May
19
I spoke last time about my concern about getting a bruise while playing hockey as a guy.
But, that is just a little part of the bargain I have made with the devil.
As I live on both sides of the gender divide, I am finding more and more that compromises have to be made on each side in order to allow the other side to thrive.
For the most part, the compromises on Janie’s part are about the things I don’t do to myself – like hormones and breasts and facial feminization.
Though I never really quite thought it all through in advance, my guy side has been making compromises that are becoming all the more obvious as I go on.
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May
18
I play hockey. No, not Janie, him! Yes, him – the guy that I am.
I have always been fairly good at sports, and quite competitive, and I proudly love and play Canada’s game – hockey.
But, there I was last time out, when a guy took a shot that hit me in the ankle and smarted like the ever-lovin’ dickens! And, what do you know, but the only thought running amok in my head as I crumpled to the ice in pain was, “Oh, no! I am going to have a bruise; how will I ever be able to wear that skirt and heels next weekend?”
Now, it didn’t take me long to become more realistic in my thinking, but it was no less distressing, “Sheesh, this really f***’in hurts… I might not even be able to walk in heels at all!”
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May
17
Thinking back on my just ended Vegas vacation with the Wildside girls, I always marvel at how easy it is for me to meet and connect with people there. It is all the more surprising because I have a terrible time of it in my regular life.
I think we all know that past a certain age, it is difficult to make friends; people are set in their ways, have their guard up and often simply just have enough people to deal with in their lives.
But, I have noticed that t-girls are different – at least the ones I have met at Wildside and even at other t-get-togethers.
The explanation is fairly straightforward.
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May
14
OMG, THAT was FUN!
We invaded Share Nightclub last night and took over the VIP section. It took a few minutes for us to get settled in and suss out the club, and then all hell broke loose!
Our little VIP area quickly turned into an exuberant party, everyone dancing with everyone else, bopping up and down to the beat, embracing, laughing, loving each other’s company!
There were lap dances, girls dropping clothes and shoes, and a healthy dose of raunchiness that never really crossed into the realm of vulgarity.
I danced my feet off for hours, sweating out the tequila I had consumed all week.
I’d dance with one girl, and then a few others would join us; some more arrived and others left in a revolving door of dance partners… every so often, I’d feel a hand caress my back or even a body close behind me and a hand or two coming around the front of my body; it was all good…
I was free and happy and joyful! Doesn’t get much better than that!
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May
06
I shouldn’t really get a kick out of confusing the poor uninitiated, but for some reason, I do.
I was in a suburban restaurant the other day, totally in guy mode, when the need arose to use the loo. Of course, I went to the men’s room.
As I was standing at the sink, washing my hands, the door (which was slightly behind me and to my left) opened and a man came forward. I turned to look and saw him stop in his tracks as he took in the sight of me, look back at the sign on the door, then back at me.
Then, he stepped back and let the door close.
A few seconds later, the door opened again, and I turned to him and said with a friendly smile, “Yes, you’re in the right place.” I paused, aware that he still wasn’t completely buying it, and reassured him, “And, so am I.”
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Apr
28
Well, another of my friends has just undergone boob surgery, and each time this happens, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if I were to go that route.
It sure would be nice to have a (more) feminine chest, that’s sure.
But, each of us has her own journey to follow.
Boobies would certainly pose problems in my male life – a life I still hold dear. I would never get really big ones anyway, and so they could be hidden, but still…
But, the more important issue for me is that I am still struggling with the extent and nature of my femininity. Currently, I take great pleasure in my ability to be convincingly feminine without surgery or hormones, and, in fact, I consider that to be my gender identity – that I am naturally able to assume the role of both or either, without the need for drugs or implants.
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Apr
19
A court decision in Canada has struck down a law requiring Gender-reassignment Surgery (GRS) as a precondition to having one’s gender changed on their documentation.
There are undoubtedly people on both sides of this issue who will be unhappy about it – post-op transsexuals who may feel that anyone who can tolerate the “bits” of the opposite gender is not truly transsexual, and others who may feel that this just makes it too easy to play games with one’s gender and official documentation.
But, remember that most people who eventually undergo gender reassignment surgery spend years living as the gender opposite to what their identification indicates. They do this for financial reasons, or even for reasons of uncertainty and fear of going through with the surgery. They are not fooling around; this is serious business in their lives, and having a passport or ID that matches the gender they are living is important.
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Mar
27
Miss Universe Canada selected Jenna Talackova as a finalist for the 2012 competition.
But, that was before they found out that she was born male (“assigned male at birth” to be exact).
Can’t have that!
Yes, the pageant immediately disqualified her, wishing her the best in her life outside their little event. Sorry, just the rules; no discrimination here, they said.
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Mar
17
I’ve been Ma’am-ed before on several occasions while in male mode, but this is a whole new thing.
When someone refers to you as “Ma’am,” they see you as a blank stranger – another person in line, a customer, someone in their way… whatever.
But, today, I was getting on the plane, and a fairly good-looking man in his 40s or 50s stepped out of the aisle to let me pass, looking straight into my eyes with a smile and softly saying, “Go ahead, dear.”
Certainly not an affirmation of my masculinity, that’s for sure!
I am equal parts puzzled, concerned and pleased.
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