Supergirl Apprentice, Me. Flying Skills Not Mandatory

The transgender girl journey is sort of like being in a war. It’s inevitable that there will be difficult, dangerous and deeply sad times. It’s in the nature of the process.

In its own messed up way, it’s cool. I used to read about girls doing heroic, brave things, and here I am living that life.

For example, last week, right after I dropped a friend off at her hotel, I saw a girl standing in the parking lot, being hassled and yelled at by several guys.

I drove my big, ugly , rugged Jeep right between her and them sort of like a shield. I asked her if she’s OK. I was ready to throw the door open and have her dive in if she needed to be whisked to safety.

So, that’s my life now. I’m alert, aware, safety-conscious like a cat. It’s sad that it’s necessary but it’s a cool way to live.

Instead of watching heroic actions in movies, I get to experience them as part of daily life.

Bonus: if I do many things right I get to look like a tall, athletic, gorgeous hot blonde in the near future, without diminishing the alertness. That’s about as close to Supergirl as a human can get, and … it’s not a movie or a comic book. It’s my life. How cool is that?

My Big, Ugly, Rugged Jeep

My Big, Ugly, Rugged Jeep

Yay for the Reno Rodeo!! And yet …

Picture courtesy of James Teterenko under the GNU Free Documentation License.I love rodeos.  I love the patriotism, skills and energy.  And, this is the weekend for the Reno Rodeo. Great!  Not so great: I’m guessing it’s also the weekend that a transgender girl is most likely to get hassled in public.  Why do I think so? Speaking in broad terms:

Mostly, genetically integrated girls are fine with transgender girls. I’ve had very few issues as such.  By a massive majority, the most negativity aimed at me has come from guys.

This negativity has come in two flavors:

  • Bullying-style mean behavior
  • Homophobia

As for bullying: transgender girls are genetic anomalies just like very tall, short, fat or thin people are, or people with some or other unusual facial or physical feature.  Bullies tend to find inspiration in that sort of thing.

As for homophobia, that’s more dangerous yet.  I’ve written about that already, elsewhere in this blog.

What makes this weekend more likely to be a problem?

  1. In isolation, guys tend to be on their best behavior. In my experience, when they’re among other guys, a weird sort of group dynamic makes things far more negative, including trying to outdo each other in being mean (or worse).
  2. The older guys get, the more mellow and nice they tend to be towards me. Young adult or teenage guys have been the most negative towards me.
  3. The more macho a guy’s culture is, the more negative he tends to be toward girls like me.
  4. Reno folks tend to be cool people when it comes to interacting with transgender girls.  Rural folks tend to be much less so.

The Reno Rodeo is an event that draw to Reno in large numbers of young, macho guys from rural communities. All four of these factors combined makes for a sort of “perfect storm” dynamic that makes this weekend the most likely time when a girl like me will be hassled in public. Of course, places like the Patio and the 5 Star Saloon are safe zones. But, Reno sidewalks and casinos might well not be…

 

 

The Federal Government Now Knows Officially That I’m Female and I’m Tanya

640px-US-SocialSecurityAdmin-Seal.svgToday, the Social Security Administration formally accepted my request for them to update their records. I gave them the formal judge’s order on the name change, and the formal doctor’s letter as to the gender correction.  Yay!  It’s official.:-)

The SSA employees get bonus points for how pleasant and professional they are. And, from the perspective of  a professional process engineer, my opinion is that it’s an efficient process. It seems well-designed and polished.

Hormone Replacement Therapy … for me — Starting Today!!

The pictures in this post try to keep the vast amount of text from being boring. The pictures show my current shape (with emphasis on the muscles in my legs, for reasons I explain in the post) — a shape that is about to change. I can hardly wait!

For better or worse, this post show the consciously reasoned process I went through in making the most far-reaching medically-themed decision of my life, to date. As reading material goes, this is not the most bland stuff I’ve ever written, but the nature of the subject matter tends to require some candor.

