Suggested Strategy for Coming Out

Someone nice whom I’m mentoring is about to come out. My strategic input has been welcomed. So, here’s some.

What worked well for me psychologically was to have a style that was as feminine as I wanted: 6″ stilettos, stripper dresses with just a thin thong underneath, sexy make up, gorgeous long blonde (but fake) hair. It felt SO good, like I was finally being me. It gave me confidence and joy: precious commodities for a just-out t-girl.

Problem is, I’d dress like that without much social savvy, like to Walgreens and around downtown Reno at 4pm on a summer weekday. Not socially savvy at all. But, I was so happy with being able to be me finally and openly, that I didn’t care.

In retrospect I should have been more cautious because I ran into a lot of animosity. Yes, I had every right to dress like that. But what I have the right to do vs. people being willing to play nice with me, those are two very different things. I don’t have a right to universal acceptance. I can’t go demand it. For me to get social acceptance, I have to get it voluntarily, one mind at a time. And weirding people out doesn’t exactly help as to that.

Here’s a picture of me as I looked out and about, late in 2011.


Granted, that puts a lot of control into others’ hands. But they have that control anyway. They can decide whom they like, and why, and whether to be nice or mean. And even if they’re mean for all the wrong reasons, what am I going to for? Argue with every one and convince them I’m actually just fine and they might wanna mellow out and like me? No. That’s why choosing a culture that is open-minded enough is SO important – and then GO there.

That’s why I wanted to move to Las Vegas. I live in a small town near Reno, NV and I didn’t think in a thousand years that the people in this little town would generally be even remotely civil to me. I mean, it’s a very rednecky town. I just decided to come out anyway, and when the situation became as intolerable as I suspected would soon happen, then fine, and goodbye, off to Vegas, which is A LOT more forgiving socially. I mean, A LOT. So, t-girls of the US can, worst case, still move to Vegas. And although Vegas has casinos and shows it also has much less-glamorous work that needs to be done. So whether a t-girl packs and ships a box in the back room or a macho dude does, the box gets shipped either way. Many Vegas employers think like that. So if you’re honest and have a good work ethic, you’re already likely to get employment even as a t-girl though it might be low-paying work and you’ll be eating beans daily, not steak and lobster.

So for me, it was like a fail-safe mode. If everything turns to crap, there would always be Las Vegas. I even started moving some of my stuff to Vegas preemptively. Meanwhile, I lived as who I am, a t-girl. Even in this small rural, redneck Nevada town.

But, I’m now a smarter girl. I realize that I dress as I love to celebrate who I am. It’s a mentally private thing for me. And yes, to look resplendent and yet be stuck inside 4 walls isn’t as great as being out and about. But other people aren’t part of my psychology as such. Their presence or reactions as to how I look aren’t essential. I’m feminine for my own benefit.

So, I could look hot and walk around when nobody else is around and it’d be just as good — and better. So I did. I’d wait until 4 am and then I’d dress up and look gorgeous, and go walk around in my hot stripper dress, thin black thong, 6″ stilettos, and long fake blonde hair — just enjoying being me.

I walked around quiet, nice neighborhoods, to be safe. I planned things so if a car came, I could see it from far away and duck behind a tree or shrub. Yet, I was out and learning how to walk, move, and look like the hot girl I am inside. Perfect.

In broad daylight, I wore androgynous clothing and shoes and makeup that was, ideally, never more feminized than my own natural femininity. For example, in the beginning, I always wore jeans and some androgynous female tops that I found at Sears. I felt safe wearing them; they were female clothes but barely so.

As to the townspeople, most of them were totally nice to me. I was amazed. So I still haven’t moved to Vegas.

As time went by, I wore more tight-fitting jeans, and eventually more-feminine tops, and slightly more accentuated makeup. To everyone who mattered, I explained I’m a t-girl and I had prepped for any followup Q&A. So I was fearless, culturally. I always had better answers than people had questions.

