Transition – A Girl U Should Know

Harassed twice in 15 hours…

It has been a long time since I was out and about in public as often as this last week. I forgot about the dozen microaggressions in each store, and the contrasting supporting smiles I get. This has been the most I have been in public with the new boobs, and the new fat transfer, for over a year and I started out feeling really good about myself… ya over the last two days that sort of ended a little harshly compared to where I started.

On Thursday we decided after work to go to Trader Joes and do a snack run for the weekend. I had a new Henley type top and felt really good. That only lasted about thirty seconds into Trader Joes when I had some old fuck look at me directly and brush across my boobs. Never apologizing and never doing anything but smirking. I have to be honest and say I was shocked at how brazen it was.

It has been awhile since I have been in that situation and honestly I just froze up. All I could do is concentrate on breathing and trying to get back with Wolsey (we had been separated) while avoiding anyone else that might brush up or touch me. The sad part was during the whole time I was angry at myself for not responding angrily at the man, especially when he would stare at me as he walked by with his wife several times in the store. Before the pandemic I would have said something to him, flipped him off or got Wolsey immediately. All I did though was just hope it went away.

By the time we got out of the store the hubby asked me what was wrong and why was I holding my hands in a weird way in front of myself. To be honest I didn’t realize I was doing that, and immediately tried to put my hands away. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him, I didn’t want him to be upset. Eventually he coaxed me into telling him and he was angry and reassuring. Angry at the asshole, reassuring to me and asked if I wanted him to go back, I told him no and that I just wanted to keep going. He completely respected me and we moved on.

We finished shopping at Winco, got some Subway and went home. The hubby was so incredibly nice to me. I am pretty fortunate that he is trans, I know a lot of cis guys were never through this experience and don’t understand (I was like that somewhat before I transitioned). He calmed me down and life was much better.

This is me in the car waiting for hubby (in the window behind me) comes back with Subway! I was feeling pretty rough about it.

Remarkably about 14 hours later (about 8am) we had just gotten out of my brain MRI (good news, I don’t have a brain tumor!) and went to Denny’s before we had to go to other appointments. We entered Denny’s and I felt pretty good about myself, but we were seated next to what I am sure was a MAGA fuck. As we walked over I watched as he took pictures of me (I feel like I looked pretty good, I was a bit exhausted and disheveled from the MRI).

Wolsey saw this and we both looked at each other as we sat down. The guy who was less than 3 feet from us on the connected booth literally plugged his phone in the socket on the area between where Wolsey and him sat and began videoing me. The hubby immediately shifted where he sat and blocked it off mostly, and I shifted so he couldn’t get a good shot. I realize my t-shirt probably showed off my boobs pretty well (not visible below) but I looked tired, crappy and vulnerable. The hubby and I both believe that is what attracts these assholes, the vulnerability is what they can sense.

I was not feeling it with asshole taking my picture.

Wolsey asked if I wanted him to approach the guy. I had considered losing my shit on the guy, I considered having the hubby do it, but to be honest I was fucking tired and just wanted my breakfast. I could tell my social armor is worn down and I haven’t gotten practice with it lately, this happened before the pandemic quite a bit, but I had gotten accustomed to it (no one should have to, but it is a survival mechanism).

If you notice the guy behind Wolsey has just laid his phone down and he was sighing in frustration. He didn’t catch we were blocking it at first.

The funny thing was listening to the guy talk on his phone and tell people he didn’t have their money but he would next Friday… it was hilarious. In addition Wolsey didn’t confront the guy (doing as I asked) but he did make several awesomely world class snide remarks and observations about the guy loud enough the guy could hear it, but when the guy looked over at Wolsey, noticed all of his tats he evidently decided he wasn’t that offended and stopped videoing me. He did take a couple of those awkward angled photos when I came out of the bathroom but by then I was feeling a little better and I think whatever weakness he sensed was fading and he eventually stopped.

There is asshole behind hubby trying to explain why he can’t pay someone he owes money to.

The problem I am having now (and it sucks but it is a good sign that occasionally my boobs fool men for a short time) is that I now get harassed sexually for looking feminine, and for being trans. Sometimes it is for being feminine (especially big boobs) that turns to transphobic when they make the realization

Life is still great, but sometimes it is rougher having to deal with people. Especially people in person. This is the biggest reason I have hesitated in dating (yes we are poly for those that don’t know), I am unfamiliar with how to traverse dating, let alone dating as a woman, and especially with the additional transgender subject.

