Non-Stripper Professional Day #0000001

Today was a good day.

As readers of my material know, I work part-time as a professional stripper a.k.a. lingerie model.  But, I’m also a computer database geek.  And, in the latter capacity, the big outside world knew me as someone who looked like a geeky guy, officially anyway.

Today was the first day that this changed. I went to a client site (a professional medical office) as Tanya the transgender girl and I did a bunch of process analysis work, wearing a very conservative outfit — by my standards anyway.  I was just one of the girls, and it was very, very, very, very nice.
Me, in an conservative office outfit
Ironically, on the way back to my office, I saw a highway patrol car turn around, turn on his lights and chase after me. In Nevada this means that you were speeding (more than most) and are about to get a big ticket.  I used to stress out about being pulled over by the highway patrol and looking like a chick nowadays, while my driver’s license still said “M.”  And today, it just didn’t bother me at all.  I figured if the officer has a hard time reconciling the picture on the license to my face, it’s OK for me to explain I’m preparing to officially transition my status. I was ready, and then the officer … pulled over the car right behind me.

At my office, it ended up being informal “bring your daughters to work day” because my contractor’s kids had the day off school and he brought them to the office for the day, and then I walked in as a 6’6″ t-girl on my 6″ stilettos.  So, I said a friendly hello, and life went on. They stared a lot and I was OK with that. I asked them if they liked my shoes (how could they not?) and I showed them off, and they nodded, and life went on just fine.

It’s interesting how things that seemed ridiculously scary a few months ago now are just part of everyday life.

On the way to my office, I listened to Belinda Carlisle singing “Heaven is a place on Earth” and I smiled when I heard the lyrics of “I was afraid before; I’m not afraid any more.”


As I progress towards looking ever more like the girl I basically am, I now and then get external reminders that I’m making progress.

I do lingerie modeling, so I am pretty darn blatant about external reminders.  If I look good enough to make a decent amount of money, then I figure that I’m probably making fairly decent progress.  Lingerie modeling isn’t for everyone and I don’t recommend it for the  faint of heart, or those without well-developed self-defense and interpersonal skills.  How someone looks in this business is just one aspect.  There’s a lot to the business.

Apart from modeling: for me as a transgender girl, bathrooms are the new frontier.  As the law has been explained to me, I should go into the bathroom whose gender sign matches what’s on my driver’s license, regardless of how this feels to me emotionally.  In Nevada, I gather it’s illegal for a transgender girl to go into the ladies’ room until her driver’s license reads “Female” — even in private establishments.  As a free-market person I  think it’s for the owner of the business to decide and for the law to butt out, but until these ideas catch on, this problem will exist, and it’s good for me to be aware of what the law is.  When in doubt, I found that it’s fine to ask.

Me, with the Peppermill Hotel Casino n the backgroundFor example, I really like the Peppermill Hotel and Casino in Reno, NV.  Many months ago,  I called them, asked for the head of security, and explained the situation.  He in turn explained their policy as to which restroom I should use, and he added that if anyone hassles me about that, then I am welcome to request that security staff become involved.  He was most professional and helpful, and I have since then spent much more time and money at that business, and I have recommended it publicly in person and in writing, as I am doing here too, yet again.

Still, which bathroom someone else thinks I should be using, based on how I look, tells me a lot about how convincingly female I nowadays look.  And tonight, when I was at the Silver Peak Brewery Restaurant and Bar, I asked the nice waitress to point me to the restroom, and when I ended up in the corner of the room to which she’d pointed me, I found that I’d just been given a compliment, since the only restroom in that vicinity was the ladies’ room. I smiled, and I explained to the waitress that I’m a transgender girl and should for now still use the men’s room until I get my driver’s license updated.  She was most gracious and pointed me towards the men’s room instead.

Two weekends ago, I was at the Hyatt by San Francisco Airport, and everyone was super-nice except for the bathroom cleaning attendant, who stared at my with the expression that was the visual equivalent of: “You’re a lady.  What are *you* doing in the men’s room?” — another nice implied compliment.

The day before that, I was at the Hyatt by the San Francisco Embarcadero, in the men’s bathroom, and a guy came in, seemed unhappy and left, and then a bathroom maintenance man walked in, frowning. He stopped and stared at me for a long time. I gather the man had presumed there’s a lady in the men’s bathroom and had complained to the bathroom maintenance man, who happened to be nearby.  It took some hard staring before he concluded I wasn’t simply a genetically integrated girl in the wrong bathroom.

Perhaps with more self-confidence, I wouldn’t need these external validations, but for me, personally, they’re nice.

The pictures below are of me, as I looked that night.


Note, dated April 8th, 2013:

I have since had my driver’s license corrected to gender=”F” so now I don’t have to deal with bathroom issues any more.