08-01-2020, 07:53 AM
TMI and TL;DR but oh well!
Whoa there! Making some pretty big assumptions or jumping to conclusions are we?
When I said I was seen as gender incongruent, perhaps I misspoke? My personality, behavior, interests, actions and for the most part after the 2nd grade when my hair grew out, my appearance as well save for being limited in the choice of clothing I could wear to school, I was perfectly as normal and conforming and not out of line as any other young girl might be. From my perspective, the only thing incongruent about me was my sex and that’s where the problems came in. Feeling like the butt of some grand cosmic joke or a cruel prank by the sky gods I believed in as a child, I just happened to be born with a penis which I felt was the gravest of mistakes and like a birth defect as never in my life had I thought of myself as a boy and I was pretty damned insistent on not being seen or treated like one either. Needless to say, this caused a few problems in my young life.
I suppose for some this concept is applicable but implies some sort of before and after or the moving from one state to another and this was never really the case for me. I was never integrated or accepted as boy because I wasn’t one and that was something I was absolutely sure of in spite of the obvious physical evidence to the contrary. I had no idea how such a thing, that I could be a girl with a boy’s body, was even possible but there was never any question in my mind of who and what I was regardless.
This was not some internalized wish or make believe or error in my perception. It was very apparent to everyone that my “gender”, if you want to call it that, was completely inverted from what was expected and that indeed I had the mind, spirit and vibe of that of a girl. Subsequently, due to my overwhelmingly innate nature and persistence of my convictions, in my home life with parents, grandparents and extended family, I was raised, thought of and treated like a girl as I grew up after everyone realized by 5 or 6 what was going on with me. Not that I wasn’t encouraged or coached and occasionally even punished for not acting like a boy but that was not part of my wheelhouse or something I knew how to do or be and all this did was make me unhappy and depressed and even more rebellious and obstinate.
When I started school was when I realized how different I was and I hated pretty much everything about life was when problems really started for me. I didn’t even make it though kindergarten before my folks were asked find some sort of special program for me and I didn’t finish the year. Everything was just wrong and I was so out of place and I didn’t understand or like that I couldn’t just be like the other girls. I was really little too, smaller than most of the girls even and more than anything, I wanted to look like them, have long hair like them and dress like them which seemed like the natural and normal thing for me to do but of course I couldn’t as in 1960, such a thing was completely unheard of. All this was a bit much for my father and pretty embarrassing and because he had become abusive, my birth parents split before I started first grade.
Once I did start regular school, things didn’t get any better and I only felt worse. After the end of the 2nd grade, I more or less had a nervous breakdown that summer and I was so unhappy and depressed, it’s kind of blurry. I defiantly insisted in only wearing girl’s clothes and made it known I would fight with all I had to not start back to school in the fall unless I could and my parents and grandparents were at a complete loss what to do with me. Having girl’s clothes for home and girls toys and things was not enough and in negotiating with me about crying about what I could wear, a compromise was offered that if I would shut the hell up about it and cooperate. It was agreed I could let my hair grow long instead which I thought was a pretty good tradeoff and would make me more like other girls than clothes could anyway. A year or so later, this pretty much backfired on my mom because the dress codes in 1963/’64 did not allow boys to have long hair and so began another battle. By the time I got out of the 3rd grade, I had been in seven different schools in two different states due to my lack of assimilation and because my simple presence was considered disruptive.
After being asked to leave two more schools in the 4th grade and an unfortunate and rather traumatic incident on an empty playground that caused me to miss the last two weeks of the school I was in, my mom and I packed up everything we could in her rusty ’56 Chevy my grandfather had given her and took off to Reno, Nevada for a fresh start. Living in a rundown Motel-6 when they were still six bucks a night, even though I was overly mature for my age, my mom was uncomfortable leaving me alone while she looked for work so she tracked down my father and he agreed to take me in. This terrified me. He had always been a mean bastard and hated that I looked and acted like a girl but he promised not to cut my hair or make fun of me and I really had no choice. I rode a Greyhound bus by myself from Reno to Southern California.
He had remarried and now I had a step-mom, two step-sisters to play with and a step-brother all around my age. My dad and my new step-brother did nothing but tease and mock me but I did get to do fun and memorable things like go to Disneyland and to the beach and with the two girls to hang out with, I survived. Besides, they had clothes I could wear and makeup I could play with so they kept me sane for most of the summer vacation I was there.
