Bras and the terrifying things that are in them.

Made you look !

Sorry, cheap trick. Point is, since I have started phytoestrogens (Estrogen like substances that come from plants) I have noticed , errr, changes.

ONE: I am WAY more sensitive to things. No, I am not weeping every time someone spills a drink, but things that I could have laughed off in the past bring me to tears. Not complaining, it isn’t like being depressed (which is PAINFUL, period, no other words describe depression) it is like feeling a vibration in the world and when the vibe is wrong, your tear ducts seem to alert you. And I have been told by a genetic female “Welcome to my world”, thank you sister, that is so much more appreciated than you will ever know.

TWO: My boobs are tender and they hurt. They are growing, right now they are less than swollen mosquito stings, but the shape is there, a slight roundness and swell around them shows the shape of things to come. YES, I am damned excited at growing breasts, but this tenderness is a bitch ! So my dearest wife, Sara, recommended I grab one of her sports bras. MAZELTOV ! (And I am basically a protestant, Mazeltov was the precise feeling) oh my gosh, when you put those girls in check it feels great ! Had I known this I would have worn a bra when I was lifting weights to keep my pecs in control (Wait, I did but I did that for sexual excitement, I thought I was still a cross dresser back then, ahhh, the innocence of youth) I felt like I had discovered the new world ! All day I have been wearing this thing and my boobs haven’t been sore once !

Okay, so right now, all those poor pubescent females in my school when I was growing up (!) I AM SO SORRY, I beg your forgiveness ladies. Seriously. And it isn’t just the boobs or the sensitivity, now that I have some background in biology etc, wow, what an asshole I was.

And how wonderful you were not to kill me in my sleep (math class, English class, language class, PE, lunch – I slept through them all) All I can say is God help my ten year old son if I ever hear of him teasing some young girl about her body. Of course, I just recently told him about me, his response ? cool. That was it.

Maybe there is a chance for him after all.

Call me what you shall, my heart knows it’s true name.

Okay, I went to the Veterans Administration, like many girls in my position, my younger days were filled with trying to prove how much of a man I was. I spent 7 years as a soldier. My job description ?”Kill People, blow stuff up” the name of the job was “Light Weapons Infantryman” and I was good enough at it to receive several pieces of paper that say how honorable I was at my job. A couple of ribbons, a medal or several and scars that will outlast many of my positive contributions to this world.

But I digress.

Point is, I had a mole that was doing all the bad things we read about so it was time to go in and get it taken care of. Dr. K (A wonderful young fellow, but oh my gosh, just a wee bairn – so young I wanted to give HIM a lollipop for being so good during my visit) he applied liquid nitrogen, just so dermatology wont yell at him for not doing his job (what ?) and we talked. It was hilarious, after I got over my initial nervousness. I was having such fun with this one. here is kind of how it went down. I requested a screening of my blood to make sure I was healthy enough to start my HRT regime (yes, buying them over the INTERNET – VA does not handle gender issues well, and I do have enough chemistry, biology physiology and anatomy to read such things, self prescribed is bad, but at least I have some training) and helped him figure out the difference between TS TG and CD, then, well, he needed a little more info.

Dr. K – Okay, Mr, uhh, Ms, miss ?

Me – Dr, I am married, Mrs is appropriate Ms is also good.

Dr. K – Okay, and your last name is “R****” (pronounced R***y – it is a French spelling of an old Irish name, O’R*****y) Do I call you Peter or, uhh, (cough)or just stick with Ms.

Me – Dr, I am wearing women’s slacks, yes, they are Gloria’s (Vander…oh never mind, I am such a designer whore) but my overall appearance today is masculine, you may refer to me as Mr R****, Peter or hey you, just don’t call me late for dinner (grinning). If, however, I am here in makeup and women’s clothing, it would be incredibly wonderful if you would refer to me as Ms, Mrs R**** or Sindee. But don’t put yourself out. I do not envy you your job. You have real work to do rather than screw around trying to figure out who your addressing.

Dr. K – Well, Mr R***, I am a little new to this, sorry if I appear to be having an awkward moment.

Me – Dr, I just admitted all this to myself less than a year ago, if you think this is new to you, you ought to try it from 5 inch heels sometimes. My whole life to this point has been a series of awkward moments.

At which point, my dear wife, Sara, can no longer contain herself and laughs out loud. She has been trying not to interrupt because she is worried about possible cancer but having to sit on the sidelines while the good Dr and I dealt with our issues of discomfort, well, it was too much for the poor girl. She later admitted she almost peed herself.

Truth be told, trying to talk to such a young Dr about it almost made me pee myself.

I hope I get him again soon, he reminded me of Anthony Edwards, especially the almost stutter.

On Being Sindee – Chapter 2

Okay, so I am NOT a cross dresser. I am, however, trans gender, I wish, sometime, to transition to being a woman. Obviously I will not have ovaries, fallopian tubes etc, but, for the most part, I wish to resemble and live as a woman. Full time. When this journey started, I thought I may *only* be a cross dresser (Okay, even I am laughing at the “only” – that’s just too damn funny).

That orb is one of my many ghosts at home. I am never truly alone, its a wonderful feeling !

