Looking Like your own Grandmother

One of the wonderful t-girls whom I’m mentoring has waited a very long time to live as who she really is, and even now she’s still only “out” part-time.

She explained to me that, due to her age, her male hormones have dwindled down, and her hormone mix is probably now as those of a young girl, and indeed — when she looks in the mirror, she looks female to herself nowadays. The problem is, she explained, she now looks like her grandmother.

To me, this is SO sad. She is already past retirement age, and she has lived so many decades while repressing her true self.

Not that there’s anything wrong with an older lady looking like, well, an older lady. It’s part of life. But, if that’s the only experience in female living that a t-girl has, it seems to me that she’s missing out on a lot — even though there is still much joy for her to experience, and being older doesn’t preclude being healthy, and sexy.

One of the motivational blogs that I like to read is by a t-girl who points out the relative benefits of coming out and living as oneself, openly and happily. She made a poster that has wording that I recall as:

Today, you’re the youngest you’ll ever be. And yet, you’re also the most experienced than you’ve ever been.

The main regret I have in life, is that I didn’t sooner live openly as who I am.

If that’s a mistake that others are making, and I can inspire them to do better than I did, I’d like that.

A Very Different Type of Sexual Fantasy Dream

gg2015-12-04 22.59.16Last night, I did some self-evaluation as to the effects that my feminizing hormones are having on my hips. Last summer, when my hips were very narrow, a wide-hipped acquaintance assured me that my hips were lovely and she wished hers looked like mine. Even so, by my standards, some extra width would be nice for me, and that is now happening.

Fortunately, I’ve done enough midriff exercises to keep my shape hourglassy even as I’m changing shape. As my hips get wider, the waist-to-hip ratio moves closer to what I’d like. It’s a new experience for me, to think of my hips as a pretty part of my physique.

I woke up today after having the nicest dream, on the subject of — yes, my hips. In the dream, I was walking around some large building complex such as a huge shopping mall, with multiple restaurants. I felt naturally confident as just one more girl, walking around and enjoying life.

If you’ve been reading my articles long enough, you know that I’m as gay as a Maypole, meaning I’m a girl who likes girls.  And so, in the dream, I saw several pretty girls. I felt as their peer, and they seemed to look on me as such, as we walked past each other, in general benevolence.

One girl, a brunette, seemed a bit more wild in her choice of personal look; she had some piercings and tattoos, and a more trendy, edgy style to her clothing. Her hair was shoulder-length but with a sort of rebel-girl style. When she saw me, she stopped and looked me up and down, and told me: “You have the sexiest hips. Come with me; I want to feel them.” Wow, okay.

I followed her. She seemed to know her way around and finally took us inside an elegant, dimly lighted restaurant that had table candlelight and yet was already closed for the night; deserted as far as I could tell. She faced me, and started touching me. It was SO sexy but totally in a girl-girl way. I know that dreams are hard to remember, but somehow I’m sure, now that I’m awake, that I’ve never had a dream quite like this. The girl wasn’t overpowering yet she was very assertive. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted me.

At this point the story gets vague — not because I’m trying to keep things bland for my teenage readers; I really don’t remember the details clearly now that I’m awake. I recall the clothes coming off, and right before mine came off, I warned her that I’m a trans girl in case this bothered her. She expressed surprise in a complimentary way, as if I’d come across to her as just one more girl. Anyway, she didn’t seem bothered about it.

The next part of the dream is probably the intense part but … I don’t remember any of it. After, presumably, much mutual pleasure, she and I got up to walk out together, and then we noticed that only one section of the restaurant had been closed off; the section of carpeting where we had enjoyed each others’ company was in fact shared with three or four parties, sitting at their tables and placidly dining, apparently not disturbed by the two lesbian girls having undressed and frolicked in plain sight. I liked that the “wow, that would never happen” part of the dream involved that, and not the part leading up to it.

I really like how well the entire who-and-what-I-am premise is by now so well-integrated in my subconscious mind …


Wait to Come Out, Maybe Lose the Opportunity


I’m not a liberal, but I’m cynical enough to be very concerned about how polarized the culture of the US is becoming, and the impending Presidential election is making it worse.

No, this article isn’t to suggest how you should vote. It IS suggesting that the sun might be about to set on the brief sunlit period of acceptance and safety that US transgender people have enjoyed in the last few years.

Quite a few years ago, when I was developing software for the government, the lunchroom was an informal setting where people sat at tables together, without necessarily liking or knowing each other. Most typically, person A dimly knew person B who was sitting at a particular table, and brought his lunch tray over and sat down there, even though he didn’t know the other half-dozen people at that table.