In the meantime, my mom had met someone and I made the bus trip from San Bernardino through Vegas back to
Reno. This guy, that would soon be my step-dad, was a former Lutheran pastor and was a working clinical psychologist and at his insistence, I was put into counseling with a psychiatrist at ten years old before starting the fifth grade.
As one might think in 1965, this was not for conversion therapy or to try to change me, it was a foregone conclusion nothing ever would change me and there was nothing wrong with the way I was anyway so the focus was on dealing with all the bullying and social ostracization, not that I understood myself to be a girl. I saw a bunch of different doctors and became a curiosity they wanted to share with their doctor buddies. Nobody had ever seen or knew about trans kids so I was studied at great length.
Four more schools in the 5th and 6th grade and my folks had had enough dealing with all this shit so we decided to move to Phoenix for a fresh start and to put down roots instead of moving every time I had to change schools. By this time, what sex I was had become undeterminable. I was still way little, very feminine and had hair well below my shoulders cut in a girl’s style. When the school refused to enroll me due to my track record and appearance, my folks got lawyers and threatened to sue the school board.
I started 7th grade/junior high a week late while all this got settled. Three days later I was expelled formally for fighting a gym coach that tried to drag me into the boy’s locker room/showers because there was no way in hell I was going in there. Two weeks later after seeing a private psychiatrist and a school appointed psychologist, I was allowed back into school with exemption letters from both and I never had to take PE class again. 7th and 8th grade were “interesting”. I was a freak and an outcast and at 14, still hadn’t shown the slightest signs of starting puberty. By then, I was shopping in the girl’s department exclusively with clothes that were unisex or could pass as boy’s clothes for school and other clothes I could wear when I wasn’t in school. Because it had become awkward in public when shopkeepers and waiters and such called me Miss or young lady, my folks started using she/her pronouns for me rather than trying to explain the situation to them.
Before starting high school, my folks met with the school twice. My mom joked that was to warn them I was coming as humor had always been one of the ways this whole thing was dealt with. I had long pretty blonde hair halfway down my back and had gotten fairly used to being called a queer faggot motherfucker and being bullied, punched and roughed up daily. I didn’t think much of it really. It had always been that way and was normal for me. I was withdrawn, isolated and didn’t make friends or socialize at all and I was fine with that. Things were pretty routine and par for the course my freshman year and because my folks thought it would be easier for me with less kids, I went to summer school and I did make a friend that would be my bestie and the only friend I ever made the entire time I was in school. I always wondered what happened to her?
Sophomore year when I was either still 14 or 15(?) things changed. Lying in wait for me one day when walking home from school was a gang of boys intent on teaching me a lesson or some crap? I was beaten to within an inch of my life, spent a couple days in the hospital and a month recovering before I was healed enough to go back to school.
This was a turning point with my folks about my future. I told them I could no longer continue living this charade and that there was no way in hell I was ever going to grow up and be a man. This was a no shit Sherlock moment for them and said this was something they’d always known was coming but had been told by doctors not to bring it up so it didn’t plant crazy ideas in my head. I was pretty pissed about this initially but they knew how serious I was. Even though they felt their hands were tied because they didn’t know what could be done about it if I was to stay in school, which was much higher on their priority list than what gender I was, adjustments were made.
I began what can be called kind of a dual life although there was little if any difference between the two other than what name and pronouns were used for me. I looked the same, acted the same and everything was the same except I was fully a girl at home and everywhere else and a boy that looked and acted like a girl to stay in school. This pacified me for a while and helped ease the situation I was in.
I hated going to school even more then although I did well academically. After I was assaulted, I was not allowed to leave the house except to go to school unless one of my parents was with me “for my safety” because they were super paranoid someone would try to kill me again. Subsequently, I never went to a school game, a dance, a prom or went to a party or went on a date but I was mostly okay with that. People were just assholes anyway and I could drink at home and smoke pot as long as they pretended to not know about it so for a while, I was happy at just being able to fully express myself in the way that had always felt normal to me.
But, my happiness with this situation didn’t last long. Getting up and going to school every day where people knew I really wasn’t a girl soon took its toll on me emotionally along with the fact that shortly before turning 16, I finally began to show signs of starting puberty which horrified me. I was withdrawn and depressed and became very suicidal. Before my junior year was over, I insisted I was never going back to school again and spent most of my time locked in my room. I knew I was in trouble and my folks knew it too.