Yeah, that’s me again, I should put some really pretty girls up here but oh well. I deal with it daily, your only here for a visit, take a pepto and enjoy. And no, I do not hate myself, just wish I would be a lot further along with the hormones and the transition, but it took me this long to make my decision and accept it so a little patience on my part is not out of the question.

Back to my friend asking if I was gay. You know, these labels are tough, especially when we have to put them on ourselves. I mean, we do not HAVE to, but we do. And yes, I DO think about, “How would I answer when asked what am I” ? Am I CD, TS, TG, Gay, Lesbian, Bi ? Or, because I wish to have a man and am becoming a woman, does that mean I am straight ? See the problem ? Actually, I prefer women. That round softness and wonderful smell is a favorite of mine. So, for now, since I am a boy in a dress, I guess I am straight. Now, when I transition, and become a woman, I still love women, will this make me a lesbian or even bisexual ? Again with the damn labels. It is a never ending process of pigeon holing oneself, or allowing others to put you in a convenient cubby.

And, to top all this off, I have no insurance so my only avenue for help is the Veterans Administration. And my GAWD do those people love labels, if you take a drink, your an alcoholic. If you experiment with marijuana, your a drug addict, a hardcore one because you admitted to trying ti a couple of times. If you get into a fist fight because some ass wipe tries to take your purse while your dressed en femme you are labeled “Violent” and YES, there is a red flag on your record for that kind of thing. Violent ? Honey, I am of the school of thought “I can get more money and replace those ID cards, I hate fighting” but because I spent 7 yrs in the infantry and have no problem pulling a trigger on a person who wishes to pull a trigger against me, I am violent.

Yeah, labels, wonderful. here is a label I wish someone would hang on me.

Kind, loving, caring and sympathetic.

I can live with that label

Love Sindee

P.S. I love me, I spent 51 years so far becoming me and what I have isnt half bad. When you love yourself, you find there are no reasons to apologize for yourself. I like that !

On Being Sindee

Hello world. My name is Sindee, well, not entirely. I am also known as Pete. You see, or, actually, you don’t because I havent put up my picture yet, I am a cross dresser.

Gender symbol - it has to do with gender, not sexual oreintation.

Allrighty now, here we go. I have recently come to fully accept Sindee into my life. I like her, have always liked her, but mostly was ashamed of her. See, she wore girls clothing, acted like a girl and generally was as un manly as possible. She was quiet, soft thoughtful and didn’t like beer or whiskey, she was more into rum and coke or white wine (with a straw – so as not to mess up the lipstick).

Pete, the man I imagined I am, was rough and tumble. Hell, he spent 7 yrs Infantry (US Army) was a stuntman, worked as a cowboy, truck loader, reserve deputy, hunter, horse trainer,  gunfighter (stage) was really good at getting dates and had been married four times. He had to be “All Guy” Right ?

So to speak. Pete was a great guy, he would have no problem listening to your problems, he didn’t mind telling you if that dress looked good on you or made you look like a gramma, he would give his honest opinion, and then be troubled by it when reminded most men aren’t very good at telling a woman how her clothing looks. Guys didn’t listen to problems, at least, not real men. It was that part of him he hid in a closet when he would be by himself, dressed up in a skirt, wearing makeup and a wig. The part of himself he tried so hard to deny. A part that although he knew of her since he was three years old, he didn’t even know her name yet. And he NEVER wanted her to have a name because he was so ashamed of her he wanted to die when she would force her way out and demand “Sindee” time.

Okay, Eric Clapton did a real terrific rendition of the old blues classic “Crossroads” it is about a musician who stands at a crossroads and sells his soul for musical ability. Sindee had to deal with her own “Crossroads” The man who she was hated her, would have no problem calling her out to get in a little dressup time, but then she would be shoved back into a box under the bed to rot until the next convinient time. Sindee was getting in some time to release herself, but just as soon as she got out, she would be rushed back into her closet and would have to wait yet again.

All this time, the self-hatred was taking it’s toll. On marriages, on relationships, jobs, life in general. Pete would and could be a great guy for anybody except those closest to him, wives, children and, most of all, himself. In this regard he was a monster at times. His own self-hatred would spread out, and those he should have been most honest with, should have been most protective of, he would drive off, if it was to punish himself, he did a great job, but a lot of innocent and wonderful people got trampled on the way.

Its this part of my journey that has become the most painful and the most wonderful at the same time. It is painful, because I realize how these things eventually happened and what I have lost and I have only myself to blame, and wonderful because it is bringing closure to a lot of issues in my life that need to be closed and cleansed.

I’ll have to make amends, I will have to admit, to people that may not accept it, that I am two personalities, one male and a little rough around the edges, one female, and a little bit unsteady on her new legs. This is painful as I write and see my admission, my mea culpa, on the screen. It brings to a head all those feelings. It doesn’t help that I am listening to romantic music (Il Divo, PLEASE listen to them do Regresa a mi, unbreak my heart, in Spanish – wow is all I can say) but it helps bring Sindee out, the girl I really and truly love. For me she is a life saver. Denying her cost me so much, but together, her and I can make a new life, can mend broken fences, and if not, at least stop spreading hatred and ill will.

It’s a cold world sometimes, Peter and Sindee intend on warming it up just a little bit. Stay tuned, developments to come.

With much love

Sindee