Return of the Mojo

I was reading through some of my recent posts, "recent" only in the geologic sense of the word. I realized that I had left a plot thread dangling. At least one, though I only noticed this particular arc. Plus, it gave me an opportunity to create a post before I missed an entire calendar year!

I have shared previously my frustrations in taking on the presidency of my local support group, TransKentucky. There was no one else to take over when the previous leader burned out and left quite suddenly. I quickly learned why she burned out. I also learned that group leadership is not one of my strengths. I am pro level at long, awkward silences. The meetings soon were attended by only six to eight folks a month, including newbies that usually did not return.

The nadir of my time in the hot seat was the Pride Festival in June 2017. As a closeted transperson, I had to delegate responsibilities to others for this very public event. A proverbial train wreck was the result. We had a tent and a table, with no signage, no literature, and a few very despondent volunteers to answer the occasional inquiry, like "Who are you all?" Not the group's best moment, nor mine. The buck stopped with me, and I readily owned the mess. 

See? Happy.

I eventually served for 18 months as the big cheese. The numbers at the meetings began to pick up, and I was able to add a couple of leaders into my circle of one. Both were very capable and much more charismatic, as well as being unafraid to be the public face of the group. As Pride was nearing again, I made an abrupt decision to hand over the reins to Rylie. It was very sudden. She slept on it and agreed to do it. My spontaneity cost us the other moderator, though. I guess she was offended to have been passed over, but she never said so, and she never returned.

So now I am Rylie's girl Friday, much more content to be in a supporting role. As a bonus, I have been able to skip meetings when I want. I just wrapped up a four month absence from the monthly meetings. This last week I found myself really wanting to go, so I buckled down and did the necessary prep. 

It was great. I had been missed by many, and I was energized in the discussion and the social time afterward. I sought out a sad fellow sitting alone while everyone mingled. I kept watching him across the room, and seeing myself as I was my first 40-plus years, paralyzed by social anxiety and unable to initiate a conversation. I spent about 15 minutes talking with him, avoiding the small talk that I knew I always hated. Maybe I was a little invasive and direct, but he opened up some. I am much better suited to the one-on-one stuff. 

I just thought I should dispel the notion that I might still be president of my group. Nope, and much happier playing second fiddle. I now joke that my time was a caretaker administration, or an interregnum between real leaders. I kept most of the balls in the air, enough to get us into a new period of growth for TransKentucky. For me, growth through adversity.

Things a Phlebotomist Might Say*

"Which arm is best for you?"
"Roll up your sleeve."
"You may feel a little prick."

Nope.

"Why do you shave your arm hair?"

Keep in mind that I live my life as male full time. I had my annual physical recently, and the last part was having some blood drawn. A young woman entered the room, introduced herself, and swabbed the crook of my arm with alcohol. As she wiped, she asked without looking up, "Why do you shave your arms?"

For a couple of very long seconds, I rolled the question around in my head. Is there some medical issue I don't know about? Can I dare utter the truth?

Trying to buy a little time, I blithely asked, "What?"

She repeats the question. What kind of lie might work? I could use my old fave, which is a partial truth, that I really hate my body hair. But that is a symptom of something bigger, yes?

My voice might've cracked a little, but I said, "I'm transgender."

She turned to me and smiled. "Oh, cool! Do you, like, wear makeup? What's your name?"

"Leslie."

"Nice! Are you transitioning?"

"No, that's not gonna happen. I'm president of a local support group, though."

"Outstanding!"

So, I have now outed myself to a stranger in real life. Did not think that was in me, and it was a very uplifting event. I wish I had thought to show her some pics, just to have my ego stroked further.


*If you are too young or foreign to get the reference, this is a typical clue in the bonus round of The $25,000 Pyramid. This clip features the recently deceased Harry Anderson of Night Court fame.

Indulge Me

As a rule, I hate anniversary posts. I have stopped following bloggers who gave me five paragraphs about the seventeenth anniversary of first wearing lipstick.  So today I am being a bit hypocritical, making an exception to my own rule, but I promise there is more content than just a look back.