By this point, because we’re talking 1971~1972, I had no explanation or no words for why I was born male but grew up to be a girl? It was just something that had always been and I never really questioned or tried to understand why… it just was and nothing I really had control over. Although I had been seeing talk doctors since I was ten, my folks had found another one they insisted that I see and it was then and only then that I learned there was actually a name for people like me: transsexual.
After a round of evaluation and a shitload of tests by three different doctors, all of which were concerned that I was only 17 and younger than any of them had heard about having this condition at that point, it was proposed that If I was allowed to start taking cross-sex hormones (estrogen), I had to promise to go back to school and make every effort to graduate with the dangling carrot that after graduation, no one would ever have to know I wasn’t born female again. I started HRT at the beginning of summer vacation in 1972 after my junior year which provided a dramatic turnaround in my emotional state and I made it through and graduated. By then I had hair to my waist, was about 5’5” and 120 pounds and had a years worth of very noticeable breast growth going on. As promised, after graduation, I was never known as a boy ever again and never saw anyone I went to high school with the rest of my life.
Soon I was working in an office as a front desk receptionist/secretary and life went on from there. I’ve never lived as a man and have no life experience as such. I blended seamlessly into the woodwork as just a regular young woman keeping my history private and living a reasonably normal life. I took some accounting and secretarial classes at a junior college and got better jobs. I was considered pretty and attractive and explored dating although I was still underage and couldn’t get into bars or anything and well, wasn’t about to let anyone get physically close to me due to my anomalous anatomy so nothing every really worked out.
At age 22 in 1977, I took a six week leave of absence from work and had sex reassignment surgery in Colorado. After about a year to fully recover, I began to have more complete relationships and was fairly promiscuous for a few years with lots of partying and drugs and just having fun and living life. At 29, I met a man that shared common interests and we became great friends. A year later in 1985 at 30, we got married and stayed married for the next 12 years. We divorced in 1997. He is now remarried but still a part of my life and one of my best friends until the day I day. I’ve had a couple 5-year relationships since but have been single for the last 12 or 13 years but I’ve been working on at least finding FWBs if not something more serious!
Had I not had the support, love and understanding of my parents growing up, I would be long dead by now. I stopped seeing my biological father when I was 14 because he was such an asshole and I had no idea where he even was. The year before my mom died when I was 25, she tracked him down, told him I had been living as a girl for nearly ten years, had had a “sex change” and reconciled us. When we did finally reconnect, he was beside himself and said everything all made sense to him now. We stayed in touch and stayed friendly until he died about 15 years ago. Him and my ex-husband got to meet several times and dear old dad was pretty damn proud how his kid turned out.
In the real world, I am not open or out about how I grew up or the things I’ve been through. Sure, I have a couple close confidantes that know but my medical history is not something I share casually. At 65, thanks to still taking estrogen and not going through menopause like natal females, I still look fairly young for my age and I’m young at heart and still like to party and have fun. I’m a regular at a neighborhood dive sports pub and have tons of friends and people that know me.
For those curious... Sorry, I don't do faces online. Oldest photo from 18 months ago
![[Image: attachment.php?aid=8163]](http://rogue-nation3.com/attachment.php?aid=8163)
Nah, not really. I put up with so much shit early in life, it thickened my skin and toughened me up. Even after I was nearly killed it wasn’t that big of a deal to me because I’d been beaten up so many times and the only different that time was in its severity. It traumatized my folks a lot more than me. Of course, I went for six months or counseling after but was pretty sick of talking to doctors by that point in my life.
Well, how does anybody? Seeing how nobody knew or knows except those I tell that I wasn’t born female, I’ve never faced any discrimination or oppression for my history. Online anonymously is the only place I have shared my past which I have done so that people can learn about people like me and have a better understanding of it all. IRL, the fact that I am of trans experience is something I prefer to keep private.
That’s okay and thanks for asking. I’m sure I’ve answered most of your questions and more if not bored you to tears? If you or anyone would like to ask me anything please feel free and don’t be shy as long you’re respectful as you would be to any woman of my age, your mom or your grandma.
PS
This is not news to any that know or remember me from TOS. Having heard some of the most horrible things said there, there’s not a whole lot I find shocking or offensive. Say what you will, just please don’t be a dick about it.
* Now do I get the prize for the longest post EVAR?
--Elisabeth
(08-01-2020, 02:40 AM)Antisthenes Wrote: That's pretty fascinating. Do you feel like you were able to assimilate completely after you had completed your transition.
Whoa there! Making some pretty big assumptions or jumping to conclusions are we?
