Uneasy Does It

Where to begin? This was the much anticipated day of shopping with my girlfriends. We met at one of Tina's favorite consignment stores, very nice stuff and a lot of it. But I was feeling overwhelmed. I'm always self-conscious, but browsing through skirts and tops and shoes in boy-mode just made me acutely aware of standing out. The store was fairly busy when I arrived, which didn't help. I sat in the sweltering car for five or seven minutes, listening to the Reds game, summoning the courage to walk ten feet to the door. I finally called Shan to make certain that they were already in there. Just a little reassurance that I had a safety net waiting.

I was watching myself from afar at first, seeing myself as I felt others were seeing me. Tall, balding, slump-shouldered shuffler-mumbler. My friends all looked great, and fit in quite well, I thought. And how I wished for my long hair and a bit of makeup. I've passed as a male for forty-five years, but I would have been so much more at ease even as a primitively drawn female. I spent as much time looking inward as poking through the racks.

The last 45 minutes or so, I began to get more relaxed. The clientele had thinned out, and I was enjoying the time with my friends. I found nothing that I wanted to purchase, but then, the merchandise was almost exclusively summer stuff. With my body hair issues, there is really no point in my buying summery women's clothing. I love all those delicate spaghetti straps and short skirts, but it would be money down the toilet.

We moved on to Payless after that, and it was similarly a bust. There is just not that much selection in the 11/12 range. And why does everything have to have a platform? I don't need an extra half-inch, thank you! Despite the shoe situation, I was caring a lot less about my presentation. But my time was up. We exchanged hugs and they walked up to TJ Maxx, while I went to my car.

I am so lucky to have these ladies as close friends. They treated me just like I was all Leslie. Sylvia had never even seen me in boy-mode before. They are wonderfully warm, caring people, and I love them dearly. I love that I can be vulnerable around them, that I can share my fears in real time. And they'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

My wife was a little quiet both before and after my trip. In the evening we went to see The Soloist with Robert Downey Jr. and Jamie Foxx. I think I need to start listening to more classical music. My emotions, already riding near the surface, bubbled over during the musical sequences. I adore Beethoven's last four symphonies, and I think that I might be able to purge my backlog of tears with Ludwig's help. A great film.

We went out for a late meal afterwards. We discussed the movie for a while, then she asked me how my shopping trip had been. I told her that I'd felt a little weird and uncomfortable, and gave her a bare bones overview of the afternoon. I was so relieved that she asked, something she wouldn't have done a few months ago. I didn't want to overwhelm her, but it was very important to me to be able to share my experience with her. Later on, I thanked her for allowing me to go out with my friends. I reiterated my confidence that she would like them if she met them.

The shopping aspect was a bit of a bust for me, but I came away more confident in my ability to navigate the world of women, even from my male perch. I was able to stretch myself just a bit more, so the day was far from wasted.

Anticipation is Making Me Wait

I'm beginning to get a handle on how to approach the missus. For several days, I've been sitting on an invitation to shop Saturday with my Tres Amigas (Tina, Shandy, Sylvia). I had just about resigned myself to not even attempt to broach the subject with her.

But then, I got a little shot of courage (not from a bottle). I just mentioned it in passing at bed time Wednesday night. Said that I was conflicted, because Saturday is the only day where the wife and I get extended quality time together. I was hesitant to take away from that. And I just left it there.

As I was leaving for work Thursday, literally getting into the car, she just volunteered that if I could limit my excursion to a couple of hours, she'd have no problem with me going out with my friends. The lesson: Give her some time to consider the proposal, don't push hard for a yes, and she might just come around.

I'm trying to get some specifics about the itinerary. Spontaneity is not my thing at all! I have to visualize what I am going to be doing, create a plan. I don't have to stick to the plan exactly, but knowing what to expect calms my social fears. I would like to do small and/or cheap, meaning a consignment store or the Goodwill. The weird thing for me is that I'll be the lone "male" in the group. My friends will all be presenting female, plus there's to be a GG along with us, whom I haven't met. My wife doesn't want me out as Leslie, and I couldn't leave the house in that mode regardless. Give a little, get a little.

So, Saturday night I may be posting a tale or two. I'm so excited!

And then, finally...we talked

The upbeat nature of my recent posts must be very disorienting for long-time readers. And recent converts are likely getting a totally wrong idea about the usual tone of this blog. Yet, I'm going to run the gauntlet again, and convey positive things in my life! Don't get used to it. I'm always looking for half-empty glasses to write about.

This tale starts with some tail. Ha! Recent history in these parts tells me that graphic sexual detail is not universally welcomed 'round here, so suffice it to say that it was VERY GOOD. For both of us. A great thing about good sex is the emotional vulnerability that follows. The shields were lowered. It started with very happy tears on her part. She talked about how the emotional connection of making love seems like a divine plan to her. This from a proud atheist. She wondered how she could think this. I told her that religion is just a leap of faith, a confident assertion that something bigger must be responsible for all these amazing things we take for granted. Yes, a humanist explaining religion to an atheist. Talk about the blind leading the blind.

And the tears just kept on rolling. Many were joyous, some were not, but she shared more of herself than she has in a long time. Some of it was relief, as we're just about ready to cut ties with the school system, and home school my autistic daughter. Finishing that fight was a great burden lifted, especially for her.

She told me some of what she has been talking about with her counselor. Many issues have come to a head in her stressed state. I told her that it was a good thing that the Leslie issue pushed her over the edge and got her to go for headshrinking. She conceded that a bad thing could also be a good thing.