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The typical transition path of a US transgender girl tends to involve a few major milestones. The sequence of events can vary to some extent, but there’s a general rationale to the main flow of things. Exceptions need to be fairly well-motivated to go against a reason-based conventional wisdom, the principles of which have been forged in a harsh reality and tested in difficult circumstances.

A good analogy for the transgender-girl journey is that of a teenage girl. As a transgender girl, I needed to learn how to socially behave as a girl should. I needed to learn girl culture. I needed to learn how to dress in a way that compliments my looks and without looking like a street whore (not that there’s anything wrong with being a street whore, but that’s not the day-to-day look that I’m going for). I needed to learn how to shop, how to buy make-up, how to put it on, and how to take it off. I needed to know how hair and nails add to the aesthetics, and how to do some of the work myself and when to involve professional help. When putting on make-up, I needed to learn how to balance quality with efficiency. Being bisexual, I needed to interact with guys, in bed and out of it, as a girl. And, ditto for sexually-themed interaction with girls. Even learning how to speak, walk and dance elegantly — as a girl — was a difficult effort, albeit a delicious and fascinating one.

Sometimes when things were particularly hard, I’d go read up on how others cope. I recall reading on a forum about a genetically integrated 14-year old girl who was trying to learn to dance like a female adult role model she liked — and dangit, her hips just didn’t move like they were supposed to. Sage advice from other females on the forum came down to, “for all of us, it feels weird in the beginning, but just keep working on it and it’ll get better.”

Many other similarities fit, as to being a teenage girl vs. a transgender girl: as a transgender girl, I often feel awkward socially and I don’t look as pretty or as feminine as I’d like. I’m clumsy. I make dumb mistakes.

After a lifetime of being unable to experience sexuality as a woman, I now feel giddy about the possibilities of my female sexuality, and it takes discipline to manage that responsibly: choosing quality and quantity wisely, and balancing that with all the other priorities in life.

I’m unusual, literally, in that my brain is more feminized than even those of most genetically integrated girls. To be precise, according to the Stanford University BEM test, my brain is more feminized than 85% of genetically integrated girls. That’s the case even though my particular hormonal make-up is testosterone-based. So, it’s an interesting thought as to how much more feminized yet the test results would be if my thinking were not affected by all that testosterone. The effect of that chemical probably detracted from how feminized the test results showed me as being.

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As I understand the effects of testosterone, then all other things being equal, they tend to make the person more angry and impatient, which (when combined with the wrong idea set) makes the person more prone to violence and conflict with the seven billion people on the planet. When I was younger, I was indeed sometimes angry and impatient. If physical clues are any indication, then I still have a lot of testosterone but even so, I’m one of the people around who least fits the adjectives “angry and impatient.” I’m mellow, calm and patient. Were my testosterone to decrease, I might become so mellow, calm and patient that (were the Nobel Peace Prize committee to make a U-turn and become based on rational considerations) then they’d discontinue the competition and just mail me the award every year from then on. I’d win just by being so splendid a personification of the antithesis of “angry and impatient.”

As I discuss things and read things in the transgender girl culture, it’s becoming ever clearer to me that female hormones are a logical and good step in the transitioning process. It’s a huge step towards feeling like, and looking more life, the girl that I basically am.

As to physical aspects, for me, it’s too late for much of that. The biggest timing-related regret in my life is that I had testosterone as the dominant element during puberty. As a result, the bones of my body (including, sadly, my face) have a fundamentally male shape. Surgery can change some of that, and I plan to fund that once I have some debt paid off, but the surgery is expensive. Even when it’s dramatic (e.g., cutting away part of the forehead and replacing it with a better-shaped titanium plate) it’s still limited in its ability to undo the effects of testosterone.

As an engineer, I liken my body to a skyscraper. Given a basic structure, there’s still much variation possible as to what gets placed on and around the structure. And, that’s where feminizing hormones can make a big difference. When I thought I was male, and depressed about my life as such, I lacked the motivation to stay in shape, and I ended up being overweight. Due to the effects of testosterone, the weight was around my middle. After I realized I’m basically female, I became motivated to look good.

