Anne2345
05-27-2015, 07:57 PM
Since the very first day I publicly went out as Anne a few years ago, people have taken notice of me everywhere I have gone
Not because I looked good or because I had my act together, mind you, because I didn’t on either count. Far from these things, in fact, was my reality back then.
When I first started my journey out into the public domain, I was scared out of my mind and I had zero confidence, and I have no doubt that these things reflected quite clearly in my body language.
But even beyond that, I was a relatively muscular and hulking 225 pound, 6’4 tranny wearing a bad wig, ill-fitting and undoubtedly mismatched clothes, and who clearly had much still to learn about the art of makeup application.
On top of that, add to it all that those days were pre-hormones, so my skin was still all rough and dude-ish, and my voice, such that it was, was pitifully deficient and obviously masculine.
In other words, there was no way I could ever be mistaken for anything but what I was, and that was a difficult pill for me to swallow. Still, despite all of the snide remarks, the being laughed at, the being pointed at, the being whispered about, and the being stared at damn near everywhere I went because I stuck out like a sore thumb – there is no hiding from the world when you are six foot four – those experiences and those things that I did back then were absolutely critical to my future development and evolution towards the person I needed to become.
In this regard, transition is a complete and total process.
And for most, including me, there is no skipping any steps.
You gotta go through what you gotta go through, no matter how hard, difficult, scary, or painful it may be doing so.
Regardless, that was then and this is now. Much has changed for me since those days, and I have made much progress along the way.
Now some two and a half years into hormone replacement therapy later, my body has completely changed from what it was before. Having also put my body through a rigorous exercise regimen, I have lost my former dude bulk and I now come in at a lean 185 pounds or so. And of course, there is the fact that I have grown out my hair.
All of these things, in and of themselves and collectively as a whole, have done wonders for my confidence and my appearance, as has the additional experience of real world living I have gained along the way.
Throughout it all, however, no matter where I go or who I am around, folk have continued to stare at me, check me out, talk about me, and whatever else it is people do when they see someone unusual or really different than what they are accustomed to.
I learned long ago, though, to tune this out and ignore it for the most part.
Because the thing is, I would rather not have all of that attention. I would like to be able to fly in under the radar and go unnoticed if the mood struck me. There is something that is just simply disconcerting about being looked at EVERY SINGLE ****ING PLACE YOU GO that I just don’t like or appreciate.
And I’m not a fool. I get it. I was under no illusions, after all. I know I did not “pass.” I know most probably saw just a really tall transgender person in me. I know most stared at me to satisfy whatever curiosity that struck them about this. And to some of these people, I know I was viewed as and considered but a mere side-show freak circus act performer. To those folk, it was okay to laugh at me, it was okay to point at me, it was okay to openly gawk at me, and it was okay to openly make fun of me. Which things, by the way, could really, really hurt and tear me down if I allowed it to.
So as a matter of simple self-preservation, and in order to maintain what little remaining sanity I have been able to salvage over the past several years, I learned to just tune shit out. Occasionally, though, these things would blow up in my face or become confrontational. But again, transition is a process, and for me, this was part of the process that I had to go through, that I had to learn to deal with, and that I had to learn how to survive and put behind me in order to make my future as the real person that I am possible.
And really, this has been my status quo and my life until now.
Now, all of a sudden, the game has changed.
The game has completely changed, in fact, as have the rules and the field of play.
These things changed because I went and did something extreme and drastic. I went and did something crazy. I went and did something I could not ever have imagined myself doing even a couple of years or so ago.
But what I did was absolutely necessary, and what I did I needed to do it for ME.
What I did was I went and had my face all surgically torn apart and reassembled, and I had a boob job.
Going into it, I knew these things would change my life, and that really was the whole point.
But as I am discovering now, I had little idea just how much these things would or could make a difference.
Some five weeks or so post-surgery, folk still stare and look at me. This, however, is but merely a simple function of being so damn tall as a woman. I stick out no matter where I go. I will always stand out in a crowd, and for better or worse, I will always be noticed as a result.