And, I looked androgynous, not ultra feminine — while still having short-ish real hair, a figure liek a tree trunk, and too-male facial features, and basically male facial expressions – and a male voice, grrrr.

Why does a long-married couple look so alike? Similar facial expressions. So, after more than two years of being “out” 24×7, I have female facial expressions. It’s all integrated. Also, how I move is just naturally feminine. That’s not something I paint on or put on. It’s part of me now.

Recently I was at a junkyard where hardly anyone expects to find a female working on old, dead cars, and I had a nondescript hat on and my hair tied back, and totally unfeminine clothing, and the only makeup I had on was hidden underneath my sunglasses, and yes I have large-ish fake boobs but their shape was obscured under a huge baggy sweatshirt. And my chin and jaw are just as male as ever. And then a young guy approached me mostly from behind, and without being able to see much or maybe any of my face, boobs, etc. he guessed correctly that I’m female and he said “excuse me, ma’am …” and then asked me a question.” Wow. How did he know I’m a girl?

Because I’ve learned to exude femininity in so many ways, even little nuances of how I hold my head, move, etc. And I wasn’t on a runway or at a club where you might expect a girl. I was taking an old BMW apart in a dirty junkyard. Even there I radiated femininity so much that the guy overcame the premise that almost everyone there is male, and he figured me for a girl accurately. Wow. I’ve come a long way.

So as a t-girl synthesizes that capability to exude femininity, it makes sense to wear more make-up and more feminizds clothing. But the make-up and clothing should always follow, not lead, as to how feminine you are.

There’s nothing wrong with being a transvestite a.k.a. cross-dresser. In fact, I can say many good things about such folks. But an unfortunate stereotype for that is the cross-dresser in the Rocky Horror Picture show, with totally male features and style but heavy make-up, fishnet stockings, sexy shoes, etc. In a way it’s visually jarring, to me anyway. So when I wonder if I’m overdoing it I think of that, and then tone it down until my innate femininity is more than the femininity in my make-up, clothing, shoes, jewelry, etc.

Nowadays I exude femininity so much that I naturally wears skirts almost every day and I get many compliments as to these. And I look nice enough and feel SO happy about how my femininity integrates with my choice of style.

220px-Dirty_DancingIt’s sort of like that Mambo scene in Dirty Dancing where the blonde dancing lady’s wonderful grace and style so overpowers the mechanics of the dance steps that it’s hard to even recognize what dance that is. She inspired me so much, I bought a Mambo dance video but even though my clumsy feet at the time were the same essentially as her steps, her integration made it seem like she’s airborne, floating, magical whereas I felt and looked clumsy and plodding. So it is with femininity. Eventually it becomes integrated but in the beginning it’s difficult.

Almost every teenage girl begins by being lanky and awkward and clumsy and not as feminine as she wants to be, but as time passes, she learns more and more. A just-out t-girl is basically like a young teenage girl just getting started.

So for someone just coming out, I advise telling people who matter that you’re a t-girl but as far as the dynamic with them is concerned it, that aspect should not really matter much or at all, and life will hopefully just goes on. And then as to style and looks, gradually, proceed with slow feminization in public — and in private, whether indoors or out at 4 a.m. then be wild as feminized as you psychologically need to be.


Slim Down, then Put on Weight

I’m really careful about what I eat. I’m trying to lose about a pound per week, which is a safe rate. Yet, on my limited calories, I have to get in all the healthy fats (unsaturated and Omega-3, mainly) and all the fiber, protein etc. that a girl needs. So far so good. This morning the scale read less than 178 pounds (I have a VERY precise scale). So, I’m on my way.

I’m following some really good advice from two of the most t-girl savvy people I know. One is an experienced surgeon who specializes in facial feminization surgery. The other is a very candid and brilliant man who was married to a t-girl and who mentored and guided her along the way, with highly feminizing results.

Sometimes when I look at pictures of other t-girls, when they look like they’re beyond their early 30s, it’s really hard for me to not get distracted by the basically bulky male physique structure, even if they have pretty faces, gorgeous boobs and magnificent hair.

