Letter to 1984 Lance

Dear Lance,

I send this letter back to you, the person I was, from the year 2014.  Yes, you're still alive, despite your best efforts to the contrary.  I am now 48 years old, while you are just 18.

Lance, July 1983

At this time of your life, November 1984, you are reeling over your first real betrayal in Love, and have yet to meet your first Real girlfriend.  You will meet her in January at a school dance.  You will stay together over two years, and she will hurt you terribly over and over.  But when you finally break it off for good, that's when you'll meet three women who will define your adult life,  One will be your wife.

Her you won't meet until 1991, after the biggest heartbreak of your life up until that point.  I wish you would learn to relax and enjoy your youth but I realize first that I can't change the past, and even if I told you, you STILL wouldn't do it out of sheer stupidity.  Yes, I'm still currently married to the same person, and we have a wonderful daughter.  Despite your wish, you HAVE reproduced, and it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be.

In 1990, you will attempt suicide.  I know now what the underlying driver to that feeling was, and it sure as hell wasn't that girl cheating and leaving.  You know the reason now, but you don't dare admit it.

Yes, you will graduate from University, Lance.  But not the one you think.  And the courage it took to make that change was a harbinger of the courage it would take for you to make other changes through your life.  You have more courage than you know.  You're already an EMT.  You will continue that, though that too will break your spirit.

I know all of this because I'm you with many years of experience.  But I am also no longer you.  I have changed so much.  How?

Well Lance, to tell you how I've changed, I must tell you this- I know your deep dark secret.  And I know that you failed to contain it.

Because, Lance, I am now Sophie.  I am a Woman.  I look down on my chest and see my own breasts; not fake ones or rolled up socks-  I see MY breasts.  My legs are shaven and shapely (if I do say so myself,) and I wear heels with some frequency.  My ears are pierced, and I wear the hoop earrings you always wanted to wear.  Estrogen courses through my body, albeit injected estrogen.  All who know Me know your secret, Lance.  They don't know about the outfits you bought through the mail with your Burger King money, nor of how you'd dress when everyone was away.  But they know that you are different, and they know why.

All those wishes and all those mid teen tears you shed about being stuck in your body were not shed in vain.  You are on your way to being the woman you knew you were, and, God willing, I will be there someday.  But for now, I am on the path.  I have met many like myself, and so many have helped me on the way.

You will travel the world, Lance.  You will see different cultures.  Your eyes will be opened to many things and you will learn truths.  Some truths you will learn in the dust of New Mexico, while others you will learn with your feet in the Pacific Ocean.  You will shoot arrows in Sherwood Forest.  You will walk the streets of Buenos Aires looking for a bookstore, and will drink wine in Chile.  You will meet a beautiful Jewish girl from New Jersey who will grab your soul, and a wild man from Boyertown who will be your counterpoint for years, even when you don't see him.  And then you will meet your Wife, who will nurse your shattered heart back to health and share with you so many wonderful years.  And you will break her heart doing what you need to do to survive.  Because 1990 wasn't the only time you'd attempt suicide- you'll come close to death again in 2013 when your dearest friend kills herself, taking with her so many dreams.

But don't worry- you won't be doing this alone.  You will have mentors.  The old cliche is that "when the student is ready, the teacher will appear."  And they have.  Your primary mentor will be Mel, and her wisdom and wit will lead you through many traps.  She will be referred to you by a doctor who will also guide you.  There are others, like Jone and Linda (who is currently a roommate), and I am grateful for them.  That's something you and I share- we both know to be grateful, if not gracious.

I wish I could tell you a few things.  I wish I could steer you from some of the major heartbreaks you will face.  I wish I could warn you away from all that drinking you did for all those years.  I wish like hell you wrote about all these things you've done in detail as they happened instead of concentrating on self-pitying short stories.  You don't need to fight to prove yourself a man, because you aren't one.  All the pain from all those fights could be avoided if you just embraced that truth instead of drowning it with drink and self-hate.

Some things remain.  You've maintained contact with a few of your friends that you have now, though you don't see them often as you're scattered about the country.  Many of the people who mean the most to you through life you have yet to meet.  In many ways I envy you parts of the journey.  I wish I could relive some parts of the journey, pain and all.

But now I am living the Life we were supposed to lead.  Many of your friends will support you, and you will learn you have more friends than you ever dreamed.  That courage you showed running into burning buildings will inspire others, or so they will tell you.

Even back in 1984.  But you won't believe that.  No you're too busy drowning in self pity.

That's what I wish I could tell you, Lance.  It gets better.  It really does.  Stay with it and follow the dream.  I wish I could tell you to transition back before you finished growing, but you're still so scared of that feminine side.  Embrace her.  She is You- the best part of you.  Embracing her is embracing yourself.

I have found Peace.  I know that seems like such a distant dream to you in the throes of adolescence, but it WILL come.

Stay with it.

Live

Be Well, Lance.  Be Yourself.

With Love,

Sophie
November 23, 2014.

Sophie, November 2014

PS.  Before the 1986 football season, Bet the farm on Penn State winning the National Championship in 1986 and the Redskins winning the Superbowl the following year.  That should pay your tuition.  Would I lie to you?

Invitations

Thanksgiving is almost upon us here in the US.  For my readers around the world, if you didn't know, Thanksgiving is a US holiday held in late November.  It was created by Abe Lincoln in 1863, and the idea is that we remember that for which we are thankful.  It is traditionally a day spent with family.

However, it is currently the official beginning of the Season of Greed, I mean holiday shopping season, otherwise known as Retail Hell.  And more and more, it's a shopping day as well.

Of all the major US holidays, Thanksgiving was my least favorite- to the point that I've always hated it.  Why?  Am I not thankful?  No that's not the case.  I have no argument with the IDEA behind Thanksgiving.  Just the execution.  My mum always put on a very good dinner, so that was something to anticipate.