During one such conversation, I was sharing a lunch table with someone who was as high-up in the non-military part of government as anyone I have ever met. He was a very, very senior person. He was also very opinionated. He loudly said that his solution to the problem of HIV was to create a concentration camp named “The Last Resort” and to round up and lock up everyone with HIV. Under his plan, people with HIV would be sent to that camp and be forced to stay there until they died. He said it sort-of as a joke but he was using humor as a fig leaf to cover what he really thought and meant. Even if he’d been a junior government employee, that would still have been disconcerting enough to me. But to hear a very high-up government civil servant say so, out loud, in a public setting … that was most disturbing.

For example, a soul-baring confession from a former Nixon adviser admitted that the Nixon administration was irritated with two main groups: anti-war people and blacks. The administration couldn’t get away with arresting people outright just for being anti-war or black, but by adding the red herring that anti-war people were pot-heads, and then declaring pot illegal, they had enough of an obfuscating pretext to harass anti-war people, disrupt their meetings, and lock up their leaders. Ditto as to black people and heroin. Did the government people know they were lying about the drugs? “Of course,” confessed this former senior official.

I read and see videos about how vastly the Federal government is trampling people’s rights — serious stuff, like law enforcement agents shooting LaVoy Finicum dead while he clearly had his hands up. Also most serious are the Federal abuses of power which led up to that murder.

Much of my family is German. I speak with a slight German accent. I lived in Germany during part of my childhood. I was morbidly intrigued by how a country of poets,  scientists and philosophers could elect Adolf Hitler, round up Jewish people and send them to concentration camps where the most horrible things would be done to them.

Can I imagine that sort of thing happening in the US? We already know that sufficient  malice exists in high office, that massive abuse of power is going on and has been going on for a long time.

If you’re a liberal then maybe you’re not all that worried because, hey, whatever, it’s currently “the other side” that’s being treated unfairly … but it takes only one backlash to change all that, and then all the mechanisms that enable government abuse of power will be aimed at liberals and their causes. Look how the country has swung from one extreme to the other: Nixon, then Carter, then Reagan, then Clinton, then Bush, then Obama (and yes, I’m leaving two out for reasons I’ll explain if you ask me).

The way that the wrong crowd of Democrats have been behaving while in power makes an anti-liberal  backlash not just inevitable but even understandable. The question is only how far that will go.

If the wrong Republican crowd gets into power, they will no doubt start skewering liberal sacred cows. I would expect that transgender people — as such — will be high on the list, just after refugees and illegal aliens. Will transgender people officially be rounded up and locked up ? I’d guess … probably not. Will the wrong Republican crowd, in power, fan the flames of hatred against transgender people so that adult bullies crawl out of their dark hiding places and once again feel safe enough to initiate abuse and violence against transgender people while law enforcement looks the other way? No doubt.

How far would the official attack on transgender people go? Would people whose passports were corrected from “M” to “F” have to hand them back, and have them changed back to “M?” Maybe, but — my guess is — probably not. Would government agencies have new guidelines that make the issuing of new passports follow rules that have such effect, and also make it much harder for a just-out transgender person to transition? No doubt. Just a small-seeming policy change can seem innocent — and yet, in effect, it could change everything.

Since the wrong Republican crowd probably hates gays even more, why wouldn’t they come after gays just as enthusiastically? Probably because bullies respect strength, and gay people have strength in numbers, plus in cultural-mainstream acceptance, due to having been “out” for more years.

By contrast, transgender people are (as far as I can tell) a much smaller group, and in US culture we are a new-enough phenomenon to where there’s still much cultural animosity towards us. Transgender people are not yet mainstream enough to where most people would (grudgingly or otherwise) leave us alone even if the wrong Republican  crowd has the upper hand.

Are you not yet out, and you’re worried that coming out is hard today? I’d guess that the difficulty, danger, risks and stakes are likely to increase dramatically in the near future.

Success Story #3 in Intense Mentoring: Lack of Anger

ggg2016-01-14 23.48.35The t-girl lady whom I mentored as my live-in roommate, for 5 months or so, experienced a significant emotional change in the process.

She’d told me that before she came here, she left her work in anger every day, feeling treated unjustly (and after hearing the details, I can sympathize with why she felt so). She wasn’t exaggerating … she meant every day.

In her family life, she dealt with much more injustice yet.

It was a no-win situation for her. At work, she felt unappreciated. At home, more of the same.