Kate Upton has a lovely face, great attitude, lovely hair and magnificent curves, but for me, part of what makes her so hot is that she’s also generally slender. Something about that just energizes the visual picture, for me.

I’m very aware that eating disorders are among the most deadly psychological disorders, and I’m very careful to not be overly critical of myself or others. I used to be in an intense romantic relationship with a girl who was lovely and also bulemic, so I have a little extra insight based on that.

But with these caveats clearly in mind, if the main issue with a t-girl’s looks really is that she looks too muscular, bulky or stocky, then it does make me think that some weight loss would solve that problem. And when that t-girl is me, and it is, then I’m motivated!!

Before I came out as a t-girl, I’d neglect what I eat. I went about my life and when I was hungry I ducked into a fast food place and ordered something. No surprise, my weight increased and my blood chemistry worsened.

Now that I deeply care about my health, I make a big point of eating a good breakfast even when, like today, I was in a big rush. I wouldn’t drive my car with an almost-empty fuel tank and still expect things to end well, and so nowadays I treat my body better than I do my car, which is the opposite of how many people seem to approach it; they might put expensive synthetic motor oil in their car and then go eat a big greasy hamburger with french fries. The irony of this is no longer lost on me. So, now when I do eat fast food it’s part of a plan and it’s always something that I’ve read up about well enough to know the health implications. One option that can end up being included is Subway Sandwiches, especially their egg-and-cheese sandwich, no mayo, no oil.

Even if I were to plan the perfect set of meals per day and then follow that every day it would become imperfect after the first day because some change and variety are good factors in what we eat. So, some days I eat at Subway for convenience and sometimes for variety.

The master plan is to become very svelte and then also have very healthy blood chemistry e.g., very little of the artery-clogging type of cholesterol and much of the artery-unclogging type. I want to enjoy living as a t-girl for a looooooooooooooooong time, and if what I eat makes a difference, then I choose to manage what I eat.

As to what’s svelte enough to still be healthy is a magic “so many pounds” number. Its exact value is confidential between me and the MD who said told me number, and I don’t wanna mention this and then have people try to use that number out of context whether to personally strive for it or to editorialize on the pros and cons of that particular number.

Anyway, once I’m there, then I plan to go on estrogen hormones. Right now I’m only on a less-dramatic hormone.

Once I’m on estrogen, it is probably a lot more difficult to lose weight, so the plan to do first A then B is probably wise. And then if I do put on weight, once the hormones control where the weight goes, then it’ll be to make my shape more feminine, like my thighs, hips and butt. I’m just fine with that.

LEGSI get many compliments about my legs but in my opinion the muscles are too … obvious. Less muscle and a smoothing tiny layer of fat would be improvements.

So, that’s the plan. I know I revisit this issue from time to time, so if some of this sounds familiar, I’m not surprised, but plans do change from time to time and so this is the plan made in mid-March of 2015.

PS: I edited the accompanying picture and it might look a little risque, as if I cut the picture off right below my butt, but I actually cut it quite a ways down. I have long legs!

At 190 lbs, my body mass index is 25.8 whereas my ideal weight is supposed to be in the the range 136-184 lbs.  However, my VERY muscular legs are probably a huge factor, so … I’m not too worried.

Cool Article on RealSelf Website

Maybe two weeks ago, a very nice and very professional lady from the RealSelf plastic surgery forum website contacted me and asked for (and got) an interview.

I like the resultant article.

It captures precisely what I said including the spirit of it as I’d intended — good journalism at its finest.

Well done, Beth — and thank you.

Perhaps one day RealSelf will become a household name as to an open-minded, reasonable approach to plastic surgery.


IMAG8404If you like my generally upbeat tone, you’re not going to like this post. The gist of it is:

In no way am I implying there’s anything wrong with being a guy or looking like a guy. But for a girl to look like a guy is not fun and not something I’d wish on my worst enemy. Or on second thoughts, maybe I do. That’s be the most cruel punishment I can imagine.