I was always stuck at home. The weather was often miserable.  I couldn't see my friends.  Being stuck at home meant being stuck with my older brother, who, when bored, would pick fights with me.  And he was always bored.  So we always fought, and I would always get in trouble.  Thanksgiving was a day to get punished.  Every year.

Year after Year.

So I'd want to get out as much as possible.  I'd take long walks to nowhere- anything to be out of that house and out of trouble.  I wouldn't be surprised if my parents were glad I wasn't around so they had relative peace.

But often my Dad wasn't there.  He worked for Philadelphia Electric (PECO) and often worked holidays.  In fact, he preferred it as PECO paid a LOT of overtime for working that day.  So not only did he get paid a LOT for the day, he wouldn't have his two kids fighting to deal with.  Who could blame him?

So, I hate Thanksgiving.

Through the years, if I had a job (bartending, etc) where the place was open Thanksgiving and Christmas, I always volunteered to work.  Or I took someone's shift which had the advantage of that person would owe me big in their eyes.  Several years in a row, I worked on Thanksgiving and had a shot of Wild Turkey for my dinner.

After I got married, I'd split the holidays with Wife's family.  Thanksgiving at their place was always a big affair, with too much of really good food, good wine, and often good conversation.  At least while her father was alive- he was a man of rare intelligence and I loved hearing his stories of twenty years as a ship captain.  The times we went to my parents were always shorter visits, usually because I always had to work the following day in almost every job I ever had.

Last Saturday at Angela's Laptop Lounge

But this Thanksgiving is going to be very different.  Like last year, I am not invited to Wife's family dinner, which she and Daughter are attending.  I fully expected that.  Last year Wife insisted we have dinner as a FAMILY.  Not so this year.  This year, I'm going south again to see my parents in lower Delaware.

By their invitation.

And they invited my roomies to come as well.

Let me put this in perspective if I may.  This time last year, I fully expected to be disowned by my parents when I came out.  I figured that last Thanksgiving was my last with them.  Now this year, they have Accepted me as Sophie (as well as they can- it's difficult.)  But the point is, that they're making a major effort.  And this year they invited three transpeople to dinner.  For my conservative family, this is really unprecedented.  My brother won't be there this year as he will be at his in-laws.

I had already said I'd be at another dinner just for transpeople.  But how can I NOT attend when my parents have extended such a generous invitation.  I'll be there if I have to walk.

I work the next morning.  Linda does at well- she works before dawn.  Zoey doesn't, but with her bad back the trip will be rough.  But they are both coming.  I'm glad.

Last year at this time, I wrote a piece on Forgiveness.  I don't forgive easily if at all.  It's a character flaw.  But my parents are TRYING.  They ACCEPT me.  That's a luxury that so many transpeople do not have.  So many lose their families over this horrible condition we have.  I am slowly building a relationship with my parents stronger than any we've had before.  It takes time.  I have so many years of built up issues that I need to sort out.  But they love me unconditionally.

I'm very lucky.

And Thankful.

May your day be Peaceful, dear readers.  I wish you all the best on this holiday, whether you celebrate it or not.

Thirtieth High School Reunion

In June of 1984, 275 students of Spring Ford High School graduated.  Most of them sat on the football field on a sultry summer evening to get diplomas.  The thunderstorm held off until a few hours after the ceremony ended.  Among them was a skinny, withdrawn kid who had recently gained notoriety by being the first person sent home from the class trip:  Me.

You won't find me in this class picture

I graduated 26 out of 275 after a senior year of not caring about my grades (except in English) and working many many hours at the local Burger King.  All I remember from graduation was a guy named George L running around after getting his diploma with total joy on his face.  I won the award for Outstanding Writer of the Year.  I remember standing up for that when my name was announced.

By that time, I'd repressed my feminine side, and already the anger and pain were obvious to any who bothered to look.  But no one did, as I pushed almost everyone else away.  I couldn't let anyone know my shameful Dark Secret!

Yearbook Picture

Few in the class went to college; fewer still graduated.  Very few gained higher degrees.  Many served our country in the armed forces.

The years went by slowly at first.  I attended the five year reunion, where I got very drunk, almost got into a fight with a Marine (note to self: never call a Marine a "boy scout" even in jest!), and stole someone else's date.  I shouldn't have driven home that night.  Many of my classmates had already gone through their first divorce by then.

The ten year reunion was during the day and was a picnic so it would be "family friendly" as most of us by then had small children running around.  What I remember most from that reunion was a great volleyball game and classmate (who was then a police officer) sporting a Hitler mustache.  Really!

The next reunion I attended was the 25th.  We held it in conjunction with the class of 1983 as we had a lack of interest.  The VFW where we were to hold it burned to the ground, so we had it in a tent on the grounds next to an old cemetery.  The metaphor was not lost on me.

Me, the tent, 25 year reunion

So now it was time for our 30th.  The surviving members of the class (we'd had several suicides and accidents) are all in their late forties with all that implies.  Balding, graying, expanding.  We've all changed.  And I've changed a LOT.

I wasn't going to attend.  The cost was $45 per person and I just couldn't afford it.  Then there was the whole "why bother going when I really wasn't close to anyone who will be there?"  Yes, I had friends in High School, but most would not be there as they now live far away.  Then of course there was the elephant in the room:  I was now Full time as my true self, and almost none of them had seen me that way.  Our school had its share of hell raisers, and I frankly worried about a confrontation.

Well, as it turns out, several of my classmates are facialbook friends.  One of them, Eva, reached out to me and asked me to attend.  I told her I couldn't.  She offered to pay my way.  I was dubious.  Why would a person I really barely knew back then and hadn't seen in thirty years want to pay for me?  My mind pondered paranoid possibilities until I finally decided "what the hell- why not?"  With Eva paying, I'd have "no skin in the game" and could leave at any time with no real loss.

