A Good-Hair Day, and a Good Day Overall

Three years ago, the conflict behind being part-male yet basically female … reached a psychological crisis point for me. I was ready to abandon the “try to look like a male” premise. The merits of the basic alternative had become clear. As part of the process, I fantasized about having long, blonde hair. A supportive friend bought me a wig, and I loved its look: This is how I looked in 2011.

IMAG0190g_360x450After a while, it no longer felt as if I were wearing an add-on. The fake hair became part of my basic image for myself, like a cowboy might feel about his hat.  It belonged there.

And yet, when I was in a grocery store, I’d make a point of walking past the aisle where the hair-coloring products were. I would look at the lovely girls shown on the packages, and I would fantasize about perhaps one day being able to have hair like that. It seemed so ridiculously far-fetched. Where would I have the coloring done? Would I fly to Brazil and have it done thousands of miles away? I couldn’t possibly have it done in Nevada, and be seen by people who had thought of me for years as being male … or could I?

Fast-forward to 2014.  I still own the wig. It’s in my closet and it’s been there for a very long time. My own hair is now long, and blonde.

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IMAG8669Today, I got my hair done (again) by Jen at L’Essence in Reno.  Jen is wonderful anyway, plus she’s been super-supportive of my strange transgender journey.  While I was at L’Essence, a lady lost her footing while going up the stairs, and ended up in a precarious position to where she was about to fall down the stairs some more, She also couldn’t reach the cane that she’d used to help her balance herself.  I rushed towards her, stood behind her and slowly lifted her to her feet, then helped her regain her balance.  I also picked up her cane.

It occurred to me that perhaps the arm muscles that I wish were smaller …. have some compensations sometimes.  It was nice to basically look like a girl but to have some attributes from the other side of the gender fence.

IMAG8668After Jen did my hair, I bought myself a nice lunch at the Sparks Nugget. I like to look in the mirrors as I practice how to walk better.  And, people were SO nice to me.  It was almost as if they’d been set up to be extra-positive towards me.

IMAG8667Yes, there’s still a lot of room for improvement, but it feels good to have the hair aspect be good enough, even by my own picky standards.

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When I was a baby, my hair was very blonde — almost white.  And, over time it’s become darker — too dark.  That’s where Jen comes in.

My hair is also naturally curly — too curly for my taste, though I get a lot of compliments on it.  It certainly has a lot of body. But, I love it the way Jen does it.IMAG8671Last night, just before bedtime, I looked at the reflection in the mirror again and again. It felt good that there was one aspect that I could cross off my to-do list as “mission accomplished.”  And, the difficult times to get here suddenly seemed so insignificant.

Meanwhile, in other news, there are world events much more important than my hair. I try to understand the issues, and I also try to make the world a better place.  But somewhere in the grand scheme of things, how I look also matters — to me, anyway.

The World is Sometimes Nicer than I’d Thought

Today, I bought something at a convenience store. Behind the counter were two gentlemen. The one at the cash register seemed friendly enough. The other gentleman was very quiet. The T-shirt he wore had the word “Marines” across the chest.

I like the Marine Corps for many reasons, but I suspect that I like them more than they like me, what with me being a transgender girl and all. Transgender girls and gays don’t rate high in stereotypical Marine sub-culture as I understand it. So, all things being equal, when I meet a Marine or a former Marine, I’m respectful yet wary.

“Nice purse,” the gentleman said.

Here we go, I thought. I explained that I’m a mix of male and female parts, that I’ve tried to live as a male and that didn’t work very well, and so now I …

“No, I mean, that’s a nice purse.  I used to sell purses.”

Oh. He wasn’t being snarky. When he said “nice purse” what he really meant was “nice purse.”

We had a positive conversation about the care and repair of Liz brand purses, and I felt sheepish about how I’d misinterpreted his initial comment. This gentleman was much nicer than I’d presumed. It was a nice surprise.

 

From a Size 12 to a Size 6

Today, I visited Plato’s Closet in Reno to get some new jeans. My day-to-day jeans are too large and their knees are scuffed through, and they have stains that don’t wash out any more.  [Note to self: I need to stop kneeling in oil as I work on my cars.]

My brand of choice for day-to-day wear in jeans is Charlotte Russe’s Glam / Refuge.

