Why Do I Pose For Pictures Like That?

Someone who must not be named (no, it isn't Voldemort) was wondering - or perhaps jumping to conclusions - why I pose for photos the way I do. (No, this isn't the other person "who must not be named" that I've written about lately! I just want to keep it anonymous.) Other people may be wondering as well, or forming their own conclusions. Hey, that's okay. We all have our opinions and our curiosities about certain things.

So let's get this all out in the open. I know why I like to do this, but I'm not exactly ultra-confident about my ability to communicate it effectively. I think that other transgendered women (transsexual or crossdresser) may be able to understand this better, but then, a lot of people who read this blog are not transgendered. So part of this lies in explaining a bit of my early life, and how it affects me today.

Please bear with me.

I have always been female inside, but I was born into a male body. I was treated as a boy, and was expected to act like a boy. End of discussion. I've done some research on the `net, and found out the following:

Both men and women speak louder to boys than girl infants; they are softer and express more "cooing" with girls

Girls are caressed and stroked more than boys.

Up to age 2, mothers tend to talk to and look at their daughters significantly more than than they do with their sons, and make more eye contact with the daughters as well. 

Mothers show a wider range of emotional response to girls than boys. When girls showed anger, mothers faces showed greater facial disapproval than when boys showed anger. May influence why girls grow up smiling more, more social, and better able to interpret emotions than boys.

Girls use more terms of endearment than boys. 

Girls who act as tomboys are accepted; boys who act like girls are severely reprimanded ("don't cry" "Don't be a sissy").

When puberty hit, it was worse. Body hair. Ugh. Facial hair. I wanted to scream! My face got harder-looking. I was just not comfortable with myself. I hated the way I looked. My role models were all women. Beautiful, sexy women. I not only desired to be with one, but even more so, I wanted to be one. "It's impossible for me to look anything like that," I thought. I was stuck looking (more or less) like I already did. I could feel the woman inside me - that I would sometimes acknowledge and sometimes deny - struggling to be seen... to be known.

Now, this is for the non-transgender (aka cisgender) women to try to imagine. Take all your memories of anything girlish, at any point in your life, and push them aside. Pretend for now that they never happened. You are treated just like a boy. You have friends who are girls, and you want their hair, their clothes, and just to be treated like they do. But no. Not for you.  And how dare you even speak of that. 

But... but...

Don't even think it! Get it out of your head right now!

Why are you so mad at me?

We are not discussing this! You are a boy. Little boys don't have girl things. They don't want to look like a girl. What's the matter with you? Do you want everyone to make fun of you? Do you?

Well... no...

Do you want the other boys to beat you up? 

No...

You won't have any friends. And the other kids' parents will look at me, and wonder what the hell I did to you, that you want girls' clothes and girls' toys. We'll be the laughing stock of the neighborhood! Do you really want to do this to your parents? We take care of you, buy you things, take you to fun places, and this is what you want to do to us???

No, ma!

Fine, then. Dinner's on the table. Come eat.

I don't think it's possible for anyone who is not transgendered, to fully understand exactly what living like this feels like. Even a fine imagination and empathic ability has it's limits. It's just hard to imagine your entire life, the totality of your life, altered in such a way, from when you were young (so young that you can't remember what it was like, yet it did have an effect on you growing up), until when you're well into adulthood. It's just too much to fathom.

Time passes...

I got a job, so I figured I might have some freedom. It's my money, and I'm eighteen. I can buy whatever I want, right? Now it was such a struggle to even begin to buy these things. Dresses, blouses, skirts... lipstick, blush, mascara. Giggles behind the register and guffaws among the clothing racks. "It's for my girlfriend!" "Sure, sure... she likes... Berry Rose lipstick, huh?" Sneaking it into the house was a chore. Hiding it was a challenge. No matter how well I hid it, it would be gone in a few days. I'd be at work or school, and my mother would ransack my room and remove whatever I had bought. She would even get my car keys and go through my car. No place was safe.

First ever picture of Amy (as you know her), taken in 1997.

Fast forward to Summer of 2003. I had finally realized what a transsexual is (hooray for the internet!), and that I am one myself. I started taking hormone medication, and the woman that was stuck inside began to materialize. Soft, feathery hair. Softer skin. Body hair almost gone. Breasts! It was like a dream come true, though I had actually been stuck in some long nightmare until that point. Now I was finally awakening.

The facial hair was a lot harder to get rid of. For those not in the know, hormone medication does not get of facial hair. Mostly, anyway. There are about a dozen hairs (perhaps less) on each cheek that did vanish with the application of an estrogen supplement and a testosterone blocker. The rest I had to get rid of with laser hair removal (about $1600), and electrolysis (about $3000 worth). This took years. Once I was partway into the electrolysis treatments, my "shadow" was gone. I have naturally dark hair, so no matter how much cover-up I slathered on, I could still see a shadow on my chin and upper lip. With it gone, what a difference! It wasn't until late 2005 that I finally became satisfied with the way I looked.

Flip the pages of time to the present day, and look at me now. Or, rather, try to look at me through my eyes. My birthmark - a port wine stain on my left shoulder, arm, and part of my chest - has been replaced by a beautiful phoenix tattoo. My hair is red, and wow, do I love having red hair! My skin is tan, thanks to the awesome Arizona sun. I really like all these changes. That, and years of hormone replacement therapy has done its job well. My breasts are even bigger (Tanner Stage 4!), my lips a bit fuller, and people often say I look younger than I really am.