One of my priorities has been to get in shape, and I now am. However, there are a few subsequent problems. My legs are now very muscular, to the extent that the muscles show pretty darn clearly through the skin. Female bodybuilders excepted, this isn’t a very feminine look. As I understand things, if I do put on any weight (and I’m planning to) then female hormones will add a layer of fat that’ll smooth out that look. I’d like that. Also, much of the fat that gets added will be distributed to my butt and hips. My hips are way too narrow for my liking, so I’d like that, too. And, I’ve been doing butt exercises intensely. Even though it’s starting to look pretty curvy down there but it’s mostly muscle. With some fat added in, that could become a nicely shaped booty. I’d like that A LOT.

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My face is too angular and a little bit of fat there might be an improvement too. I’d like that A LOT too. When I could afford it, I used to fund facial fillers like Radiesse and Juvederm, and it’d be nice to switch to the Mother Nature brand of facial filler.

One of the most exemplary people whom I personally know, is my step-daughter. I met when she was 12, and she’s now a young adult and she is successful in every way that I can reasonably imagine. Spending time in her presence is and has always been a delight, with the very brief exception of the start of her puberty, at which time she became very moody. I’ve been told that switching to feminine hormones is also likely to have that effect on me. I’m ready for it. If I have the self-control to withstand the tendency of testosterone to make me angry and impatient, then I can probably also withstand the tendency of female hormones to make me moody.

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I’ve read about safety-related concerns: the moodiness becoming unmanageable to where transgender girls do self-destructive things. I’m not worried about that. I have good self-control, and a good social support structure including a wonderfully helpful and loving romantic partner who is herself a girl.
I’ve read about bones becoming brittle, and an increased risk of heart attacks. All this, I gather, is a function of the person’s lifestyle and how well-managed the mix of feminizing hormones is.

As I understand things, the many variables (testosterone inhibitors, estrogen, progesterone) have been gradually refined over the years to where there are now two main feminizing-hormone cocktails or recipes, either of which basically works well, and doesn’t involve a high risk of bone density issues and heart attack.

I did some shopping for an endoctrinologist, and I found a local doctor who came highly recommended in the local transgender culture. I contacted her office to make an appointment and was turned away and told to first go get a referral from my personal physician. I don’t have one. I used to have an awesome general practitioner as my personal physician by then he moved away. The two doctors whom I chose subsequently (in succession) were so disappointing that I don’t plan to see them ever again. The second of these two was chosen after a careful evaluation process, to try to prevent the disappointment from the first. The relationship was nevertheless a failure, and I honestly don’t think it was due to unreasonably high standards on my part. So, I’m not keen on restarting the shopping process just in order to go get a referral to an endoctrinologist. Besides, I basically have a problem with the sort of authoritarian, bureaucratic relationship structure implied by that requirement.

In the process of learning more, I spoke to a friend who made me aware that Planned Parenthood offers hormone replacement therapy for girls like me. I already have a good, happy and long relationship with Planned Parenthood. So, this was good news. I looked into it, and indeed, they offer this service near where I live. So, I made an appointment, and 12 hours from now, I enter a major new phase of my life: I switch to feminizing hormones. I can hardly wait.

As to sexual fertility, I gather that one effect of this would be a permanently reduced-to-zero sperm count. I see that as a major benefit, not a problem.

As to sexual virility, any sexual interaction I have with males (I’m bisexual) doesn’t involve my private parts in front, just what I sit on. Any sexual interaction I have with my female romantic partner tends to involve a great variety of body parts and commercial sex toys, so the loss of one part of the mix will be noticed but it won’t sink the relationship or doom it to blandness or misery. The same can be said for any sexual interaction I have with any other female (my romantic partner and I have safe-but-open relationship, sexually). So, basically, if I never get an erection from here on, that’s fine with me.

As to orgasm, I’ll try to keep this bland since my blog might have some under-18 readers: basically, a transgender girl can experience this from her front or her inside. Currently I can experience both, and the latter is vastly more pleasurable. So, basically, if I never get the former type of orgasm again, that’s fine with me too.

