But at least the Phillies are in the playoffs!
How’s that for a non-sequitor?
So- disasters. Why do I bring them up? Was my outfit last time out THAT bad? Was my birthday such a horrible experience?
Well, here’s the outfit. You be the judge.
Purple Sophie Rides Again!
As for my birthday, it was as fun as it could be. I am of the opinion that birthdays cease to matter after #21. Let’s face it- 30, 40 and the other round numbers are really just occasions for others to make fun of you. (“You’re FORTY?? HA! You’re old!”) Then eventually you’re X years YOUNG.
So I had a birthday a couple weeks back. Biological birthday. My Sophie birthday is Halloween. I’ve been a “woman of a certain age” for a while now. This one was just a little different. Assuming statistics are correct, and I am average in all ways, half of my life is now behind me. I am middle aged.
So is wearing a skirt my version of the mid-life crisis red sports car?
Do I look middle aged to you?
At my age, testosterone levels naturally go down. Add to that, they ALSO go down when you become a father. So I guess low testosterone is to blame for my putting on a bra and lipstick? Perhaps I won’t need T-blockers when my time for hormones comes? Would my tired old equipment thank me for the retirement of an orchiectomy? And can I get them to take out my prostate while they’re in there as a peace of mind sort of thing? After all, I won’t need it after that procedure anyway, right?
I actually celebrated my birthday three times this year. The first time was with co-workers and friends at a local restaurant/bar. A few of my t-friends were invited but only one came, and she came in drab. Probably safer for everyone I guess.
The second time was with my wife. We went out to dinner at a nice place. While there, I took an empty table, and, for Photoshop practice, populated it with several versions of Sophie.
Sophie times Seven!
The third time was kinda just me. The weekend after my birthday was a Laptop lounge. But before I could celebrate, I had to run a gauntlet.
On my way into Laptop from the parking lot (Blue Pacific is in a mall, but with outside access), I had to pass two parked school buses. The busses were full of teens of indeterminate age. They saw me, and the windows slid down and I heard it all:
“WooHoo! Look at you!” “Hey dude! Are you gay?” “Nice tits!”
And all the usual taunts. And laughter. A year ago, that would’ve sent me scurrying back to the car, crushed. But I had grown a lot this past year. I looked at the busses, kissed my hand and slapped that hand to my well padded ass: The universal symbol for “kiss my ass.” I then threw my shoulders back, held my head high, and walked into Blue Pacific proudly. I wasn’t the only one who encountered these wonderful people, who were probably a church group.
Inside, I quietly celebrated as Sophie. I silently rose a glass to my t-friends as it wasn’t Sophie’s birthday (if that makes sense.) I quietly thanked them for being there for me, and for being themselves. And I pondered what this next year would bring for me.
The future isn't clear. Nor is this picture!
Would this be the year when my wife finally discovered my secret? Or would I find a big girl job and finally move forward to being truly me? Or would it all come crashing down in a perfect storm of homelessness, unemployment, debt and disaster? All the same questions I asked last year.
This year I accomplished the following: I started laser on my face (which is going well, thanks for asking); I expanded my wardrobe options; I attended Trans-health; I presented at the Keystone Conference; and I continued writing for TG Forum and this lil blog. So while I’m not on hormones, nor am I full time, I still made progress as Sophie.
I guess that’s all I can ask for. And a new handbag. Or some diamond earrings. I’m not hard to please. ;)