I am so glad I have my hubby. ❤

Overcoming pre-transition ideas.

I have to admit that I never understood why anyone would put botox or lip filler in before I transitioned. Not that I ever had a problem with it. I always felt a person should do what they want with their body as long as it made them happy, but I never understood it.

Well last month I decided I was tired of all the crinkles/wrinkles around my eyes, and that my lip wasn’t quite as full as I wanted (I wanted to wait and see how it healed for more than a year from the lip feminization surgery, which I love by the way).

I don’t have a great picture to show you the wrinkles/lip, probably because I instinctly avoid those.

So I made an appointment with La Belle Vie Cosmetic Medspa. They are the same overall facility that I got my second FFS surgery, tummy tuck and boob job (and where I will go for my thigh/butt lift after GCS). I wasn’t too sure what to expect, but I was sure that I wasn’t going to be impressed. As it turns out I was wrong.

Pics as I head out to the appointment. Maybe you can see the lines a bit here and the lips/chin

I got to meet Anne Marie RN, who runs the medspa portion. She was incredibly kind, easy going and answered all my questions. The thing that impressed me more though was that she listened to us about trans concerns, and she questioned us about how other clinics worked. She really appeared at least to want to improve their facility (including possible electrolysis for trans patients).

I learned from her that lip fillers can last up to about a year, which was far longer than I have had other people say. I learned botox and the other various “tox” injections were much easier, less painful and most of all I learned that they do work.

The biggest thing I was impressed with though was that while there is always the normal additional options you can select, she recommended against some of them and instead recommended for under my eyes to get a blepharoplasty to have a better bang for my buck instead of just trying to use filler or botox which both might not be very effective but cost a lot more in the end.

I go in on the 26th of October to get a small dogear left over from my tummy tuck removed and I am going to talk to Dr. Mangubat about a blephoraplasty. I am pretty excited about that possibility.

The procedure itself wasn’t very painful, but immediately my lip for the filler began to swell up like Mike Tyson had punched me. Anne Marie was worried I was having a reaction and the hubby and I both had to reassure her that for whatever reason I swell up a lot, but it goes away super fast.

She was so worried it wasn’t even, but I knew my body would be fine and it would look fine.

I also had to reassure her that I bruise easily, but it is normal. I go through this every time I go down to Phoenix to get electrolysis and that in no way is she at fault nor would either of us blame her. I have definitely had a worse reaction to electrolysis.

That being said she continued forward with injections to my forehead, around the outside of my eyes and my chin for botox, and lip filler in both lips. We didn’t touch under my eyes though because it might make my eyes sag worse (which is why I am going to speak to Dr. Mangubat about the Blephoraplasty).

By the end of it I was feeling pretty good and actually pretty surprised at how painless it actually was (needle in lip always hurts but was similar to lidocaine for my electrolysis). My face was looking beat up, and Anne Marie did explain it takes up to two weeks for the effects to be noticeable.

So the hubby and I decided to go by Old Navy to return some leggings while we were out (weirdly enough two different guys circled me while I was waiting for the hubby to try on some clothes, not to be confused by the three guys in Express a couple weeks later).

We then stopped at Aztecha for some Mexican food and then returned home where I took some photos of my lips and my face. Yep Mike Tyson did a number. What I was really surprised by was though as the swelling went down, the effect was good and I like how it looks.

I will be honest, it was expensive, and my face was beat up looking for a few days but I like the effect and to be honest I spent the first 50 years of my life avoiding spending money on what I wanted, how I looked and just for something that was for me. I think I will do this regularly though.

The next few days it all healed up pretty well. I had some bruising and swelling but nothing I would worry about.

The one thing I think that I am really happy about is that the hubby expressed some interest in maybe a bit of botox and blephoraplasty. He doesn’t express when he wants things like that very much and while I think he is fucking gorgeous, I want him to know that I want to spend as much money on whatever he wants just as much as I do mine.

In fact I feel much better about my own stuff if I know he is comfortable expressing if and when he wants something done for himself. Also, I think now a month later I can see the effect and it is really great (I am not sure the pictures will show it clear enough):

Me in mid October, 1+ month since botox/lip filler. Still don’t have a good shot of my lip though.

I am really enjoying how I look and feel in my body. not just gender wise (although that is the biggest portion) but all the other parts. Now that I am 50 I feel like I can make myself comfortable.