This is all still relatively new for me. I can never make up for my lost childhood. I can never hang out with a bunch of teenage girls and feel I truly belong. I can never go to prom in a dress. I can never go to clubs and experience my "roaring twenties." Those days are long gone. I know, many cisgendered women never went to prom or went to some wild clubs. In my case, it was denied me. I desperately wanted to go, to have those experiences. I was taught that I was wrong to even want that.

In a sense, I'm making up for lost time. Every woman wants to look sexy. Every woman wants to like the way they look. Women are concerned with issues relating to physical attractiveness. Changes in this area can be as difficult for them as changes for men in their financial status. Women use clothes and makeup as a way of expressing themselves. I never had that, and now I do. Sometimes I feel like I'd been deprived of that for so long, that now I just can't get enough. I don't see all transwomen posing in photos the way I do (ditto for cisgendered women), but I can't seem to get enough of just being me. Everyone saw me as a boy, and then a man, for so long... that now I want to show them how beautiful I can be. Please keep in mind I'm fully aware that true beauty comes from within. I want people to see the inner goddess radiating out of me, and, just for a moment, think, "wow."

Do I want to show off?

Yes, to an extent. I think it's well deserved, and it does help my well-being. I enjoy just being me. I enjoy looking the way I do.

Do I want to attract a sexual partner?

Hell, no! I have a beautiful, smart, loving woman with me, who means the world to me. Besides, I've never been the promiscuous sort. The only relationships I've ever had, were five long-term ones, including Nikki. I was with these partners from nine months to five years in length. I've never been intimate with anyone else. For me, the love has to be there before anything goes further.

Am I insecure?

Somewhat. It's not all black-and-white. There is a part of me that's still stuck in the "Before Time (tm)." A voice that says, "You look like a man there." Or, "I can see a little teeny bit of shadow riiiight there." Or, "Who are you to think you can look like a girl? Do you want everyone to make fun of you?"

They don't. Not anymore. But my formative years are still hanging around in the rafters of my head. Every compliment I get boosts my self-esteem. Some would think that I'm self-important, or full of myself. Don't be fooled. I'm nowhere close to that. I want people to see me as beautiful. Yes, I can see it... but I wonder how many others can.

But don't feel sorry for me. This is my time for living, and I'm enjoying it while I can. I'm happy, and I want to show it.

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Negativity

Negativity is like a disease. You can catch it from others. Persistent anger, sadness, jealousy, or envy is just not conducive to living a happy and healthy life. But no matter how positive you are, you can (and will) come across negative individuals. These people, if they become close to you, can bring some of their negativity into your life.

My mother is negative.

She always found little ways to tear me down. If I had good news, or was happy about something, she would always seem dubious about it's authenticity, or indicated in some way that it wouldn't last. She rarely had a kind word to say about anybody, yet was always worried about their opinion of her. She wasn't a mean person by any means. She seemed to have trouble in seeing the positive about anyone or anything. It was hard growing up with a parent like that. My father was the epitome of neutral, and rarely gave his opinion on anything. I grew up with what seemed like a black cloud over my head. Once I moved out of my parents' house, I began to see the truth.

My first real love (Millie) was also negative. 

When things were going good for us, and we were getting along, she would get afraid of being too close. She would purposely mess up our relationship. She was afraid I would hurt her, although I never did. She stood me up more times than I could count, and it was a toss-up if she would call when she said she would. At one point, we stayed overnight at a motel, to get one night of togetherness. (We both lived with our parents at the time, and hers did their best to keep a close eye on her. No, we were both in our early 20's.) She ended up abandoning me there. When I was asleep, she snuck out. Upon hearing the door close, I woke up. I ran after her car with no shoes on, begging her not to leave. I ended up stepping in glass, cutting my feet. I then realized that I had left the keys in the motel room! Oh, fun. I tried and tried with her, trying to make it work, because I really loved her. In hindsight, I may have been too forgiving. She found me years after we broke up (she just disappeared on me for a month), and apologized for the way she had treated me. She was so afraid that I would hurt her in some way, but the only hurtful one in the relationship was her.

 

I had a coworker who was negative.

This lady was perpetually unhappy. She had been fired from so many employers in our field, but for some reason, my employer hired her anyway. She tried to tear me down for eight long years. They eventually made me the shift supervisor, to her endless chagrin. She tried to get me in trouble, tried to get me to quit, and tried to get other coworkers against me. I wasn't the only one she had a problem with, oh no. But I did seem to be her main target, since I was in charge of her, yet she was better at her job than I was (coughnotreallycough), and she had seniority (technically true, but it meant very little in her case). There was one point where she was criticizing, no... insulting her husband, calling him a dirtbag or a scumbag, and that he only cared about himself. He had gone into a diabetic coma and was in the hospital. He died right around the time she was saying these things about him. She broke down crying, saying, "And I said all those things to him, and about him, and then he died!" I thought maybe that would've changed her attitude right then and there. Poor guy. A few days later, she was back to her usual tirades and schemes.

And then I ended up marrying someone who was (is) very negative.

At first, she didn't seem that way (and neither did Millie, now that I think of it). She just seemed... damaged. And by golly, it was me who was going to fix her and make her happy again! Yeah, right. She would actually say that hate causes CANCER. That's right, not that hate *is* a cancer, but it'll make you get cancer. Yet, let's see... she hates me, she hates Nikki, she hates my mother, she hates my brother and sister, she hates anyone LGBT, and she hates anyone who is not a Christian. That's just for starters. When she's upset, she tries to upset others. "Misery loves company" should be her motto. She won't let my daughter talk to me. It's been three years since I've heard her voice.

And now...?

