First things first, I’m pretty excited to have two followers now, which is way more than just the random person I used to get reading my blog.  So now that I’m actually feeling like an author, I did do a little bit of tweaking and shameless promotion of my blog.  But, hey, a girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do.  Anyhow, just a quick shout out to transparentguy and trans*forming mom for being my first official followers.

Today, I’m going to try to weave three topics into my post.  I think they’re all related so it should actually work, but comments are always appreciated.  And now that I have followers, topic suggestions, random questions, are all appreciated to.  The three topics are crossing paths with another trans identified person, coming out to my former roommate and the quest for toe socks.

Eight girls wearing toe socks

Eight girls wearing toe socks (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ll start with the toe socks since this was going to originally be a post about how after a year and a half of looking, although casually, I finally found toe socks in my size.  I think I alluded to it in my “inner tights enthusiast” post, so that should give you a relative idea of how long I’ve been looking, but yeah the search is finally over.  I was so excited when I ordered them and even more so when they arrived.  I almost screamed.  It reminded me of the post by a mother of a gender variant child who screamed so loudly when he saw his first Barbie doll, she’d thought he injured himself.  I’d link to it, but I can’t honestly recall where I read it.  If you’re that mom or you know who is, let me know and I’ll update this post with a link.  Anyhow, that’s about how loudly I wanted to scream.  It should be obvious how much I love my new socks, I guess.  :)Moving on, I crossed paths with someone I assume was trans identified yesterday.  To understand my lack of certainty for a moment, I have to disclose, if you haven’t figured out already, I’m a Paramedic.  It was actually another crew, from another service even, with their student in tow.  The student looked pretty standard issue lesbian, short hair, standard EMS student uniform.  I couldn’t help but notice that it looked as if they were binding though.  I told my partner as much, that I wasn’t clear at first if they were male or female.  The binding, or apparent binding, made it pretty clear to me and yet I’m still not sure.  It wasn’t the time or place to be questioning them.

I wear my transgender pride bracelet all the time now (one of those latex bracelet things that are so popular right now).  Most people have no idea what it means, nor do I feel the need to tell them.  I was hoping this poor student might know what it was and we could maybe hit it off or something (as juvenile as that sounds).  Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.  What an interesting change for me though, considering it was only a couple months ago I met someone I’ll refer to as Amanda.

To understand Amanda, or rather my choice of naming an otherwise stranger, you have to understand how I met Amanda.  My partner and I were at a hospital cafeteria trying to get lunch.  It’s a small hospital, with a small, crowded cafeteria.  I found myself standing behind someone with a bad floral print top and long, stringy hair.  I thought, odd shirt for a guy, but he’s got long hair so I suppose it works.  Well, Amanda turned around and it was pretty clear.  I was faced with the largest set of fake breasts I’d ever seen, even to the point of being disproportionate on her frame, and a rather masculine looking woman.  Hey, we all gotta live and be happy, right?  Well Amanda opens her mouth and out comes a deep booming voice, male speech patterns and all (there is a difference).  The finale was her very masculinely walking out of the cafeteria.

I admit, I coined the term “Amanda” as a play on words. A-man-duh.  I know I’m supposed to admire her courage, especially considering this was a fairly rural county (though close to a major metropolitan area), but I couldn’t get past being angry with her.  Angry that she was doing such a horrible job of trying to pass, or was she even trying?  She struck me as the kind of person that was a support group queen who, every week, wondered why she didn’t pass and a gaggle of groupies at the meeting telling her how beautiful she was.  I suppose the anger was mixed with fear.  I was fearful on some level that she would recognize me as transgendered (the physical changes are obvious) and somehow feel as though we were “sisters”, essentially publicly outing me.  Our narratives are completely different, I don’t appear to have anything in common with Amanda, but the anger I felt towards her was fear more than it was anger.

Contrast that with my more recent experience.  Aside from the differences, that I don’t think the more recent person was trying to pass as desperately as Amanda was, and the obvious differences between MtF and FtM passing; but I think the difference was me.  I’m not afraid of myself the way I once was.  Fear is a healthy motivator, but it’s also capable of inducing paralysis.  I was paralyzed by it.  I didn’t care this time around; in fact I wanted to connect with this other person.  I connect better with FtMs anyways, but that’s another post for another day.

Finally, all of this was the run up to coming out to my former roommate.  Even that downplays the context of our relationship, really.  I’ve loved Matt for almost as long as I’ve known him.  As I think about it now, it’s been over 10 years.  I was pretty aggressive about professing my love for him at one point in our relationship, going so far as to convince him to be my roommate – thinking that if we played “house”, he would fall in love with me.  Matt is one of the few guys I really consider myself friends with, Chris being the other one.  You get the idea.

Matt knew nothing of my past transition.  He knew my former roommate and knew she was transgendered.  I swore her and another friend to secrecy and until last night, Matt knew nothing of my gender identity.  In my post NYT article life, I had taken on an “I just don’t care anymore” attitude.  I was eager to tell him, truth is, I’ve been trying to tell him for a while.  We’ll all that’s in the past now and it’s a wonderful feeling to know that he’s as supportive of me as he is.  I’ve opened up more to my family as well, and they’ve made it clear they love me all the same and support me as well.  I hate to be “that girl”, that has yet to have a bad coming out experience, but it’s true.  I think the difference is me though.

As I started out saying, I was going to work all three topics into a workable post.   The common thread is how I’ve changed as a person.  Living my life is getting easier as I move forward.  Fear was holding me back; lacking fear is moving me forward.  I’m ready, but as I told Matt last night, I’m not quite ready to risk the obligations in my life (i.e., coming out at work), but I know those will come in time.

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