That look.

It's interesting how sometimes life sometimes throws you a curve.

I've been full time for over three years now. My confidence and self esteem are pretty solid. While I may feel completely normal now, and think life is wonderful, I never take my transition for granted. I can feel the chest band of my bra supporting my breasts and no longer fear sitting down and landing on my prolapsed vaginal too hard. This gives me an almost constant reminder of the progress I have made. And it feels completely, wonderfully, normal.

Just this morning I was getting my morning coffee and muffin at the office cafe and approached the cashier. Past the cashier and in the cafe were others from the office. Some I knew, others less so.

There was a table of three guys that I have seen often there, but rarely interacted with. One of them looked up and saw me and gave me “That Look”. You know what I mean. Someone who has read you and is going over you like an x-ray machine. He whispers something to his colleagues and they turn and give me the once over also. They chat amongst themselves and then turn and look me over again. I can't tell if they laughed or not, but I did see one of them smile. Then apparently turn back to their previous conversation. I try not to read too much into other people, but I can imagine what the conversation was like. Perhaps it contained adjectives that others here are all too familiar with.

The first individual continues to glance at me while I am standing in line. I think to myself how far I've come. I had just then been thinking how “old news” I was. How I had almost faded into the general stream of people going about their business. And here I was read again, for what seemed to be the umpteenth time.

I finished paying for my things gathered up my purse and headed for the napkins and condiments. All the time walking with my head held proudly and a slight smile on my lips. I picked up a few napkins then headed out of the cafe, walking past these guys, the heels of my shoes making a comforting clicking sound as I waked.  My now feminized body now has some appreciable curves and my walk gives a distinct sway to my backside.

There was a time that these types of events would shake my confidence and send my down the rabbit hole. But not now. Being and presenting as a woman is only a small part of who I am. I am Sandy first, an individual who is a guru level systems person with decades of experience with computers of all varieties. I am a grandmother of two darling little girls who love me dearly. I am a member of a business resource group that gives advice for marketing and philanthropy to our community. I am friend and adviser to others here and elsewhere who are looking for support along our journey. I have been on a lifelong spiritual quest for enlightenment and insight into the great unknown. I am more at peace now than I have ever been in my life. And, oh yeah, I happen to be female.

I could feel their eyes on me as I walked past.

I hope they enjoyed the show.

-Sandy(I know I did) 

I am so Damned Fragile!

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

All in a day's work...

All in a day's work...

The other day I was going into my office building and my mind was elsewhere. We're supposed to press our id badges against the reader to unlock the turnstile. I completely ditzed out and just barreled right into it. I hit the bar of the turnstile right at my hips and I was bent over double by the impact. Feeling *very* foolish I fished in my purse for my badge. The guard sitting behind his desk asked if I was alright.

I said; "Yes, I'm just a little ditzy today, that's all."
He said; "Well, just be glad you're not a man!"

I smiled sweetly at him and giggled.

He doesn't know *how* glad I'm not a man!

-Sandy

Another woman has joined the workforce!

Another woman has joined the workforce!

My first day at work as Sandra. The drive in was tedious but necessary. Normally I take the train but for the next two weeks I'll be working at the theatre so I've got to drive from the office to the theatre then back home. A long day to be sure.

I got up at 4:30 to give me plenty of time to work with my hair. I must have tried a dozen things but in the end I ended up walking out the door in my wig. By time I got to work, despite reciting relaxation sayings, I was still pretty nervous.

Walking from the parking lot to the door wasn't too bad, though when I stopped at the kiosk to get my bottled water, the lady behind the counter didn't recognize me though I was a regular customer in my previous life. She did stare at me trying to place my face. She hadn't been told about me so I'm thinking I may not tell. After all I don't *have* to wear a sign around my neck that says "TRANSSEXUAL!!!". She may read me on her own and if she does then I'll tell her but up to now I'm not worrying about it.

Anyway by time I paid for my water, my hands were shaking almost uncontrollably. I couldn't even put my money back in my wallet. I had to step around the corner to pull myself together and pack everything up.

Waiting for the elevator and then going upstairs was nervewracking. Nobody was on the elevator and nobody got on, but I was nervous that someone would get on. When I came into the office, I stopped by my managers office. His door was open, but he was facing away from me. I was so nervous that I think that when I knocked on the door, it probably sounded like a woodpecker.