Today, I am mostly free from negative people and situations. Not all of us are so lucky. Keep in mind that by no means is everything butterflies and daffodils. Life is life. To even talk about the people above, can be considered a negative thing in itself.

But to ruled over by sadness, anger, or depression, is just harmful to the soul, the body, everything.

Notice that I did say "mostly." There is someone who is having a negative impact on us and our family. I harbor no ill will towards this person, but I wish and pray to the God and Goddess that this person would just stop. I believe this friend is mostly a positive person, and I don't think they realize what a negative impact they're having on this household.

Largely because of this person, Nikki and I argue. Yes, sometimes it's in front of the kids, or they overhear it. That makes me sad, but I will admit I act in a brash manner when I get upset, and then I regret it later. Yes, we have our problems, and no, it is not only because of this friend. But they exacerbate the problems, and rub salt in the wounds.

Let us work it out. Let us be in harmony, love, and peace again. I know you're mad at me, but let it be. Be a friend without causing all this chaos. You think you're being positive, but the end result of your actions is:

Negativity.

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I Made a Vlog!

Yes, it's true! I think it may be a bit boring to watch, and unfortunately, the camera we have is not the greatest. And wow... is my voice that low? I think I could get it a bit higher. My voice tends to get lower when I feel "on the spot." When being on camera is more of a natural thing for me, I think my voice could be free to be higher... I hope.

Anyway, watch this, and then go over to my YouTube channel and subscribe, leave a comment, what-have-you. Thanks!

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Letter From Mom

For those who don't know, my mother still doesn't accept the fact that I'm a transsexual. It's been over seven years now, and she seems no closer to coming around than she did then. She still calls me by my old male name, though she knows it was changed a few years back. She refuses to even write the name in correspondence.

Below is a letter that I received late last week. I'm going to write it here, then write my reply, and type it in here too. A lot of the things she states she heard is just untrue. Someone is exaggerating. Anyway, here's her letter to me.

X (male name deleted),

Last week, Dad took Grandma back to Nebraska to see her sister and nieces. He had a good time until his cousins and aunt confronted him about your letters to them. Supposedly, you told them that we had thrown you out and disowned you. I guess you had a few especially nasty things to say about me. I really didn't think it was possible to break my heart anymore than it is. This is your decision to pursue this kind of life. Life is so hard already, and you're only making it harder on yourself. You can't deny that you're making yourself unhireable. An employer has more than enough issues with employees without taking on the burden of hiring a transvestite.

You are so positive that you're doing the right thing, but I really worry about what will become of you. We won't be around forever, and Dan and Laura are really not inclined to help support you. They have their own families and problems. You have taken their brother away, as you have taken my son away. This is your own choice, you don't ask your 93 year old grandmother to finance a sex change. Even if she could, she wouldn't do it. It goes against everything she has lived her life believing.

Please stop sending pictures and trying to force a relationship with these people. They are embarrassed and feel badly for us. I don't know how to make you see this. They are all parents and know how we must feel. All parents want their children to be happy, but your lifestyle is just really hard to get past. Each person's sexuality is a very private thing, and really should be of no interest to others. You're trying to force people into acceptance but that can't work. They don't wish you ill, but at the same time they don't want or have an interest in this. I know I can't make you see the effect you're having, because this is the life you've chosen for yourself, and you've convinced yourself it's right. But this is your own life, and these decisions are yours. You can't change how people think.

I can only hope that you can find people that feel the same way that you do, so you're not alone. You have to have something of your own to fit your life. We can't fit because this is just too much to get past. Because you are our son, it's really so very very hard. It is the heart break of our lives, because we literally don't know how you'll end up, and how you'll support yourself. I have a hard time seeing a good future, you have no job, no insurance, no prospects, no retirement, and no savings. You can't live in a bubble, you have to fit in the world as it exists and not how you want it to be. I don't know how to make you see what's right there. This is your life right now, there is no second chance. You only get to do it once, and when you look back, it's really such a short time. I don't know if I've given you anything to think about, but I'll never stop hoping that I have.

Ma

*sigh*

Dear Mom,

I was very surprised at what you told me in the beginning of your letter. I have never said you kicked me out or disowned me. You took me in for several months when Vanessa was about to sell her house, and after Nikki and the kids went into the safe house. I had no money, and you and Dad took me in and fed me, rent free. Then I chose to move to Michigan with Nikki and the kids. These people (who I don't know and have never talked to) misunderstood, or were exaggerating. The only people I've conversed with on Dad's side of the family, are Grandma, Candice (though not for many months), and Deanna (once, about a year ago). All I told them is that you don't accept or understand why I made the change that I did. I don't know Dad's cousins, and unless it's Aunt Edna, I don't know the aunt of his that you mentioned either. I'm very sorry that they upset you and Dad, but I never told anybody what they claim.

The work situation is an issue that I've been struggling with for years. Yes, there is a stigma attached to being a transsexual, and it's something I have to deal with. Like you said, I didn't make this world, and I have to deal with it and get by as best as I can. Also, I am not a transvestite. A transvestite is someone who dresses in clothing of the opposite sex, and acts in that role, and they later return to their lives and act as their born gender. They typically don't change their name or consider surgery. Transsexuals (note that I have mixed feelings on this term, as many focus on the last three syllables and see it to be a 'sexual' thing) usually take hormones, change their name, and some seek surgery.

Please believe me when I tell you that I have never asked Grandma for money for gender reassignment surgery. I did mention that I wanted it, but had no money, and that was that. Also, please realize that Grandma does accept what I'm doing and who I am. No, I don't think she is any better than you are in any way. I don't know how or why she can accept when others can't. Everyone's different, I suppose.

