New Englad Transgender Pride

Saturday morning my alarm went off at 7:00 am. Gosh…first time I’ve used an alarm clock in some time. Up, dressed in pink shorts and a Boston Pride tank top, I was off to meet Ethan and Karen at the Alewife Station at 8:00 to go to the first New England Transgender Pride March and Rally in Northampton, Massachusetts. Karen drove and Ethan an I jabbered and we were there at the rally site uneventfully and comfortably early.

Immediately I spotted a few people I knew, like Danielle and Terri, and had to run and socialize. There was also time for me to sit and do a little makeup, which I’d skipped before heading out the door. I go out so often without makeup, these days, but gosh it makes a difference. I get compliments when I wear it! Knowing that I look more feminine helps me feel more “complete” as a woman too. Is it just silly CD performance? In conversations with a couple of different people during the day, they explained to me that their desire to express these superficial signs of femininity is part of their fundamental identity. Superficial or not, that’s not just perfermance, it’s who we are. Err, sorry, a little digression there.

Ethan and I walked with Gunner down to the parade staging ground where we saw for the first time just how many people were showing up. There were *lots* of marching groups with banners, and yes, from all over New England. I was happy to March with the Massachusetts Trangender Political Coalition, like I did for Boston Pride last year and held my sign up high and proudly. A few people MTPC smiled and commented that I was really good at holding the sign, but of course you can’t just be amused, you have to follow, so it was cool to see our rather large MTPC contingent energetically hoisting our signs in the air througout the parade. We got lots of sympathetic honking from traffic along the route, and it was great to see the sidewalks on the last few blocks, through the central part of town, just packed with people out to watch and applaud and support us.

The weather had been cool and grey in the morning just right about up to noon for the start of the parade. The sun broke through the clouds then so weather for the parade was absolutely beautiful and perfect. Very unfortunately then, the heat skyrocketed leaving the rally site, an unshaded asphalt parking lot intolerable to most people for much of the afternoon rally presentations. Some retreated to the edges of the parking lot where there were small shade trees. I’m afraid too many retreated to the air conditioned shops and restaurants of Northampton. I toughed it out in the sun, independent idiot that I am. I had SPF 45 and 55 sunscreen, I was hydrated, so I sat and listened and yes, I really enjoyed listening to all the different messages from the speakers. It was amazing to me that after two years of exploring the transgender community I was still running into such new ideas. It was informative and validating both.

I ran into so many people I knew during the day, and some that I just barely knew. One couple recognized me from MySpace and said hello. Genevieve was one of several people that complained that we had made friends but now I never answer emails. *sigh* My friends are all so wonderful and they deserve so much more. One girl said hello and remembered me from Laurel the night before. “Oh hi! Amy, right?” I came up with. She was the one that had invited me to Dykemarch. Fun.

A brave few of us broiled in front of the stage for the first three hours, but then some afternoon rain clouds began to appear, providing sunshine relief for us and making it possible for others coming back from shopping to join us. This was cool because some of the bigger name speakers were scheduled toward the end of the program, so the folding chairs in the parking lot really began to fill up later in the afternoon. It was cool that people really wanted to hear this stuff and hadn’t completely bailed on the whole day when it was so hot for a little while there. For the closing entertainment by All The Kings Men, the place looked packed. The rally ended as the first few little rain drops fell.

Ethan, Karen, and I attended GLAD’s very nice reception then at a local lounge. I struggled a little bit to socialize but found a few people to have fascinating conversations with. The shrimp cocktail and cheese and fruit was wonderful too.

The ride home was mostly silent as we were all wiped out. Ethan and I dozed. I have no idea how Karen got us home. I feel bad that I didn’t chat Karen up more. I wasn’t doing a good job of being female. She impressed me in so many ways and I didn’t compliment her on anything, barely tried to strike up conversation, and, I’m afraid acted like a guy. *sigh* The day was fantastic and wonderful though. Ethan and Karen gave me a great gift: to take me along with them for this day.

Eek! Pre-makeup pics, above.

Here’s blog coverage I liked: Reiter’s Block. Insightful observations from a non-trans person.

Three day weekend

Mostly wasted.