Traditional women’s concerns

I absolutely love the results from my surgeries on my face via FFS. The bone work laid out by Dr. Ley, and the skin/muscle/fat work done by Dr. Mangubat have left me for the first time in 50 years finding I love how I look, and not looking at myself so hatefully.

While I have had over a year to ponder about my face, and while I really love who I am and what I look like, there is still something that bothers me, and probably bothers me far more now than it used to, due to the fact I got rid of most of my dysphoric looks. That would be the wrinkles and lines around my face, and my relatively thin lips.

At the age of 50, I realize I am doing really, I look younger than I am and I know others might be completely satisfied look like this. This is not meant to take away from that at all. I also did know that I am older, and transitioning from a very masculine body. I never cared for my skin, I never made sure to eat, drink or moisturize (although I did stay out of the sun because of allergies).

The hubby and I in 2015, 3 years before my transition and never considerd skin care… me on the right.

I have found though that the wrinkles really do bother me. I couldn’t tell you if it’s partially a reaction that it isn’t until I am 50 that I can be who I was supposed to and maybe I am trying to regain some time I should have had as a woman, or if this is just something I would have felt even if I was female from birth. Either way, that thought is just fluff to outline that I wanted to do something about it. I am fortunate, I have a husband that wants me to be happy and didn’t balk when I brought this up. I am fortunate that at this moment we can afford to do these things, even if it slows down repayment of debts.

I have been gauging what I wanted to do to address this for over a year. The wrinkles bothered me before surgery, but I knew better than to try and address those things before I did the FFS. Someone who gets FFS doesn’t know where they will end up, so trying to fix it before made no sense.

The most important picture, my hubby saying hi while taking me to Mexican after my botox/lip filler. I love him so much.

I also had considered using my electrolysis clinic in Phoenix I go to for face clearing. I didn’t do that not because they aren’t awesome, but because the electrolysis is temporary and eventually I won’t travel down there when the hair doesn’t grow back. I wanted a place I could go to for treatment that wouldn’t require a flight and overnight stay.

So when I went in last Friday, September 10th to Mangubat’s spa I had a good idea of what I wanted, but I was going to let the Nurse who is in charge of this guide me so I could read how much I could trust the spa. I was impressed with how patient and kind she was to me, a trans woman who had never been through this. I realize this is a no-brainer for customer service, but medical clinics often have bad bedside manners, but not here.

She was fantastic, in fact, she went out of her way after looking me over to tell me not to get some of the stuff I wanted to be done. She recommended going to Mangubat for blepharoplasty to take care of the bags under my eyes (which I am going to do). I was incredibly pleased though that she didn’t try to make money for something that wouldn’t help, or might even make worse. This is a key factor in wanting to stay with this medical spa. I have talked to others and they recommended a ton of items, but she explained that it might help long term after I had the surgery, but it wouldn’t get the look or the skin in the right shape without far more money than the actual surgery costs

So I ended up with some botox and lip filler (the names elude me, next time I will track the names and let you know). The lip filler I always knew I wanted because I had very masculine lips. Dr. Mangubat definitely feminized them (and they do look cute) but they are still thin. So I went in there and they gave me a single vial and now 10 days later I think it looks great. We went small to avoid having duck lips, but looking at it now I think I will get a little more next time. What did surprise me is that lip filler lasts about a year, I had assumed it would be every 3-4 months like botox.

The first two are after they were done, the one on the right is a couple hours later at home.

The botox was even more of a surprise. I grew up and in the 80s/90s the whole botox making you look like a doll situation was going on. I had always doubted it could help you and yet not make you look like you are perpetually surprised. However, I believe in trusting the professional I go to (with the correct amount of skepticism of course). She didn’t lead me wrong. She said it would take about 2 weeks to see the final treatment, but within a few days most of the wrinkles had lessened dramatically and in some areas disappeared around the outside of my eyes.

I am excited about how it looks, and I think next time I will be more easy going with how much she uses. They have already proven they are careful, and to be honest, even if it was too much, none of it is permanent. The lips will lessen and the botox wears off.

I am definitely going to keep doing this, and I might get a little more experimental. It is really nice though that I can participate in a traditionally feminine thing like this and feel like my being trans really doesn’t impact it. I am also glad I found a good place to go and will keep going for as long as I have the money and it is working.

50

This is it, I turned 50 today and I am not sure what to really talk or consider about it.