Here’s the current deal, though. Some folk now are staring at me or noticing me in ways that are decidedly and completely different than before. I obviously cannot read minds, but before it seemed readily apparent to me that many folk viewed me as some curious dude in dress tranny.
Now, however, I think this has changed, and changed significantly. Now it’s not so much *that.*
Although I find it impossible to believe that I will ever truly “pass,” I am beginning to believe that I might be “passing” at least part of the time to *some* people. Probably people that need to have their vision checked, but still, they remain people out in the wild nonetheless.
In particularly, I have noticed that more dudes than ever before – by a HUGE long shot – are looking at me and communicating with me in a COMPLETELY different manner than before. I can see the difference in their eyes, and hear it in their voices and the things they say.
In this regard, my surgery has evidently changed drastically how a part of the world views me.
For example, over the past several days, I have had guys wink at me, hold doors open for me, offer roadside car assistance for me, and make pleasant small talk and chat with me.
None of these things have ever happened to me before. Like ever. Not like THIS, anyways.
Which, on its face, if someone had told me beforehand this was going to be how it is, I would’ve thought that would be great, and sign me up for it! I mean, it’s gotta be tons better than being laughed at and made fun of, right?
Except that the reality of this – at least in the here in now – is far different than what I would have thought it to be.
And the reality of this hit me hard in Walmart earlier today. I was innocently minding my own business, shopping in the deli section, when some dude randomly gave me a huge smile and a super friendly “hello.”
Dude caught me completely by surprise, but I politely responded back “hello” in kind. Because of my surprise, though, I was immediately uncomfortable in my head, but I did not want to show it, so I casually moved on is if I was done shopping in the deli section. Throughout the entirety of that time, however, I was completely aware of dude watching me and smiling the whole time, as he made no effort to hide it whatsoever.
Not that there is anything wrong about what he was doing – he may have been the nicest and most well intentioned dude in the world for all I knew – but this is not the point, and it’s not why I basically ran away and escaped the situation.
The fact of the matter is that this shook me up, and shook me up both unexpectedly and pretty bad.
Once I had retreated into another section of the store, a section that I had to myself, I stopped dead in my tracks and just stood there a moment.
In so doing, my chest immediately constricted, I started breathing heavily, and I felt as if I could almost vomit. I had to hold back tears to keep from crying in the middle of freaking Walmart.
In that moment, it occurred to me that I have absolutely no freaking idea what I am doing or how to deal with these things and emotions.
I felt as if I was all of a sudden completely out of the world’s league, and just flailing around without direction or control.
I felt extraordinarily vulnerable, exposed, and raw.
And I recognized that I still have SOOOOOO much more to learn about my new life and my new place in the world that it damn near overwhelmed and suffocated me right then and there on the spot.
I did not expect this. I did not see this coming. Quite frankly, I hadn’t even ever thought about it. These things had never even occurred to me, actually. But HOLY CRAP that was intense!!
Sure, it was just one small random moment within a random day with a random dude in a random Walmart, but still. But collectively, along with all of the other things I have noticed happening since I removed the last of my bandages from surgery, it’s been a ton to take in, and a lot to consider and learn about completely on the fly and without cliff notes.
As my new normal appears to being playing out, I never even thought such things were possible. Evidently, however, they are.
Today was the first real “omg what the **** have I done to myself” moment I have had since my surgery.
And it damn near left me a hot crying mess in freaking WALMART, of all places.
I cannot undo what has been done to me. There is no going back and retrieving my old face. That part of me is forever gone, never to be seen again. What I have done to myself is permanent. What I have done to myself I have to live with for the rest of my life, and that’s a fairly heavy duty thought.
This is what I signed up for, though, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat if I had it to do all over again. I wouldn’t even hesitate. Not even for one second.
But just because I know what I have done was the absolute right thing for me to do doesn’t mean I fully appreciated how it would change everything, and how this change could occur so quickly.
And looking back on it, with hindsight being all 20/20 and junk, it’s all rather comically obvious just how unprepared for this I was. Not that one can necessarily prepare for such a thing, I suppose.
Still, don’t get me wrong, I am happy to take this over how my life was pre-surgery any day of the week, and each and everytime.
