Most of my life, I knew I was trans-something. In fact, I was trans-something even before I knew all the trans terminology (transvestite, transgender, transsexual, etc.). In fact, I was trans-something before the word “transgender” was created (yes, I am old).
And for a long time, I professed that I was a “plain-vanilla crossdresser,” that is, someone who crossdressed for the joy the of wearing women’s fashions... not someone who crossdressed because they identified as a woman.
Heaven forbid! That wasn't me. I wasn't one of those people!
Despite a lot of evidence to the contrary, I was afraid to make the great leap that I was a woman. That would be a big leap and would rock the foundation of my existence.
In retrospect, I would have probably felt pretty pretty good if I had made that leap way back then, but I worried about what they would think! I always worried about what they would think and I led my life to please them, not me. So I denied all the evidence and stuck to my “plain-vanilla crossdresser” story.
About 15 years ago, after months of counseling, a life coach finally helped me to make that leap. Instead of denying all the evidence, I embraced it and accepted the fact that I was a woman.
Afterall, it all made sense. The feminine speech and mannerisms. The preference for girl things rather than boy things. The gynecomastia caused by an over-abundance of female hormones and/or lack of male hormones. An over-abundance of female hormones.
And I was proud to be a woman, not ashamed of it. I began coming out to my friends and colleagues and I began living authentically whenever the opportunity presented itself.
And it didn't hurt a bit!
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| Wearing Ann Taylor |
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| Angela, out and about again |