Yes, I'm no longer representative of any form of son or brother. I can't imagine what such a loss must feel like. I won't apologize for being who I am, but I am sorry for your pain, as well as for the rest of the family. To grieve is natural. I have changed in so many ways. My friend Chris took it hard for many years. Yet, Steve and Daria got through it after a brief adjustment period. Everyone is different, and everyone feels things differently.

As far as sexuality being a private thing, this doesn't apply here (apart from me and Nikki's relationship). This is about gender. I am living the life of a different gender than I used to. The way I feel inside never matched the way I look on the outside. I've felt this way for as far back as I can remember. I was always afraid to say so. Afraid of being ridiculed by other kids, afraid of being punished as a child for acting in a way I shouldn't. Gender is a very public thing. There are males and there are females. They are (usually) very easy to tell apart. I was not happy living in the male gender role. I always felt different inside. I went in and out of depression since high school, until my separation with Christina. It took me so long to put two and two together, and to see that transsexuals are not freakish people. They are not like Rupaul, or like that character on The Rocky Horror Picture Show. They live day to day lives, and you've probably seen some of them and never thought a thing about them. The same way that people may look my way on the street when I'm walking the kids to school, or in a store shopping, and then look away. I've always been rather slim and short, and never had rugged facial features. That really helps me now. I would really love to have a job. Things go fine until they do a background check. Someday, I'll find a more open-minded employer.

I do have insurance at this point, though it's from the state. When Nikki and I finally get married, I could be on her insurance. She's very close to having a regular teaching position, since they're going to be firing the teacher in her classroom. They want Nikki to teach the class. So she'll soon be making a lot more money. As for me, I've been writing a lot lately, and I want to see if I can get a novel published. I've also considered starting my own business, fixing computers and such.

I do have quite a few good friends here. Some are transsexual, but many aren't. I know three mothers of transsexual children. Rachel and Josie are both nine years old, and Emerson is twelve. Josie is home-schooled, since their local school has a problem with her attending class as a girl, but the other two are able to go to school. They have all been saying they're a girl (and Emerson insisting he's a boy) since they could speak. This was unheard of ten years ago, but kids like this were always around. The world is slowly changing. When I was younger, there was barely any media coverage on transsexuality. Now there are specials on The Discovery Channel, and The Learning Channel, as well as episodes of The Tyra Banks Show and others. Many people will never accept or understand, but many others do. There are many crusaders (trans or not) of the rights of transsexuals. I don't wish to be one of them, though I applaud their efforts. I merely wish to live my life as the gender I feel inside. The ENDA (Employment Non-Discrimination Act) in Tucson prohibits employers from discriminating on the basis of gender identity. Previously, it only included race, ethnicity, religion, et al. (Though many employers can find another "reason" for firing (or not hiring) anyway.) Things change, albeit slowly.

As far as choice, I didn't choose this. Other than a choice to be happy or not, there is no choice. This is who I am inside. I can be me, or live a lie. I can live as a woman, or fight depression and anxiety for the rest of my life. Besides being without a job, I am happy. I love Nikki, I love our family, and I love my home and my friends. I'm so much more in touch with my feelings than I was before. Grandma said when she saw me a year ago, that she had never seen me talk so much or seem so happy. I am, very much so. I'm comfortable and at ease with myself. I'm living my life authentically. Like you said, there's no second chance in life. If I tried to be who everyone wants me to be, I would only live my life with regret and sadness.

I truly love you and Dad, my brother and sister, and grandparents, aunts and uncles. I can feel that so much more. And I feel so sad that so many of you cannot accept who I am. But just as I have no choice but to be who I am, you (all of you) have no choice but to feel the way you feel about it. Maybe someday, you'll see that I'm still here. I have the same interests, the same values, and the same wacky sense of humor. My gender is all that's changed. But yes, that is an awfully big change. I wish I could put an end to my family's pain, disappointment, and heartbreak. The only way for me to that would be to return to living a lie, the act that I had to play for so many years... and that would be so unhealthy for me. 'Devastating' would not even be a fitting word.

I love you, Ma. I love you all.

Love,

Amy

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Meet Rachel, a Transgender Child

I've been very privileged to meet some transgender children since moving to Arizona. Today I'll talk about one of them. Her name is Rachel and she's nine years old. Despite having short hair (I'll get to that), she looks like a girl, and acts like one. If you saw the attitude, the spunk, that this girl gives off, well you should not doubt for a second that she's indeed female. Her mother's name is Amy (Love the name! Ha!), and she's simply a fantabulous mom, not only to realize who and what Rachel is, but to allow her to be who she wants to be. In this day and age, when parents still pressure their kids to take on a certain profession, this is simply amazing.

Savannah, Rachel, and Sarah.

I got a chance to play a sort of bodyguard for Rachel twice already. The first time was when I met them at Venessia's house, mother to Josie Romero, another transgender child. There was another mother there with a FTM trans-child named Emerson. We were all swimming in a community pool (well, okay, I was the only ADULT in the pool), and Rachel was in the deep end, and too tired too swim. I dragged her over to the side, and almost went under myself in the process! My oldest daughter, Sarah, took to Rachel immediately. Savannah really likes her as well. Skylar had fun playing with Rachel's little sister, Zoey. They're less than a year apart in age.

