Look at the photo to the left. This is a Facebook friend of mine, Daphne Dorman. Stunning, isn’t she. She’s everything I admire in a trans woman. Beautiful. Sexy. Strong. Confident. She just exudes a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude. Damn girl! I so wish I was like that. I’m not.
This reflection is caused by having spent most of a day and overnight in an evacuation shelter hiding from a hurricane. I live in the very small town of Apalachicola, Florida. Ground-fucking-zero for landfall. At first, I thought I’d just ride it out but after the governor called for mandatory evacuations I decided to take the safe way out and head for the designated hideaway. All I took with me was my dog Rachel, iPhone, iPad and two-day supply of hormones.
Let me note that in this small Southern town I have gone about living my life dressed and no one has bothered me. Looked some, probably (undoubtedly) gossiped about, but overall ignored. That’s what I sought by moving here and I’ve been satisfied. So what happens when these same folk are forced together in a relatively small area for hours? I went to the shelter in sloppy jeans I wear when puttering around the house and yard… a simple old tunic I picked up at a yard sale… and ladies, NO HEELS! I know I know, how could I? Just slippers comfy from years of use. I had my wig on but no make-up. I definitely looked like what I am. And I was nervous. These people who usually just ignore me was forced to be in tight quarters, close enough to have to look at and, yikes, interact with. Don’t get me wrong… no one was mean to me. I didn’t have that happen. But I could just feel their distaste at having to be in my presence. You know that look. Like someone just farted in the air lock, face all scrunched up.
Now I have developed body dysphoria like I haven’t in years. I’m depressed. I know I won’t stay this way, I’ll be alright soon. I never stay depressed for long, I’ll get over it. Nevertheless, I’m reevaluating. I’m rethinking going out in public dressed as I am… a woman. I need to face it. I make other people uncomfortable. Having spent most of my life uncomfortable I certainly don’t want to make others feel that way. It’s a miserable feeling. Should I consider what I want over others? What gives me that right? I know what darling Daphne would do and that’s why I admire her. I’m not Daphne.
No decision yet. Right now I just finished giving myself a mani/pedi, fresh makeup and ordered a new dress over Amazon. I may feel better soon. We’ll see.
As a palette cleanser, I took this photo on Second Life as I contemplated life, romance and my future. I fucking wish I look like this.