He turned around and got this big grin on his face and said "Well! Look at you!". He immediately put me at ease and I thanked him and everyone for being so supportive of me. It really was humbling the way that these folks seemed to go beyond the call of duty to make my transition successful.

Lunch time now: Just came back from getting my salad from the kiosk. The lady finally did recognize me and we chatted for a few minutes. She asked when I changed. She complimented me on how good I looked. The only thing that tripped her off to me was that I called her by name in the morning and she didn't know me. Then it clicked for her. She was so nice. I felt a renewed confidence in myself.

One of the things that has been quite apparent as of today is the subtle ways the relationships have changed already. Some guys used to wander over to my desk to chat and now they don't. They are cordial enough when we meet, but I think they are uncomfortable starting a conversation with me now as a woman. I think part of it has to do with the fact that these guys would not hold back with the jokes and kidding around. Some of it was sexist and perhaps they now think I may have been offended by their actions or words.

I'm a bit more isolated now as a result, perhaps this will pass as people get used to the new (real!) me.

Afternoon now: Just got back from getting my new ID card. Sandra is printed on it along with my picture. I keep staring at it. This is starting to be official now. My other records in the company are being changed and will probably take from a couple of days for the email system to catch up, to a couple of weeks or more for other things like getting new nameplates for my cubicle.

And once my legal name change is official, next month, then all the rest of my employee information will read as Sandra Louise, female. oh wow.

My first full day as a woman in the workforce has been wonderful and I feel great!

-Sandra (just like Tony *Toni?* the Tiger)

R.I.P. Barry

R.I.P. Barry

Today was my last day at work as a guy. That was the only place I would go in drag. Fortunately I haven't been called for jury duty and hopefully I won't until my other changes are complete.

This day was one of... God, I dunno. How do you describe your last day in something like this?

I met with my manager this afternoon and he reiterated what the plan was for the next few days.

My manager and the HR person would meet with my team mates and others on my floor to talk about transsexuality, me, and the company's zero tolerance rules. I think in that order.

I've been given three days off so they could meet and have discussions and if anyone had a problem they could talk about it without me overhearing or feeling like they had to go behind my back.

There is another transsexual who is coming out at the same time. He is on the floor below me and they are having similar meetings there.

The thing that hit me late in the afternoon, was that about 200 or so people would be attending these various meetings...

So that two transsexuals can come to work and live as they were supposed to in the first place. In some of the discussions I've had with Dave, the GLBT person I originally came out to, I've said that being gay is like being democrat or republican. It doesn't show unless you tell. Being transsexual is just the opposite. It becomes very noticeable. When a gay person wants to come out, usually to get equal insurance for their partner, about all they have to do is talk to the benefits people. When two transsexuals want to come out, two hundred people have to be notified.

My head was spinning when I got home.

Julie, bless her, slapped me around until I saw stars.

Then talked some sense into my ingrown blond brain. In her non-directive counseling manner she said "So? What's the ^%$# the problem! You're about to do what most transsexuals can only dream of. So what if everyone knows. You think you could hide? You think people wouldn't notice when you go back to work? When you go back to work on Monday, hold your head high, make eye contact with everyone you see and tell them good morning! Be proud of who you are. They will see you as having courage of your convictions. You may end up being a roll model for someone else. In other words, get over yourself!"

Then to make sure I understood she slapped me around some more.

Julie constantly is telling me to do less thinking and more being. How right she is.

I'm the one who wanted to be an advocate. Well I guess it starts now. Being an advocate means you don't hide. You remain in plain sight. I will be all that. And proud.

-Sandy(and scared)

It's 11:32 in the evening...

It's 11:32 in the evening...

And I am so exhausted. I'm taking off my makeup and nail polish. Tomorrow is Monday, and I have to get into guy.

But this is the last time. When I leave work on Tuesday, I will not have to play the guy act any longer.

My full time transition will have officially begun. I will not be in the office from Wednesday through Friday. Because my manager and the director of HR will be meeting with my team mates to tell them about me. That I am no longer barry, and I am now Sandra. And then reiterate the company's Zero Tolerance policy again. Especially as it refers to me. Which to me is "You will accept Sandy, or else!". I can understand the way things have to be phrased in the corporate environment, but it still seems a bit harsh.

They want to give everyone time to understand it, and to ask questions about me without making them feel like they are talking behind my back. And on Monday, another working woman will join the workforce.