Last weekend, me, Nikki and the kids had the pleasure of attending a party for Zoey's 5th birthday. Great fun was had by all, though there was one little episode at the playground that really hit home for me. I was playing with Skylar, who was pretending to drive her "truck" to the grocery store and McDonald's. I overheard one boy tell Rachel that she's a boy, and he was calling her by her old name. I told him to knock it off, that Rachel is a girl, and you're going to hurt her feelings. My older daughters made me so proud. They told him that Rachel was born as a boy, but she's a girl inside, and it's what's inside that counts. I wanted to cry. (By the way, though Nikki and I have taught them about transsexuals, they haven't been told that I can be counted among their number. Baby steps, baby steps...) I asked Rachel if she was okay, and to not listen to what the boy was saying. She just shrugged it off and said, "Yeah, I know." If she was upset at all, she sure wasn't letting it show. I've felt from the start that I want to protect Rachel. She may not need protecting, with such a wonderful mom, but she reminds me of myself, who I could've been at that age. I wasn't allowed to be who I wanted to be... who I desperately needed to be.

Rachel and Skylar, beautiful girls both!

I can identify with both Rachel and her mother in two very basic ways. I still wish to this day that I had a mom or dad (hey, how about both?) who were even half as understanding and accepting as Amy is. I can only imagine what it must be like to attend school as a girl, to be accepted for who I am, not some caricature that I had to invent just to survive. As far as Amy, well... I have an ex who will not let me see or talk to my daughter because she noticed certain things about me while I was transitioning to live full time as a woman.

Nikki and I were talking with Amy, and what she told me almost brought me to tears. I didn't admit to it at the time, but I was almost speechless to hear what Rachel has to deal with. She has visitation with her father every other week, for five days out of that week. This man flies into a rage if he sees the name "Rachel" on her homework, or if anyone calls her by that name. He insists on her getting her hair cut short like a boy, almost to the point of it being a buzz cut. In effect, she is in a prison when she's with her father. I feel so bad for her, and I can only imagine Amy's anger and frustration at not being able to help her child for that period of time. There is a custody case building up, and Amy's ex will be trying to discredit her by saying that she's confusing Rachel, endangering her life, and using her for some sort of revenge against him. Rachel has tried to reach out to her father again and again, but he misses the point entirely, each and every time. He says that the whole "Rachel thing" is Amy's way of "getting back at him" because of issues causing their failed marriage. His own parents have tried to explain to him that this child is female.

Skylar (what a face!), Sarah, Savannah, and Rachel.

Why is it that children can understand what adults can't? Why can my daughters understand that Rachel is a girl, but her own father can't? I'm asking these questions, but I know the answer. Prejudice and bias. At some point, we grow up and think we know everything. We make opinions and they rarely change. We try to simplify our life by thinking of everything in terms of black and white... right and wrong... male and female. A male could never be a female, and a female could never be a male. End of story, ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom. WRONG. Wake up, people! Listen to what your kids are telling you. Hell, you might actually learn something. If Amy and Venessia can do it, why can't other parents? Can you love them enough to simply listen, to reach beyond what you know and understand, and love them for who they are... not who you want them to be?

Sarah and Savannah up top, with Rachel chillin' down below.

Rachel attends school as a girl, she has crushes on boys, and hey... when she puts her hand on her hip and says, "I get to stay up until NINE o'clock," well... wake up and smell the perfume.

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What If...?

Alternate realities just fascinate me. Just think, an infinite amount of Earths, where things could be radically different, or changed so subtly that nobody could tell the difference. It could be the difference between someone getting hiccups or not. Or it could be... What if Osama Bin Ladin had died when he was five years old?

What does this have to do with me? Well...

What If Amy Had Been Born Physically Female?

Sometimes I wonder what I would be like today if I was born into the correct physical form to match my gender identity. What would I have been like growing up? Would I have been popular in high school? Would I be as much of a girly girl as I am now? What would I be doing with my life? Would I be working? And if so, would it still be in the computer field? Would I have still gotten into comics? Would I be straight or lesbian?

It's easy to just say, "Of course I would still be gay!" "Of course I would still love makeup, cute clothes and computers!" But what made me this way in the first place? Let's break it down...

My shyness was most likely caused by being stuck in a boy's world during my early years. I didn't know how to act, what to do... what not to do. So perhaps I would not have been shy in this other world. Maybe I still would've been. It's hard for me to picture myself as ever being outgoing, but who knows...?

Popular in high school? That would depend partly on the shyness factor. (See above.) It's nice to picture myself as being prom queen or something, but who knows...?

I hope I would be working, and I probably would be. Without the trans factor to prevent some employers from considering me, finding work would be easier. I like to think that I would've gotten into computers no matter what, but perhaps I grabbed onto this hobby (as it was back in the early 80's) in an effort to find something that was deemed "okay" for me to have an interest in. Maybe I would've gotten interested in hairstyling instead. It baffles me to think of myself as a person who struggles when dealing with computers, but who knows...?

Comic books, ditto. My parents didn't mind me liking comics. The boundary was clearly defined. I wasn't allowed to have Wonder Woman or Bat-Girl action figures. (Maybe the styleable hair did it?) I could have any male action figure I wanted, but females were not allowed. So hey, maybe I would've gotten into Barbies instead, particularly because then my parents would think it unsuitable for me to read comic books. But who knows...?

And finally, straight or gay? Well damn it is so hard for me to imagine liking men. I don't find a single thing about them that's attractive. But if I was expected to like them, then maybe I would be conditioned into finding them attractive? This one is the toughest for me to imagine. Sorry, I think I would've loved women no matter what. But... let's say it... who knows...?

Don't get me wrong, I don't often agonize over how great things could've been for me if my sex and gender matched. It's just fun to think of the possibilities, and to try to imagine how radically different - or how much the same - I would've been.

