Wha' Happened?: Bio, Part 2

"Things start splitting at the seams and now the whole thing's tumbling down" -- Band of Horses

I still don't know what triggered the woman within to start asserting herself. It hit me in October, last fall. My only guess, and it's a lame one, was that it filled the void left when my fantasy baseball season ended. I live and breathe baseball six months a year, and last season was more intense and more successful than usual. My obsession toggle was switched to "On", and maybe crossdressing replaced baseball.

It was sneaking up on me for awhile, I think. My brother and I typically give one another music as gifts. He noted last April that my list was skewing much more toward female artists. It seems my brother noticed the changing landscape before I did. Wait till I fill him in on the whole story!

So, in October, I began compulsively surfing for a pair of heels online. You may ask what kind of veteran crossdresser has never owned shoes that fit. Go ahead, ask. A half-assed one that was firmly in the closet. I first purchased 5-inch black pumps, size 13. I quickly learned that I couldn't handle five inches. (Get your mind out of the gutter!) They were too wide, a little large, and I could stand but not really walk in them. But 4-inch brown pumps, size 12, were perfect. With shoes I could wear for hours instead of painful minutes, I began sprinting toward an unknown goal.

I had always been able to keep my two parts compartmentalized. But now, the walls started crumbling. Female started bleeding into male. Internal cohesion is certainly a good thing, but it's disturbing when you weren't aspiring to it. I began engaging in very uncharacteristic risk-taking, like dressing after hours in the workplace, waist down and sometimes neck down. Didn't get caught, thank heavens.

By December, I was very confused by my needs and the unrelenting urgency to address them. I became very depressed about my wife's disregard for how important this was to me. This was a full-fledged crisis with no tenable resolution that I could see. Getting no satisfaction from my wife, and desperately needing to share my feelings, I reached out to a support group online.

After posting an intro, I got a private response within twenty minutes. It was a suggestion that I might want to look into some counseling. I guess my intro was a little over the top. But it was an excellent suggestion, and she gave me a couple of names to contact. I hate to think where I'd be without therapy, because I was in a nasty spiral when I started in January.

In early January, I finally got the final piece, a wig. It was cheap and not especially attractive (just like me!). I'd always been a neck down crossdresser, dabbled in makeup ten or fifteen times in twenty years. This was the new frontier! I acquired makeup for my coloring, not my wife's stuff. And then an unexpected day off work...

On January 18th, I put all the pieces together. I did a nice subtle job on the makeup, no clown college or kabuki theatre. I put on the wig, and saw Leslie for the first time. I really didn't expect to see a woman looking back at me. I was overwhelmed. My first impulse was to cry, but I resisted. Crying would ruin my makeup, and the illusion. I was euphoric to have finally achieved this after thirty-some years. But I was very sad to think of how much earlier I could have gotten here, how much time I had wasted in the closet. This was my graduation to transgendered status. I needed to know this woman better, see what she was made of.

I attended my first support meeting on Groundhog Day. I went in guy mode, and could hardly speak. A couple of girls sought me out and conversed with me. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have spoken to anyone. Such interesting people, but slightly scary. I'd never met people like this before.

The March meeting was my debut. I changed in the bathroom because I couldn't leave the house in drag. A little shaky as I stepped out, but I felt lightened almost immediately. I was truly at ease dressed in front of these people, the first to ever see me this way. As the night went on, I approached people and started conversations. I made several friends. I have terrible social anxieties, especially talking to new people, but this night I was a social butterfly. Leslie really is a different person, and probably a better person, than my male persona. I like her better, anyway.