Four years ago, you would not have seen me out as the girl I am unless you waited until 4 a.m. and stood by the Virginia Lake area in Reno, NV. That’s when I finally dared to come out as myself … when NOBODY was likely to be around. I dressed up in a sexy dress and 6″ stilettos and I learned to walk on them. The little man-made lake is a mile around, so I’d walk around the lake and practice.– and think.
Today, things are different. I needed to drive from the Reno area to Monterey, California and I felt happy and sexy, so I wore my short shorts and sandals and a midriff-baring top. And yes, I know I still look like a t-girl. Of course I do. I AM a t-girl.
I loaded my luggage into the car at around noon, maybe 20 feet away from the busiest street in town. No worries. Then I walked some distance along that street to take care of an errand, and then I got into my car and drove off. Not just did I have the courage to be so open, but I didn’t need courage at all. I was just a girl, walking, happy to be alive, neither showing off nor hiding. That felt SO good.
Still in the same outfit, of course, I checked into the hotel tonight. Everyone was nice and friendly until I got into the elevator. It’s an atrium elevator with glass windows as walls, so as it rose I had a magnificent view of the atrium with its plants, fountains and waterfalls. It’s a really nice place and I’m staying for free because I have accumulated so many Hilton points during business trips, yay! Anyway, I was all delighted and happy — and chatty. I commented aloud, with childlike enthusiasm, on how nice this was. The other occupant of the elevator, a grumpy-looking guy in his 60s just looked surly and kept quiet.
That got me thinking. So, this is why I hesitated to come out sooner, as myself — because a tiny portion of the population might be surly and might focus on me openly being a t-girl, and by the standards of such people I’m supposed to hide my true nature instead of living openly and being just another human to be judged by the content of her character.
My concern about this sort of person’s sensitivities wasted years of my life. What a bad judgement call that was, on my part. I deserved better.