You know what really blows my mind? If I would've been born with a male brain to match my male-born body! I think I would have been so different, that... well... you couldn't even say it was me anymore.

I actually love myself just the way I am.

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I'm Getting a Tattoo!

Yes! On May 1st! I was originally going to get my port wine stain birthmark covered by the picture on the left, but I'll have to alter that a bit. Let me start at the beginning though.

In the beginning... it was bad enough that Amy was born with a physical sex that was at odds with her gender, but she also had this nasty birthmark. It covered most of her arm, all of her shoulder, and even some of her upper back and neck. Luckily, it stayed the same size as I grew, thus took up less room on my body. What a port wine stain is (and don't feel bad, I've met some doctors who don't know this!), is a whole crapload of tiny capillaries that continuously bleed, though the amount from each capillary is much less than half a drop of blood. If you were to look at my birthmark with a magnifying lens, you could see that it's made up of many many tiny red dots. People have always stared at me and made comments about my birthmark. So many people asked me if I had poison ivy, or got burned. I'm so sick of it. It used to look like this (Yes, I've cut the rest of the photo out because I was pre-hormones and my face looked so harsh. I was also sweating, which meant it was probably summer in my parents' house, as they never had any air conditioning):

(My arms haven't been that hairy for a long time now. Ugh.)

Back in 2003 to 2004, I had the birthmark lightened via a form of laser treatment called MultiLight. After six sessions, I couldn't get it to lighten any more than you can see below. It is such a noticeable difference though! Unfortunately, I have a few small scars because I told them to turn up the juice on my last session. The only result I got from that last session was scars. Anyway, I just took this pic...

After the sessions were over, that's when I started wanting a phoenix tattoo to cover it. I've always loved the symbolism of the phoenix, and just the plain look of the thing (the firebird version, that is). It stands for rebirth and renewal, among other things. What better symbol for a trans-person, who's undergoing a miraculous transformation into who they really are inside?

I cashed in my 401K to help move us to Arizona. I decided to keep a few hundred to myself for this tattoo. I went to the doctor a couple weeks ago, and he told me that covering it with a tattoo should work, but I'll probably have more bleeding than the average person (due to the capillaries already being "broken" inside the skin). He told me to stop taking my 81mg of aspirin for two weeks prior to the procedure. I take that to counteract the blood thickening effect of Estradiol in my system.

Nikki's father is friends with a tattoo artist who goes by the name of Happy, and is the owner of Happy Tats. When Nikki got her tattoo last week (see below), I showed him the illustration at the top of the screen, and he told me a few things. He said that yes, it would probably bleed a lot, and if it bled too much, he might have to switch to another area and come back to it once the bleeding stops. He said that it might fade quicker than a normal tattoo and need touch ups. He also said that yellows and oranges would not show over the tattoo, since it's a lighter color. That only left red and pink. I started thinking, "Well, what about blue flame?" He said that part of the blue flame would have to be yellow, in order to look realistic. That stumped me, but I thought later on that a phoenix is a magical creature. Realistic is nice for real-world things, but (as far as I know) a phoenix is mythical in nature. Besides, if he tattoos just outside the birthmark, he could put some yellow there, making the phoenix inside a hotter flame. When I got home, I opened Microsoft Paint and inverted the colors of the phoenix picture. It looks like this:

I like it. I want to take out those black spots and replace them with the silhouette of a female within the phoenix. A silhouette like this:

He said this tattoo will take four or five hours to complete. Nikki will probably be in and out, since that's a long time for anyone to sit around and watch someone poke a needle in someone's flesh. I want to bring my camera and have photos taken at various stages in the process. I am so excited! I'm not worried about the pain. After electrolysis and MultiLight, this shouldn't be too bad. The collarbone might make me wince a bit though. I just hope it comes out right, I don't bleed like a stuck pig, and that I can handle the itching and scabbing afterwards. It's such a big area. I would do it in stages, but we're moving in a month and a half. What's ironic is that I used to be so against tattoos. I was so straightlaced with everything. Getting away from my mother really helped me to not be a jerk. But I digress.

I want to show off the tattoos that Nikki got (also at Happy Tats), so before I sign off, here we go:

Nikki's first tattoo, on her right leg. She loves frogs, and this guy is a toughie!

Nikki got this one on her back to commemorate the twins that died due to a miscarriage back in 1999.

Also on her back. Each fairy is one of our daughters, and Nikki is the sunflower in the middle.

She had a stem put on the sunflower last week, since so many people would think it was a sun.

Nikki got this one on her left leg last week, to remember her father by, since we're moving 2000 miles away from him. Yes, he's a harley dude.

Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think of my upcoming tattoo!

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Origins Revisited (Blast From the Past Entry)

I wrote this back in April of 2003 (wow it's been seven years). What I did was take a few of my looseleaf-written entries and type them up in Word. I completely forgot that I did this until a couple months ago, when I found the document on the hard drive of our older computer (we have two running, and the older one... well, it has trouble bringing up Google at times). I wrote the following as an intro to my "computerized diary." It contains some different info than in my intro on this blog, my first ever blog post. Keep in mind that when I wrote this, it had only been a couple months since I'd realized my transsexuality. The way I put things is not really the way I'd write about it today.

I've included a bunch of pictures of me from 1997. These are the first pictures of Amy as you all know me, and they've never before been put on the net! The quality is not really there, but hey, it was `97.

Oh yes, my name is not really "Amethyst." I decided not to go with that name, as it was a bit outlandish and porn star-sounding. It is my favorite gem though. So here we go...