So the night arrived: Saturday, November 8, 2014.  Thirty years ago, I was at Drexel University.  Now I was sitting in my car outside Spring Hollow Country Club, wearing my polka dot dress, nervous as hell.  I tried to call my "Big Sister" Mel to get some last second advice, but she was busy and couldn't answer.  I remembered all the advice I received from my facialbook friends.  I took a deep breath and left my car for the chilly walk across the parking lot.

Ready for the Reunion!

The first person I encountered inside was a classmate who asked if I was one of her classmates.  I replied that I was.  She asked my name,  I told her my last name.  She looked at me, pondering, then her eyes grew so very wide.  She gave me a big hug, and greeted me.  We didn't talk the rest of the night, as we really barely knew each other then and now.


The second person to greet me was our class president: Shelly.  She thanked me for coming, and asked me to sign a class picture someone had blown up.  I loved the idea, and asked if I could sign it despite not being in the picture.  Shelly laughed.  I also made a name tag.  Also at the "greeting table" was a box for donations.  One of our classmates had been killed by a drunk driver while jogging the previous spring.  She was one of the popular girls, and the donations were for her family.

Bob C was the real force behind organizing this reunion, and he also promptly greeted me and thanked me for coming.  Later that night, he was speak to me privately and tell me that he was "very glad" I could make it.  I smiled.  He's a class act.

As I waited at the bar to order a drink, George L approached me and was very chatty.  he bought me a drink.  I would later buy him one.  His chattiness toward me died down suddenly as the night progressed.  I guess someone briefed him as to who I was.  That's fine though.

I spent my time updating my memories.  One of my classmates, Michelle G, and I had a wonderful conversation that inexplicably turned to abortion (not my fault!  Honest!).  We agreed to disagree, and spoke several times during the night.

With Eva

Eva arrived and we hugged.  I thanked her again for her generosity.  She hung out mostly with one of my few dear friends from high school:Sue G.  Sue is a fantastic writer.  In school, all the writing awards were either won by her or me.  She has also become a great friend and confidant over the years.  This was her first reunion.

With Sue G

Halfway through the night, a classmate who shall go unnamed sat next to me as I was sitting for a minute and proceeded to have a conversation with my breasts.  I decided to have a little fun, and moved them to the left and right, and his head followed them like when I tease my dog with a piece of food.  Still the conversation was pleasant and my boobs enjoyed it immensely.

The person I spoke with the most is someone I'd known since first grade:  Tony S.  It was his first reunion as well, and he brought his beautiful wife.  Tony and I used to be quite good friends in elementary school but drifted apart.  Remind me to write about the only high school party I hosted and tell you what he and Joe J did that got me caught.  In any case, Tony served a stint in the army and has become quite successful in his chosen field.  We had a wonderful conversation, and he was very supportive.  And his wife was an absolute delight!

With Tony S.  My arm looks HUGE.

Many of my classmates and I didn't talk, but that's ok, as we never did.

I was a bit surprised to hear that several of my classmates read this blog with some regularity!  Well Hi classmates!  84 forevermore!

Some of my classmates had respectful questions, but one of them HAD to go there- to the crotch.  He asked about mine, and I countered by asking him how HIS crotch was functioning, whether or not he could still get it up at our age.  He smiled and apologized for the question.

The night was to go from 7-11 PM.  I'd stopped drinking early and danced a bit to rid myself of some of the alcohol.  As the night was near its end Shelly P dragged many to the dance floor including me.  As Lance, I never danced, but as Sophie, I do.  So I did, and I enjoyed myself.

The venue extended our event by half an hour, but I decided to leave a little early.  I said my goodbyes and headed out into the cold night to my car.  I stopped briefly at Mckenzies to say hi to my friend Valerie and to straighten out all of what happened in my head.  She poured me a drink that I barely touched, as I was very concerned about drinking and driving.  My night ended quietly.

I made it into this class picture!

72 people attended this reunion out of the 275 who graduated, making this the best attended of all the reunions.  That's 26.2% for you math types.  What brought me to this event?  What brought the others?  I think it's the need for Connection.  All we have in common is that we lived in the same area and were about the same age, so that made us classmates.

But by seeing each other all through our school years, friendships formed.  Some of them lasted- others didn't.  But that need to reconnect with these old friends with whom we shared experiences in our now fading youth... it's a powerful draw. We're all in our late forties now, and most of us have children.  Some of us even have grandchildren.  Our lives have all changed and most of us have grown.  But that delicate thread of experiences and friendship, so tenuous... is that what I was seeking perhaps even unconsciously?  Was I there seeking approval?  Redemption?  Or just a smile and a kind word from people with whom I share history if not friendship.  I'm glad I went- I had a wonderful time.

Connection.  We all need it.  Maybe in time all wounds heal,  but they never heal alone.   Sometimes it takes Change... and someone extending their hand.

Thank you Eva, for talking me into going.  And thank you Class of 84 for your acceptance.

As  I wrote this entry, I received a message from a classmate on facialbook.  It read in part "just wanted to say how much credit I give you for coming last night. You were so confident and very comfortable in your own skin. I'm sure it was not easy, but you made it look seamless."

I smiled and felt so very warm inside.

Halloween 2014

Another Halloween has come and gone.  Halloween 2014 was rather mercurial.  The prior weekend I attended a fun party, but my costume sucked, and then other factors made it a bad weekend.

Things improved a bit when the website T-Central published yours truly as a guest columnist.  I was very honored!

This past weekend was a full slate.  The drawback was that I was short on money.  But I went ahead the best I could.

Friday, October 31, 2014 dawned bright and sunny in SEPA.  I woke early to shower , shave and put on my costume.  That meant a corset, which I tied tightly, a wig, and boots with two inch heels.  I drove almost two hours to True Colors Makeup Artistry.  Amanda Richards did an amazing job as always.  I've missed seeing her, as I hadn't since Keystone.  She's a lot of fun to speak with, and a great friend.