I can tell you I don’t feel bad, I feel really good. I am in a great marriage of 29 years this year. I am happily working my way through the transition to be who I truly am, and we are financially stable (albeit in eternal debt). All of this is far beyond what I pictured at the age of 20.

I do think I look better now than pretty much any other time of my life. Not necessarily just because of my physical looks in general, but because what I see is more closely aligning with what I feel. That plus I have kept my 100+ pound weight loss off for two years now, I am feeling comfortable letting loose a little, I think I found a good set point.

That is it, no big insights today, just wanted to say I turned 50, my husband spent a wonderful day with me, and I am an incredibly happy woman. Here are some pics of the day of going out to breakfast with my hubby, then getting home and running him a game while our daughter attempted to get his attention for hours 🙂

Hard recovery is mostly over.

I look back and I notice that the last post I did was the beginning of May, here it is the middle of June and now I am just getting around to posting. I suspect that is because this was a lot harder recovery from surgery the normal. I think it resulted in me having a huge disassociation for a few weeks and to be honest I am still coming around. Who would have thought a tummy tuck, liposuction and fat transfer to my waist/butt/thighs would be so intense.

Don’t get me wrong, my skull surgery was definitely more “invasive” but that was the only one. This last surgery was about liposuctioning off around 1.5-2 liters of fat around my mid-section (that is all he could get out of there) and putting it around my thighs, ass and hips. He did very well with that.

Combine that with removing a twenty inch wide, and at least 6-8 inches wide set of skin, and then using a plasma device to seal it down the wound recovery was far harsher then I had anticipated externally, not even counting the suck of wearing a compression suit for 30 days. The scar is pretty big, but already starting to retreat.

That being said I think the hardest part was going through two full doses of anesthesia for my March surgery with the thyroidectomy and my April surgery and recovery. I am doing well now, and I am fairly excited that I might get my GRS (is that the correct acronym now, it feels like it keeps changing) within 18 months, then that will be the end of transgender surgeries… unless of course I want to get a little vanity work done around my eyes, or get a thigh/butt lift after my GRS/GCS, both of which are options, but are more for my personal aesthetic then trans related.

Even with all this though, I haven’t pulled at my belly once and I feel like I look really good on my abdomen, thighs, butt and hips. That will be its own set of posts though, I just wanted to share here that I am alive, functioning at almost normal and feeling really good.

Seems I am coming out of my funk, that makes me feel better. Also will mean I hope to write more, sorry about the communications silence. I hate it when I do that.

It looks like my hard recovery is mostly over.

PT: Hubby gets revenge

Project Throwback: April 14, 2013

It is uncommon for the hubby to get pictures of me. Especially pictures I am not aware of. Here is one of those, plus a second from same day (but I was aware of that).

That butt is “magically delicious” or at least that is what the PJs are saying.

The hubby decided on this day to take a couple of pictures of me. Evidently, he couldn’t get enough of my “Magically Delicious” butt with those Lucky Charm pajamas while he was working on his school work (this is before he came out).

He also got a pic of me later in the day getting tattoo work. Of course, this is all four+ years before I started to transition. I ended up losing that weight since then. I have no idea who the woman was though, and it was vaguely uncomfortable that my tattoo artist had her stay to watch. I was pretty dysphoric anyways (no one knew) and I hated who I was.

Image cropped so you don’t have to see my butt!

This picture is closer to what I look like about 18 months ago. I suspect it will look even different in four weeks after my Avelar Tummy Tuck and fat transfer as well next week.

By the way, I still love my tattoos, in fact I love them even more. The left arm tattoo has been filled out and vastly expanded into 1/2 to 2/3 sleeve as well.

Strange Meetings (dream)

Last night I had a weird, anxious and intense dream that lasted all night. Probably part of it is anxiety, finally system clear of narcs and any other aid to help sleep or maintain my mood.

Wolsey and I had moved to what looked like Seattle, a large city in a rainy area. We met up with some of the people that lived around there and it turned out a lot of them were people I knew as a teenager in Bellingham. Not any of my closest circle of friends, but all people I interacted with regularly.

Side note – when I was a teenager, I went to five high schools. There was a combination of homelessness, drunken Vietnam Vet/underworld shit along with our family having a contract on our head and the first year of repeated moving was literally due to avoiding having another attack on our family.

If I get brave I might go in-depth about it at some other time. If my childhood was a tv show, it would be a bad “gritty drama” because people would think no way all that shit happened, but it did and it shaped the core of who I am.