Because, although I may be completely bat shit crazy, one thing I am not is stupid . . . .
:-P
Not because I looked good or because I had my act together, mind you, because I didn’t on either count. Far from these things, in fact, was my reality back then.
When I first started my journey out into the public domain, I was scared out of my mind and I had zero confidence, and I have no doubt that these things reflected quite clearly in my body language.
But even beyond that, I was a relatively muscular and hulking 225 pound, 6’4 tranny wearing a bad wig, ill-fitting and undoubtedly mismatched clothes, and who clearly had much still to learn about the art of makeup application.
On top of that, add to it all that those days were pre-hormones, so my skin was still all rough and dude-ish, and my voice, such that it was, was pitifully deficient and obviously masculine.
In other words, there was no way I could ever be mistaken for anything but what I was, and that was a difficult pill for me to swallow. Still, despite all of the snide remarks, the being laughed at, the being pointed at, the being whispered about, and the being stared at damn near everywhere I went because I stuck out like a sore thumb – there is no hiding from the world when you are six foot four – those experiences and those things that I did back then were absolutely critical to my future development and evolution towards the person I needed to become.
In this regard, transition is a complete and total process.
And for most, including me, there is no skipping any steps.
You gotta go through what you gotta go through, no matter how hard, difficult, scary, or painful it may be doing so.
Regardless, that was then and this is now. Much has changed for me since those days, and I have made much progress along the way.
Now some two and a half years into hormone replacement therapy later, my body has completely changed from what it was before. Having also put my body through a rigorous exercise regimen, I have lost my former dude bulk and I now come in at a lean 185 pounds or so. And of course, there is the fact that I have grown out my hair.
All of these things, in and of themselves and collectively as a whole, have done wonders for my confidence and my appearance, as has the additional experience of real world living I have gained along the way.
Throughout it all, however, no matter where I go or who I am around, folk have continued to stare at me, check me out, talk about me, and whatever else it is people do when they see someone unusual or really different than what they are accustomed to.
I learned long ago, though, to tune this out and ignore it for the most part.
Because the thing is, I would rather not have all of that attention. I would like to be able to fly in under the radar and go unnoticed if the mood struck me. There is something that is just simply disconcerting about being looked at EVERY SINGLE ****ING PLACE YOU GO that I just don’t like or appreciate.
And I’m not a fool. I get it. I was under no illusions, after all. I know I did not “pass.” I know most probably saw just a really tall transgender person in me. I know most stared at me to satisfy whatever curiosity that struck them about this. And to some of these people, I know I was viewed as and considered but a mere side-show freak circus act performer. To those folk, it was okay to laugh at me, it was okay to point at me, it was okay to openly gawk at me, and it was okay to openly make fun of me. Which things, by the way, could really, really hurt and tear me down if I allowed it to.
So as a matter of simple self-preservation, and in order to maintain what little remaining sanity I have been able to salvage over the past several years, I learned to just tune shit out. Occasionally, though, these things would blow up in my face or become confrontational. But again, transition is a process, and for me, this was part of the process that I had to go through, that I had to learn to deal with, and that I had to learn how to survive and put behind me in order to make my future as the real person that I am possible.
And really, this has been my status quo and my life until now.
Now, all of a sudden, the game has changed.
The game has completely changed, in fact, as have the rules and the field of play.
These things changed because I went and did something extreme and drastic. I went and did something crazy. I went and did something I could not ever have imagined myself doing even a couple of years or so ago.
But what I did was absolutely necessary, and what I did I needed to do it for ME.
What I did was I went and had my face all surgically torn apart and reassembled, and I had a boob job.
Going into it, I knew these things would change my life, and that really was the whole point.
But as I am discovering now, I had little idea just how much these things would or could make a difference.
Some five weeks or so post-surgery, folk still stare and look at me. This, however, is but merely a simple function of being so damn tall as a woman. I stick out no matter where I go. I will always stand out in a crowd, and for better or worse, I will always be noticed as a result.
Here’s the current deal, though. Some folk now are staring at me or noticing me in ways that are decidedly and completely different than before. I obviously cannot read minds, but before it seemed readily apparent to me that many folk viewed me as some curious dude in dress tranny.
