Last Thursday was my monthly group therapy meeting.
Yes, I can sense your excitement from here.
Why would i write about something like this? Well, for several reasons.
I took off from my evening job to get myself ready. Originally I was going to find a place to park the car and do my makeup in there. However one of the group members offered the use of her place to change. I'd never met "S", but we have been facebook friends for a while. She'd been in the group for a month. I accepted her gracious offer as she only lived a half hour or so from me.
So I finished work at my retail job and headed over to her place, which in a relatively affluent Philly suburb. She lives close to where some of my old friends lived before they moved to other parts of the world, so I knew the area well enough to find her. I knocked on her door in drab, and she answered- halfway done getting herself ready.
We introduced ourselves to each other and she showed me her place. Turns out her apartment is a Trekker's dream. She had lots of Star Trek stuff hanging on the walls and adorning shelves. Her makeup mirror was set up in her dining room as she prefers natural light. She showed me to an immense bathroom with a large well-lit mirror where I could change and make myself as pretty as I can.
It took me maybe 45 minutes. I was dressed casually in a red top, flats, and denim short shorts. As we both worked, she played some great tunes and we talked to each other from a room away. When she finished, we left together, as I was going to follow her at least part of the way. The dark clouds to the west were quite foreboding.
Within a minute of heading out, the skies opened and began a torrential downpour. "It even rained straight up!" as Gump would say. That slowed traffic to a crawl.
I was in a bit of a hurry as I had a therapy appointment before group therapy. (I had to move my therapy appointment from earlier in the week as I had to watch my daughter.) Needless to say, I was late.
At therapy, we discussed disclosing my true self to my parents and telling Wife that I am on the road to transition. Yes, we discuss easy topics! *sarcasm*
After therapy, the second meeting of the night started- Group therapy. There was a new girl there as well, and she had good input. Group therapy lasted two hours. It's always good to be with people who share a commonality. The group has many different types of personalities, and sometimes we clash, but we're family.
After the meeting, five of us went to the local Ruby Tuesdays for drinks and food. The staff there is used to us, and we usually get the same waitress who we tip like crazy. S\ joined us for this, and she fit right in.
However there was a wild card that night. One of the other waitresses kept trying to deliver other people's food and drinks to our table. She was bottle-blond and older, maybe in her 40s. Now, I've worked the tables in my day. The tables are numbered and each food ticket has the table number on it for fast delivery. So once- it's a mistake. It happens. Four times? Either she was a total incompetent, or she just wanted to get a closer look at the table of T-girls.
I would figure out which later.
After dinner, we went our separate ways. The restaurant closed. I drove to the back part of the parking lot to change and clean off the makeup. That took some time, but I finally finished. Next to this Ruby Tuesdays is a Wawa, where I then went to check myself in better light and to pick up a soda (or Pop or Coke or Fizzy, or whatever you call it. In SEPA, we call it soda.)
Which I did. I re-washed my face as I still had traces of eye liner, then waited in line to buy the drink. In came the blond, who was done for the night and wearing a faded pink jacket over her black uniform. She joined the line two people back from me. I paid her no mind, as I figured I look VERY different in drab than I do as Sophie.
Apparently not THAT different. This Wawa has a group of windows across the front allowing people to see in. As I left I looked back, I saw the blond pointing wildly at me and excitedly saying something to the bored cashier. Like he cared. in any case, I'm fairly sure she clocked me. She wasn't too bright, so I have no clue how she sorted it out.
A couple of years ago, this would've sent me scurrying into a cave somewhere, as this is a Wawa I go to a LOT. Now? I could care less. She's the one with the problem- not I. And her problems are FAR more than her need to disclose my being transgender.
In any case, from there I drove through the rainy night to home, and went to bed. I dreamed that I was out as Sophie at a place I'd never been. No one saw me as anything but female. I was out and about and then went to lunch at an outdoor cafe. I remember speaking with someone, but I don't remember who.
It's rare that I remember my dreams. It's even more rare that I dream of being Sophie (specifically.) The next day when I awoke, I stared at the ceiling. Being Drab hurts more every day.
It really does.
Yes, I can sense your excitement from here.
Why would i write about something like this? Well, for several reasons.
I took off from my evening job to get myself ready. Originally I was going to find a place to park the car and do my makeup in there. However one of the group members offered the use of her place to change. I'd never met "S", but we have been facebook friends for a while. She'd been in the group for a month. I accepted her gracious offer as she only lived a half hour or so from me.