Not my first wig

Ten years ago, January 19th, 2008, I saw Leslie for the first time. Merely a concept previously, I finally put all the pieces together. The cherry, literally on top, was my first wig. It made a world of difference, as crossdressing man at last resembled, albeit crudely, a sort of woman. It was enough. I pushed down the urge to cry, and just stared at myself for long minutes.

This only just occurred to me, but leading up to that magic moment, I had suffered for months with a terrible depression. I was working my way out of it by starting counseling and joining TransKentucky. This period ten years later has also featured depression, the worst it has been in at least five or six years. Not as long lived, and largely cleared up now, it does seem to be signaling a need to take a step forward on the Leslie front.

Say yes to the dress!

For someone that dresses only three hours a month, I think my fashion sense and makeup skills have made a real leap this last year. I have some idea what looks good on me now. After being on the skirt+top train for years, I have recently transferred to the Dress Express.

Part of my recovery from the blues was making a hefty investment in clothes. In particular, $80 spent at ThredUp. I love this company. Gently used clothing, or even new with tags, for a deep discount. Yeah, they're secondhand, but that doesn't bother me. Anyway, I got 12 items for that sum: 2 tops, 5 skirts, 4 dresses, and a pair of heels.

All but one item fit, a little black dress that just could not make it around my rib cage. To show how far I have come with my wife, I suggested that she try it on, as I thought it might work for her. She tried it on without it being weird at all. It didn't fit her either, so I passed it on ro one of my minions at TransKentucky. The point being that I was able to be open about clothing, and she was able to hear it. And there was no shouting, no awkward pauses, no stinkeye.

That, my friends, is progress that I thought would never arrive.

Publish or Perish

Looks like the twits on the board have backed me into a corner. I will have to post an update. It's bad enough that they call me Chairman Wow behind my back, but they keeping holding the promise of a golden parachute over my head. Dance, puppet, dance. At least they don't call me Chairman Yow. Or worse, Chairman Ciao. I prefer Madame Chairperson, truth be known.

Anyway, it has been a rough year to date. My wife's father had been struggling with lung cancer for the better part of a year, and finally succumbed a couple weeks ago. The stress of the last three months has finally relented. I think anyone who has watched these slow fades will understand that the sadness is greatly tempered by a sense of relief at the end. Things are largely back to our version of normal now.

The support group is carrying on, of course. Meeting attendance continues to be disappointing, but we will have a new website up in the next few days (fingers crossed), plus the Facebook group is being relaunched as well. I am lucky to have some very enthusiastic members with the talent to address these things. I have the willingness, but little to no knowledge of how to make them happen. Once the website is up, I hope to be able to assist with adding to the resource page, an area that has been sorely lacking.

The nerves I had about leading a meeting have faded rapidly. I don't really give it a thought now. I am more comfortable being me fully, and engaging others. I was always the sidekick before, throwing in a quick quip, the same as in my male life. As Leslie, I am carrying the conversation more, drawing out shy newbies to share with the group, or even one on one. I am embracing the leader role.

I am still unsure how I am going to do the public part of the job. We will have a booth at Lexington's Pride Festival in June, and there are LGBT events at the university too. I cannot do them. I am not a public figure or figurehead. I need to expand my team to include folks who are ready to be the face of the group. I am merely the brains!

Well, I hope this satisfies the board. Until the next arm twisting, see ya.

Announcement

Greetings,

Your friends/corporate masters at LeslieCo would like to apologize for the continuing absence of Dear Leader.

It has been a hectic year to this point. Even when present here on company grounds, her mind was frequently elsewhere. Heading a corporate enterprise like this is quite taxing, except in America, where corporations pay little to no tax. Sorry, off subject.

Our namesake has been occupied with the nurturing of her TransKentucky support group. A new website will be launched soon, and a Facebook group will be back online as well. She did not do this herself, rather found others to do this for her. Ah, leadership.