I finished off the last two years of high school at Bellingham High School (yes that means I went to four high schools in two years before). I had a couple of friends I considered really close, and it is also when I met hubby. I never fit in with the high school crowd though.

I suspect part of it was that I had grown up in a lot harder position than almost any of them. The other, and probably bigger part, was that I was new to Bellingham, I wasn’t a local and I hadn’t at least lived there in middle school or earlier. Bellingham and all of Whatcom County were extremely insular then. People had lived there for generations and the only real new people in town were usually just going to school at Western Washington University, then they would leave.

It meant the friend’s cliques were already established and I ended up on the outside of all of the established groups that were involved high school-wise. The one advantage though is that I interacted with almost all the groups because of it. I wasn’t considered “the enemy”, just someone that was around school.

I spent most of the night talking with people like Clark and Boris (last names withheld to protect the innocent). We got along in high school, and to be honest, Boris was always really nice to me. For whatever reason, though they had a weirdness about them towards me during our discussion over lunch that time and distance didn’t create.

I didn’t know that reason was at least until I realized that I looked like I do now while I was in the dream and all of these people I haven’t seen since long before I started transition.

The rest of the dream now has faded mostly. I talked with several others and left the area feeling uncomfortable and saddened for an unknown reason.

I was going to post more about the dream, there were some fine details, but I wanted to make sure I was right that it was Clark that was in the dream. So I went onto classmates.com and found I was right.

It is also when I remembered I don’t have a picture in the senior yearbook for 1989. At the time I was too poor to afford a color photographer and they weren’t offering the black and white packages to seniors so they told me I couldn’t get my picture in the yearbook. They also somehow left my name out of it, that is a negative side effect of not being in any group.

That is the end result of joining up in Bellingham High School as a junior and being poor. At the time I wasn’t angry about any of it. We had just avoided dying, being homeless and to be honest I think I was too much of an adult in too many ways (but not in all the ways that you need to be) that I just sort of pushed through it.

I think I am angry now. Not really any one thing that I can define at the moment. I do think it might have gone better if I was able to come out then. Actually it was the 1980s that shit wouldn’t fly so no it wouldn’t have changed anything, just gave it a different taste I suppose.

Oh, and I just found out that Boris is an author/artist and his stuff is still as different as it was in high school. Good for him!

As for anyone reading this, it sort of went tangential and then off the path completely. Sorry about that :).

Macro and Micro in Action

buckle in…. this is a longer post.

Last week I received two very obvious acts of aggression towards being transgender. One was a macro aggression, where someone attacked me verbally (and was going towards physical) and the next day the most obvious type of micro aggression. The sad fact is, the micro aggressions bother me more.

Dysphoria revisited

I think the last time I directly talked about dysphoria was back in 2019 (and it was face related). I thought it would get better as I was scheduled for major Facial Feminization Surgery. It did go away a lot, the first and second surgeries were awesome. It never went away fully though.

The first surgery corrected bones, the second cleaned up the first by cleaning up skin, muscle and my upper lip. Both of them I think truly did a great job for me. That being said, I have never gotten rid of the dysphoria, in fact I get it pretty bad now.

The subject is really heavy and probably something I can’t break down in one or two posts. In fact I don’t think I can talk much about my facial dysphoria at the moment (it is surging pretty bad). That being said I can acknowledge logically I am much closer to where I want, I just don’t feel it sometimes.

That is except yesterday. Even struggling with still trying to get my electrolysis done (thanks COVID for fucking that up) my body is shaping up fairly nicely. When I first came out I tried on makeup and immediately freaked out imagining it was what a football linebacker would look like if they put on makeup. The sad part is that observation isn’t wrong.

I am not nailing on myself, I weighed 320+ pounds, had not started hormone replacement therapy, and had stubble of the viking born. It was what it was.

In August of 2018 we had moved to Tacoma, I had just started a job I knew I would transition at but hadn’t come out to work. In fact this was only a week or two after coming out to my friends. I knew I hadn’t lost all my weight, my HRT numbers were in shambles but we tried it anyway. It is a basic feminine bit of clothing and I expected it wouldn’t work yet. I was right.

If I saw another woman (cis or trans) in this photo I would think nothing of it, I would believe that they looked just fine. Sadly I have never been able to judge myself with the same eyes.

The way I looked flipped me out and I felt at that point I would never get to a point where I could accept myself. I realized I had many surgeries and hormones coming but it was a crushing feeling. So bad I deleted all the front-facing photos and the only one I know of that I have left is from me behind. Even now it makes me cringe, even though I would never second guess someone else, my dysphoria has a power over images of me.

