Hair raises its ugly head again

Part two will have to wait. I feel like I got dropped down an elevator shaft today. No clever quote tonight, just an open wound.

On Wednesday, I spent about an hour hacking away at my leg and chest hair with clippers, thinning and shortening. This was very liberating. It felt and looked so much better.

I decide that Thursday is going to be the big day. I'm going to take it off completely, at least legs and arms. I can live with the chest hair a little longer as a concession to my wife. I'll take it off in the morning, then celebrate my progress with my therapist in the afternoon. I love it when a plan comes together. This one didn't.

My wife has two conflicting policies about this whole gender thing. "No Surprises" means she doesn't want to find out I've advanced my cause without her approval. The other policy I have dubbed "Don't Ask, Don't Tell". She hates to discuss the subject, never inquires about the goings-on in my head, doesn't want me to bring it up. I decided to honor the No Surprises directive today.

I told her I intended to rid myself of some hair today. The riot act commenced: Why do you want to do this? I think there's more to this than just crossdressing for leisure. (Duh!) I suppose you're going to tell me you want a sex change next. Loathing your body is not going to be solved by removing your hair. I am not interested in being married to a woman.

You see, last fall we had a calm conversation on the topic. I assured her I was only a crossdresser, that I was not a candidate for SRS. These words were true at the time. I was clueless as to the extent of my dysphoria. I was thinking of it more as a midlife crisis. I thought the urgency would pass shortly.

So, about all I could say to her accusations was that there are only two people on the planet who care whether I have leg hair or not, and they're both in this room. No one else gives a damn. But she thinks this will scar the kids, especially the 9 year old boy.

My therapist helped me sort thru all this crap. She recommends issuing an ultimatum: If you want to maintain some kind of relationship with an emotionally stable person, you will have to bend a little. Removing the hair might buy us some time, till the kids get older. Oh, and inform her that I'm transgendered, not a mere crossdresser. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I don't know if I can go through a confrontation like this. She has a very strong personality, very stubborn. This is a good quality in her when she's fighting with the school system about my autistic daughter's education. But it's not serving our marriage very well.

To me, the great irony is that I'm going to have to "man up", wear the pants, and put my foot down, in order to look and feel more like a woman. Life can be cruel, can't it?