Many t-girls call themselves cross-dressers instead because they don’t look feminine enough or haven’t had any surgery yet. I disagree with their self-classification. My premise: “It’s not about how you look. It’s about how your brain is wired. If you’re born a girl, you’re a girl. Period. It doesn’t matter if you look like a male prizefighter.”

A wonderful t-girl friend of mine summed it up by saying, in effect, “I’m an ugly woman, but I’m a woman.”

The premise that surgery is “required” to be a transgender girl is a popular and messy misconception.

But, my concerns runs deeper yet. The whole idea of it being a conditional, chooseable status is problematic, not least because

a) That clashes with the best available scientific evidence
b) It makes the issue open to moral judgment.

As to the latter: Granted, hating someone because she’s a t-girl is unreasonable even if that were an informed choice that someone had consciously made — as to preferring to have female thinking as opposed to male thinking, even if, um, anatomically male. And even if the criticism were to go beyond her mind and to focus on her looks or style, then hating her for that makes no sense either.

She’s within her rights to look and dress and move how she chooses. If we wanna go editorialize on people’s life choices there’s a lot that I could go pick apart in the lives of many of the guys who are mean to t-girls. However, the premise that it’s a birth condition makes the entire issue moot. Being a t-girl (or t-guy) is amoral.

It’s neither good nor bad. It just “is” like having been born with blue eyes or not. There are practical consequences to being born in any particular configuration, t-girls included, but that’s all above moral judgement in a rational society. We’re hopefully beyond the mindset where one-half of twins gets thrown in the fire at birth, albinos are put to death, etc. At least much of US culture has attained that level, anyway.

As that point becomes understood in popular culture, it dissolves the basic intellectual premise on which much negativity towards t-girls is based, with vast benefits as to treating t-girls fairly. Intellectual battles are won on fundamental points, and this is one such.

So, okay, if you were born a t-girl, you’re a t-girl. So, why would a t-girl seek out surgical options to transition visually and functionally?

To answer that question, let’s think ourselves into the position of a t-girl about to enter puberty, and follow along.

T-girls become self-aware as such introspectively. It’s all we have. If we’re highly repressed and in denial then someone else’s insights might be spot-on based on observation too, but for the most part a t-girl knows she’s a t-girl because regardless of what she’s pressured to feel or think, she thinks and feels like a girl. As humans, we crave integrity. We like to live in a way consistent with who we are. So, being a girl means that there’s the desire to look like one.

Imagine: a pretty young girl gets cursed by a witch and her body becomes misshapen in a way that utterly destroys her femininity. Her nose and forehead become large, her skin gets thick, coarse hair starts growing everywhere on her body, her pretty voice is destroyed and replaced with something deep, her throat is misshapen, her neck gets thick, her hands and feet get big, even her very bones get misshapen to make her body taller than she’d have been as a girl.

Instead of the curvy butt that other girls her age have, she has a flat, hairy butt. Instead of the curvy chest that other girls her age have, she has a flat, hairy chest. Instead of the curvy hips that other girls have, she has flat hips. Instead of the pretty flat forehead that other girls her age have, she has bulges even when she’s not frowning. As to the facial situation, it gets worse. Coarse, thick hair starts growing everywhere. Eventually that gets so bad that even if she shaves it off in the morning, by 5 p.m. there’s already a shadow starting again. There’s even a name for that, it’s so prevalent. Her jaw and chin change shape too.

Her male-shaped genitals, which for the most part have been the only visible male-shaped aspect before puberty, increases vastly in size. And it’s erect often. There’s no ignoring it, any more.

For a guy, looking more like a guy during puberty is a source of pride. For a t-girl, puberty is the sort of tragedy that is the stuff of nightmare horror stories. When she wants to scream in frustration and revulsion as to the process, she’s told there’s no stopping it; the curse will run its course so it’s not the sort of curse by which the witch waves her wand and the next moment the girl looks like I described. It’s slow torture, over years. The t-girl gets to see this happen, every miserable day. And every day she looks worse. In the scope of her knowledge, there is no antidote. She’s doomed.

