A Boy and His Girl’s Clothing

Written August 8, 2010:

Yesterday, after my T-shot was done with and had made a my phone calls for the day, I was looking around at some of the transladies of the YouTubes. Jesus fucking Christ these ladies are amazing!! I’ve always admired these ladies simply because they have to deal with more shit than us transmen. Not to mention the rest of the general population of bio-borns of the world. I’ll rant more about that later.

One lady in particular not only had an amazingly fabulous beverage collection at her desk and a cute kitty on her bed, but she made a really good point beginning at the 4 minute mark:

I can relate to a certain extent. Reminded me of how I used to feel. Sure that was then but maybe sharing some of my past experiences could make someone’s own feel a little odd. Or whatever.

To this day, I still have a bunch of my feminine clothing. I don’t wear them. I don’t really look at them. They’re stuffed away in a couple of boxes. I really should give them to Goodwill or the DAV but for now I’m keeping them as selfish reminders of what I used to do and how I used to hide who I am and all the reasons why.

Though I did a lot to pose more as a butch lesbian since I was a teenager, I would still have my more feminine clothes. I would actually drive myself to the other side of Houston to shop for them. After all, I had an image to uphold. Whenever I put them on and went out, it was like I did my own “checking out” of everything. It wasn’t like I became this completely different person. I just was somewhere in this z-axis of the world’s x and y plane with the exception of that I didn’t really have a point or origin and didn’t really care. And I looked damn good too.

After a while, I started to not care how the “girly” presentation looked. I just didn’t want to do that shit any more. I knew full well that I was born in this horribly wrong body and the feminine presentation was a complete façade. I knew that a long time ago. Just couldn’t do it. So I stopped caring how I looked in my feminine presentation. It evolved to this horribly put together feminine look, to this blah tomboy look, and into this oversized baggy clothed American football player wannabe fat kid. Dear fucking god I hate American football. Except for the Steelers. I like the Steelers. And the Eagles. I’m digressing. I do that. Oh well.

So this sloppy look poured into my everyday look. I also had gained a lot of weight from being in accidents coupled with depression. Because ice cream, fatty foods, and overeating had become a self-destructive self-medicating practice. Unlike FancyEllie, lipids love to have an extended stay on my body. Ugh. So jealous. I hate that.

For the past two years, I’ve been losing weight and getting into a shape other than obnoxiously round. Now I’m a pudgy husky and thus finally been able to start binding since this past March. Though I still continue to downsize my fatness, I’m able to fit back into my decent man clothes that have been stowed in boxes awaiting this time where I can fit into them again. This means that I can fit back into my feminine clothes again too. I look at them and nostalgia tempts me to venture back onto the z-axis.

“So should I?” I ask myself. Nah. Because as I’ve grown into my transition I’ve grown out of my need to “check out”. Besides…my new facial hair and bulky shoulders that will be coming in sooo clashes with this cute frilly eggshell and periwinkle blouse. Seriously.

General observation: Men get it more than women.

I wrote this as a note on my Facebook.  Just thought I’d post it here as well:

General observation: Men get it more than women.

Friday, 23 April 2010 at 20:10

So after my nap this morning, I went to get a tyre repaired on my trailer and a new set of four on one of my trucks. A Discount Tire location just sprouted a few blocks from my warehouse so I thought I’d take advantage of the convenience.

I walked up to the counter. The man on it’s opposite side made eye contact with me, had a split-second flash of double-take and then kindly said, “Yes sir! What can I do for ya?” With a slight nod of grateful acknowledgement I began conducting business as usual.

“Phone number?” he asked. I gave it to him.
“Says [given name], that you?”
I just looked at him and gave him a slight nod.
“Well sir, it’s gonna be about two hours so we can get the right tyre for the trailer from another location. That cool?”
I just grinned and told him my business is just around the block so I’d walk back in a couple hours.
“Yes sir. I’ll call you. This a good number and what ya go by?” he asked.
“Number on file’s good. I’m Japheth.”
“Alright Japheth. Call ya if I got questions or when we’re done.”
After parting words I turned around and started to walk out. Just when I was about to step out of the lobby the man yelled, “Sorry I forgot!! I need your keys,” turns to the Tech near the door and says “Grab his keys for me. Thanks man.” I gave the truck key to the Tech, thanked him and walked out.

A different man called to let me know the truck and trailer were in the bay and wanted to double check what brand I wanted. Called me sir without skipping a beat though I could sense it was slightly awkward for him at first. I walked back to Discount Tire. When I got back to the counter, the manager, a woman, said, “Can I help you, ma’am?” Before I could answer, the man who originally helped me said, “HE is here to get his truck and trailer.” She just raised her eyebrow, said “Okay” and walked away. “Hey I’m sorry, man. She must be in a mood today…” and he went off going over my statement and collected payment. I paid and thanked him, left quite amused.