This introduction is just to bring everyone up to date on my life, particularly my "adventures into femininity." The only question I have now is, where do I start? When did the first manifestation of this feminine side take place?

One could say that maybe it was around the age of eight years old. My parents were repainting our rooms, and they asked what color we would want. My brother picked blue for his room, and I picked purple. (And I got my desire, but this wouldn't go much further, as you will soon see.) Or... if that was not it, then it was definitely somewhere between ten and twelve years old, when I found some little girls' clothes in bags in the guest room closet. They were meant for my sister when she got older, handed down by a neighbor. I was pretty skinny for my age, but of course I could barely fit into these things, as they were for a five or six-year-old. I ended up ripping some of them by just trying to put them on or take them off. Now I was scared at what I had done (plus not understanding why I had tried them on in the first place, not realizing why I liked putting on all the little dresses and skirts). Not knowing what to do at this point, I put all the ripped clothes back, and I acted shocked when asked if I knew anything about it. My mother seemed to think that it could've only been a certain neighborhood kid that would do this, who used to visit me or my brother. That is, until she found a button off of one of the outfits under my bed. That darn button started all the trouble by falling off and rolling under there while I tried on the clothes. I was found out, and when asked why I had damaged the clothes (putting them on was not yet the question yet), I lied and actually made myself look like some kind of psycho kid, by saying that I had ripped the clothes out of pent-up frustration from school.

Nothing much else happened until some time in high school. At this point, my mother's things started to fit me, and I started trying on her dresses, nightgowns, pantyhose, etc...and what happened next? I was either stupid, or subconsciously wanted to be discovered and understood for liking this so much. This was not to be the case. I was discovered by my mother, laying in my bed asleep, wearing one of her nightgowns and a pair of pantyhose. I had snuck them out of my mother's room and fell into such a blissful, happy sleep while wearing them. So, my mother was very upset, stammering with anger, and asking all sorts of questions, like, "Do you want to be a woman?" "Do you want our family to find out about this?" Of course, both of my answers were no, although I was too young at that point to realize that the answer to the first question would become a "yes" in the future. The conversation, such as it was, ended with an order to stop doing this so that I wouldn't bring shame onto the family.

But I have yet to hear of anyone crossdressing and just stopping. For me, it would go away for awhile and then come back. When I was 17, I had my first real girlfriend, Sandy. Somehow I managed to tell her about my love of women's clothes and makeup. She thought it was cool, but I don't think I ever let her see me with them on, I was way too shy. But she gave me some of her clothes, and even some makeup. Maybe my mother figured out that these were Sandy's clothes, because when going up to my room with Sandy (my father used to drive me to the train station to pick her up), we saw the clothes piled on my bed. Just her way of saying, "I know about this." But just imagine, if Sandy had not known, she would've found out about my crossdressing in this manner...!

Soon after that little situation, I had gotten a job and was able to buy things for myself. Alas, it was to be a waste of money, as I would buy things, hide them, my mother would throw them out, I would buy more things and find a new hiding place (always in my room), they would be found and thrown out, rinse and repeat. I even stuffed a bunch of clothes into an unused amplifier for my neglected guitar. Anyway, after about ten months, Sandy and I broke it off. We both just started liking other people, is all.

Enter college days. Somewhere after high school, I started wearing the spandex pants and shorts that were so popular during the `80's. I would wear women's or men's, I liked them all. It was probably because they hugged my legs like pantyhose would, that I liked them so much. I have always loved tight-fitting clothes regardless. My next girlfriend was Millie, and she seemed to almost have a love/hate thing going as far as my crossdressing went. Well, she was very hot and cold with me in general also. She thought something was psychologically wrong with me for doing it, yet she was also very interested in it, and she used to go to the library to read about it. Yet I suppose because she just wanted to make me happy, she gave me one of her wigs and a few makeup items (her clothes were way too big for me). She was a hairdresser, and always wore lots of makeup. I always wanted her to make my hair up in some pretty style (it had a little length to it at this time), or to put makeup on me, but she never went for it. Anyway, she really got angry when I confessed to her that I had gone out in public wearing women's clothes, for the first time. I wore the wig that she gave me (which was kind of poofy and out of control), some makeup (I tried to use powder to cover the shadow on my face, but it didn't really work), and one of my sister's dresses, black pantyhose and high heels (she was in her mid-teens at this point, and they fit me almost perfectly). I actually went down to the college which I was attending at the time, and sat in the lobby of the Student Center. It was very exciting, yet as a few students started to stare and point in my direction, I figured that it would be best if I left. I drove around for awhile, then went home, only to panic at seeing that my brother had come home in my absence! Here I am, wearing a wig, girl's clothes and makeup, stuck outside. I had no regular clothes to change into, and he could be home all day... and then my father would come home. So I had to go inside and sneak upstairs looking all pretty. That was at least 10 years ago and my heart is pounding in my chest right now just thinking about it! Well, I was lucky enough to get up into my room unseen. I didn't go out again for quite awhile. And oh yes, Millie wanted her wig back after that.

Awhile later, Millie "disappeared" on me. She just never seemed to be home and didn't return my calls. Whenever I came by the house, I was told she wasn't home, or I was just told to leave. I found out later that she had told her parents about my crossdressing, and they had ordered her not to see me again. Very soon after that, I met Vanessa. I told her pretty quickly about my crossdressing, and at first she seemed to be okay with it. At my request, she fixed my hair and put makeup on me, and we even made love that way. This was pretty unbelievable for me, like a dream come true, but I found out that at the time it had made her really upset. She has an attraction to both men and women, so she said it confused her. So while she accepted me dressing in women's clothes, she no longer wanted me to do it around her, or to go out in public like that as well. I did shave my legs once, during the winter when they would be covered up by pants, but she didn't like that very much.

