Origin of a Transsexual Woman

First blog post ever, and I'll dive right into it with a summary of my life as far as how it relates to my transsexuality.

I started out life with a female brain and a male body. This misplaced application of hormones is mostly likely due to stress in the mothers of people like me. My mother has shown many times that she can't handle stress appropriately. I was conceived right after my father came home from Vietnam. Statistics have shown that more transsexuals are born during times of war than any other time. When else would most mothers be under stress during the same time period?

I was raised to be a man, and I was taught that acting feminine was "wrong." I don't blame my parents or anyone else for this. I looked and sounded like any other boy... but I didn't always act that way. I didn't know how a boy (or man) is supposed to act. From a very young age, I remember acting as a girl would do, and I would get yelled at by my parents, or made fun of by the other kids. So I learned: "don't do this, don't do that." I couldn't act how I felt inside. I started copying off of the other boys. I never did a very good job, so I was made fun of at every opportunity, and I just never ever fit in. What I do blame my mother for, is constantly ransacking my room to find my things and throw them out. Was that really necessary? I hid them well so as not to disturb her or anyone else in the house, but she would go through my things when I was in school and throw them out. I never had to go through the process of purging my things, because my mother would always do it for me. She even threatened to kill my little green iguana if I didn't stop. What does a lizard know about how to dress? Stupid!

In high school (and even in junior high), I had many problems. I looked pretty much like a teenage boy, only I had pretty-boy looks, was thin, and short for a guy. Plus I wore glasses until 10th grade, and had acne problems until 12th. So people always called me "nerd," "wimp," "fag," and such. I was picked on every single day. The girls (some of whom I had crushes on) would laugh and make fun of me, and the guys were worse. I had chocolate milk poured on my head, gum put in my hair, my shorts pulled down in gym in front of some girls, my locker broken into, and nasty things painted on my locker door. They used to steal my schoolbooks, personal belongings, and even the glasses off my face once (I punched that guy in the face for that, and then he threw me into a closet door and it broke). It was truly horrible. I used to have the worst stomach aches every single morning (sometimes at home before leaving, many times at school in the morning), because I feared going to school. Work and college were much easier, but there were still some snickers and comments here and there. I thought of myself as being a crossdresser until I was 32.

I began to have girlfriends finally (just four long term relationships), and I would often live vicariously through them. At one point, my mother searched my room when I was taking the train to pick Sandy up. (She was my first girlfriend when I was 17, and she lived in the next county.) My mother dumped the clothes on my bed for Sandy to see. The funny thing is, she already knew, and some of the clothes were ones she had given me. Your plan was foiled, mother!

My next girlfriend, Millie, had conflicting feelings over my "hobby." She gave me some makeup and a wig (we were not the same size in clothing), but we would have fights over my "tendency" all the time. After a year together (which was very tumultuous and unstable), she finally left me because she told her parents. They forbade her from seeing me again.

Then there was Vanessa. She wasn't comfortable with that aspect of me, and we did have many arguments over it. To her credit, she was supportive nonetheless. She wanted to kill my mother (LOL). When I finally decided to get a public storage locker (to keep my mother from throwing out my things), it was broken into. Everything inside was stolen. Who would steal a bunch of women's clothes? To this day, I wonder if my mother found a way to get into it and take my things. It was Vanessa who went down to the police station with me late at night, when I filed a report with them. Needless to say, tracking down clothes was not a priority for them (and I don't blame them for that). In the beginning of our relationship, she did do my hair and makeup. While it made me feel good, it made her uncomfortable and confused. I eventually ended our relationship badly, and a big part of that was the fact that I subconsciously wanted to look more feminine, and she was an obstacle in the direction I wanted to go in. To this day, I still regret the way I handled things. I was one mixed-up woman, and she suffered in the end due to that.

My next ex, Christina, was supportive in the beginning. She went out with me when I was dressed up. I used the name, "Jessica" at the time. We used to go to restaurants, the mall, and such. One time we went to a park and she took many pictures of me. The last time we went out in such a way, was to the mall. I got kicked out of the womens' dressing room in Macy's, and then I ran into Vanessa's brother in JC Penny's. It was a very traumatic experience for me. Shortly after that, Christina and I got married. She no longer wanted to spend time with me when I was dressed in such a manner, and she didn't want me going out alone like that either. I was house-ridden. A year and a half later, we separated (for reasons unrelated to my transsexuality, believe it or not). For the first time in my life, I didn't want to be with anyone. I had nobody, and I had no interest in finding anybody. It was always either one or the other. But for once, I focused on myself.

I found this support group of sorts on the internet, called FemmeFever. The lady who runs this group is a total sweetheart named Karen. She did a makeover on me and took some pictures. I then went to myriad of FemmeFever events for the next year and a half. I had professional photos of me taken (with a red wig... I should get some professional photos taken of how I look now), we went to Honey's (a lesbian bar/club), formal dances, and catered events. I "changed my name" to Amy at this time, because Christina knew me as Jessica. It was fitting anyway, since it was a new start for me. I found that the more I just existed as Amy, the more I didn't want to go back to leading life as a male. Many crossdressers are content to express themselves in a feminine manner, and then go back to their male lives (not that I find anything wrong with crossdressers, they're awesome people in general). I began to realize that this is the way I want to live my life... all the time. I started laser hair removal, and I went to a therapist specializing in gender dysphoria. Shortly after that, I began hormones. That was six years ago. About three years ago, I started electrolysis (laser can only take you so far). I began to care for myself and my appearance a lot more. I had a misplaced insizer removed and bridged (it looked like a fang). I had my birthmark lightened via a laser procedure. I began to take better care of my skin and hair, which were now softer and more feminine. The hormones began working quickly, softening my body and facial features, and reducing my body hair greatly. I slowly began to grow breasts (yay!). Unfortunately, I suffered some weight gain as well. I went through hell to get to where I am at this point. But now I have thick skin. That is the positive aspect of this. In my later high school years, rather than rebelling against my parents, I rebelled against my school-mates. I didn't care what anyone thought, and I gave up being upset by it. I knew that I didn't do anything to deserve being treated like that, so I knew it was them... not me. Now I really don't care what people think, which is great. I'm free. Who knows, if I was one of the cool, popular kids in high school, I might still be walking around worrying so much about what people thought of me. So I'm almost glad, actually, of what happened to me. "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." And I am so much stronger now because of what I went through.

Just a note before I sign off for today. I have set up AdSense on my blog. I'm sure some of you may find that annoying or worse. I'm trying to get money together for GRS (Gender Reassignment Surgery). I have no money and no job at this point. I have wanted this surgery for almost seven years now, and I'm no closer to getting it done than I was back then (besides completing the Real Life Test of living as a woman full-time for a year). Coming up with over $10,000 using AdSense is not something I think would be possible, so I humbly ask for donations to the following email address: amethystnewyork at yahoo dot com (I spelled it out to try to avoid spam). I have also just added a PayPal button to the sidebar of my blog. I would greatly appreciate any and all help. Thank you. :)

- Amy K.