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.

A whole new day, again, for the 600th time or so.

Okay, not very unique, best I could do, I guess. Yesterday went shopping (and the day before, I am shopped out truth be told) didn’t spend much but had a good time anyway. Wife and daughter and I wound up at Applebees (Apparently this one doesn’t suck like the one in Reno, where I was told that a rare burger was against Nevada State Law ! Uh, excuse me ? Against the law ? No, that was a company policy you bleach blond ditz) Where we wrapped up the day, had drinks and food, whereupon darling 1 yr old daughter proceeded to suck catsup off of everything handed to her. Seriously, had we given her cookies she would have wanted them dipped in catsup. That’s my girl ! A gourmand in the making, Emeril would be proud.

Apparently "Secret Sauce" was already in use as a trade name, but "CAT"sup works too.

So, today I finally call the VA (Veterans Administration, I had seven great years serving this country, no regrets, just wish I had found what I was looking for in my life a lot sooner)and tell them “I wish to speak to a mental health specialist. First question from the operator ? You guessed it…

“Are you a danger to yourself or others at this time”

OMG – only if someone beats me to that cute top at a really wild sale at Burlington’s. Or I get outbid for a really sweet pair of Tory Burch black patent leather pumps. And even then, probably a safe bet that I am in a good mood. So to stem the rest of the questions “Is this a mental health emergency, are you sad etc) I state “I am cross dressing a lot lately and it feels pretty good, I just wanted to talk with a shrink to get a handle on exactly where I am at”. None of this “I cant really say over the phone” or “I am not able to talk about it right now”. No, I don’t want the Doc thinking I am in crises here because, seriously, I am not.

I love being a girl. I love being a guy, I love being a dad, I love being a brother. Lets face it, I am happy. For a lot of the times in life where I wanted something but couldn’t figure it out (drugs, sex, alcohol, etc, other harmful behaviors) and resorted to self destructive behaviors, I could have simply put on a  dress, some makeup and gone clubbing. No wonder I enjoyed disco clubs so much in the 70s, what girl wouldn’t ? Of course, I did the obligatory anonymous sex things, most guys did, the parking lot thing and the coke thing (Seriously, all coke ever did was make my nose numb and make me paranoid, I NEVER found anything fun about it, most pot was more fun than coke for me) And of those things I did, I was able to simply walk away when I was done with it.

Which made me start thinking. Why was I, a no one special, able to walk away from coke, heroin, alcohol and so many other addictive substances without a second look back ? All these things that were supposed to be horribly addictive substances (just use it one time and your life is forever ruined) and I could try em, use em for a short time and then walk away as though they didn’t exist ? Could it be they weren’t what I was looking for ? I know they weren’t but wasn’t sure what I needed.

I guess my forays into abusive behavior were that, forays, a quick raid. I could not find the thing I wanted to plunder, however, so these forays turned out to be pointless exercises, leaving me unfulfilled. But, when I would find some female clothing, and wear it for a while (inside my own place, of course, NEVER outside) for quite a while afterward I felt better. I didn’t go clubbing, drinking, drugging or any of that other bullshit.

Okay, so it only took me 48 years to figure that out, sheesh, am I the only guy who took so long to figure out he was also a girl ? I don’t mean I was born wanting to *be* a girl, I just wanted to express the feminine side of my personality. Weird, huh ? I dont think I am the only one. Which makes me kind of sad. I know why I didnt come out earlier, it was the fact that guys who dressed in dresses were fags ! Well, when I was younger that was a lot more true than it was today, when I was 18 wearing a dress would get you a dishonorable or unfit for duty discharge from the military. You didnt have to even be accused of having sex with another man, just the whole wearing a dress would get you locked up or kicked out. So I know what kept me from coming out.

But even before me, wow, guys would be locked in a loony bin for dressing up. Anything outside the norm for ones gender was a mental health issue, you were crazy if you weren’t like all the other clones. How sad. No wonder men were drowning themselves in tobacco and alcohol as part of a daily regime. Today we are a little more enlightened.

So, all things considered, I made it through my denial and deceit pretty unscarred, yeah, I learned it was okay to be me very late in life, but at least I learned. And isn’t that the point ? I also notice I drink rarely, I no longer smoke, and, overall, the depression thingy ?

Haven’t thought about it in a long while.

Is that the sun rising over there ? On me ? I do beleive it is.

Discovery Fears

When I started dressing up (3 years old, yep, before I went to school I figured out women’s clothes were for me) the fear of being discovered was always there. Why ?

Shhhhhhhhh...

I don’t know.

Maybe, when as a three year old, I dressed in a woman’s clothing, I got strange feelings. Most three year olds, if they dress in the other genders clothing, don’t even realize it, those are the normal ones. I was far from normal. I was wrong. My sister and mom dressed in these clothes. My dad didn’t, my brother didn’t but I did so something was wrong with me.

This started a life long obsession with a fear of beaing discovered. It carried into my teen years (fear of being discovered by Mom and Dad) my friends wouldn’t find out because there were a couple that already knew (Gay and/or bisexual, so me dressing up wasn’t a big deal to them and I felt if they were already broken like me, what did it matter ? Right ?).

My adult years, what if the women I was seeing discovered it ? Truth be told, in retrospect, I think most of them either suspected I was gay or something like that. Apparently, most of them didn’t care. maybe they were trying to cure me ? Whatever works. And my friends ? Oh, I had a great guys guy persona developed. Hell, it was developed so well I would help my guy friends make fun of “Drag Queens” and other “Queers”.

Yeah, so, I hated myself. Not just a little either, oh, maybe at first, but after a while, it developed into a quasi-suicidal journey to get payback on myself. Since I sucked so bad at hurting myself, I naturally gravitated towards hurting those closest to me ! Talk about sucks. So, you want people to love you and how do you reward them ? You make their lives miserable. Worked for me !

Okay, flash forward about 100 years, err, wait, 30 yrs and where am I ? Married, for the fourth time. Kids all over the US and still wearing dresses.

Okay, so concealing didn’t work, gotta figure out some way to make this work. I know, how about being honest about it and coming out ?

Let’s give this a try and see how it works.

Hey, folks, when you have a cross dresser who is nervous about coming out, jokes aren’t the right way to help them over it. Telling them they better have a great lawyer before they tell their wife is already a nightmare they have lost sleep over, how about trying to give them a little support and not help them to crawl back into their fears ?