So I finished work at my retail job and headed over to her place, which in a relatively affluent Philly suburb. She lives close to where some of my old friends lived before they moved to other parts of the world, so I knew the area well enough to find her. I knocked on her door in drab, and she answered- halfway done getting herself ready.
We introduced ourselves to each other and she showed me her place. Turns out her apartment is a Trekker's dream. She had lots of Star Trek stuff hanging on the walls and adorning shelves. Her makeup mirror was set up in her dining room as she prefers natural light. She showed me to an immense bathroom with a large well-lit mirror where I could change and make myself as pretty as I can.
It took me maybe 45 minutes. I was dressed casually in a red top, flats, and denim short shorts. As we both worked, she played some great tunes and we talked to each other from a room away. When she finished, we left together, as I was going to follow her at least part of the way. The dark clouds to the west were quite foreboding.
Within a minute of heading out, the skies opened and began a torrential downpour. "It even rained straight up!" as Gump would say. That slowed traffic to a crawl.
I was in a bit of a hurry as I had a therapy appointment before group therapy. (I had to move my therapy appointment from earlier in the week as I had to watch my daughter.) Needless to say, I was late.
At therapy, we discussed disclosing my true self to my parents and telling Wife that I am on the road to transition. Yes, we discuss easy topics! *sarcasm*
After therapy, the second meeting of the night started- Group therapy. There was a new girl there as well, and she had good input. Group therapy lasted two hours. It's always good to be with people who share a commonality. The group has many different types of personalities, and sometimes we clash, but we're family.
After the meeting, five of us went to the local Ruby Tuesdays for drinks and food. The staff there is used to us, and we usually get the same waitress who we tip like crazy. S\ joined us for this, and she fit right in.
However there was a wild card that night. One of the other waitresses kept trying to deliver other people's food and drinks to our table. She was bottle-blond and older, maybe in her 40s. Now, I've worked the tables in my day. The tables are numbered and each food ticket has the table number on it for fast delivery. So once- it's a mistake. It happens. Four times? Either she was a total incompetent, or she just wanted to get a closer look at the table of T-girls.
I would figure out which later.
After dinner, we went our separate ways. The restaurant closed. I drove to the back part of the parking lot to change and clean off the makeup. That took some time, but I finally finished. Next to this Ruby Tuesdays is a Wawa, where I then went to check myself in better light and to pick up a soda (or Pop or Coke or Fizzy, or whatever you call it. In SEPA, we call it soda.)
Which I did. I re-washed my face as I still had traces of eye liner, then waited in line to buy the drink. In came the blond, who was done for the night and wearing a faded pink jacket over her black uniform. She joined the line two people back from me. I paid her no mind, as I figured I look VERY different in drab than I do as Sophie.
Apparently not THAT different. This Wawa has a group of windows across the front allowing people to see in. As I left I looked back, I saw the blond pointing wildly at me and excitedly saying something to the bored cashier. Like he cared. in any case, I'm fairly sure she clocked me. She wasn't too bright, so I have no clue how she sorted it out.
A couple of years ago, this would've sent me scurrying into a cave somewhere, as this is a Wawa I go to a LOT. Now? I could care less. She's the one with the problem- not I. And her problems are FAR more than her need to disclose my being transgender.
In any case, from there I drove through the rainy night to home, and went to bed. I dreamed that I was out as Sophie at a place I'd never been. No one saw me as anything but female. I was out and about and then went to lunch at an outdoor cafe. I remember speaking with someone, but I don't remember who.
It's rare that I remember my dreams. It's even more rare that I dream of being Sophie (specifically.) The next day when I awoke, I stared at the ceiling. Being Drab hurts more every day.
It really does.
Tales of the past flood back into my mind. What one needs is a car that at the push of a button become a mini-home or an RV that gets great gas mileage...So many make-up removal towelettes have bit the dust.
ReplyDeleteSome people hold to the premise of "Judge not... lest you be judged". While you claim that you could care less and that the blond woman is the one with problems, not you, you care enough to call this waitress a "moron". You claim that she has has problems that "are FAR more than her need to disclose (your) being transgender.
