. 100% out 100% of the time. But its not possible right now. So I found myself wondering what others do to cope with this turmoil. For some I’m sure its sex or drugs, or depression pills or even a shrink.
So can I ask for advice please? I know I’ve asked for it a lot of late, but you are all a lot more experienced than me and it would be nice to have some new strategies to try to master (or mistress) my thoughts and to take control.
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Fluffy Posts Inc.
A non-content entry today. So apologies to those who like my sparkling wit and eloquent ramblings (an oxymoron if ever there was one). But I had myself snapped this week and I wanted to share them with you.
I will resume normal service as soon as possible, but in the mean time, I hope that you'll forgive my self indulgent narcissism. And that you won't be too harsh on a fat chick.
I will resume normal service as soon as possible, but in the mean time, I hope that you'll forgive my self indulgent narcissism. And that you won't be too harsh on a fat chick.
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Female ratings? and androgyny
Don't worry, this isn't a Strictly Come Dancing situation where we have to hold up funny sticks indicating what score we are giving to any passing woman. Or to each other for that matter. Although I think there are some sites that allow you to do that. Off topic, but based on Strictly, wasn't Jason D amazing this week. This girl is in serious danger of getting a crush. Inappropriate, given my 37 years.
Anyway, to the point. I had a fun, interesting email exchange recently with Becca of http://rebeccas-introspective.blogspot.com fame. I was talking about how I want to try to start to blend my male and female personas together a little bit more. Effectively trying to wear female clothes or accessories while ostensibly in drab. I've heard tell that some people out there do this successfully. For example this might be (stereotypically) wearing more pink, or buying and wearing girl jeans, sporting girl socks or even wearing female body spray or perfume. Brave new world.
I'm struggling with this a little and Becca posed one of her usual insightful comments: "it sounds like everything you buy has to go through an internal check as to it's 'female rating' - if it's too high then it's not bought."
This really set me thinking and my reply was: "I definitely do have an internal female checking monitor. I guess that it is to do with the fact that I've spent my life paranoid that someone might find out my secret. The challenge now is that I want to raise the female rating level and I'm not quite sure where that new level should be. I need to be both happy personally and also have it so that I draw only the right level of attention to myself. For example, and it sounds small, but I've started to use Oil of Olay as my moisturiser, but so far it's not drawn any attention, but ridiculously I was nervous when I started because it doesn't smell like a man should. I particularly try to think about what level will avoid tipping off Mrs A so she doesn't ask awkward questions.
"If we use a scale out of 10, previously if an item was above a 3, I'd have to reject it. Now I wonder how I could push it to level 5 to make me happy. And is that noticeable? In reality I want to be an 8 or a 9 out of 10.
"In guy mode, I'm not very good at working out how to blend androgyny into my wardrobe. So I have no real clothes that I can wear in boy mode. I have a couple of pairs of girl jeans that I could wear, but I'm not sure if they look too obviously girl like. I should ask one of my girl friends for a second opinion. I think they are more obvious because they have that style of being tighter around the thighs and then they flare out. Great for heels, but that might be too obvious! But if I bought some girl boots with a low wedge heel, would that look to girly because they are girls shoes? I wear pink shirts and clothes etc, but they are very much in a man's style.
"At the moment I'm growing longer nails and am determined to grow my hair out a bit. Things are starting to creep through. But wearing body spray or perfume would probably be a step too far. I don't know anyone who wears ambiguous or even vaguely womanly perfume - if they did, I would assume that they were very gender ambiguous. I'd assume that it was a big tell that they were transgendered."
The conversation went on and in reality I want an 11 where I present as a girl all the time, but given that is not realistically on the horizon, what to do? I was wondering what other people who have to live in male mode did to blend in their girl side - to be happy do you have to go to a 5 or above, or do you avoid it completely and push it to 3 or below because dressing as a girl a couple of times a month is enough? If you do try to blend, what do you do -- this girl for one is curious to know.
Anyway, to the point. I had a fun, interesting email exchange recently with Becca of http://rebeccas-introspective.blogspot.com fame. I was talking about how I want to try to start to blend my male and female personas together a little bit more. Effectively trying to wear female clothes or accessories while ostensibly in drab. I've heard tell that some people out there do this successfully. For example this might be (stereotypically) wearing more pink, or buying and wearing girl jeans, sporting girl socks or even wearing female body spray or perfume. Brave new world.
I'm struggling with this a little and Becca posed one of her usual insightful comments: "it sounds like everything you buy has to go through an internal check as to it's 'female rating' - if it's too high then it's not bought."
This really set me thinking and my reply was: "I definitely do have an internal female checking monitor. I guess that it is to do with the fact that I've spent my life paranoid that someone might find out my secret. The challenge now is that I want to raise the female rating level and I'm not quite sure where that new level should be. I need to be both happy personally and also have it so that I draw only the right level of attention to myself. For example, and it sounds small, but I've started to use Oil of Olay as my moisturiser, but so far it's not drawn any attention, but ridiculously I was nervous when I started because it doesn't smell like a man should. I particularly try to think about what level will avoid tipping off Mrs A so she doesn't ask awkward questions.
"If we use a scale out of 10, previously if an item was above a 3, I'd have to reject it. Now I wonder how I could push it to level 5 to make me happy. And is that noticeable? In reality I want to be an 8 or a 9 out of 10.
"In guy mode, I'm not very good at working out how to blend androgyny into my wardrobe. So I have no real clothes that I can wear in boy mode. I have a couple of pairs of girl jeans that I could wear, but I'm not sure if they look too obviously girl like. I should ask one of my girl friends for a second opinion. I think they are more obvious because they have that style of being tighter around the thighs and then they flare out. Great for heels, but that might be too obvious! But if I bought some girl boots with a low wedge heel, would that look to girly because they are girls shoes? I wear pink shirts and clothes etc, but they are very much in a man's style.
"At the moment I'm growing longer nails and am determined to grow my hair out a bit. Things are starting to creep through. But wearing body spray or perfume would probably be a step too far. I don't know anyone who wears ambiguous or even vaguely womanly perfume - if they did, I would assume that they were very gender ambiguous. I'd assume that it was a big tell that they were transgendered."
The conversation went on and in reality I want an 11 where I present as a girl all the time, but given that is not realistically on the horizon, what to do? I was wondering what other people who have to live in male mode did to blend in their girl side - to be happy do you have to go to a 5 or above, or do you avoid it completely and push it to 3 or below because dressing as a girl a couple of times a month is enough? If you do try to blend, what do you do -- this girl for one is curious to know.
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