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As to sexual desire, I’ve read that switching to feminizing hormones reduces a person’s sex drive. For me, I’m so sexualized that I could probably lose 80% of my sex drive and still have way more than the average person I know. And, paradoxically, there’s something sexy to me about the process of being feminized. So, I don’t see a problem there, either.

I’ve read that a reduction in testosterone also reduces the size of a transgender girl’s private parts. Mine are, ironically, quite a bit larger than those of maybe 95% of the males I’ve seen naked, so that’s good news also. I get to wear sexier girl clothing without having to worry quite as much about my private parts detracting from the visual effect. I can hardly wait.

A friend of mine lives in Brazil and is savvy about transgender-girl culture and feminizing hormones. She explained to me that many Brazilian transgender girls work as prostitutes, and their clientele tends to be men who like the girl to be the active participant in the sex act. So, the transgender girls switch to feminizing hormones to change their body shape and become curvy, and then they switch back to their natural testosterone so that they can service their clients. From that I conclude that the sexual effects of the switch are to a large degree reversible. So if I am mistaken as to the sexual effects, and I regret that aspect, there’s an “undo” button for that. As a bonus, if I do hit the “undo” button then I still get to keep the more-feminized shape that I got while taking the feminizing hormones. That sounds like a win-win situation either way.

I might still have overlooked something, but at least I’ve done a fair amount of due diligence as to reading and pondering the issue.

I’m ready and enthused.

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Transgender Discrimination, Both Sides of the Coin

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I’ve observed parallels between discrimination based on race and discrimination based on being transgender.  Examples abound as to the negative side of racism, and I don’t need to mention any of them.  But, racism can have peculiar positive effects too. I recall being in a business networking group when a gentleman from India wanted to join, and he was enthusiastically voted in either by an overwhelming majority. He was –is — a really nice guy, but he wasn’t personally a great fit for the group’s dynamic, and that was apparent to some folks even from the get-go. Eventually, the mismatch became so clear that everyone, himself included, thought it might be better off if he left the group. Later, I asked one of the folks in the group why he’d voted for the gentlemen, and he explained that it was purely a race-based decision, and there was no way he was going to stand in the way of a person of color joining this otherwise all-white group.  So, yes, there was racial discrimination in the decision but it was intentionally aimed to be in the gentleman’s favor. Ironically, this only helped short-term, and in the long run, objectivity might have been better.

I recall a debate among a group of Democratic Party presidential candidates, one of whom was Jesse Jackson, who is black and whom I don’t like very much — not because he’s black but because of his principles. As it happens, his principles make him a good fit for the Democratic Party (and by now you’ve probably guessed that I don’t like that party’s principles, either).

Whether I like him or not, I have to concede that he’s a smart guy with a lot of interesting things to say. The other half-dozen or so Democratic Party presidential candidate in the debate were all white.  I’m not sure it really should be called a debate. It was more of a verbal brawl, and the white candidates were brutally candid and sometimes downright negative with each other.  When a white candidate said something, there was a good chance the others would pounce on it and shred it.  Yet, when Jesse Jackson said something, it was treated respectfully (on the surface) and not attacked.  It was almost as if the retarded child at a family dinner says something, and everyone present treats it with a “that’s nice, dear” sort of premise as opposed to critically evaluating it. So, short-term, it was helpful to Jesse Jackson, in that he wasn’t subjected to the same verbal attacks, but long-term it was counterproductive because it’s hard to conclude he was taken seriously, and that’s really more condescending than nice. I have no doubt that Jesse Jackson was being given special treatment due to him being black.

