One Way or Another
One way or another I am done wearing men’s clothing. Honestly, there is probably four days until then, but I am not sure when that day will be. On Saturday, June 27, 2015, exactly two weeks after going out in public for the first time in dress on the 13th (see Headstrong; Self-Confident for that story) I have partly conquered the most intimidating part of the transition for me. It is now the 28th and this post is scheduled to go up at 6:00AM.
I sat down with my adoptive mom yesterday and she acted on her support for my transition by buying female clothes for me. She also hesitated after she said ‘son.’ She realized what she said and how it made me feel, which made me very happy. She would not have hesitated like that before… We purchased enough work appropriate female clothing to get me though a workweek, which for me is only four days. I already have enough female clothing that is not quite work appropriate to get me though the other 3 days of the week.
Why am I rushing all of a sudden? My feelings toward male clothing have changed greatly. In the past, I did not like men’s clothing… It felt confining to me. It is uncomfortable and unnatural. Male clothing has never fit me; for one example straight lines form men’s jeans. For jeans, I am okay with that below the hip but men’s jeans also go straight above the hip. Since my waist is significantly, smaller it makes for a very large gap and I have to hold it with a belt and in some cases fold the jeans along the belt line. Keep in mind “skinny jeans” refers to an inward cut below the hips, not above.
Let me elaborate a little bit because I realize for some that will still be unclear. If I got a pair of male jeans that fit around my waist, they are two to three inches too small for my hips. I would find myself forcing myself into jeans where I could not fit. If I got a pair of jeans that fit my hips, I would have to wear a belt and reduce the waist by three to four inches, Three to four inches! I got used to this and just disliked my clothing. I have now worn something that fit me properly; it is no longer acceptable to wear ill-fitting clothing. Wearing belts and reducing jeans that much no longer feels uncomfortable, it now feels like putting a noose around my neck every day… If I do nothing, that trap door of depression is going to open again underneath me.
Each day that goes on like this, I am crossing a line, and this has happened before. There is a woman in my mind she has pushed each step of this transition. She is the woman I see as myself. She is my inner self-image. I used to have no hope of getting there but each step I take in this transition I get more hope and closer to her. However, sometimes she is a bitch.
Right now, I stand as something between male and female. I am not quite ‘me,’ but I am no longer ‘him.’ Periodically I will get a day, like that Saturday, of pure happiness. That is the day I have crossed a borderline. It was a line in the sand, it was a fear, it was an anxiety and now I have stepped passed it. I have grown closer to her. I can breathe, for a day. Then, she draws another line in the sand. She has made me anxious again. She has made me depressed again. Will this ever end?
In this particular case, the line is to make a permanent change in clothing. I have seen this line for a while; I have feared it for even longer. However, as of June 13, 2015 it was the next line in the sand. I just stood there and stared at it. To me this is the most intimidating part of the transition. Many Transgender people start their transition or realize they want to transition by wearing the other gender’s clothing. For me, this could not be further from the case. The next couple days after the 13th I looked back on how I felt. Those feelings gave me the self-confidence to consider walking across it. I had become headstrong enough to feel that I belonged in women’s clothing. However I was still fearful, I still could not even take a step toward it. It was very demoralizing this was without a doubt the borderline.
I spent a week just staring and feeling like had no chance to get across this one. A push from my adoptive mom, a push from my birth mom, a push from my husband, and two weeks later, it happened. On the way is enough female clothing to make it through a week. It is not a large wardrobe, but it will do to get across this line. Each line I cross gets me further from Joseph and closer to Josephine. I will give him the slip. One way or another, my male clothing is going away.
As of the 26th, I had enough to get though everything except work and was already wearing it most of the time… However, what we ordered were work appropriate jeans and polo shirts, very similar to what I wore last summer however this time they will fit me. It may be ‘copping out’ to some but to me this is huge. The clothes should all arrive by the July 3; however, that is not the important day…
The important day will be July 2, 2015. It is my birth mom’s birthday; we are going to a concert. It is her first birthday where we can celebrate together. We are going to see Blondie and Melissa Etheredge. I learned by going out in the dress that big steps work for me in regards to this issue. I had all kinds of backup plans and did not need any. What I need now, is the male clothing out of the closet in my mind. I will leave a little bit more of Joseph behind in my past, one way, or another.
This time I will have only one backup plan. I will leave the remainder of my male clothing in my closet for 1-2 months. If I don’t touch the clothing during that time, I will pack it all up and donate it. If I do need it (because I run out of clothing, or something else) I will more slowly transition my wardrobe. Sometimes I feel like my mind needs a light-switch moment even though the transition itself is far from a light-switch situation. I will do my best to pretend those clothes are not there.
One more line, one large step toward Josephine. I will either share one of the best days of my life with the birthday girl (my birth mom) and my husband, or I will have a difficult day and they will be there to support me. However, the birthday will keep the day happy. Being able to share my birth mom’s birthday with her will be a gift that I have never experienced before. It will erase a good deal of any pain that occurs. Will it be a slow transition for the remainder of clothing, or will it be a light switch? Who knows… I will make it, one way, or another.
P.S. If she just happens to sing this song, I will probably be the happiest girl in that moment.