When I said I was seen as gender incongruent, perhaps I misspoke? My personality, behavior, interests, actions and for the most part after the 2nd grade when my hair grew out, my appearance as well save for being limited in the choice of clothing I could wear to school, I was perfectly as normal and conforming and not out of line as any other young girl might be. From my perspective, the only thing incongruent about me was my sex and that’s where the problems came in. Feeling like the butt of some grand cosmic joke or a cruel prank by the sky gods I believed in as a child, I just happened to be born with a penis which I felt was the gravest of mistakes and like a birth defect as never in my life had I thought of myself as a boy and I was pretty damned insistent on not being seen or treated like one either. Needless to say, this caused a few problems in my young life.
Quote:That is the correct terminology, isnt it? Transition?
I suppose for some this concept is applicable but implies some sort of before and after or the moving from one state to another and this was never really the case for me. I was never integrated or accepted as boy because I wasn’t one and that was something I was absolutely sure of in spite of the obvious physical evidence to the contrary. I had no idea how such a thing, that I could be a girl with a boy’s body, was even possible but there was never any question in my mind of who and what I was regardless.
This was not some internalized wish or make believe or error in my perception. It was very apparent to everyone that my “gender”, if you want to call it that, was completely inverted from what was expected and that indeed I had the mind, spirit and vibe of that of a girl. Subsequently, due to my overwhelmingly innate nature and persistence of my convictions, in my home life with parents, grandparents and extended family, I was raised, thought of and treated like a girl as I grew up after everyone realized by 5 or 6 what was going on with me. Not that I wasn’t encouraged or coached and occasionally even punished for not acting like a boy but that was not part of my wheelhouse or something I knew how to do or be and all this did was make me unhappy and depressed and even more rebellious and obstinate.
When I started school was when I realized how different I was and I hated pretty much everything about life was when problems really started for me. I didn’t even make it though kindergarten before my folks were asked find some sort of special program for me and I didn’t finish the year. Everything was just wrong and I was so out of place and I didn’t understand or like that I couldn’t just be like the other girls. I was really little too, smaller than most of the girls even and more than anything, I wanted to look like them, have long hair like them and dress like them which seemed like the natural and normal thing for me to do but of course I couldn’t as in 1960, such a thing was completely unheard of. All this was a bit much for my father and pretty embarrassing and because he had become abusive, my birth parents split before I started first grade.
Once I did start regular school, things didn’t get any better and I only felt worse. After the end of the 2nd grade, I more or less had a nervous breakdown that summer and I was so unhappy and depressed, it’s kind of blurry. I defiantly insisted in only wearing girl’s clothes and made it known I would fight with all I had to not start back to school in the fall unless I could and my parents and grandparents were at a complete loss what to do with me. Having girl’s clothes for home and girls toys and things was not enough and in negotiating with me about crying about what I could wear, a compromise was offered that if I would shut the hell up about it and cooperate. It was agreed I could let my hair grow long instead which I thought was a pretty good tradeoff and would make me more like other girls than clothes could anyway. A year or so later, this pretty much backfired on my mom because the dress codes in 1963/’64 did not allow boys to have long hair and so began another battle. By the time I got out of the 3rd grade, I had been in seven different schools in two different states due to my lack of assimilation and because my simple presence was considered disruptive.
After being asked to leave two more schools in the 4th grade and an unfortunate and rather traumatic incident on an empty playground that caused me to miss the last two weeks of the school I was in, my mom and I packed up everything we could in her rusty ’56 Chevy my grandfather had given her and took off to Reno, Nevada for a fresh start. Living in a rundown Motel-6 when they were still six bucks a night, even though I was overly mature for my age, my mom was uncomfortable leaving me alone while she looked for work so she tracked down my father and he agreed to take me in. This terrified me. He had always been a mean bastard and hated that I looked and acted like a girl but he promised not to cut my hair or make fun of me and I really had no choice. I rode a Greyhound bus by myself from Reno to Southern California.
He had remarried and now I had a step-mom, two step-sisters to play with and a step-brother all around my age. My dad and my new step-brother did nothing but tease and mock me but I did get to do fun and memorable things like go to Disneyland and to the beach and with the two girls to hang out with, I survived. Besides, they had clothes I could wear and makeup I could play with so they kept me sane for most of the summer vacation I was there.
In the meantime, my mom had met someone and I made the bus trip from San Bernardino through Vegas back to
Reno. This guy, that would soon be my step-dad, was a former Lutheran pastor and was a working clinical psychologist and at his insistence, I was put into counseling with a psychiatrist at ten years old before starting the fifth grade.