I’m writing this post in an era where Obama is President and more and more Democrats are becoming aghast at the actions of the candidate they voted for. Yet, Obama’s agenda was no intentionally-hidden mystery. He’s written a book in which he details his principles clearly, and even if one hadn’t read the book, his choice of adult friendships certainly make it no surprise that he’d do what he did, once in power. Close to 66 million people voted for Obama, but it’s safe to say that only a tiny fraction of these folks read his book and thus understood his motives — motives that he has translated into action with generally unpopular results.  Naive folks ascribe this to incompetence whereas it’s what I observe is actually a very successful implementation of Obama’s ideas.  The nature of these ideas are the problem.

Regardless of one’s party affiliation, there’s typically some remnant of pro-Americanism in most Americans’ values. By average Republican standards, Obama’s ideas and actions are so anti-American as to have merited impeachment long ago. Yet, Obama’s ideas are anti-American even by the standards of the average liberal. That makes me wonder how, in a culture where information is abundantly available on so many subjects, so many \Americans ended up voting into power a candidate whose idea set they truly didn’t know. It’s almost as if these voters were on autopilot. Some candid folks have made observations that make me conclude that the same thought process that made the Indian gentleman so welcome in the business networking group, regardless of merit, are what made Obama so welcome to become the new resident of the White House.

Martin_Luther_King_-_March_on_WashingtonI think MLK had it right the first time. I’d much rather we all be color-blind as to skin color and that we evaluate individuals by the content of their character. A positive decision based on racism is nicer than a negative one, but it’s still not basically fair.

Some folks have argued for a “yes, but” clause and it goes something like this: Imagine you see a black person trying to make headway in a culture dominated by other races and in which he’s got an artificially difficult struggle due to racism being aimed against him.  In such situations, it might be an act of fairness to try to counteract the racist forces by being extra nice and supportive to that particular individual.

I can see some limited merit to that thought process, but it is based on a set of assumptions that might soon cease to be valid and then this recipe fosters injustice as opposed to injustice.

All of this brings me to a phenomenon that helps me understand how transgender girls are being treated in popular culture today. A popular TV series is titled “Orange is the new Black.”  I adapt the premise to “Transgender is the new Black.”  Many of the black-discrimination problems, pro and con, map to transgender-discrimination problems.

As for the negative aspects of transgender discrimination, examples abound and I don’t need to mention any of them.  This story, ultimately, is about a positive example that happened to me, and it didn’t adversely impact anyone else in any material way, so I like it.

This week, I was staying at a Hampton Inn hotel in Las Vegas, and my schedule had been crazy. I’d driven 400 miles to Las Vegas that previous evening, then I had only a couple of hours’ sleep, and then I left the hotel at 3:30 a.m. or so to go drop off my romantic partner at the airport. On the way back, I drove down Las Vegas Boulevard and delighted in how pretty the place looks just as the sky was lightening in the East. I drove to the top of the Treasure Island parking garage and enjoyed the 360 degree view of the sky and the buildings of my favorite city. I walked through Treasure Island, stopping by their convenience store (which was open at 5 a.m., no problem) and then to Walgreens across the street, and finally to the Venetian for a cup of coffee.

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By the time I got back to the Hampton Inn, it was time for their breakfast, and I enjoyed that too.  After that, I was seriously sleep-deprived. The normal check-out time was 11 a.m. This meant that, at most, I had maybe three hours of sleep ahead of me. A delayed checkout would be really nice.  Sometimes, a Hampton Inn would extend the check-out time to 11:30 or even noon, and in extreme cases even 12:30.  A time of 1 p.m. is almost unheard of, but … how wonderful that would be!! Those two extra hours of sleep would mean a lot.

I approached the gentleman at the front desk, and he beamed at me. By now it’s pretty apparent to me that almost everyone who sees me knows immediately that I’m a transgender girl.  Only a very few people are so cerebral that they go by the mental model and cultural cues to where they focus on me being, fundamentally, a girl so well that my strong jawline doesn’t even register.

For the most part, I just proceed on the premise that folks know I’m a transgender girl (or in the case of less-advanced thought processes, at least something along those lines, e.g., a very-feminine-looking guy in a dress).