The same type of interaction occurs at the gym and at the grocery store. I know I don’t pass 100% yet but the men typically get it. No need to explain concepts or whatever. No questions asked. Methinks there is a parallelism to the concept of gay-dar. All the gays have it to some degree or another. It’s an unspoken identifier of commonality.

It’s the same concept with men. You act like a man, communicate like a man, have the gestures and overall mentality of a man, then your a goddamn man like the rest of them. Even before I started wearing a binder and came out as FTM (transgender Female To Male), I have rarely come across a man who did not acknowledge me as one of them.

However, I quite commonly get an obnoxious “ma’am” or the like from most women of the public. It’s like it’s forced out and spoken as though they are trying to tell me what I should be. If they ask questions (and some are bold enough to do so), it’s always “so why do you want to be a man?” It’s like beating my head up against a wall. When men ask they just want to know how I can pee standing up and want to know more about the process.

So why do women not get it?

Birthday Breakthrough

Just got done seeing Dr. Vanak, the physician who will my GP/”T-dealer” for as long as I will be living in the Houston area.  She says that I should be good to go on T in two weeks, self injections.  Had to get some blood work that my former GP didn’t have me do.  Five vacuum vials of blood…FIVE. And they were the big ass ones too.  So glad my GP got most of them taken care of.
 
My mind is racing and yet I’m not able to speak.  I’m beyond tongue tied.  My heart is pounding yet I have such a relieving calm it’s surreal.  I’m finally doing this.  After so long I can finally start the process of feeling comfortable in mine own skin.  I honestly don’t know what that feels like.  The thought of it scares me because I’m so used to hating my body, hating my biological state, and I don’t know anything else.  Nevertheless, I can’t wait until I can be happy with the man staring back at me when I look in the mirror.
 
After speaking with Dr. Vanak I’m not only ready to get through this fear but I’m ready to embrace it as well.  I have such a boost of self confidence it’s unreal.  I’ve never in my life felt this way before.  This elation is something completely foreign to me.  Sure I’m generally confident but that’s normally in a professional setting, at the gym, or anything else that requires me to be competitive. 
 
This…this is different.  This is an inner confidence that strikes me to the very core of my being.  It rattles the wall of self doubt and insecurities so strong that I had long forgotten their existence.  Such an enclosures means were so cramped and infinite yet I somehow need them.  I had grown so comfortable in their imprisonment that such personal hell had also become my security blanket.  After all, one always find safety even in the most hellatious consistencies.  Today I felt all those walls, those strongholds, just break and crumble down to the floor.  Just a giant pile of rubble is what remains.  No brace or pillar or remenants of the walls, just a pile of debris surrounding where I stand.

So the rubble is still there.  I can see it.  It’s everywhere.  But for the first time in my life I can see past it.  I can feel an elation of comfort I that I’ve never known before like a tranquil breeze all around me.  It’s such an indiscribable peace felt through and through.  It is mine and no one and nothing can ever take that away from me.

So now I just need to work through the mess left behind by my former imprisonment.  It’s going to take every ounce of strength I have to continue to break it to dust and not carry it with me but it’s worth a shot.  I can’t hang on to it no matter how much I may want to.  Sure it was my hell but it was my protection from things unknown.  I lament it’s existence but as aware as I am of the torture it’s wrought, I’m also aware that, in time, I will not miss it.  It’s not going to be enough to just walk, run, or crawl past it.  I’ve got to blast through it until my past enclosure’s walls are made to dust.  I’ve then got to allow it to be swept away by my new-found confidence, self acceptance and ongoing strength.  I’m the only one who can give way to the sweeping force.  It’s not going to be easy but now I know it is possible and I know that I can do this.

So What’s This About Anyway?

I’m branching off further into to Innerwebz, sharing what’s going on in my little world.  I’ve decided to make this a further addition to my YouTube Channel concerning my transition, transgender topics, and life in general.

Honestly, I don’t really care how many people see my blogs or what too many people think about them.  Blogging, for me anyway, is a great way to get personal ideals onto something tangible. It provides a means of which I can have a measure of reflection much like a written journal is one’s paper mirror.

Perhaps others may find it something of which to relate or contend. To some degree or another, it’s a communication of thoughts and ideals that potentially opens conversation, or at least a sharing of perspective. It’s also a good way for one to show himself or herself that such communication is possible, that thought can be conveyed if given enough effort. It’s one thing to think things, it’s another to be able to articulate them. Such articulation can be a great challenge…and I’m always up for a good challenge.

Just lauched…be patient.

That’s what the titles says!!