As one might think in 1965, this was not for conversion therapy or to try to change me, it was a foregone conclusion nothing ever would change me and there was nothing wrong with the way I was anyway so the focus was on dealing with all the bullying and social ostracization, not that I understood myself to be a girl. I saw a bunch of different doctors and became a curiosity they wanted to share with their doctor buddies. Nobody had ever seen or knew about trans kids so I was studied at great length.
Four more schools in the 5th and 6th grade and my folks had had enough dealing with all this shit so we decided to move to Phoenix for a fresh start and to put down roots instead of moving every time I had to change schools. By this time, what sex I was had become undeterminable. I was still way little, very feminine and had hair well below my shoulders cut in a girl’s style. When the school refused to enroll me due to my track record and appearance, my folks got lawyers and threatened to sue the school board.
I started 7th grade/junior high a week late while all this got settled. Three days later I was expelled formally for fighting a gym coach that tried to drag me into the boy’s locker room/showers because there was no way in hell I was going in there. Two weeks later after seeing a private psychiatrist and a school appointed psychologist, I was allowed back into school with exemption letters from both and I never had to take PE class again. 7th and 8th grade were “interesting”. I was a freak and an outcast and at 14, still hadn’t shown the slightest signs of starting puberty. By then, I was shopping in the girl’s department exclusively with clothes that were unisex or could pass as boy’s clothes for school and other clothes I could wear when I wasn’t in school. Because it had become awkward in public when shopkeepers and waiters and such called me Miss or young lady, my folks started using she/her pronouns for me rather than trying to explain the situation to them.
Before starting high school, my folks met with the school twice. My mom joked that was to warn them I was coming as humor had always been one of the ways this whole thing was dealt with. I had long pretty blonde hair halfway down my back and had gotten fairly used to being called a queer faggot motherfucker and being bullied, punched and roughed up daily. I didn’t think much of it really. It had always been that way and was normal for me. I was withdrawn, isolated and didn’t make friends or socialize at all and I was fine with that. Things were pretty routine and par for the course my freshman year and because my folks thought it would be easier for me with less kids, I went to summer school and I did make a friend that would be my bestie and the only friend I ever made the entire time I was in school. I always wondered what happened to her?
Sophomore year when I was either still 14 or 15(?) things changed. Lying in wait for me one day when walking home from school was a gang of boys intent on teaching me a lesson or some crap? I was beaten to within an inch of my life, spent a couple days in the hospital and a month recovering before I was healed enough to go back to school.
This was a turning point with my folks about my future. I told them I could no longer continue living this charade and that there was no way in hell I was ever going to grow up and be a man. This was a no shit Sherlock moment for them and said this was something they’d always known was coming but had been told by doctors not to bring it up so it didn’t plant crazy ideas in my head. I was pretty pissed about this initially but they knew how serious I was. Even though they felt their hands were tied because they didn’t know what could be done about it if I was to stay in school, which was much higher on their priority list than what gender I was, adjustments were made.
I began what can be called kind of a dual life although there was little if any difference between the two other than what name and pronouns were used for me. I looked the same, acted the same and everything was the same except I was fully a girl at home and everywhere else and a boy that looked and acted like a girl to stay in school. This pacified me for a while and helped ease the situation I was in.
I hated going to school even more then although I did well academically. After I was assaulted, I was not allowed to leave the house except to go to school unless one of my parents was with me “for my safety” because they were super paranoid someone would try to kill me again. Subsequently, I never went to a school game, a dance, a prom or went to a party or went on a date but I was mostly okay with that. People were just assholes anyway and I could drink at home and smoke pot as long as they pretended to not know about it so for a while, I was happy at just being able to fully express myself in the way that had always felt normal to me.
But, my happiness with this situation didn’t last long. Getting up and going to school every day where people knew I really wasn’t a girl soon took its toll on me emotionally along with the fact that shortly before turning 16, I finally began to show signs of starting puberty which horrified me. I was withdrawn and depressed and became very suicidal. Before my junior year was over, I insisted I was never going back to school again and spent most of my time locked in my room. I knew I was in trouble and my folks knew it too.
By this point, because we’re talking 1971~1972, I had no explanation or no words for why I was born male but grew up to be a girl? It was just something that had always been and I never really questioned or tried to understand why… it just was and nothing I really had control over. Although I had been seeing talk doctors since I was ten, my folks had found another one they insisted that I see and it was then and only then that I learned there was actually a name for people like me: transsexual.