Any gesture or act by which she attempts to grab and hold onto who she is mentally, in spite of the grotesque facade, becomes a social and physical danger to her, subject to censorship, criticism, ridicule, threats, violence, and in some cultures, expulsion from the parental home, torture and/or death.

If she tries to work out to look better, she puts on weight in the wrong places and she looks less feminine yet.

If she tries to put on weight, or is just depressed and lets herself go, she puts on fat in all the wrong places and she looks less feminine yet.

Typically, she doesn’t understand what’s going on. That’s part of the nightmare. She seriously considers that she’s mentally insane, and hides her femininity for fear of being stigmatized as a nut case, or locked up. Other people who look like guys seem and are perfectly happy with that. Why not her? Is she even a “her?” Nobody else thinks so.

If she’s straight and is attracted to guys, she’s accused of being gay and whoever she’s enthused about don’t see her as a woman. So, straight guys are not an option.

The only guys who might be attracted to her based on her looks would be gay guys wanting other gay guys, a dynamic in which there is absolutely no femininity and it’s the exact opposite of what she wants and who she is, yet in confused desperation she often tries that out even so, so she can at least have some sexual interaction in which she’s not expected to be in the male active role. Pretty soon the masculinity of the dynamic repulses her and she realizes the experience of sex in a passive capacity is what she likes and yet something was also very wrong in the dynamic psychologically. So, gay gays are not an option.

As to other girls: if they’re straight, they’ll want to be with a guy. She’s not a guy. She might try to behave like one. That tends to end badly. If the starts a relationship with a girl, then without the other girl realizing it, perhaps without either of them realizing it, they’re in a girl-girl sexual relationship and the hetero dynamic that the other girl craves just isn’t there. So straight girls are not an option.

As to lesbian girls: if a girl is gay, she’ll want to be with another girl. And ideally she’d like that girl to look like a girl, not a guy. So lesbian girls are not an option.

The only good choices as to her love life are people with a very open or unusual sexuality. That’s a very small pool.

Over time, the physical situation gets worse. The t-girl’s voice gets deeper. She gets enmeshed in a work and social environment in which her femininity is problematic, so she hides it. She dresses as a girl secretly sometimes, as an outlet. If caught, she’s accused of being a cross-dresser, which she’s not. She’s not a male doing this for arousal. She’s a girl doing this for relief.

Her hair, her last possible symbol of gender-neutral femininity if she can keep it long, starts vanishing. Her hairline recedes in a way that makes her look less feminine yet. It’s not just hair loss but the way it happens. She hates it.

Her nose gets bigger, her ears too. As she ages, she starts having health issues with parts she didn’t ever want to have in the first place, the parts that (she now knows) made the hormones that distorted her body.

These parts continue to pump out testosterone, and she’s angry more often and intensely than she likes to be. Anger and testosterone seem to go together. She hates that part of her mind-set, and perhaps she doesn’t even know it’s hormone-induced. As a consolation, her life is so frustrating there’s much opportunity for anger.

She typically makes the worst possible career choice, something macho to hide her embarrassment and maybe force her to suddenly think like a guy or at least behave like one well enough to not be in danger of being beat up or worse, for being a sissy.

As she ages, her web of secrecy ties her down more and more. Coming out has more and more repercussions. She might lose her children, her job, her parents, her family, a safe place to live, her money, her friends, perhaps her freedom and her life.

So, that’s the life of a t-girl who doesn’t switch to the right hormones before puberty.

Why would she seek out surgical options to transition? Every fiber of her being reaches towards wanting to undo as much of the puberty-time damage as possible. So certainly a t-girl’s desperate need for surgery is probably more understandable now.

And unlike other ladies who might want to look better in a particular way, for a t-girl it’s not a “want.” It’s a need, a hunger, a desperation.