Shazam!

From there, I drove back to my stomping grounds, stopping first at my favorite comic book store.  they'd never seen me as Sophie (really! No money means no comics) and obviously never saw the Mary Marvel costume.

At Showcase Comics, Bryn Mawr, PA

After my one roomie Linda was ready, we drove down to Baltimore, Maryland to hang out with Sandy Empanada.  The theme of our group was "superheroes."  I, as you can see, was Mary Marvel.  Linda was the comic book character "Death."

Linda as Death

The Group

We arrived and, after several pictures, went to Club Hippo which is in the city.  There we milled around until karaoke started.  Of course I indulged.  I did Friend of the Devil, the Ramones I wanna be Sedated, and Sweet Caroline.

The night had one small bump- an overzealous suitor who hit on all the women in our group before being warned away by Batman.

We stayed at the Hippo several hours.  A few friends joined us.  One of them, Ashley, had the following picture taken.  Following the picture is her facialbook description of what's in it.

"This picture requires some very special explanation... Sandy and I decided to have our picture taken under the Hippo sign... Not really breaking news... But look at the white streak that appeared in this picture. It wasn't in the picture before or the picture after... The fellow taking the pics took a bunch in a row... He even commented... "What's that?"... Well... This is the same place Lisa Empanada and I took a picture 2 Halloween's ago... When Sandy and I first looked at the picture we both had a look of fear on our faces and honestly we were a bit freaked out.... After some time we both found some comfort in our suspicions... Lisa we love you and are always glad to know you are watching over us..."

So a picture with ectoplasm: by far the creepiest thing to happen that night.  Is it Lisa?  I like to think so.  She and Sandy shared a special bond, and it makes sense that she'd watch over Sandy.

After the Hippo, a few of us went to the Angle Inn near Sandy's house.  That night, Linda and I stayed at Sandy's house.

The next morning was rainy and gloomy.  We left early to head back north.  I had lunch planned with my parents.  I'd forgotten to bring a change of shoes, so I drove barefoot.  My feet were blistered after 14 hours in those boots, and my chest had a sweat rash from the corset.

Lunch went well.  Wife and daughter were there.  I attended in male mode as I flat out didn't have the time to do my makeup, and I knew Wife would appreciate it.  My parents still referred to me as a female.

That night was a Halloween party at M's house.  You know, the place I used to live.  I supplied the decorations.  Remembering that my "Lance" costume failed so miserably the weekend before, I decided to try something different.  So I got my old male suit out of storage and paired it with a short black leather mini skirt and pumps.  A "Genderf*ck."  Or as I put it to some people: Me.

What is that supposed to be?

The party was fun, with former and current coworkers mingling.  A friend made brownies at the party and they were amazing.  I drank very little, as I just didn't feel like drinking that night.  I'd woken up with a hangover and that slowed me down all day.  One of the definite highlights of the night was a large game of "Cards Against Humanity" which is one of most inappropriate games ever made... and a LOT of fun.

Cards against Humanity

I enjoyed seeing many old friends again, and there were some great costumes as well.  I was almost ashamed of my lack of effort.  A game of Gloom also broke out, and it was fun watching.

Gloom

As it stood, a wonderful time was had by all.  I left after midnight as many people were descending in babbling alcoholic madness.  In years past, I would've been right there with them.  In fact, some people wondered why I was so "quiet."  I just smiled at them.

Some things had changed since the last Halloween.  I was no longer the hard drinking jerk I was then.  Now I am at peace.

There are those who call me... Tim.

The next morning I woke up, showered, shaved, put on my makeup and dressed, and it was back to work:  just another day.

Another Halloween has come and gone, and with it, my sixth anniversary of going out for the first time en femme.  So much has changed, even since the last Halloween.  What will this next year bring?  By next Halloween, I will qualify for GCS.  Where will I be?  Who knows?

Now at work, it's full speed ahead toward Christmas.  The next couple of months will be a blur.

I hope your Halloweens were everything you wished them to be!

Fiction: Halloween Spirit

I don't remember if I ever posted this story here.  I posted it on Fictionmania to mixed reviews.  it definitely isn't my best piece but I like it, and it's about Halloween.

Here it is!

********************************************

“Oh God I really have to piss!” Shawn Vyce thought as he semi-jogged along the sidewalk.  All the bars were closing and he thought he could make it home, but…

            “Gotta find a place… gotta find a place…”

            Shawn loped along in his rabbit costume feeling stupid, and hoping he wouldn’t have an accident.  This wasn’t the way he wanted to end Halloween night. He would’ve much rather spent the remainder back at Liz’s place, but she had other ideas. 

           

A month ago, Shawn’s friend Hank suggested that a bunch of their friends go out as a costumed group for Halloween, to try to win the top prize at the Spirit Bar’s annual contest.  The $1000 prize would divide nicely between the five of them.  After some phone calls and texting, they had their plan.

            Hank dressed as a magician with a top hat, suit and wand.  Shawn rented a white rabbit costume which was thick, sweaty, and looked a lot like Ralphie’s pj’s from “A Christmas Story.”  It was kind of hard to find one in his size- Shawn was six four, and out of shape with a big beer gut.  George dressed as a playing card, using 2 pieces of particle board strapped over his shoulders- the Ace of Spades.  Kind of appropriate as he looked a little bit like Lemmy from Motorhead, which he played up by wearing a leather biker look under the card pieces.  George’s wife, Jill, also dressed as a playing card- the Ace of Hearts.          

Halloween night started well enough.  They all gathered at George and Jill’s place to get into costume and have a few drinks to “warm up.” It was, after all, a chilly night!  The wind was cold and the sliver moon ducked in and out behind fast moving high, black clouds. 