After a round of evaluation and a shitload of tests by three different doctors, all of which were concerned that I was only 17 and younger than any of them had heard about having this condition at that point, it was proposed that If I was allowed to start taking cross-sex hormones (estrogen), I had to promise to go back to school and make every effort to graduate with the dangling carrot that after graduation, no one would ever have to know I wasn’t born female again. I started HRT at the beginning of summer vacation in 1972 after my junior year which provided a dramatic turnaround in my emotional state and I made it through and graduated. By then I had hair to my waist, was about 5’5” and 120 pounds and had a years worth of very noticeable breast growth going on. As promised, after graduation, I was never known as a boy ever again and never saw anyone I went to high school with the rest of my life.
Soon I was working in an office as a front desk receptionist/secretary and life went on from there. I’ve never lived as a man and have no life experience as such. I blended seamlessly into the woodwork as just a regular young woman keeping my history private and living a reasonably normal life. I took some accounting and secretarial classes at a junior college and got better jobs. I was considered pretty and attractive and explored dating although I was still underage and couldn’t get into bars or anything and well, wasn’t about to let anyone get physically close to me due to my anomalous anatomy so nothing every really worked out.
At age 22 in 1977, I took a six week leave of absence from work and had sex reassignment surgery in Colorado. After about a year to fully recover, I began to have more complete relationships and was fairly promiscuous for a few years with lots of partying and drugs and just having fun and living life. At 29, I met a man that shared common interests and we became great friends. A year later in 1985 at 30, we got married and stayed married for the next 12 years. We divorced in 1997. He is now remarried but still a part of my life and one of my best friends until the day I day. I’ve had a couple 5-year relationships since but have been single for the last 12 or 13 years but I’ve been working on at least finding FWBs if not something more serious!
Had I not had the support, love and understanding of my parents growing up, I would be long dead by now. I stopped seeing my biological father when I was 14 because he was such an asshole and I had no idea where he even was. The year before my mom died when I was 25, she tracked him down, told him I had been living as a girl for nearly ten years, had had a “sex change” and reconciled us. When we did finally reconnect, he was beside himself and said everything all made sense to him now. We stayed in touch and stayed friendly until he died about 15 years ago. Him and my ex-husband got to meet several times and dear old dad was pretty damn proud how his kid turned out.
In the real world, I am not open or out about how I grew up or the things I’ve been through. Sure, I have a couple close confidantes that know but my medical history is not something I share casually. At 65, thanks to still taking estrogen and not going through menopause like natal females, I still look fairly young for my age and I’m young at heart and still like to party and have fun. I’m a regular at a neighborhood dive sports pub and have tons of friends and people that know me.
For those curious... Sorry, I don't do faces online. Oldest photo from 18 months ago
Quote:I would think that growing up in a war zone as you said you had that you would find yourself pretty jaded and even a victim of PTSD? Being bullied as you were in school seems a problem for many people regardless of the reason. I would think you were no exception?
Nah, not really. I put up with so much shit early in life, it thickened my skin and toughened me up. Even after I was nearly killed it wasn’t that big of a deal to me because I’d been beaten up so many times and the only different that time was in its severity. It traumatized my folks a lot more than me. Of course, I went for six months or counseling after but was pretty sick of talking to doctors by that point in my life.
Quote:It'd be interesting to hear a little of how you adjusted and managed to carve out an existence in what can be perceived as a very callous world?
Well, how does anybody? Seeing how nobody knew or knows except those I tell that I wasn’t born female, I’ve never faced any discrimination or oppression for my history. Online anonymously is the only place I have shared my past which I have done so that people can learn about people like me and have a better understanding of it all. IRL, the fact that I am of trans experience is something I prefer to keep private.
Quote:Sorry for so many questions at once, it just seems like your experience on the planet is so foreign to that which most of us have lived. I suppose I'm just curious as to how it's all worked out for you? Thanks in advance for anything you might share.
That’s okay and thanks for asking. I’m sure I’ve answered most of your questions and more if not bored you to tears? If you or anyone would like to ask me anything please feel free and don’t be shy as long you’re respectful as you would be to any woman of my age, your mom or your grandma.
PS
This is not news to any that know or remember me from TOS. Having heard some of the most horrible things said there, there’s not a whole lot I find shocking or offensive. Say what you will, just please don’t be a dick about it.
* Now do I get the prize for the longest post EVAR?
--Elisabeth
Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.