Sometime during our relationship, I got a P.O. Box and ordered some things from Frederick's of Hollywood, most notably a new wig. A nice one this time, although it was a shade or two too light for me. I took some pictures of myself in the house and out in the backyard when nobody was home. The backyard scenes are the nicest, I still love them. That natural light just gave off such a soft look. [These are the pictures featured in this blog entry.] Also, I had decided to keep my clothes in a public storage locker, since my mother kept throwing them out. I had them in there for several months, and one day, upon going to retrieve some things from there, I found the locker broken into. The lock was broken right off of the door, and all of the clothes were gone! Who would steal a bunch of women's clothing? To this day, I wonder if my mother was behind it. I went down to the police department with Vanessa to file a report, but of course they weren't going to open a case on a few hundred dollars worth of clothes.

Next up came my "dirtbag attack," as I sometimes call it. I was feeling trapped in my relationship with Vanessa. I wanted to grow my hair long, wear my tight, skimpy clothes (men's clothing, but skimpy athletic wear mostly), get my ears pierced, etc... and all of these things she greatly disapproved of. She ended up having to go into a mental hospital for a month, and during that time, I met another patient there, by the name of Christina. I got a big crush on her, and ended up leaving Vanessa for Christina. Christina was 17 (almost 18) at the time, and learning disabled. So yes, I made a pretty messed-up decision. But my just desserts come later.

When I told Christina of my crossdressing, she was very upset, and she ended up telling her sister, Donna. I was very uncomfortable about this, but Donna said it was normal and all that. Somewhere along the line, she became very hurtful to Christina (Donna had mental problems also), and I had to pick up Christina from a sleepover at her house. She basically kicked Christina out when I got there. We ended up having to call the police, because she wouldn't let us get Christina's medicine and other items from her house. She then followed me to my car, even with the policeman there, screaming that I wore girl's dresses like a sissy boy, and I was a fag, etc... all at 9:00 in the morning! So all the neighbors came out, and a good time was had by all... except the two of us.

Sometime after this, I shaved my legs again, and also my stomach and chest. I loved the smooth, silky feeling. But Christina didn't like it too much, so I didn't repeat the torso shaving again, although I did shave my legs a few more times.

Anyway, it eventually turned out that Christina was more receptive me to me getting dressed up, and somewhere around this time, I came up with the name of Jessica. Whether she really didn't mind, or was just trying to please me, I'm still not sure. The end result of either was that she agreed to come out with me when I was dressed. We went out four times. I'll briefly sum it up. We went to Burger King, and some guy thought I was a gg. He said to his friend that I was hot (Christina heard it). We went to Sears and tried on dresses together in the women's fitting room. We went to the mall, and I actually fixed my makeup right in the busy women's bathroom! We went to Taco Bell, and the man behind the counter called us "ladies." We went to the library. We went to a park, and she took lots of photos of me. I had little or no trouble with anyone until what was to be our last outing. I was in Macy's, trying on some clothes in the women's fitting room. Upon exiting the fitting room, I was greeted by security. "You can't use the women's dressing room, you must go in the men's room." Embarassed as hell, I left the store and entered the mall. Some black guy in the mall yelled out, "That's a man!" I tried to ignore all this and still have a good time, but then when walking into JC Penny's, I passed by Vanessa's brother, Greg! He did look at me, but I wasn't sure if he recognized me at all. After all this, I decided this was enough, and I ended the day as it was. (I later found out that he did recognize me, and he was upset about it.) In short, this day ruined the desire to dress up for me. Eventually, I wanted to do it again, but Christina didn't want to join me anymore, and she didn't want me going out alone either. So that was that.

Christina got pregnant over the summer of 2000, and we got married in January, 2001. Our daughter, Brittany, was born in March, and we moved into a condominium in April. I was free to dress however I wanted in the privacy of our home, but going out was still a no-no. I tried to get all that I could out of it though. I was able to go out wearing lip gloss, girl's denim "short shorts" in the summer, and black stretchy bell-bottoms in the winter. I had my night job, and Christina got a day job at a child care facility. I almost forgot to mention that in Christina, I had found someone whose clothes fit me. In fact, she gained a lot of weight during her pregancy, so her old clothes were now too small for her. So I "inherited" a bunch of nice things. So that was a big plus. But then for some reason, Christina turned into a psycho. Not coming home from work and not calling, spending no time with me at all, always out somewhere, screaming her head off at me for no reason at all... Then she wanted me to stay at my parent's house for a week. I refused, scared that I wouldn't be welcomed back to my new home again. But a week or two later, after her screaming at me and insulting me in front of my friends, and me subsequently smashing my hand through a glass panel lamp, I ended up going back to my parent's house after all. And there I stayed.

But a good thing came out of all this. Not only did I come to be in a much more stable environment (though I missed my daughter very much), but I was also free to explore my feminine side. Mind you, I have to be careful to not let my parents or siblings find out, but now I have the car to myself, and the freedom to go where I want, and when I want. Once I got my computer back online, I did some searching on the internet, looking for some salons in the city that would do a makeover on me. What did I find, but a place on Long Island, just 40 minutes away! (http://www.femmefever.com/)

The rest is history. I decided to change my "femme name" to Amethyst, Amy for short. I did this not only to signify a new beginning, but also just in case my "soon-to-be-ex-wife" decides to search the internet for my old name, since she knows the full name that I used. And that brings me up to my first entry. It was a long journey, but I feel that it's only just beginning.

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