ReplyDeleteIs it an insult to call an older woman, perhaps in her 40s, a "bottle blond". Perhaps she was working late at night waiting tables to support a family and children. Perhaps her income did not permit her the luxury of getting her hair done in a salon by a paid professional stylist and all she could afford was the do it at home color kit. Why do you begrudge a person who is doing her best to look as pretty as she can. Perhaps a faded pink jacket is all she can afford or it may have been a favorite of hers. Why are you so harsh on this woman who was waiting tables?
You emphatically state that "She wasn't too bright...". Perhaps you read her incorrectly and rather than you assuming that she had something against 'T' girls, in reality she may have been impressed with your amazing ability to transform yourself from a drab guy to a very attractive woman. Perhaps she was simply in awe of your ability to take the raw material of your drab self and emerge as the beautiful woman that you presented in the restaurant.
All I am suggesting is that if you seek understanding for yourself and other 'T' folks that it may be a good exercise to show some generosity of spirit in understanding others. This woman may have been doing the best that she could under the circumstances. She may not have had other experiences with 'T' folks and her exposure to your group may have been a form of outreach.
Pax
Pat
Hi Pat!
DeleteI admit that my first thought when reading your comment was "A republican telling someone to be non-judgemental AND defending the working poor? Thats hypocritical!". That said, you raise some good points in your well written comment.
first, by bottle blonde I meant only that it was an obvious dye job. her roots were showing. I was not jabbing at her socioeconomic status.
That said, I admit to a prejudice here. I have no issues with poor folks. I am one. I worked the tables for many years myself and I know how hard it can be. I also don't have an issue with people who ate uneducated. that's why I went into education- to assuage that. No, my prejudice is Incompetence. I cannot abide it, especially in myself. due to my years on the tables/bar, I am highly critical of poor service and poor servers. Mistakes happen. 4 times is incompetence. Pet peeve and character flaw of mine.
I wouldn't even have mentioned her if not for her overwhelming need to raise the hue and cry about someone she found "different.". That showed profound ignorance worthy of calling out. So, that being said, I stand by my words.
In closing, I will point out that at all times, we at the table were smiling gracious ambassadors of Transpeople. Even after her later display, I did not engage Her.
Thanks as always for reading and commenting.
Sophie,
DeleteJust because some of my liberal friends claim that "I bat right...throw right...think right" does not mean that I do not look at multiple sides of the issues. Thanks also for referring to me as a small "r" republican.
I share your sense of frustration about incompetence. I fear that a lack of care and competence is growing to the detriment of our society and culture.
I did not doubt for a nano-second that you and the rest of the crew were ideal ambassadors for T-folks. I wish I had been with you at the table and then later in Wawa's.
I know that you have no ill will towards people without financial means. I grew up working from the age of 12 and had dozens of backbreaking jobs from digging ditches to caddying, from waiting tables to short order cook, from mechanic to laborer. I know what it took to get an education and the things that I did without while paying off my school loans.
Stay well.
Pat
Maybe she was impressed with just how different you looked... We can always hope, can't we :)
ReplyDeleteI have found those that needed to point out differences in others in a negative way seemed to lack something in their own lives. Early on, before I knew...certain things about myself, out and about as part of an interracial couple, there were those who had something to say about that...and it always seemed to come from a place of personal dissatisfaction with their own lives. Maybe another night she's fascinated with a lesbian couple, or a dwarf, or an older gentleman with an obvious hairpiece?
There will always be those ready to point and stare... of what I know of you, you will rise above :)
Olivia
I don't if I'd call where I live "affluent," at least not in my corner. It's certainly not Devon-affluent, but I'll take it - and thank you.
ReplyDeleteI was happy to offer you a safe space to get ready, Sophie. And I didn't get to think that your alternative, given that you weren't going to True Colors, was getting ready in your car. I won't have any of that!
Thank you for your kind words and I felt much better fitting in with the group the second time around. It probably helped that I got myself more put together than the first time, but now I feel that after even two months that I've been there longer. Thank you for making ME feel at home.
As to that waitress, call it being a little entranced by a pink mist, but I didn't really give a crap about her. I'm was all too happy being in good company and taking care of the fact that I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that day. I also owe you a drink the next time.
And I just cringed and felt bad for you when you told me about what happened to you at the Wawa after our post-group gathering. Maybe Olivia's perspective will allay some of the (understandably) negative emotions you felt that night after such a good evening.