“Perfect haunting weather!” Liz said.

“Perfect night for magic!” Hank said, waving his wand then finishing his beer.

“Oh God I can’t hold it much longer! Shit!  Wait! Evergreen Cemetery is just ahead! I can go behind a tree there or something!”

So they had drinks at George and Jill’s.  Liz showed up last.  She dressed as the sexy assistant: fishnets, heels and a satin bodice.  And was she ever sexy!  She wanted Jill to help with her hair, since Jill is a hairdresser.

            Shawn liked Liz.  He hadn’t had a girlfriend, hell even a successful date in two years.  Not since his last girlfriend found out he cheated on her with a stripper.  But that was two years, a whole state, and another job ago.  He picked up and moved east and started anew here.  And Liz seemed so nice and so hot and… she didn’t feel the same way about him.  But maybe tonight, he could change her mind!

            Shawn arrived at the cemetery.  It had a low wrought iron fence, maybe waist high.  It was old, rusty in places.  Fortunately for him, part of it was flattened by a car a week before so he didn’t have to jump it.  Tree… There’s a tree!  Shawn ran behind it, unzipped his costume and…

            Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

            The bar was crowded, but they managed to find a place near the beer taps and get lots of drinks.  They were regulars at the bar, and good tippers, so that helped. 

            The bar scene was a blur.  The costumes, the people, and the free gropes Shawn got from women trying to get by him in the crowd…he loved it.  At midnight, the judges ruled on the best costumes. 

            And the best group was…

            Star Wars Zombies!

            Applause!  Toasts!  Chugging! 

Shawn’s group applauded politely.  Liz was a lot more enthusiastic than the others as Zombie Han was hitting on her all night. 

They announced second prize in the group category (gift certificates) and the Magician Act won that.  They hugged and cheered and Shawn pinched Liz’s butt.  She glared at him and quietly but firmly said “No!”

Drink drink drink.  Last call!  Look how long the lines are for the bathrooms!  Shawn got into line for the men’s room when the guy in front of him (not dressed in a costume) turns and says “Nice fuckin’ bunny suit dude!”

Shawn was humiliated, and didn’t want to start anything with this guy, who was much bigger than him.  He sighed, smiled, and said “Yeah, thanks.”

And got out of line.  He could probably make it home…

Shawn realized he wasn’t peeing on a tree.  He was peeing on the tombstone next to it.  The stone was really old and worn.  Shawn couldn’t read it.

“Oh well,” Shawn said.  “Have a drink on me, whoever you were.”

Elisabeth Mather (1756-1784) had enough.  She had enough of people desecrating her stone- of the humiliation of having her husband’s mistress buried next to him while she was buried away in a corner.  She had enough of humiliation in general, especially at the hands or genitals of men.  From beyond she cried out- and something heard her.  A Spirit powerful and old- older even than the land in which Elisabeth’s bones and dust rested.  The Spirit heard.

            Shawn shook himself, zipped his jeans up, then the costume as well. 

            The clouds covered the sliver of room in the sky as the wind picked up, sending leaves scattering.  A chill ran up Shawn’s spine.

            Then something grabbed Shawn’s ankles!  He tried to run but the more he struggled, the stronger the grip became.  He lost his balance and fell across the wet ancient tombstone.  He looked back at his feet.

            Two hands made of bits of bone and adipocere held together by a strange mist thrust out from the cold earth and had a tight grip on his ankles.  Shawn tried to scream, but couldn’t.  He clawed and tried to climb over the stone, but the hands held tight.  In fact, he seemed to be pulling the arms out of the ground as he now could see forearms and elbows protruding from the dirt.

            Shawn felt tired and weak, and the stone he gripped seemed to be… growing?  In fact, the rabbit suit was looser than before as well.  What was going on? 

            This had to be a dream!

            The weaker he felt; the hands and arms holding him coalesced.  More bones appeared, muscle, tendons…all surrounded by the mist holding it like skin.

            Suddenly he felt intense pain in his hips and groin, like someone kicked him there so hard that the bone broke.  He even heard a slight crack!  The pain was so intense that he lost his grip on the urine slicked stone and fell into an almost fetal position.  He folded his arms around himself trying to endure the pain.  Nothing existed for him but pain. 

            He felt something strange on his bare arms.  Bare?  His nails were digging in where he gripped himself.  He had long nails- as long as a girl’s!  That can’t be!

            The pain in his hips suddenly stopped but his ankles burned where the hands had gripped them.  He looked down.  The hands had released him, but he was now lying partially in a large hole.  The bunny suit looked smaller and now tighter.  The arms were missing.  His hips felt so… different.

            Suddenly a mist surrounded him and he felt himself lifted by the shoulders and pinned to the tree.

            He looked down into the face of the thing holding him there.  His eyes grew wide with horror.  The dirt caked skull was surrounded by mist which slowly seemed to be rebuilding the face!  As the face rebuilt, Shawn felt his own face and neck tingle and burn.  Eyes suddenly appeared in the skull’s empty sockets, and Shawn’s eyes stung.  He felt his body slowly sliding down the tree until he was looking this…this… thing in the face.  Was he shrinking?  Wait- the mist made the thing’s face look almost handsome, with a stout neck and hardening features.  “He” gripped Shawn’s shoulders tightly, and he could feel them burning. 

            Suddenly, the misty head sprouted hair: black, thick hair that quickly grew.  Shawn felt something tickling his shoulders.  His now bare shoulders?

            He looked down and saw his thick rabbit suit was gone, replaced by what looked like a woman’s swimsuit.  No- not a swimsuit: a one piece thing like from the old Playboy clubs.

            How?

            His stomach was still a little chubby, but he could see his hips flaring out and his bare, beautiful legs.  He could see his stomach still perceptibly shrinking, and…

            And…

            Oh my God no!

            He saw that the mist was filling out the thing’s chest, and his own chest was beginning to bulge and bud.  He was growing breasts!