In May, I think, she took the girls on a Girl Scout camping trip to a state park. My younger daughter came home with three pairs of clip earrings that she purchased at the gift shop. Last night:

She: Can I tell you a secret?

Me: Please.

She: I really wanted to buy you some earrings while I was there. I was very conflicted about whether I should or not. And I couldn't figure a way to buy them without the girls taking notice.

Me: Can I tell you a secret? I was very disappointed that I didn't get any earrings that weekend. (long pause) You know, I'd much rather receive a $15 pair of earrings than most things I would get for my birthday, or even Father's Day. A gift like that would probably make me cry.

She really wants me to have some jewelry. But she has hesitated to follow through. Her worry is that she will give me earrings, and the next day, or the next week, I will announce that I'm leaving now to go be a woman. That some little gesture of acceptance on her part will at last free me to pursue my dreams. I told her the truth, that these little kindnesses make me very happy to stay, more likely to stay. Her small concessions to my inner nature only make me love her more.

She cried happily about what good friends she has now, how they have so much in common. I pointed out to her that she met the whole lot of them through her support group. Of course they have a lot in common! And, I said, I have gotten terrific friends from my support group. She remains fearful of their influence on me. I told her that the people I'm closest to, my best friends, are kind, concerned, warm, sane people that she would probably like if she took the time to meet them. I haven't changed the type of people that I like to spend time with, they just dress a little differently than earlier friends.

Anyway, there was much more. We talked for over two hours. Out of...let's see...117 entries in this blog, fully a third have probably said something about my desire to have this exact conversation. I'm a much happier person today. We really connected and communicated, without editing or anger.

But don't get used to the sunshine on display here. Ever the diligent pessimist, I know that darkness awaits around some nearby corner. And I'll be waiting to write about it here.

Who Are You, and What Have You Done With My Wife?

I'm wondering if I should be looking for a pod under my wife's side of the bed. Her body seems to have been snatched by someone who has empathy for my gender dysphoria. I've reported several instances recently where she is interested in easing my, er, unease. Another one tonight:

We were getting ready to go out with another couple for a late dinner. I was dressed in something that allowed me to feel a little feminine without giving it up to our friends. I was ready to go, just waiting for the missus to finish dressing. She comes out into the hall with a necklace in her hand. She said that I needed to wear this. Mind you, the extent of my jewelry is usually a ring on my left hand. She put a very dainty gold box chain around my neck and clasped it for me. I gave her a long kiss and thanked her quietly.

Several times during the evening, even now, I've reached up and touched the necklace, and felt my eyes welling up. Just over a year ago, I composed a long letter to my wife, which I posted here. I just wanted to be able to talk openly about these things in my head. We have now reached the point where I'm only slightly reluctant to speak my thoughts, and she has even begun to ask me specifically about my gender state of mind. We've come a long way, baby.

I haven't surrendered the necklace yet, but I will when I head to bed. Lori commented several weeks ago that my wife must really love me. I'm truly starting to see it. There were several months of utter contempt last year, but she's made up her mind that I'm worth keeping. Status quo doesn't seem so bad tonight.

A Door Opens

Patience might be paying off. It's only been 18 months since I was first advised by a peer that I had to be very patient in waiting for the wife's approval. And I have screwed up royally several times during that span. But I've been on my best behavior this year, and I think her hard heart is softening.

I've been feeling very dysphoric for a week now, since she brought home those glorious sandals. I finally managed to share that with her at 5am Monday when I came to bed. She was half asleep, but awake enough to be slightly amused by what I was telling her. She wondered if I was uncomfortable with her becoming more feminine. I explained that I love it, but it comes with the weight of constant envy. She wasn't critical and seemed to be understanding what I was saying to her. Why not go for it, I thought. I told her that I was interested in going shopping with her sister's assistance. She didn't say anything, but I could hear the wheels turning. This was a twist she hadn't considered. She rolled over and went back to sleep, but I wasn't left with a sense of rejection or anger. I'll just let the seed germinate.

Tuesday night, I was chatting with my buddy Tina, telling her how stressed I was about my transness. She was in town for a couple days, and offered to drop whatever she was doing and accompany me to Payless if I got an opportunity. Did I mention how much I value that girl? I thought it highly unlikely to happen, what with my schedule and the fact that I wanted to run it past the missus, rather than sneak around as I have in the past.

As expected, Wednesday was not agood day to try to get away. In fact, I never got an opportunity to speak to the little woman about it. I got very frustrated, and barked at her in the evening, something I regretted immediately.

Thursday was a bad day, as my daughter's school is forcing us into due process. (For background, see Commence Rambling) This may not mean anything to many of you, but it's legal and unpleasant and the burden of proof is entirely on us. We will likely be home schooling my daughter in the fall. The idea of this scares me. I know it will be a difficult task, but the project mostly belongs to my wife. And with that, I've lost Ms. Quixote to a brand new windmill. The dysphoria was building again.

So, I mentioned my feelings to her again Thursday evening. She suggested that maybe I might feel better if I bleached my arm hair. An unusual suggestion from her, and remarkably empathetic, I thought. Then I told her of Tina's offer, and apologized for snapping at her, as I knew that she wouldn't approve but I wanted to run it by her just the same.

And then she said that she had no problem with it. She reminded me that I might be seen by someone we know, and that would be especially embarrassing if I was trying on heels in the store, but she said there's nothing wrong with men buying women's shoes.

Tonight, I'm treating my dysphoria by wearing my favorite dress and heels as I type. And I'm doing some self-medicating with a Kahlua White Russian I found in the fridge. I don't feel any less dysphoric, but I am tolerating it a lot better tonight. There's been a truce called in the cold war. Drink up, lasses.