"What The Hell Have I Gotten Myself Into Now?

or, how did a mean, unfulfilled, fat, closeted, jerk of a trannie who wanted to die at age 37 become the Transgendered Road Mistress before turning 38?

It took the right people along the way. It took a very good friend doing a tough, loving thing that seemed incredibly mean at the time. It took another great friend I met on my first night on the Web. It took a good, caring boss who lets me run his business as if it were my own and doesn't care how I dress when I'm not working. It took the understanding and caring of the many new friends I've met along the transgendered interstate. It definitely took a lot of nerve. But, I did it.

Flash back to June of 1996. My best friend Amy was employed by me as a housekeeper. My parents lived with me, and are chronically ill in their 80s with senile dementia and other problems. I have a job that demands 60 hours per week of my time. I am forced to take over my parents affairs and have no clue how to do it or how the files are arranged. I never had time to dress (up until that time, I'd found excuses for "business trips" to dress in hotel rooms with blinds drawn nearly every month). I walked around with my head hanging, the entire weight of the lives of 4 people crushing me. I had no outlet, and had no idea that anyone else like me existed. My only public excursions had been on Halloweens, an annual ritual, after which I had to be a pumpkin for another year. I ate to excess. I snapped and was mean to everyone I ever encountered, and I thought that every unintended slight was a sign that I was not needed. I told Amy, the only person who knew of my crossdressing, that I wanted to die for the first time in January of 1996, and almost did it then. I almost took her down with me, she was facing problems of her own. I got over it for awhile but remained in denial about my dressing. I felt that way by the time I turned 37 on June 22, 1996.

The spiral continued downward until August 23, 1996. The day before that, I exploded at a landscaping contractor who rang my doorbell at 8AM looking for another house in my neighborhood. I had been up all night the night before staring into space, not sure why I was unhappy. I snapped and chased him around the neighborhood in my car, ramming him twice. This alarmed Amy; as did the note I left her after she dared to leave early to spend time with another friend. She quit and moved out on me, leaving the house keys in the lock, while I was delivering my Dad to the emergency room, all the time an employee at my store was no showing/no calling to work on a busy Friday night. At 5:15 that afternoon, I stood on my driveway, staring at my house, tears streaming down my face, feeling the elevator hit the subbasement. I went to work, lacking any other course to follow, survived the night, and spent the next week without sleep, realizing who was totally to blame for my problems and staring him in the face in a mirror.

I submitted to therapy, not for me, but for the fact that my parents needed me alive. I didn't care at that point. I tried to establish contact with Amy again, but she knew I wasn't right and needed to protect herself. I didn't blame her, I knew I was a horrible person. I tried a psychiatrist, who wanted to turn me into a druggie. I told Stacy, the therapist I was assigned, nothing of my crossdressing. Funny thing, she told me 4 difficult sessions later that she knew it all along. She should have known, she is a TS, and I never read her.

I finally came to grips with my crossdressing in late October, it was nearly time to go out for Halloween, and I wasn't missing that. At the same time, I was having my computer refitted to surf the Web, not knowing that the two would open up my horizons. I got on line on October 29th, and on my first night on line, punched up "crossdress" and "transgender" in Yahoo. One of the first entries I found was the site of the Tennessee Vals, and I entered my new world. I spent nearly a whole night reading the past newsletters and the web pages of the people involved, and one thought occured to me: "I'm reading about myself." I sent my first EMail to Jennileigh, stupidly attaching a document I wrote from WordPerfect instead of just using the notepad. She responded, and welcomed me to the TG world, and invited me to a Vals meeting the following weekend.

Fade to February 8th, 1997. I'm going to my fourth Vals meeting tonight to see my great friends there and party a bit. I sent out the first issue of the newsletter of the new group I have helped start in Lexington, called the Bluegrass Belles, this week, and I am bringing a couple Belles to the Vals meeting. I will hand Jennileigh a disc containing some ruminations to publish that I wrote in preparation for my trip to DC to lobby for transgendered employment rights. I am out to most of my friends and employees with their support, and my mother without her approval but at least not her condemnation. I have shopped, eaten out, gone to movies, attended meetings, and driven interstate while totally crossdressed. I have lost 70 pounds, and will keep losing until I can wear that size 16 dress, you know the one, the one that is black, skimpy, off the shoulder, showing serious cleavage. And, Amy is again my best friend, accompanying me to meetings, going shopping, and out to dinner with me en femme. I have never been so happy despite still having many pressures on me. I still have seriously ill parents. I still have a challenging career. I am happy, and am glad I didn't do anything stupid in 1995-96 when life seemed not worth living.

I wrote that in February 1997. It's now January 1998. My parents are still very sick, both in a nursing facility, and I'm watching their life savings slowly piss away. I've managed, despite this, to attend the 1997 Be-All and Southern Comfort; to lobby Congress twice in 1997 (planning to do it again in April 1998); to speak to groups on the subject of transgenderism; and attended a professional conference in femme mode. I wear my hair long, and haven't used a wig in quite awhile, and just about everyone who know me knows what i do when I'm not working. I don't know what the future will bring - dealing with the deterioration of my parents is not pleasant, and the myriad responsibilities of my life and sheer volume of work I must perform daily is sometimes overwhelming. I'm also wrestling a bit with the question of where I fit in the transgendered world and how far I have the need to go: i.e. am I a TS, should I consider transitioning, or is being a very public crossdresser good enough? That is a question I'm tabling for now.

I will never enter the closet again. I have too much fun this way. Too many memorable things have happened to me. Most importantly, I cannot describe adequately the feeling I get when I get my hair and makeup just right, and dress the part, and look in the mirror. I go out in public and pass. I am a girl when I want to be, and can pull it off, and when I do, ooh lah lah what a feeling. I don't fear being read, only being recongnized, and the chances of that are nearly zero. Best of all, I don't closet my emotions anymore; I did that with myself. I hug my friends, tell people I care about them, and help others to a fault. I am finally much of the way toward being the person I want to end up being.

If you are where I was a few short months' ago, and this sounds familiar, please do yourself a favor and come out. Go to your local TG group, even if you must do it in drab. Let that part of your personality out of that closet. Get out there and be yourself. Use your head, but you can do it safely. Visit a TG friendly club or restaurant, and you will see we aren't all that rare. For every one that is out, as I am, I am sure there are 3 others hiding their panties from a wife, mom, roommate, boss, so forth. It's really not as hard or dangerous as you would think if you use your head. You might as well have a good time!

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