            Shawn grabbed the misty corpse and tried to pull “his” fingers from his shoulders, but “he” held them tight.  Rather than weakening “his” grip, Shawn felt his arms burn and become thinner- his hands much more feminine. 

            Horrified, Shawn looked down and saw devastating cleavage.  His breasts had to be a D cup at least!  “But I’m a guy!  Guys don’t have tits!” he thought.

            The mist creature seemed to close “his” eyes and Shawn shrank even more. He pushed Shawn away and onto the ground.  The mist around “him” solidified then disappeared, becoming skin.  Standing above him was a man in his late twenties, with black hair and average looks.  He was dressed in a pants and simple shirt.  He seemed to be looking himself over, surprised.

            Shawn sat sprawled on the ground where the guy had pushed him and looked at himself.  He looked down over his breasts to see that his hips had indeed flared out from a tiny waist, covered in a shiny powder blue outfit.  And..and..Oh No!  His penis was gone!  That’s what felt so strange!  The bottom of his outfit was high cut around his now fishnet stocking covered legs, and he saw no bulge to indicate manhood!  In fact, with those hips and breasts, he looked like a beautiful woman in a bunny costume!  He now WAS a woman!  She looked at her thin arms and hands with their long red painted nails, and looked up at the man standing over her. 

            The man standing above her smiled.  Shawn felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and tried to speak but could only cry.  The man reached down to help her up.  Shawn was scared, but allowed him to help, especially since he had never stood in the four inch heels she now wore. 

            She stood and looked at herself.  She turned and looked at her feminine butt (with a dirty bunny tail.)  She pulled at her long brunette hair which, even as curly as it was, reached down to the small of her back.  She had lost at least a foot in height.

            The man spoke to her quietly. “My name is now John.  I don’t know what powers brought me back, or made me a man, but they used you to open that door, and to exact a lesson upon you.  You, who treated women as playthings, are now one yourself.  In fact, you are now my wife, Elisabeth.  I will teach you to be a proper woman, and you will teach me of these strange times and more of this strange language that I speak even now.  And I will no longer be treated poorly by men.”

            “Wife? But I’m a man!” Elisabeth said, finding her voice.  It was soft and feminine.

            “Do you look like a man?  You are dressed like a whore, and are most definitely a woman.  You will remain one the rest of your days.”  With that, John walked away, leaving Elisabeth alone in the cemetery.  She slowly followed, falling twice, but lost him in the dark streets now beginning to empty of the late night bar crowd.  She shivered in the cold night, then stopped at a passing storefront to look at her reflection.

            She was an average looking woman, maybe in her late twenties with long curly hair.  Her breasts were easily her best feature and her hips were a bit too wide, she thought.  She traced her figure with her hands as she gazed in the window, then cried some more.

Slowly, she walked back to her apartment in those heels, finding that she had no keys.  No wallet or ID either.  They must be back at the cemetery, she thought, and walked through the cold night back there. Halfway back, she removed the heels as her feet ached.  She searched around the tree and the ancient grave.  Where was that hole that was there?  It was gone, and the ground was firm and overgrown like it had never been disturbed.       

Elisabeth didn’t read the mossy, worn stone.  If she had, she would see, faintly, the name of Shawn Vyce.

            She searched a while and but never found the keys or her ID. 

            The next morning, John found Elisabeth asleep in the cemetery, and took her back to an apartment that Elisabeth just “knew” was hers.  There, she found an ID and keys to her car and this apartment.  “Elisabeth Mather” it said, and new memories flooded into her head, not replacing but in addition to those of being Shawn.

            Shawn Vyce was declared missing a couple days later.  Despite a thorough search, he was never found, and eventually declared dead.

           

            With Elisabeth’s help, John Mather learned the ways of his new time quickly.  He became a leading advocate for women’s rights, and treated Elisabeth well- much better than John had ever been treated as a woman.  He studied hard and after many years became a lawyer- which would’ve been impossible in his first life.  He could never understand how or why he had this second chance, but was determined to make the best of it.

            The Spirit moved on, satisfied.

            Elisabeth Mather found work as a secretary in a trucking firm.  The male side of her brain hated the dress code, which required skirts and suits, but she managed.  She never trusted John, but eventually learned to get along with him.  Eventually, Elisabeth made peace with her womanhood, never knowing what made her change.  In time, she bore John two daughters. 

           

            Elisabeth never set foot outdoors on Halloween again.

            

Halloween Fail

Last night I attended a Halloween party thrown by friend Randi.  She and her husband have thrown this party many years in a row.  For the past five years, I've attended the party and each time I was dressed like a woman... except last year when I had to work.

In fact a couple years ago I dressed as a Vampiress and a couple of the women in attendance asked me if I was transitioning as the breast prosthetic looked THAT good!  (Thanks Proactive Prosthetics!)

Vamping

So this year the party was on the 25th, which was Wife's birthday.  I came home from work, changed into boy clothes and washed off my makeup, waiting for Wife to call.  Maybe she'd want to go to dinner for her birthday, either with or without daughter.

That call would never come.

So I decided to go to the party.  And I decided that I'd go crossdressed... as a guy.  This group of people are very intelligent as a rule- mostly chemists and engineers, so I figured they'd get the "Oh look she's crossdressed again" thing I was attempting.

Nope, I had to explain it.  And if you have to explain it, the joke (or the costume) failed.

So I hung out for a while.  I drank homemade punch and spiced homemade mead.  I had a pulled pork sandwich.  We played Cards Against Humanity.  I had a good time.  The place was extremely well decorated and there were some wonderful costumes!  The company couldn't have been better!

I have another party on Saturday.  I had thought of going to THAT party as Lance, but in light of the costume fail at this party, I'll probably go with a different look.

Maybe this?