I asked for a late checkout and got the nicest smile, and an enthusiastic “yes” and an offer of 2 p.m.  Wow!!!  I thanked the gentleman profusely and went to my room to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

At 2 p.m., when I called the front desk to check out, the same gentleman answered the phone, and he proceeded to comment enthusiastically about my journey as a transgender girl, and how supportive he is of me being true to myself in a situation with so many challenges and obstacles.  That’s not exactly what he said, but that’s the gist of it as I understood it.  It was a warm and wonderful conversation.

Obviously, I was being treated differently due to being a transgender girl, but I was being treated extra nicely.  And, I did enjoy that, very much.

After checking out, I went to a nearby store and bought some flowers and went back to the hotel to give them to the gentleman, to say: “thank you for being so nice to me.”

It was a most positive experience for me.

World’s Coolest Step-Daughter, Mine …

Slightly more than 15 years ago, I ended up in a romantic relationship and marriage with a wonderful lady who was divorced and was raising her 12-year old daughter.  At the time, I was legally classified as male and trying my darndest to fit into male culture and to be a good mate and step-parent, even though I had always had internal conflicts as to feeling as if my brain were basically female and not male, in so many ways.

My step-daughter and I interacted in a way that somehow never fitted a step-father dynamic. I was close to 100% nurturing and close to zero % authoritarian.

I recall giving her a driving lesson on a rural dirt road one day, when she was 14 or so. A sheriff’s deputy pulled us over and observed that “dad” was giving her driving lessons.  Somehow the “dad” felt so wrong to me when he said that, and not because he’d omitted “step” as in “stepdad.”  This event occurred more than ten years before I started confronting (no longer evading) the mountain of evidence that indicated I’m transgender.

Perhaps my step-daughter had already figured it out.  She didn’t ever call me “dad” or “step-dad” nor did she like using my first name.  Instead she made a phonetically cute derivative of that, and it sounded more androgynous or feminine than my formal first name did. And, much as she seemed to appreciate my contribution to the parenting dynamic, she never gave me a father’s day card.  But, she gave me … “Assistant Mom” cards.

Clearly, there’s a pattern here somewhere.

When she heard that I’m transgender, she was socially distant (e.g., didn’t rush over to help me go shopping for make-up) but was interpersonally warm and supportive. Her basic message to me was that as long as I was happy, that was all that mattered to her.

Even so, I felt awkward about being in her presence, and I avoided her socially. I vowed to do a great job of looking as feminized as I could, so that my looks and style would match my brain structure and so that it would not be awkward for her if she met me in public.

About six months after I started wearing make-up and girl clothing all day & every day, I had a lunch appointment with a supportive friend. The restaurant was upscale and so I put on relatively formal make-up, and I dressed extra nicely. Finding the right balance as such is difficult for me. Even though I’ve had Adam’s Apple surgery and facial feminization surgery, my face still has too-masculine features. I would probably look weird if I were to dress up in frilly pink outfits. (This is ironic because my brain structure, according to my Stanford BEM test results, is not just feminized but very much so, to where it’s more feminized than 85% of genetically integrated girls.)

Especially early on, I tried to dress fairly androgynously albeit basically with a feminine flair. That’s how I was dressed for the lunch date, that day. By then, I hadn’t seen my step daughter for about a year, which was fine by me since I wasn’t avoiding her in the sense of being unavailable – if she ever needed me she could just say the word and I’d be there.

I felt that I was becoming worthy of socializing with her; it was something I was working towards; was earning.  So, I was surprised when, purely by coincidence, my stepdaughter was also having lunch with one of her friends, that same day, at that same restaurant. The place was very crowded in the area where folks were waiting to be seated, a space that she and I shared. I decided it’d be rude for me to not say “hello” and so I approached her while she was in an animated conversation with her friend. I stood behind her friend and slightly to one side, and smiled at my step-daughter.  I’d guess I was probably 6” taller than her friend and thus hard to miss. I waited for my stepdaughter to notice me and say “hello,” but she never did. She just kept looking at her friend and focusing on the conversation.