Not just was she unappreciated as the wonderful person she is, but she also had all the frustrations of being a t-girl in stealth mode, until just before she came here.

By contrast, when she was with me, she become more and more positive, open and chatty as the wonderful, and charming person she is, albeit in her own quiet way. Just being able to live openly as the girl she is — that probably made every day much nicer for her.

Still, I understand that she has many frustrations with the people in her past, and some parts of the journey are hard beyond my ability to mitigate. Also, her body is still currently producing lots of testosterone, which I’d name “the anger chemical.”

One day she was helping me fix one of my cars, and it was a very intricate task. She came into the kitchen a few hours later and said she had taken out her frustrations on the headlights of my Volvo. I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. When I was her age and having anger issues, this would have caused much collateral damage. I was already doing the math and wondering where I was going to get a set of replacement headlights within my budget.

Not that I’m OK with someone destroying my stuff, and her beating up on my car would seriously lower my enthusiasm for having her around, but I understand that everyone has a bad day now and then. She took out her phone and showed me a picture of the headlights. They are large and plastic, and they used to be yellow and tarnished. Now they shone as if they were brand new. She’d applied a headlight polishing kit to them and her way of venting her frustration was to vigorously pour her energy into half an hour of intense sanding and polishing.  That sounds to me like someone who is doing a commendable task of managing her anger.


Being Out as a T-Girl in the Vanilla Medical World, Part 1

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I recall how, before I came out as a t-girl, my health was declining so rapidly that I was probably going to be dead in a few years, and yet the prospect nevertheless failed to inspire any correctly action. How miserably frustrating that must have been for those who loved me and saw my decline, and were wishing I’d DO something. I’m sorry for my own sake that I have neglected my health, but I’m sorry for them too… not that the neglect of my health is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s certainly in the top 20.

The thing is, I was so sick of living without basic integrity (i.e., living openly as the girl I am, brain-wise) that life just wasn’t worth it to me, emotionally. I wasn’t planning to go out in a blaze of glory, but I was just slowly falling apart. One day I’d have a heart attack and that’d be that.

Now that I live as the girl that I am, I’m radiantly happy, and if I live for a long time, that suits me just fine. My risk of heart attack is by now delightfully low, due to good blood chemistry (cholesterol, etc.), good blood pressure and low stress.

Next, I’m focusing my not-so-impressive income on making sure nothing else is likely to kill me off any time soon. I have had skin cancer so I go for more-regular check-ups as such, and some other things could benefit from a check-up too. So, I went to my doctor’s office for that.

The visit to the doctors’ office went perfectly, and the receptionist lady was so nice to me that I later brought her a pot of yellow flowers to say “thank you.”  The medical billing lady in the front office was a lot less friendly but I didn’t take it personally. That line of work probably makes for a not-so-happy person.

Whenever someone talks about me in the third person, and I’m present, then I wince when they use male pronouns. I might have facial bones like Rambo, but I’m a girl, dammit. And a visit to a doctor’s office typically involves much talking to each other about me as part of the work, e.g., “she doesn’t have insurance” or “she needs an appointment.”

At the doctor’s office, they understood who and what I am. “She” was the pronoun used. Good!

The next visit was to the admitting office of my chosen hospital. Same situation. “She” this, “she” that. Good!

Hair on My Back and Chest, Yay

gg2015-12-05 01.45.49Before I came out openly as the t-girl I am, I felt captive by my own inhibitions. I felt so disgusted with how I looked that it seemed futile to even start with looking better. Besides, then I would have begun a terrifying-at-the-time journey, and if anyone noticed any progress, then (since I believe in honesty) if they inquired as to the reason, then I’d have to explain things that at the time sounded confusing and ridiculous to me.

The hair on my back, butt and chest were the worst, psychologically. I hated that. So, nowadays, I have smooth and hairless skin most days, thanks to diligent waxing, again and again. Where I couldn’t easily reach, helpful people assisted but sometimes I did some contortionist solo waxing.

My mom finally came around and she now accepts that she has had a daughter all along, so sometimes I ask her to wax my back, and she’s happy to help. One of our dialogues involved me asking her to make a point of waxing my butt too, since i had noticed she wasn’t putting any wax on that. “I can’t!” she protested, “there’s nothing TO wax, there. It’s totally smooth and hairless.” Yay!

Except on my butt, my body hair still grows back but they are fine, blonde, light hairs. Even so, they are still not sparse enough by my standards, so I still get rid of these too, with regular waxing, and so probably the trend towards gradual annihilation will continue.