Friday was a bit of an experience. I was moping around at the office, planning on staying in for the evening, when I read the latest comment in a thread on crossdressers.com about goth clubs. I should go, I thought, having a sudden change of heart about staying home. I knew it was goth night at TT the Bear’s place and I thought I should go just to hang out and observe. I went home (to Stacy’s, that is) put together an outfit around my leather pants, and did a little experiment with makeup. Decided that walking home alone wasn’t my best choice, that since I wasn’t planning on drinking much, I would be less of a target for sidewalk drunks on my bicycle. So then ten o’clock or so, was riding my bicycle down the street toward the club, through Harvard square, a tranny, in leather pants, with crazy goth makeup, and a big gauze bandage over my neck. Omg, I was thinking to myself, just how much of a freak show can one person be? In the door of the club, paused at the bouncer and he just stared at me, like, “what?” “Ten dollars,” he said. I relaxed, understanding that he was reacting my expression of apprehension, and realizing that his expression wasn’t saying, “what, you think I’m going to let you in?” but rather, “what, you want me to card you? just give me the cover charge.” Inside, I picked important stuff like money and ID out my purse, zipped it in my pants pockets, checked my hoodie, purse, and bicycle helmet at the coat check, and started a quick pass through the place. Walking toward the door, there was Rachel and Danielle! Brilliant! No, I had no idea they would be there, and in fact, their story was that they just kind of made plans at the last minute to go themselves. The club was fun, not remarkable, just fun. We all danced, drank, and checked out all the crazy looks that people had put together. We ran into Denis. I had actually seen him a couple of times and thought to myself, “that’s… that’s…” and finally I was thinking, “Sabrina!” when yes, he was talking to Rachel and Danielle, and now in context, I could finally recognize him. Danielle is a bit independent and left us a bit early. Rachel and I talked and danced a bit more and about 1am Rachel asked if I was done. “Yeah, I’m ready to go too.” I had seen what there was to see, had danced and drank, and was done. We got our stuff from the coat check and walked out into the night when it hit Rachel that Danielle had her car keys. Fuck. Alcohol plus non-standard routine equals fucked up mess. Our solution continued along the drunken theme… Cab to my office, look up phone numbers on computer, call Danielle. She was with a friend, almost to the friend’s house, which I happened to know is more than 30 minutes away. Agreed to turn around and come back and meet us at the club. Rachel and I walked from my office most of the way to Harvard Square to find a cab to take us back to Central Square. Found a cab, back in Central Square in less than 30 minutes of course. Waited on the street a bit. No Danielle. Went in Hi Fi and got pizza. Ate pizza staring out the window watching for them. No sign of them. Now we were getting worried and imagining all the disasters that could have befallen them. Finally we were out of ideas. We’d stood on the street for 45 minutes and didn’t know what to do. I had suggested a couple of times that we go to Rachel’s car. I didn’t know why. I didn’t have a plan. It was just something to do. I told Rachel she could stand on the street, but that I was going to walk over to her car. No, no, she would go, she insisted. She walked away and a few minutes later was honking at me, sitting in her car in traffic on the other side of the street. Danielle had dropped off the keys at the car rather than meeting us at the club as we agreed. There just weren’t words for how un fun and stupid the night had gotten. We stuffed my bike in the trunk and she drove me home. Then she was saying how she always had trouble navigating Harvard Square to find her way home. I thought…I’d had enough to drink that I had to tell her, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” She drove away. Heard from her the next day that she’d gotten home fine, just very late. We didn’t even need to say it. We both felt like idiots. We were. *sigh*

Saturday, sat around in front of the computer and wasted the day, then went to Charlie’s Kitchen. Other choices for the evening might have been RCC, where I knew a fun crowd would be; Machine, where Jessica and Debra were going; or Jacque’s, where I might have run into Jon. Charlie’s was an excellent destination for drinking, which was ok since socializing (talking, that is) is difficult for me with this bone in my throat.

Sunday, mostly the same routine, except I did catch Ethan’s internet radio broadcast in the evening. Also I ended up drinking a little more than the previous nights and thought that it might possibly be safer for me to have someone with me in my condition. I didn’t think I was close to throwing up, but just in case it came over me suddenly, I’d *really* rather not be alone to see how that would work with my trach tube. Went to Jessica’s. She was up playing on the computer of course. I started to brush off the bed, then came to my senses and got clean sheets out of the closet. Changed the bed under her, climbed in, she turned out the lights and cuddled up to me. She started to kiss me and I cautioned, “whoa, I’ve been drinking and might not taste so good.” She ignored my warning, then realized I was right and backed off. Of course that didn’t preclude other activities. *sigh* Don’t know what to think of myself. I’ve been so distant from her lately, and then what, I just hop in the sack.

