Conversation with a rude person - two days of being very sad
Hi all,
I don't normally like to post threads about sad aspects of my life but, sometimes the cathartic release of just writing words can help . . . so here it goes.
Last Friday we had a section luncheon. I am fully aware while most accept me for who I am, there are a few hold outs who treat me like I have Ebola . . . I mean they physically see me walking their way, turn heel and walk as quickly away from me as possible. There is one such person who just started working in my section (a subordinate) who is particularly rude in her interactions (when she has to - not my direct subordinate, just subordinate in rank), sneers at me in the gym as though I was some bit of mold on the wall daring to be present and, does the hushed whisper with her friend whenever I walk by her cubicle (yes I could just be being paranoid). Anyway, for these types of folks I just let them be, their opinion and all that and so long as they are not being confrontational . . . to each their own. So back to the luncheon . . . I was at table with some friends and they had just left when I saw her walking my way. I thought "Hmm . . . wonder what this is all about". She walked up and asked if she could sit and I indicated she could. Now we had a long protracted discussion on many subjects but I won't bore you with the details only suffice to say, I gave her a privileged platform which means I won't use what she said against her. Coles Notes version on what is salient to this post:
In a nutshell, she doesn't get me. Why do I want to pretend to be a woman? I'll never be one, I look like a joke (in her opinion) and if I think I am pretty, good looking, average, fair, remotely feminine . . .wrong. I look like a guy wearing makeup and wig, sporting girl clothes that look silly on me. In the gym I look ridiculous (again in her opinion) wearing sports gear designed for women and why do I wear a sports bra when I clearly have nothing up top and Lycra shorts look gay on men. I should be ashamed of myself as real men don't act like this and if I were her husband she would have divorced me long ago as she likes men, not feminine looking boys who want to play dress-up. As well, she feels insulted that I walk around pretending to be a woman when I will never know what it means to be one. I will never give birth, never have menstrual issues or know love like only a woman can. In her opinion, people like me are only making fun of women and should be charged with harassment. Oh, and I am a disgrace to the uniform and should be kicked out of the military
:eek: . . . Now that was a lot to digest. I let her have her say and confirmed that while what she said could be construed as harassment on her part, I will abide by the "privileged platform" and not bring this diatribe crap to the attention of higher. However, as I now know her true feelings if she even looks sideways at me in so much as a remotely rude way, I will take steps to institute a harassment complaint against her. Anyway, I went through the whole gambit of "not pretending to be a woman but I am a woman". Yes my physiology is male and while I may look ridiculous to her, I don't need her permission be who I need to be. While I may be "butt ugly" and ridiculous looking on the outside, I would rather that than be the dark hole of misery and ugliness on the inside that she is. It got very bad and it was the first time in a long time I really felt I was going to loose it as I can enter a very dark place due to my past training. So, I took a deep breath got up and was about to leave when I saw that smug smile on her face like she won some victory . . . so I leaned close and whispered . . . "BTW I have seen you in the gym and at least I can pull off Lycra shorts which is more than I can say for you" . . . okay a bit over the top and bitc** on my part but I was so mad I was vibrating.
So I left never intending to let this bother me again . . . out of my mind . . . move on with life. At least that is what I thought until I visited the bathroom and stood staring at myself in the mirror, make-up starting to wane with the passing of day and then I saw "him" staring back at me like some obscene vision caked in ridiculous make-up, an interloper, fraud, fake. Don't get me wrong I am still a woman and I have never batted an eye at my reflection other than "these are the genetics dealt me but I am still a woman". However, this time I was saddened by what I saw, upset that I will never be pretty, will never look like a woman (without extensive surgery). I could see the remaining vestiges of my beard starting to bleed through in spots which are thicker with foundation than other spots on my face . . . I could feel "him" behind my eyes laughing at me and I wanted to cry (well, I did much to the chagrin of my already failing make-up). Luckily I just had to get in the car and go home. I talked about it with my wife and she tried to console me as best she could . . . "don't let it bother you" "she's a bit** and not worth making you sad" . . . bless her my wife :) . . . so I just smiled and said you are right and put on a happy visage and continued with the evening. I went to sleep troubled as this was really bothering me.
I woke up the next day, hoping to have shaken things off. Now, when I am at home I just wear comfortable clothing (shorts/top) and while I will shave, I don't do make-up (unless I am planning to go out in public) nor do I wear a wig. I just exists as a woman being comfortable. I was still upset so I though a nice long run on the treadmill would help so I put on my running clothes (yes the dreaded Lycra shorts) and ran for an hour and half. When I finished I went up to shower and stood looking at myself in the mirror. Yep . . . all guy in girl running clothes. My hair is growing out but it is taking time (damn bangs) not to mention I am dealing with a very pronounced widow's peak, not hair loss but genetic and no amount of transplants can help as there is nothing for them to bite into (already checked on that). I have to wait until my bangs are long enough to style around the peak. So I looked at myself, shabby hair, Homer Simpson goatee area which just won't let go (damn Northern European ancestors), tired skin, male facial features . . . goodness I was one ugly girl . . . then I cried again and again. I have not cried that hard since I accepted who I was and what it meant. The rest of the day was spent wallowing in self pity and trying to act like all was well. I failed dismally . . . my wife picked up on my sadness quite easily. We talked and while it helped to have her support and understanding, I was still blue.
It is today and I am still in a funk. I am not looking forward to tomorrow and exposing my ugly mug to the world. I know I will get over it as I have had similar feelings early in my public presentations but not quite as deep as this one. Don't get me wrong, I am not thinking "dark thoughts" I am just sad that I will never truly be pretty. For personal/medical reasons, surgery and HRT are not an option for me. I still like my body as it is and while it may scream male, I am small framed for man (5'6" 142lbs) so I can still pull of a very fit female form albeit slim hipped and nothing up top. However, right now I cannot even bear to look at my face in the mirror because all I can see is "him" laughing at me. I know it will get better . . . well at least I hope it will.
Thanks for listening.
Cheers
Marcelle