Now, however, I think this has changed, and changed significantly. Now it’s not so much *that.*
Although I find it impossible to believe that I will ever truly “pass,” I am beginning to believe that I might be “passing” at least part of the time to *some* people. Probably people that need to have their vision checked, but still, they remain people out in the wild nonetheless.
In particularly, I have noticed that more dudes than ever before – by a HUGE long shot – are looking at me and communicating with me in a COMPLETELY different manner than before. I can see the difference in their eyes, and hear it in their voices and the things they say.
In this regard, my surgery has evidently changed drastically how a part of the world views me.
For example, over the past several days, I have had guys wink at me, hold doors open for me, offer roadside car assistance for me, and make pleasant small talk and chat with me.
None of these things have ever happened to me before. Like ever. Not like THIS, anyways.
Which, on its face, if someone had told me beforehand this was going to be how it is, I would’ve thought that would be great, and sign me up for it! I mean, it’s gotta be tons better than being laughed at and made fun of, right?
Except that the reality of this – at least in the here in now – is far different than what I would have thought it to be.
And the reality of this hit me hard in Walmart earlier today. I was innocently minding my own business, shopping in the deli section, when some dude randomly gave me a huge smile and a super friendly “hello.”
Dude caught me completely by surprise, but I politely responded back “hello” in kind. Because of my surprise, though, I was immediately uncomfortable in my head, but I did not want to show it, so I casually moved on is if I was done shopping in the deli section. Throughout the entirety of that time, however, I was completely aware of dude watching me and smiling the whole time, as he made no effort to hide it whatsoever.
Not that there is anything wrong about what he was doing – he may have been the nicest and most well intentioned dude in the world for all I knew – but this is not the point, and it’s not why I basically ran away and escaped the situation.
The fact of the matter is that this shook me up, and shook me up both unexpectedly and pretty bad.
Once I had retreated into another section of the store, a section that I had to myself, I stopped dead in my tracks and just stood there a moment.
In so doing, my chest immediately constricted, I started breathing heavily, and I felt as if I could almost vomit. I had to hold back tears to keep from crying in the middle of freaking Walmart.
In that moment, it occurred to me that I have absolutely no freaking idea what I am doing or how to deal with these things and emotions.
I felt as if I was all of a sudden completely out of the world’s league, and just flailing around without direction or control.
I felt extraordinarily vulnerable, exposed, and raw.
And I recognized that I still have SOOOOOO much more to learn about my new life and my new place in the world that it damn near overwhelmed and suffocated me right then and there on the spot.
I did not expect this. I did not see this coming. Quite frankly, I hadn’t even ever thought about it. These things had never even occurred to me, actually. But HOLY CRAP that was intense!!
Sure, it was just one small random moment within a random day with a random dude in a random Walmart, but still. But collectively, along with all of the other things I have noticed happening since I removed the last of my bandages from surgery, it’s been a ton to take in, and a lot to consider and learn about completely on the fly and without cliff notes.
As my new normal appears to being playing out, I never even thought such things were possible. Evidently, however, they are.
Today was the first real “omg what the **** have I done to myself” moment I have had since my surgery.
And it damn near left me a hot crying mess in freaking WALMART, of all places.
I cannot undo what has been done to me. There is no going back and retrieving my old face. That part of me is forever gone, never to be seen again. What I have done to myself is permanent. What I have done to myself I have to live with for the rest of my life, and that’s a fairly heavy duty thought.
This is what I signed up for, though, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat if I had it to do all over again. I wouldn’t even hesitate. Not even for one second.
But just because I know what I have done was the absolute right thing for me to do doesn’t mean I fully appreciated how it would change everything, and how this change could occur so quickly.
And looking back on it, with hindsight being all 20/20 and junk, it’s all rather comically obvious just how unprepared for this I was. Not that one can necessarily prepare for such a thing, I suppose.
Still, don’t get me wrong, I am happy to take this over how my life was pre-surgery any day of the week, and each and everytime.
Because, although I may be completely bat shit crazy, one thing I am not is stupid . . . .
:-P