I turned away to digest this.  I figured she either really didn’t recognize me, meaning I’d transitioned style-wise way better than I’d suspected, or perhaps she DID recognize me but had been embarrassed by my presence and hadn’t wanted to have to explain the situation to her friend. The latter option seemed out of character for her, but I didn’t want to rule it out.

Later that day I sent her a text message saying I’d seen her at the restaurant but she seemed focused on her conversation and I’d decided not to interrupt. She expressed surprise that I was there and yet she didn’t notice me there.  I found this to be great news since I’d been in her field of vision (and she has excellent vision) perhaps 24 inches away from her. I concluded that indeed, I look a lot different than when she saw me last.  Good progress, then.

The situation is especially ironic since my step-daughter is a brown-eyed athletic girl with long, blonde hair and nowadays, so am I. Since my facial feminization surgery, my eyes also look quite similar to hers.  So now, she and I now look very similar. A casual observer could easily guess that she is my genetic daughter, i.e., that I’m her genetic mom as opposed to her … assistant mom.

Ironically, her genetic mom has bright blue eyes, and so that mother-daughter visual resemblance might actually be less strong, to a casual observer.

A few months ago, my step-daughter opened a new business, and she had an open house celebration for publicity.  I showed up, and brought her some flowers as a way of saying “congratulations.”  I timed my arrival so that most of the crowd would have left by then, in case my presence might still be awkward, e.g., “here’s my step-mom whom we thought until recently to be male, at least officially anyway.”  That sort of introduction would be bound to distract folks from focusing on the new business.  It turns out that my timing was good, and the visit was very positive. My stepdaughter later remarked to a mutual friend how feminized I look nowadays, yay!

Father’s Day was this past weekend, and I got a text message from my step-daughter, saying “Happy Assistant Mom’s Day!”  I loved that.

Confidence, and a Good Day

I took today off and enjoyed Reno, NV. I dressed sexily and went clothes shopping, ate yummy stuff, played pool at the 5-Star Saloon, and generally had a sexy, grand and glorious time.

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At the Saloon, I ran into a couple who were using the pool table for an impromptu spanking contest. A lovely brunette was also in their party, either more sober or with more decorum. I sat down close to them, and observed.

Less than a minute later, I was asked to join in. I raised an eyebrow and cautioned that I’m a professional Dominatrix, and asked them to confirm that they still wanted me involved. Indeed, they did.

I gave the gentleman one nice whack, aimed at the pleasure spot and just hard enough to make a guy normally want more.  Perhaps I’ve lost my touch or the alcohol was affecting his reaction, because he was unimpressed. I next asked his lady companion if I might spank her too. She eagerly complied and took position.  “Arch your back,” I instructed, nicely. She complied enthusiastically. Rather than the one-whack approach, I slapped her lightly again and again, several times per second, right at the pleasure spot, above the little crease between her rear thigh and butt, where this sort of thing feels most erotic. Had she rounded her back, that would have told me she disliked it. She kept her back arched, and later said something very nice to me right before she left the bar. It would seem she’d enjoyed the experience.

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The pretty brunette also seemed very positive towards me, taking the seat next to me, making sparkling (and slightly risque) conversation and then giving me her business card. Since I’m bisexual and in an open relationship, this is always a lovely and welcome gesture, regardless of what happens in the future.

Being out and about was wonderful.

The pictures here are of me, taken tonight. For part of the evening, I was dressed more conservatively. The later it gets, the shorter my skirt tends to become.

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I used to be so shy and self-conscious that I waited until 4 a.m., and nobody was around, before I went out in this outfit.

When I was so shy, I didn’t look like I do today, but I didn’t look hideous either. Yet, I felt horribly self-conscious.

If the “me” of today could have given advice to the “me” of two years ago, it would have been: “You look fine, and certainly good enough to go out in the world and enjoy being part of it. Yes, people can tell you’re a transgender girl. That’s OK. For some, it’s more than OK (and for some, who you learn to ignore, it’s less than OK). Don’t hide in the shadows.”

Life is a lot better, nowadays!