Meanwhile, the hair on my head is cheerfully growing. I was previously experiencing a receding hairline, and going on hormones put a stop to that, yay! And so, with loving care, my hair has slowly been growing longer and longer.

Not that long ago, I could start to feel the weight of my hair on my back. How I loved that sensation! And most recently, I’m feeling the hair tickle my collar-bones and the area below that, as it continues to grow ever longer. I love that.

How different my life is now …

Success Story #2 in Intense Mentoring: Shape & Weight

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The t-girl lady whom I mentored as my live-in roommate for 5 months or so pretty much ate the same foods I ate, in approximately the same portions, though there were some things that she didn’t like, and I found viable alternatives.

Her weight has for many years been a point of concern for her. At some time, before coming here, she was about to exceed 300 pounds. She had started a professional career at which her sharp mind and interests would have made her excel, except that her weight issues were an ongoing hurdle, and this problem eventually ended her career prematurely. The problem goes back to when she was in school. The other children had ridiculed her due to her weight, and had called her mean names as such.

When I met her, she was a t-girl in stealth mode, out as such only in brief and intense spans of time. During such times, she was tightly corseted, and she had an hourglass figure due to the corset and due to adding much hip padding. In that mode, she seemed well-proportioned — but everything was, well, wider … not that that’s an unnatural look, as I’ll explain next.

A t-girl friend of mine came over last summer for a friendly sleep-over visit and brought along a genetically integrated 22-year-old girl-friend. We saw each other in the nude or mostly so, not due to it being a sexual time (it wasn’t), but because I don’t normally wear much anyway, when I’m in my bedroom, and the two of them spent several hours happily trying on and modeling my various pretty outfits. The 22-year-old girl had very much the same hourglassy-yet-wide look that my subsequent t-girl protege had, with her corset and hip padding on.

Problem solved, yes? Well, no. First of all, she was at an unhealthy weight, not at 300 pounds but not very far from that. And, when her corset and hip padding came off, it became apparent to me how painful and time-consuming a process it was for her to become ready to look in a way where she felt OK with being out and about as a t-girl.

Also, to complete the look in three dimensions so she wouldn’t have the visual effect of a cardboard cut-out, she also needed bubble butt padding and huge boobs, and neither of those came to her courtesy of mother nature. That ended up making for yet extra weight, and much equipment to put on — lots of effort.

Granted, in that mode, she looked gorgeous, but I was hoping that she would gradually become more and more happy with her own shape. Over five months, that’s exactly what happened, yay!

Whenever she was with me, she ate healthily. That, plus some gentle reassurance, helped her feel comfortable with her own physique, and to go out into the world as such.

First, the corset got retired, then the hip padding, then her boobs decreased in size by borrowing some smaller falsies from me; then (since she has her own pretty boobies, just not huge) she dispensed with the falsies too. The entire time she was here, she wasn’t a t-girl in stealth mode. She lived openly as who she is, all day, every day.

For fun, she would still dress up in full regalia sometimes, but on a day-to-day basis, she didn’t seem to feel any need to do so. Yay!

Her mornings often included rushing to the scale that I have in the kitchen. She typically got on it with an eager smile and stepped off with a happy smile. However, the scale rarely if ever tells the entire story. Her shape was so much healthier than when she walked into my place the first time. I was adamant that rapid weight loss is counter-productive and dangerous, so I planned her meals accordingly. As a result, her weight loss was gradual. She arrived at maybe 280 pounds and left at slightly less than 240 pounds. I calculate that to approximately two pounds per week, eight pounds per month. Any faster would have been unsafe, as per the general medical consensus — as far as I can tell.

One additional benefit was to her knees. She’d had serious problems with her knees. Perhaps her weight, combined with her intense exercise routine, a few years ago, were much or all of the cause. As she lost weight, her knees were also healing, yay!

As to exercise, I don’t go to a gym, but I like doing my daily exercises at home, and that includes dancing to music during my work-day. So, she had every opportunity to follow along, and she also had me as an example, but she didn’t do much exercise. She explained to me that as to dancing, she’d like to first give her knees the time they needed so as to heal. That makes perfect sense to me.

When she came here, it was September, and my car at the time didn’t have air conditioning. As my passenger on a hot day, she was sweltering and miserable.  A few months later, she mentioned one day, while standing in the kitchen, that she felt slightly chilly  — and she explained how it was a very new phenomenon, for her.

She left with mixed feelings; she and I were both clear that living with me had been good for her journey, and she and I were both crying as she walked out. But even while I was sad, I still somehow noticed how good she looked, including her shape. It was an odd thought to have at such a sad moment, but she had inspired it.