Just One More Girl in the Crowd

This weekend, I spent a day and a half in the San Francisco Bay Area.  I love visiting there.

Part of the reason is that, in my experience, folks in that area tend to be non-homophobic and accepting of diverse looks and styles.

Based on personal experience, I have no doubt that in conservative cultures (e.g, further south-east, or in smaller towns) across the US and elsewhere, things would be different.  Especially self-conscious teenage males would (on seeing me) find themselves confused and conflicted, would blame me for that instead of realizing it’s an internal-premise issue, and (worst case) would try to take it out on me.

I used to have really good revenue, and I liked staying at Hyatt hotels.  Nowadays I can’t afford that but I still like to visit there even if it’s only to have a cup of coffee or a snack there. I like the ambiance and folks there are also nice to me.  Saturday night, I had some free time so I took along a book I’m reading, and I went to the Hyatt by SFO.

I wore a nice evening gown that I’d bought that night.  I took some pictures of myself, and these are sprinkled throughout this post.  I wore my hair in a pony-tail, which is a look I like some days.

In the ballroom area, on the ground floor, an elegant social event involved about fifty people, including maybe two dozen girls in elegant evening dresses.  Initially, I felt very outclassed.

Then, I looked more closely.  The dresses were lovely but in many cases, the girls wearing them didn’t exactly look like supermodels, and nor did they need to in order to look just fine and to have a good time.

I don’t look like a supermodel either, but compared to them, I would approximately fit right in.

So, I tested my hypothesis.  I walked down the stairs, and slowly walked through the milling crowd of revelers.  And, as I had hoped, I fitted right in.  No hush fell over the crowd, nobody made comments, nobody pointed fingers.  I presumably looked like a less-feminized-than-most girl in a nice evening dress.  I presume that if I had looked unusual enough, I would have attracted attention even in an accepting culture.

After walking through the crowd, I walked up some stairs and went up an escalator, feeling happy with having validated my hypothesis.

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Silhouette Pictures

This weekend, I took some pictures of myself. I have mixed feelings about them.  In some ways, they look good. Yet, my face is not feminized enough by my standards.  Most days I deal with it just fine; other days I feel impatient.

I know that there’s still a lot of work to be done before I look like I want to. The work involves surgery, which requires money, which I’m becoming ever more motivated to produce.

My chest is also still 100% flat, because I’m not ready to start hormone treatment (which would presumably generate some breast tissue growth) and nor am I ready to get implants (which would generate such nicely significant curves that hormone-based breast tissue growth becomes a low priority for me).

The problem is that even when I wear a very nice padded bra that endows me, courtesy of thin air, the sort of breast shape I want, I’m still being called “Sir” by some, and that’s the exact opposite of what I’m going for.

To take a break from this sort of problem, this weekend I enjoyed omitting some facial details from a set of pictures I took of myself.  My figure, thanks to my bra, shows how  I’d like it to look — without needing help from a bra. And, there are other aspects I like too, bra or no bra.  For example, I like how my butt, legs and hair look.

Below are the pictures.  I had fun taking and processing them.