It has been two and a half years since then. I still am wracked by dysphoria, but the difference is I have moments I feel whole and complete, or at least close enough. Yesterday I pulled out the same camisole in the above picture (I hadn’t tried it on since the initial picture) and thought I didn’t look too bad (honestly, the 38H chest doesn’t hurt).

The hormones, breast augmentation, and surgeries make me feel like I might get to where I can accept myself. I took a couple of selfies after a long day of work, and I found I was ok with myself.

I honestly never thought I would get this far.

I know the dysphoria will come back (actually already hit earlier today) but I wanted to share that it isn’t always black feelings towards my look. I just wanted to share my feelings, at least the beginning of my dysphoria.

I do have to admit, I am a little nervous sharing these pictures, but I feel like the camisole works better and maybe things are going well. Not bad for turning 50 this year :).

Two wildly different encounters

The last few days have been hectic, and while I haven’t left the house much since the Tuesday before Christmas (it is now Sunday after), I had two distinctly different experiences being read as a woman.

You heard it right, it seems like twice I have not been clocked, at least not in the beginning.

The first time was more expected by me. The hubby and I were in the grocery store trying to pick up the last bits of food for upcoming Christmas Dinner (on Xmas eve, that is when we celebrate it). It was a wednesday and it wasn’t packed so we hurried on out to Safeway.

As we wandered the aisles, the hubby stepped away to get some cheese I believe. Meanwhile, I was bent over and crouched down reading the different egg nog labels in an end-cap, near a group of Safeway workers who seemed to be hauling stuff from the warehouse.

I couldn’t tell you what caught my attention, but I heard one guy (turned out to be an older, shorter guy) talking to another. I heard him say “Check her out.” I am not sure what made me start to turn and stand up, but I did.

As I turned to stand I could hear the guy start whispering harshly, “Don’t turn around, don’t turn around, don’t look.” Just as the older man finished speaking I had stood up and turned around to see what was going on, just in time for a young man, maybe in his early twenties who was standing next to me, to turn around towards me and bounce off my boobs.

The older man fled, I swear he was almost jogging to get away as I bounced back. I had seen that the younger male hadn’t even heard the older male’s words, instead his face had been fixated on my chest (I forget they are 38H, probably dysphoria) and had been so fixated on seeing what the older guy had done that I think he literally had taken a step forward, not realizing how close I was, or that I was standing up and moving towards him.

The young man’s faced became incredibly red as he quickly apologized and retreated back into the warehouse. Part of me was annoyed, I had never done that as a guy and I found the hubby to bitch about it.

It wasn’t until I was talking with him that I had assumed wrongly. I thought they were checking out the “trans girl”, but he pointed out that no, I probably wasn’t clocked in that short time and they were just acting like guys seeing boobs.

I was both weirdly annoyed and pleased about the situation. No guy should act like that, and being objectified sucks. However, it did help reassure me that maybe someday I can pass more fully. Part of me likes that objectification because it somehow proves my efforts.

The second time happened a couple hours ago when I dumped a couple of bags of garbage and a small light that died. I had gotten out of my car at the garbage area. A small meth-ridden homeless man stopped me and asked me if he could have the light. I had no problem and after talking with him I gave it to him and moved back to my car.

That is when I caught behind the garbage area (it is a walled off area) was a guy that lives in the complex with a large pit/mastiff type dog. He had been watching carefully, and it wasn’t until then that I realized as he smiled and walked off, that he was watching out to make sure I was safe.

Both the hubby and I are pretty sure he hadn’t clocked me, and that he was just making sure that the woman wasn’t harassed by the homeless guy. I almost argued with the hubby that it couldn’t be that, but the hubby was right, I wouldn’t have waited around if a guy was dumping garbage, when I was still a boy, unless something was really wrong.

Evidently the guy with the dog either thought I was cisgender, or maybe he was still worried about my feminine appearance enough that he stayed around anyways to watch over it. Either way I found it strangely nice that he had registered me as someone that needed to be watched over.

Don’t get me wrong, at 6’2″ I don’t think I was in any danger from the homeless guy, but there is something about that treatment that reassures that at least people see a feminine person when they see me. I will undoubtably get tired of the staring at my boob thing in the store, and maybe of the watching over me, but either way, that was twice this week that I was at least partially treated like someone who I feel I am would be treated in this society.

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