: First day full-time :
"Now and then it's good to pause in our pursuit of happiness to just be happy."
- Guillaume Apollinaire
I woke up this morning realizing that today is my first day going full-time as Michelle. It's a curious feeling, not the overwhelming happiness that some might expect, just kind of relief, mixed with a little trepidation for the unknown challenges ahead. People who have met me in girl-mode sometimes comment that I carry myself as female as if I've been doing this for years, but if you count up the days I've actually appeared in public in girl-mode since going part-time in May, I'm still a neophyte. The total number of days probably amounts to about a month, and very little of that was spent interacting with non-trans people. I guess that's why they call it the real life TEST. But even though I haven't spent much time studying for this test, I think I'm ready enough to take it.
For me, one of the worst things was putting on what I call the "boy-suit" - which refers to not just the clothes, but slicking back my hair with ultra-strong hair gel and tying it in a tight ponytail. It's also the absence of makeup, which makes everyone look better, but is unacceptable on guys in our society except under specific circumstances (like being on TV). And then it's the whole male persona that had become increasingly foreign to me that I had to adopt. It's a little like someone who absolutely adores dogs getting ready for to go to work as a dogcatcher. Except it's not just about the job (which I loved, and didn't really require much of a male temperment as would, say, a trial lawyer); it's everything from looking at myself in the mirror, using the men's room at work, not being able to interact with co-workers as female the way I do with people outside of work, and the overwhelming pressure of staying hidden in plain sight.
I commented to one of my co-workers that there were lots of signs and signals that would have clued in the astute observer - the occasional nail polish, the disappearance of facial hair, the black Anne Klein purse, the long hair, the plucked eyebrows, an occasional use of a subtle matte lip shine, my penchant for engaging in girl talk, subscriptions to health and beauty magazines and women's clothing catalogs in my mailbox, and my lack of variety in male clothing. Since the fire April 1, I've bought very few male clothes, as you might expect, just enough to get me by. All told, I bought one shirt and two pairs of shoes, five white undershirts (to smooth out the sports bra straps) and five pairs of black socks - just enough to get me through each five-day workweek. Everything else I'd worn in boy-mode had been donated (thank you very much to the people reading who donated those, btw) so the end result is that I rotated basically four long-sleeved shirts (gray, blue, white and orange) and two pairs of casual slacks (black and olive) every workday since April. I suppose it is a credit to my workplace that people were too busy with real work to engage in such trivial and detailed surveillance.
So on my first day of going full-time, I'm going to do what most transsexuals look forward to doing at some point - I'm going to clean out my closet and donate of all of my male clothes to charity. Maybe they will find their way to some of the victims of the recent hurricanes here in Texas. I certainly didn't get full use of most of them, so there's plenty of wear left in everything except the aforementioned articles :)
- Guillaume Apollinaire
I woke up this morning realizing that today is my first day going full-time as Michelle. It's a curious feeling, not the overwhelming happiness that some might expect, just kind of relief, mixed with a little trepidation for the unknown challenges ahead. People who have met me in girl-mode sometimes comment that I carry myself as female as if I've been doing this for years, but if you count up the days I've actually appeared in public in girl-mode since going part-time in May, I'm still a neophyte. The total number of days probably amounts to about a month, and very little of that was spent interacting with non-trans people. I guess that's why they call it the real life TEST. But even though I haven't spent much time studying for this test, I think I'm ready enough to take it.
For me, one of the worst things was putting on what I call the "boy-suit" - which refers to not just the clothes, but slicking back my hair with ultra-strong hair gel and tying it in a tight ponytail. It's also the absence of makeup, which makes everyone look better, but is unacceptable on guys in our society except under specific circumstances (like being on TV). And then it's the whole male persona that had become increasingly foreign to me that I had to adopt. It's a little like someone who absolutely adores dogs getting ready for to go to work as a dogcatcher. Except it's not just about the job (which I loved, and didn't really require much of a male temperment as would, say, a trial lawyer); it's everything from looking at myself in the mirror, using the men's room at work, not being able to interact with co-workers as female the way I do with people outside of work, and the overwhelming pressure of staying hidden in plain sight.
I commented to one of my co-workers that there were lots of signs and signals that would have clued in the astute observer - the occasional nail polish, the disappearance of facial hair, the black Anne Klein purse, the long hair, the plucked eyebrows, an occasional use of a subtle matte lip shine, my penchant for engaging in girl talk, subscriptions to health and beauty magazines and women's clothing catalogs in my mailbox, and my lack of variety in male clothing. Since the fire April 1, I've bought very few male clothes, as you might expect, just enough to get me by. All told, I bought one shirt and two pairs of shoes, five white undershirts (to smooth out the sports bra straps) and five pairs of black socks - just enough to get me through each five-day workweek. Everything else I'd worn in boy-mode had been donated (thank you very much to the people reading who donated those, btw) so the end result is that I rotated basically four long-sleeved shirts (gray, blue, white and orange) and two pairs of casual slacks (black and olive) every workday since April. I suppose it is a credit to my workplace that people were too busy with real work to engage in such trivial and detailed surveillance.
So on my first day of going full-time, I'm going to do what most transsexuals look forward to doing at some point - I'm going to clean out my closet and donate of all of my male clothes to charity. Maybe they will find their way to some of the victims of the recent hurricanes here in Texas. I certainly didn't get full use of most of them, so there's plenty of wear left in everything except the aforementioned articles :)
