I am so Damned Fragile!
Boys and girls, I will tell you that inside this tough post-op woman shell is a very frightened little girl.
There are only two tiny (alright, huge) chinks in my tough hide.
One is my facial hair. I will refuse to go out if I am showing any stubble. I absolutely despise having to shave everyday. More distressing, even though I have had my face cleared repeatedly, I not only still have hairs come up but now some of them are actually coming up BLACK!!!! Needless to say I am very frustrated. Granted I have not spent the number of hours in the chair that some of our other ladies have, but GD it! I really was hoping not to look like a grizzled old prospector by now!!!!
The other is my voice. I am very *very* very sensitive about my vocal presentation. And when I get sirred on the phone it is like a knife to my heart.
There was one occasion in the ladies room where one of the other woman thought I was a man in the stall because of my voice. I was devastated.
Something happened yesterday that almost sent me back to therapy (and it still might, I'm still thinking about it).
A number of months ago I signed up for the fitness center at the office. Two or three times a week I'll go there and work out over lunch. It makes me feel better and helps tone up my body. There was an initial trepidation I had about going into the ladies locker room for the first time, but now it is just what I do. I'm not uncomfortable with it at all. It's where I belong.
Following my workout yesterday, I stripped down wrapped my towel around me and headed for the showers. there are six shower stalls each with their own curtain. I picked a stall, closed the curtain and turned on the water. It's natural to joke and talk in the locker room. And as I was getting under the shower, one of the other women remarked how tired she was. I responded that it was only Monday and there was quite a bit of week left.
There was a pause and then she squeaked "OH MY GOD IS THAT A MAN IN THERE!!!??"
My knees almost gave out.
I poked my head around the curtain, mustering up courage and pasting some sort of smile on my face, I said "No, I get that a lot". And I let just enough of me show to prove that I was a woman.
Embarrassed, she apologized and babbled on about the time she was on vacation and took the wrong turn at a resort and walked into the guys locker, and saw way too much of the male anatomy. She said something about a twenty-one gun salute, which in retrospect was a cute remark.
I smiled and we went back to showering. Well I assume she did. I spent the next ten minutes weeping as quietly as I could. I turned the water on as cold as it would go and just stood under it trying not to openly sob. (God, this hurts to type, I'm weeping again).
I was too terrified to leave the stall, having the irrational fear that I would somehow be called out again. I would be called a charlatan, a fake, *a man*.
I got dressed as quickly as I could and didn't utter another word. I left with my hair barely dry and no makeup on my face.
I spent the rest of the afternoon staring at the screen, and trying to fight back the tears. I'm the only woman in our team and only one of four women on the floor, so a weeping female is not really kept in high regard by my team mates. And I really couldn't commiserate with the other woman because they were busy with their own duties, and really, how could *they* commiserate? Please don't tell me that women get sirred on the phone too. I know that and that is (was) one of the things I used to tell myself to keep my courage up. Yes, it happens, but when it happens to a GG it is just frustrating. To me it is debilitating.
I spent the rest of the afternoon giving serious thought and some fair research into the most dangerous, stupid, silly-assed thing a transwoman could do.
Feminizing laryngoplasty surgery.
I know women who have taken this surgery and had some very poor results. I know of one who can barely speak above a whisper. If I had the surgery, there would be a good chance I would never be able to sing again. I may never be able to go on stage again because my voice could be so profoundly affected. I could lose the ability to speak altogether. And on top of it all, I'm not all that impressed with the results I have heard.
But if I could only croak, at least it would be a feminine croak.
If a person meets me in person, I am not questioned at all about my gender. And when I am on stage, no one, not the director, not the stage manager, and not the audience question my feminine presentation. It's only when a person only hears my voice and can't see my body or face that they question me.
There is a little rational spark still left that really thinks this is a bad idea. But I've picked up the phone about a half dozen times already today to call and ask for information and a consultation.
It's not like I don't try. I've taken training, but maybe not enough, apparently. But, dammit, I've kept my larynx elevated so long I don't remember *how* to speak in my old voice. If I'm awakened out of a sound sleep I still speak in my higher register. Hell, I even *SNEEZE* in a higher tone. There are a number of people (bless them) that have repeatedly told me that they hear nothing but a woman when I speak to them on the phone.
I feel like I've taken a hit below the water line. Inside, I have collapsed. I'm trying to build my self esteem up, but I am so low right now. Pat, my darling husband, has absolutely forbidden me from taking this any farther. But I am so crushed right now.
I came here to tell my story so at least I can get it off my chest. I need to release this pain. You, my brothers and sisters, are who I can turn to with a warm shoulder and tissue. And that, is what I need right now.
There may not be another few chapters of "Sandy's Transition". But right now, for two cents, I'd make that consultation call...
-Sandy