Today was Daughter's birthday.  I didn't see her.  She and Wife never got away from MIL or the very conservative brother in law, who visited with his five children.  Then they all went to a party at Build-A-Bear.  Daughter enjoyed herself I'm told, and that's really important.

Still, I would've liked to have hugged my daughter on her birthday.

There's a lot more to this topic, but it goes into the "private family matters" category.  So that's all I'll say about it.

So now what?  So far, this Halloween hasn't exactly been the best.  I had a good time at the party in a bad costume (did I mention how uncomfortable I felt being a guy?  And how squished my breasts felt?)

So, there's a trip to Baltimore this Friday for Halloween, then another party.  Then Halloween 2014 is history.

I hope to see my Daughter this week.  I could really use a hug from her.

On This Harvest Moon: Six Years

Halloween approaches!  And I finally have some time to type some thoughts.  I've been rather busy,

Halloween, as I've often said, is my favorite holiday.  It's also my "birthday"- the anniversary of the night I dressed as a woman for the first time in decades.

Halloween 2008.  My Wife saw me that night: she was Clark Kent to my Lois Lane.  My friend Dawn did my makeup.  I didn't know that this innocent costume would break open a long scabbed over wound.  I sort of wondered if it would though.  I wondered if I had the strength to keep it down.  I figured I did- after all, I'd kept it down and deeply buried for over twenty years at that point.  My coworkers saw me that night.  My costume was a hit.

Halloween 2008, a previously "unpublished" photo

My Breasts for Halloween 08 were birdseed in pantyhose

We all know what happened.  I didn't have the strength to stop my feminine side again.  And a little more than a month later, I was Sophie.

The following Halloween (2009) was a party co-hosted by myself and my friend M.  That year, I had purchased breast forms, hip pads, a custom corset, and breasts from Proactive Prosthetics arrived.  I had my ears pierced.  I had my eyebrows waxed.  I also learned about the genius of Amanda Richards.  So for the Halloween party, I again went as a woman, but this time with a little more polish.  For the party, I called myself Monique.

Monique

And I also attended the Henri David Ball in a costume made for me by Lorraine Anderson of Occasional Woman.  

Mary Marvel

Another year passed.  I gained experience doing my own makeup and with wardrobe choices.  For the "work" Halloween Party 2010, I went as God's gift to women- I wrapped myself in wrapping paper.  I was hoping to throw off suspicions that I was a crossdresser.  It seemed to work.  However, for the Laptop Lounge Halloween Party (and for a friend's Halloween party) I again went with Mary Marvel.  This time I visited a bar alone, and also visited a comic shop before going to the party.

"God's Gift to Women"

At the Comic book store.  They recognized me immediately.

But for Henri David the following night, I wore another Lorraine Anderson creation: a St. Pauli Girl.  That night was ruined by someone who did her best to get me angry.  

Want a Beer?

Halloween 2011 was an odd one.  Again, I co-hosted the Halloween Party.  But this time, it snowed heavily the night of the party, so few showed up.  I wore Mary Marvel that night (and for the subsequent "make up" party the following February.  It was my co-workers first time seeing that costume.  

At the "work" party

For Laptop Lounge and the soon to follow Beauty and the Beach costume contest, I wore another Lorraine Anderson costume.  I was supposed to be an Evil Queen, but I had gained so much weight I thought I looked like a diva opera singer.  The costume was beautiful though.  I didn't attend Henri David Ball that year, as I still had a bad taste in my mouth from the year before.

Want an apple, Snow White?

 Halloween 2012 I wore the same outfit to the work party as to the Henri David ball.  I bought the outfit from the Pyramid Collection catalog, but Lorraine Anderson did many modifications to it, as it didn't quite fit.  I love this costume.  As can be imagined, tongues were beginning to wag about my going as a woman yet again.  Two months after this, I was on hormones.

Vampiress

Halloween 2013 was rather somber.  In the two months prior to this, I'd been thrown out of my MIL's house, was living with a friend, and had lost one of my best friends to suicide.  Yet I cohosted a sparsely attended party anyway.  I wore Mary Marvel again.  I got very drunk very quickly.  However, I wore a new costume to Henri David ball.  This was another Lorraine Anderson creation: a Flameco Dancer.  And for the first time on Halloween, I did my own makeup.  By that time, I'd stopped wearing forms and was sporting my own breasts. 

Flamenco!

Now it's Halloween 2014.  It will be six years since my re-awakening.  My life is completely different than the one I had on Halloween 2008.  What am I wearing for Halloween?  Well, for the Laptop Pre-Halloween party, I revisited the St. Pauli Girl- this time without the prosthetic.  On Halloween night, I plan to be in Baltimore dressed as Mary Marvel (after which I'll probably retire that costume.)  But for the two parties on Saturday Nov 1?   

Can I get you anything?

That would be telling.

On this Harvest Moon, I reflect upon my life as is was and as it is.  And I wonder where the road will take me in this next year.  I now have 111 followers, and I hope that whatever happens will be compelling enough to keep you reading.  As I really do appreciate you all.

I wish you all the best Saim Hann (if that's your way) and the happiest of Halloweens!

Blogging Advice

My dear friend Mary Almy is starting her own blog.  She sent me a facialbook message asking for advice.  So I thought about it.  And I thought some more.  And all that thinking tired me out, so I took a nap.

I decided that I'd write my thoughts here.  Mary said she was ok with that.

I've been doing this blog (counting the Myspace days) since December 2008.  I started it right after my first night out as Sophie (not counting Halloween, when I was Lois Lane.)  So that's *counts on fingers* six years.  I've built up a modest following, including 109 Amazing masochists who subscribe (and I thank you all!)

Where did I learn to blog?  Well, I didn't.  I've been winging it for six years.  Seriously.  So how do I approach writing this blog?  Do I follow any rules?  Who put the bomp in the bomp-sh-bomp-sh-bomp?