She has informed the board that she has intentions of writing a genuine blog post in the coming days. Good intentions, road to hell, etc. We'll see. Maybe when she finally takes a break from playing Fallout 3.

Yours in third person,
LeslieCo

Getting my Footing

I have led four meetings now as president of my support group. I am finally beginning to feel like I have some authority and have earned some respect.

The turning point was a couple days before the most recent meeting. As you may know, I work evenings and don't get to bed till 5am. That night about 1:45, a curse-filled tirade appeared on our listserv. This was from a frequent poster, but out of character, especially the length of the missive. She was going on about our most prominent local endocrinologist, and questioning the dosing habits of said doctor. The post was long and repetitive, and essentially accused anyone supportive of the doc's methods to be idiots.

Within fifteen minutes, I had a reply posted. I told her that she had made her point several times. That I don't have a dog in the fight, as I have never started HRT, but that the doctor is a friend of the group. That I don't question her right to dissatisfaction and even anger. However, if she cannot share her feelings with a civil tongue or without insulting her peers, then she would lose her posting privileges. Given no immediate second salvo, I was hopeful that this was someone having a bad day, and was now sleeping it off.

Early the next afternoon, there was a response. This time her ire was directed at me. She questioned why I supported this doctor. She wondered how I could be president if I am allowing people to see this horrible doctor. She said that I don't care enough to warn new transitioners away from this doctor. That is when something in me snapped. Maybe I grew a pair.

I wrote a long post of my own, sharing how I really never wanted the presidency, but as the last tran standing in leadership, I had it forced on me. This group's existence is way too important for me to walk away and leave it rudderless. I wrote about the many challenges that I face in my regular life, and that I get no reimbursement for this thankless job. I bit my tongue several times, and kept the message coherent and civil (no small challenge).

Later in the day, she quietly asked to be removed from the group. I won the battle without disgracing the office. I felt...presidential.

This was reiterated at the meeting. I decided to mention the event, as everyone had been reading it, and many had weighed in. Several supported the view of the banished party regarding the doctor's practices, but they did so in a tone that was respectful. Mostly, though, I was complimented on my tactful but forceful handling of the situation.

I even got to try out my new status at the meeting, when two members got into a shouting match regarding Trump and Clinton. I yelled over them to knock it off, take it outside or stop arguing about politics.

The only way I could feel more presidential is if I tweeted my order at them.

Smooooth

Post without a pic? Pshaw!

Coulda gone better. Much, much better.

I felt that events were conspiring against me as the week progressed. I kept throwing nagging reminders up on the listserv, and had a total of four RSVPs when Saturday rolled around. It's not odd in any walk of American life for people to ignore the response aspect of party planning, so I let it roll, with misgivings.

The event was scheduled to start at 7:30. I had warned folks that Kentucky would be starting a football at precisely the same time, just a few blocks away.

Around 3:00, I got an email from the manager of the Pride Center, our location. The owner of the building had decided that he needed to get his parking lot repaved before the cold weather really set in, and the only time available was that day. So, now we were without a parking lot, at a time when the lot across the street is parking cars at $10 apiece for the game.

I look tired....

I sent out an email suggesting parking at the shopping center next door.

I ran into very little trouble driving in and parking next door. Others reported terrible issues with traffic, and no foreknowledge of the game situation. Why bother sending out notices that no one notices, hmmm?

People trickled in. We had nine, including me, at 7:45. Time to surrender to hunger, and hope some more make it. We made it to eleven folks an hour later. That is a tiny turnout, and a very strange meal. The good spin is that there were four newbies among the group, and I think it was a positive experience for them.

I kept up a good front till the eating was done, but began flagging thereafter. I wasn't really involved in the conversations, and the din was making me shut down. I made it through to the end (as I had to), but it was exhausting. Really makes me appreciate Sylvia's efforts now.

One of the latecomers has been with the group almost as long as me, and stayed after the meeting. She volunteered to help out with leadership stuff in the future. I definitely am going to need some assistance. I have never done anything like this before, but I am determined not to let this group crash and burn on my watch.