Exhausted, yes. I feel like I've been running in a marathon. But giddy as a little girl!

-Sandy(soon, all girl, all the time!)

I got my date!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got my date!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Alright, then. It's been over 24 hours and Julie has managed to put enough bungee cords on me to keep me from floating off again.

Yesterday morning I was called into the HR managers office. We spent over an hour discussing the stage of my transition, how it would apply to newly revised company policy. Which I and another trans person, a FTM, contributed to.

She said that she would be meeting with my manager, the executive manager of HR and the head legal counsel to discuss transitioning in the workplace in general and myself in specific.

Needless to say, by that time I was just in heaven to hear about that much progress being made in accommodating transitioning in the workplace.

Then near the end, she simply asks, "So, Sandy, when do you want to transition, a couple of weeks or so?"

My heart skipped about eleventeen beats! After a lifetime of agony, here was this decisive, insightful, considerate woman, opening the main door of my life with such simple words.

Somewhere in there, my heart started back up and I started breathing again. I replied that there were some really practical matters to attend to before I could really go full time. The most major of these was the fact I, ahem, simply had nothing to wear! Well, almost nothing. Well certainly not enough. Actually I do need more business clothes. And shoes. I really don't have enough business shoes. MALL CRAWL!!!

So after some discussion April 16, 2007 is my official day of transition. My preferred name will be put into the system, though my legal name must remain until my name change goes through. I'll get new ID cards and new nameplates.

Also the company is making an official statement of the revised policy regarding transgendered in the workplace. Just like Gay, Lesbian, Ethnic, or Disabled, any harassment of me will qualify as a Zero Tolerance offence and will result in immediate termination.

There are so many others who will never transition because of medieval corporate policy. I feel so blessed and a little embarrassed by my good fortune. This is winning the lottery for me. I wish I could share my good fortune with every person who wants to transition.

I still have to remind myself to breathe...

-Sandy (45 days and counting!)

I want to burn the bridge.

I want to burn the bridge.

It's a little odd. Over the last few weeks I've become so impatient with myself and my progress. Now, I know I've been shot out of a cannon, or as Julie likes to say I'm FedEx'ing my transition. I know there are so many who take so much longer. So I know I am truly blessed at all my good fortune to be where I am at. And I truly believe that! I'm currently 24x7-40. My wardrobe is growing with every swipe of the credit card (poor thing is severely bruised).

I'm actively pursuing my transition at work with HR and management. It will happen. But not tomorrow. The same with my body. Like a pre-pubescent girl I look at myself in the mirror and just cry sometimes! I feel like nothing is happening. But of course I know (intellectually) that there is. There has been some really dramatic changes in my body over the last few months. And I really appreciate them. It's just that sometimes I feel frustrated.

Not that I'd fly out to Thailand or bypass the SOC, but I just want to be out of these bloody guy clothes! I want to be transitioned! I want my legal name change completed!

What I really want is to do something irreversible. Something that will prevent me from ever being able to go back and pretend to be a guy ever again. Every step in the SOC is designed to put off the irreversible steps as long as possible to allow for buyers remorse and allow the patient the maximum amount time to make a thorough, well thought out decision.

Well I've been thinking about it for 50 years, doesn't that count? I've thought it over, and being a guy really sucks. It's as simple as that.

-Sandy

It's 12:40 in the morning...

It's 12:40 in the morning...

I really need to go to bed. I'm exhausted. But I have to change before I go to bed. Taking off my makeup at night is so depressing. It means that the morning is coming and I have to go and pretend that I'm a guy.

Really, I'd just like to scrub up enough that I can go to bed without leaving my makeup on my pillow and tomorrow just put my face on and get dressed for work. Soon, Sandy, soon. At least I hope so.

Today I finally met the FTM at work. He and I will be working together to develop the transition milestones for our company. There is a certain symmetry about he and I which I find appealing. He is so sweet. He insisted on opening all the doors for me. And so polite. I could get used to that!

Also we found out from our contact in HR that there have been other transitions so ours isn't all that much news. That gives me some comfort because I just want this to be old news.

I'm so close to just outing myself and being done with it. I'm so damn tired of playing the game. But it really isn't fair to my co-workers to be blindsided like that. And the more acceptance I have from my closest associates and manager, the easier my transition will be.

But every day I get up and I live the lie.

-Sandy (well at least it's such a little lie now)