Nails, or “Why didnt I think of this before” ?

Okay, the past couple of times when I got my hair cut I didn’t give a rats about how fem it appeared when I was dressed as a male. I cut my bangs where I wanted them (to hide my gargantuan foreslope, I mean forehead. Does that mean if I bump my head and remove skin I am giving myself a circum…never mind) I essentially wore a bob, and it looked awesome. When I dressed I simply hit it with a quick touch of the curling iron and off I went.

The last time ? We went through a catalog of styles and I decided on one that took advantage of my hair to curl naturally (I have a BUNCH of body to my hair and that makes it fun for my stylist to play with) we layered, cut and generally femmed my hair out. I go out in boys clothing for work, but I wear my bangs and my curls proudly. I have gotten many compliments on my hair from many women and a few men as well. Hmmmm, interesting.

So, long bad day at work. I am in “stress” mode. I am trying to decompress any way I can and all of the sudden it hits me “A mani” ! DUH !

I go to the local walmart (yeah, if it is going to backfire I don’t want to pay too much for them) and proceed to get VERY noticeable french tips. At first, this is a real challenge, getting my credit card out ( “Would you please grab the pink card, yes, thats my Visa, it matches my phone, which, coincidentally is in my jacket pocket, see”? ) having to go potty and work a zipper (oh give me a break, they were MORE than fem enough, my best pair of butt hugging Sevens thank you very much) with nails – whoa – talk about learning curve. And, here is the BEST part, driving home in a one ton Chevy truck with a manual tranny (pun intentional) No, *I* am not Manuel, I only WISH I were Hispanic, my God, a natural tan year round ? Every time I go to grab the shifter I smack my brand new HUGE nails against the shifter knob. My nails keep hanging up on the turn signal lever and turning the wheel for parking. If I could accurately describe it one in four girls reading it would pee themselves. Me included.

I get home. I find out the secret that those smug little low-life GGs NEVER reveal about getting tips for the first time. YOUR NAIL BEDS ARE FREAKING SORE FOR HOURS AFTERWARDS !!!!!! They use a damn DREMEL tool to remove the top layer of nail so the product sticks properly.

Apologies to ALL GGs. excuse the low life remark, but the GG that went with me didn’t warn me about that until AFTER I was admiring my new nails and the cute little pink butterfly sticker I had put on my right index nail. She indeed qualifies as a low-life. She is a C word and my buddy. She has NO problem setting me up for these nasty surprises and giggling insanely about them later, but, should I wind up in jail for doing something incredibly dangerous, stupid and really really fun, she wont throw my bail because she will be sitting next to me in booking saying “What a RUSH”.

The point is I have learned how to use them finally. I already grabbed one man by the throat firmly and warned “I can always show you how good my grip is, and these nails don’t break” Needless to say, he politely declined the demonstration. If someone has an itchy back I have JUST the tools (10 of them) that can cause a Bengal Tiger to purr like a kitty cat. And, if I am feeling down, I simply give myself a shampoo. Okay, admittedly that doesn’t sound like much. But until you have given yourself a scalp massage with long hard nails, you have NO clue what pre-orgasmic really really means. You will understand the meaning of life. trust me on this.

So, nails, why didn’t I do it sooner ? why didn’t I toss out all my guy skivvies sooner ? Why didn’t I tell everyone way back in my early twenties “Screw you guys – I’m going fem” ? (do that last quote in Cartman voice and it is almost funny). Simple answer ? Fear.

And that, is why I tell EVERYONE, including strangers “These boy clothes aren’t really me, the nails, the hair the pretty earrings – thats who I am and the butterfly on my nail ? That’s who I will eventually be, I am just in transition. A work in progress.

Feel free to check back later.

He said “Thats okay” and the tears fell like rain…

He had been professing his ardour to me, I had been getting nervous. I was born a boy, he was a US Soldier, an officer, nonetheless, and his admiration for me was growing. I always feel ugly when I am told how beautiful I am, it is an illness, this self deprecating and self effacing behavior, I am talking to my counselor about it because I do not wish to continue doing this. But for now, when told how beautiful I am, I shrink.

I also feel it necessary to restate “I was born a boy, I am just starting transition so I look an awful lot like a boy, only my feelings and emotions (and these strange little swollen mosquito bites on my chest) resemble anything feminine”. And I reiterate it to the point I think I am trying to drive off any affectionate behavior. This also does not seem psychologically healthy, maybe I need to speak to my counselor about that as well. There are so many things to talk about.

I am no longer a boy, only this penis seems to be the last serious vestige, yes, my bone structure, facial hair etc say boy, but my heart says “All woman, thank you very much”. So, my wife and I are divorcing or annulling, whichever, after her little tossing me under the bus today, it looks more like a divorce and I am NOT feeling amicable. I’ll get over it, women do. I need to move on. I like women, sexually, well enough, am not terribly interested in men or women one way or another at this point. I am ambiguous, yes, but more as in I am so absorbed in this change as to be fearful of any further romantic entanglements. I want to be alone and celibate so I can think clearly.

See, I have male sex parts. So women expect me to have this deep burning desire to place my penis in their vaginas. Yeah, sometimes a good release is awesome, but mostly, it confuses me. I feel like a woman, not a man. So performing sexually as a man I feel almost lesbian. And I don’t have any clear idea. Lesbian, Bi, Gay, Straight SHIT! I want to just crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and cry every time I am asked. I DO NOT KNOW ! I do not care ! At this point I dont even really know who the hell I am let alone something as tricky as sexual oreintation why can you not all leave me alone with that question ? Why is it so important you, you who will have NO sexual relationship with me, you need to know what goes on in my confused little bed, one of the few places I ever get physical comfort ? For fucks sake, ask me how my heart feels, ask me how my soldier is, ask me how my oldest son and I are working out my transition but stay the hell out of my bedroom for Gods sake. Ask me how bad it feels to be getting divorced, something concrete and real. Dont ask me who I am sleeping with, it doesn’t matter.

But, back to the point, He is developing feelings for me. His 14 yr old son has met me and likes me and calls me “Mom” (okay, break time, I need a tissue SO bad right now) and he does NOT care I was a boy once, or that I have years to go before I am close to complete. Or that he is Army and I am not a genetic girl (The army prefers that kind of relationship in its officers and enlisteds) or a million stupid things that really do not seem to matter. He cares if I have gotten enough sleep, he cares if I am happy or if I am having a good day, he cares that I am excited about going out to go shopping or get my hair done,

he cares about me

whatever I did right I may never know but

he cares about me.

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 !