Rules?  What rules?

There are many books out there on Blogging.  Maybe someday I should read one.  But I took my inspiration from two bloggers:  Donna Rose and Kimberly Huddle.  From them I learned that blog entries tend to focus on a given topic, so that's what I try to do as well- one topic per entry.

I also have a few rules I follow, most of which came from my writing mentor back in my Penn State days: the late Professor Phillip Klass (aka William Tenn.)

1)  "Write with Fire; edit with Ice."  Write with passion and without caring about things like grammar on the first draft.  That's what subsequent drafts are about- edit mercilessly, and Never Settle.  I usually break this rule with my blog, as I rarely go back to edit it- preferring the Fire for this format.  My TG Forum column is edited with ice, then checked again by the editor, Angela Gardner.

2) "If possible, write your first draft Longhand, then type it for your second draft, editing and expanding as you go."  Professor Klass insisted upon this.  I still think my writing is better that way.  I wrote my entire book (you know the unpublished one?) longhand, then typed it.  It was a lot of work but I feel it was worth the effort.  I write out many of my blog entries long hand, and I think it's easy to see the difference between those and the ones that I type in "cold."

3) "Develop a style."  This took me a long time, but I think I'm sort of there.  I use odd capitalization to emphasize Important Words, a technique I stole shamelessly from the late Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.  I also use frequent fragments, which would drive an English teacher crazy.  I do it to emphasize rhythm and pacing, and because I tend to write as I speak.

Last but not least:

4)  "Sophie's Law: Be completely honest with yourself and especially with your readers."  This one is my guiding light.  I don't write much fiction because of this, but the fiction I write, I try to be as honest as I can.  I write this blog for many reasons, but one of them is to explore what's inside the tangled mess in my head.  I can't do that if I'm not honest with myself.  Also I truly believe that a reader can tell when a writer is full of sh*t.  I think my best stuff comes when I dig out something I didn't expect, or when I'm writing full of raw emotion.  My "most read entries" seem to bear this out. Occasionally while I'm writing, I begin to cry, especially if I'm typing about certain topics.  But I keep typing.  It helps me through the pain.  And with GID and transition, there is a LOT of Pain.  And Darkness.

So, Mary, there's some of the basics.  I'll leave you with the most important thing Prof. Klass ever taught me:  WRITE.  Write every day.  A lot of it will suck, but that's ok, as no one needs to see it.  I have notebooks full of longhand crap that won't see the light of day.  But the Writing muscle MUST be exercised like any other muscle.  You can't improve if you don't write and practice.  The corollary to this rule is to READ.  Read what others have written.  Enjoy it.  Learn from it.  What worked and what didn't?  How would YOU have done it? I try to read every day as well.  But writing?  I don't feel complete if I haven't written at least a page longhand each day.

If you wish to see how my own style has developed over time, you need only examine my Myspace blogs, or my work on Fictionmania, or, as mentioned earlier, my TG Forum column.  I just re-read my Myspace stuff because I think it's fascinating to see my journey from the beginning.

In fact, that may even be my next book...

Early October; Kim and Zoey

October is here!  Yay?  Well, this month has my favorite holiday as well as the birthdays of Wife and Daughter.  It also has pumpkin pie and Penn State football.  (PSU is 4-1 if anyone cares.)

Two major events happened this week.  Yes, already.

The first was that Linda Lewis and I now have a room mate.  Yes there are now three of us in this apartment.  The new roomie is named Zoey, and she came here from Iowa.  She is an actress by trade and also a freelance writer.  I've only ever read one thing she's written but I liked it.  More on her in later entries.  In any case, it's nice not having to pay all that extra rent.

I also had dinner with Kimberly Huddle last Saturday.  For those who don't know, Kimberly has her own blog in which she writes brilliantly about travelling the country cross-dressed.  She was making a rare trip to Philadelphia, and invited Linda, Zoey and I to dinner (though Zoey couldn't make it.  My fault there.)

We met at one of my usual haunts: Rock Bottom at the King of Prussia Mall.  I had to work, so I was the last to arrive.  Linda and Kim were seated near the back.  I saw Linda first as I approached the table, then I saw Kim, smiling brighter than the sun.  She was wearing a red orange top, slacks (!), and her trademark flip hairstyle.  Two amazing women at the same table.  I felt very privileged to be joining them.

We sat and talked for a while about travelling, about Linda and I's current living situation and about our mutual jobs.  Kim spoke about her trip out here and we talked a little about our blogs.  It was loud in there, but not so loud that we couldn't hear each other talk.  Close, but not quite.  As always, Kim had Linda and I laughing so hard with her understated "down home" sense of humor and the absurd.

They ate Mac and Cheese dishes.  I had German sausages.  And beer.  Why not?  It was good, but I didn't like the boiled red cabbage.

After dinner we all had a glass of wine.  We asked the waiter to take some pictures, which he did, starting with a selfie (see Kim's blog for that pic.)  He took several pictures with my camera and hers. I think the pic from her camera is the best, and she posted it on her blog.  Of the ones on my camera, the best one is below, after a little cropping by Linda.

Kim had an early morning the next day, so the night ended far too soon.  As I was exhausted (and broke) I headed back to the apartment.

It's always wonderful to see Kim.  It's such a rarity, and always a treat.  If you haven't read her blog, you're missing out.  This chick is the definition of Guts.  She does what so many of us wish we could do (at least I did before I went FT) and in doing so she is an inspiration to so many people.  Her bravery, beauty and poise continues to inspire me.

So I had dinner with two of my inspirations.  Yes, I know how lucky I am.  And when I'm feeling down, I remember times like this, and it helps me remember how fortunate I really am.  I'm living the dream- I'm full time.  I'm paying the price, but still...

Thanks to Kim and Linda for a wonderful night.

And welcome to Zoey!  It's going to be a wild ride!