Being transgender, I’m basically a mix of male and female parts, and for the first part of my life, I tried to live as a male. It was an epic fail, and depressing to boot. Eventually I could no longer muster the enthusiasm to do proper care and maintenance on the male-looking person staring at me in the mirror. Don’t get me wrong: there’s nothing wrong with being male … but when you’re basically a girl and you feel like you have to live like a male, that IS a problem. I kept putting on weight, and the nice people in my life would gently point out what I knew already and what the scale was telling me. At some point, I was 30 pounds overweight, the magic “now you’ve crossed the line” mark. That wasn’t all. My blood pressure was bad, too, as was the mix of fats in my blood. I was basically going downhill fast and yet I couldn’t motivate myself to care enough to do anything about it.

I’d never enjoyed being in photographs, but as my health and looks kept deteriorating, I was even less enthused. The waist sizes of the jeans I’d buy kept going up. It was a sad situation.

After I realized I was basically a male-female mix but fundamentally female, not male, I started living as a female. Suddenly, I felt basically OK with my body. I started caring for it. I made a database to track what I ate, and the calorie implications of that. I slowly but surely lost weight. Over a two-year time span, I gradually changed shape, and now I look like the picture below, that I took last night:

IMAG8556I think I look good enough now to be happy about my shape. The market seems to agree. Some gentlemen really like the transgender-girl look, and they have paid me to do private modeling and stripper work. In my work as a software developer, I bill my time at $160+ but ironically I have made more money per hour showing off my looks. So, that’s been a validating experience for me.

I recall going into the Charlotte Russe store in Reno, two years ago, and buying size 10 jeans that I thought would fit, since by then I’d already lost some weight. To my embarrassment, they didn’t. I couldn’t even fit into them. I brought them back to the store and asked if I could exchange them for size twelve jeans. Those did fit.

Imagine my delight today, two years later, when I found a pair of size eight jeans that look like the picture that I took today, wearing them. The brand is “Feel Beautiful.”

imag8583No, the fire extinguisher isn’t a hint. 🙂

Then, I found some jeans of the exact same brand as the baggy size 12 jeans that I was wearing right then, in the Plato’s Closet store, today — but size 8.  I tried them on.  They fitted nicely, yay!

On a hunch, I tried on some size 6 jeans of that same brand. Even though they were tight, I thought they fitted well. But, folks who are concerned about their weight are not always realistic. So, I decided to ask the saleslady her opinion. I showed them off, and her verdict was that they fitted fine. Yay!

So, it’s official. I’ve gone from a size 12 to a size 6, in the same brand of jeans, meaning when I compare apples to apples.  Better!

Moving Sexily

A few years ago, I watched a video of a transgender beauty contest, in which the mistress of ceremonies was a lovely t-girl … who took two very masculine-looking strides to the microphone and ruined much of her image in the process, for me anyway. That really made an impression on me.

I do escorting sometimes. I sell time, not sex, and whatever turns the client on, I’m willing to consider doing. One of my clients, who is 100% male and works in a macho profession, was curious as to how he’d look feminized. So, I dressed him up as a girl and put a blonde wig on him. He looked good. And then, he took a few masculine-looking steps, and the image was ruined, for me anyway.

So, yes, it’s important for me to move in a feminized way as one more way of living as the female that I basically am. This is occurring in a context where I have for decades tried to fit into guy culture and tried to look as male as I possibly could, so there’s a lot that I need to un-learn.

But, I also am concerned about how I look. I love the hourglassy look and I wish I looked like that. But, rather than wishing, I have specific plans that will eventually help me look more curvy. For now, any hourglassiness in my shape is due to having a narrow waist and flat abs. It’s a good start, but my body is still shaped too much like a tree and not enough like an hourglass.

Recently, I found the perfect pick-me-up when I feel frustrated or sorry for myself about my shape: a video that shows Anastasia Sokolova dancing, in “Ukraine’s Got Talent.”

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Yes, she’s pretty, but that’s not the main attraction. How she moves, is the key issue.

It’s difficult for me to focus on her physique because she seems to transcend that, but when I can, I notice that she’s shaped like … well, me, actually — as far as I can tell.

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She has fairly muscular arms and shoulders, and not a particularly thin waist, nor huge boobs, nor wide hips. She’s slender yet muscular — athletic.NEW-5

The way she walks is already a large part of her moving sexily.

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She’s a professional pole dancer, and … wow. Now that I’ve seen a video of her dancing …

… wow.
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This lady lives in the Ukraine, which isn’t the center of the universe for wealth. She doesn’t have a curvy body. And yet, she has taught herself to move in a way that makes her magnificently sexy — and an inspiring role model, for me.