Monday morning–ok, afternoon–I took a mirror and tweezers outside where the day was beautiful and did my face. Done with what I could do, decided to try my kite. One problem, the kite string was still at Al’s. Kite in my hand, train to Davis, I was going up the escalator when I heard someone calling “Al!” I looked up and sure enough, there he was, right in front of me. Now two people were calling “Al! Al!” They were arms distance away from him. Finally after enough shouting, he looked up and recognized them and began to talk to them. Also by this time, I had caught up to him and was walking with this group. Al looked across and looked right at my face. Again, and then a third time, but never registered an expression of recognizing me. I thought perhaps he didn’t want to reveal that he knew me to these other friends, so I was quiet and waited until he was just a couple feet away from me and I could say in a quiet voice so that only he could hear, “small world, hm?” He blinked and startled as he now recognized me. “Sonia!” And introduced me to the other two, his roommate and roommate’s partner. I guess I just can’t imagine what it must be like to be him. To shut out the world so strongly that you not only don’t notice acquaintances in a public setting, but that they have such a hard time breaking through your shell, just to say hello. Anyway, Al had a high priority of getting me to remove some more stuff from the apartment, so kite flying plans got shelved for the day. The two of us ended up making a couple of trips hand carrying stuff from his place to Stacy’s. He wanted to do a third trip but I was done.

And pretty much, that was my exciting Memorial Day weekend.

The C word

For the first time today a doctor was brave enough to tell me it might be cancer. We should know next week after surgery. Best case is I end up with a little scar on my throat. Worst case is that I never talk again and so can’t complain as I die of cancer over the next few months. Sorry, but I’m really grumpy and cynical these days. I feel like shit, I have a cough that will clear a subway car of all passengers in a single stop, I feel so weak, so tired, I ache. I don’t like the idea of having a blow hole punched in my neck. I get asked all the time how long this has been going on. My answer lately is that I guess it’s been getting worse over a period of years. Of course, two years ago I weighed 70-80 pounds more than I do today. It was easy to shrug it off, saying “of course I get out of breath, I’m fat!” But then I lost all of that weight and people still often commented on how easily I would get out of breath. I still ignored it. Just today Lisa stopped by my office to check on me and was asking this question, and I was saying that it had only been really bad recently. She immediately countered “that’s not right, you were telling me last summer how you couldn’t swim across a pond.” Whoa. Smart cookie, that Lisa, she was referring to this story from last August. It made me wonder, did I document earlier cases of breathing problems? I searched, but apparently the answer is no. It’s not that I didn’t have problems. See, by August there, I was so familiar with having trouble breathing that I just mentioned it in passing in that story. I was just ignoring the unusualness of it, and the seriousness of it. It wasn’t until I started having those terrible muscle spasms that I finally went in to see Dr. Bershel. Then that little jail sentence got in the way, then the house arrest, so here six months later I have doctors scheduling surgery for me on a day they previously had scheduled vacation time. It’s scary.

Happy Sonia news is that I had lots of fun Friday at the goth/fetish “Night of the Dolls” at TT The Bear’s Place. I went with Jessica, the only one I could claim for sure as being there with me. But then Ashley ended up bringing the whole Sisters of Boston gang, so I had a wonderful time seeing lots of my friends. I was really struggling with the coughing and stuff and so stayed off the dance floor for the whole night. Finally had a nice conversation with Michelle, after we had traded emails over the last couple of months. Also–I know I’ll miss people–but also seen that night was Holly, Jacinda, Danielle, Wendy, Denise, and Sabrina!

Saturday I was at Jacque’s for a FoRCC Diana roll call. Again lots of fun. Three girls there were kind of Sisters of Boston girls and sat together. I wanted to get them to meet Diana and mix with some of the other girls but was only partially successful. Diana is always in demand and I’m too timid to just interrupt and say “Diana, I have some friends I’d like you to meet…” Lace kind of stepped up to that role though. She was great at talking with everybody. Fun girl. I do hope I don’t die, so I get more chances to go dancing with her. They came with Michelle, but then there were I think four Michelle t-girls there before the night was over. There ended up being a nice little crowd from FoRCC. Sharon came! Rebecca. Paula! Again, lots I’m forgetting.

Stay tuned for tomorrow. Busy day. I’m going to start with a visit to Dr. Bershel’s office. Then work, I think, and then the theater!

Sonia Sphere

Working on my holiday emails today, I was reviewing what I knew about Danielle when it hit me that I had just brought her into my monkey sphere. In my last post, I questioned (tongue in cheek) if I was turning into a girl. Well, seriously, in some ways, I’ve been working hard at it over the last year and a half. I consider one important girl skill is to be able to use my full monkey sphere, that is, to maintain a large circle of friends.

Pre-Sonia, I was strikingly asocial. I had incredibly few friends and so had never practiced this mental skill of forming and maintaining concepts of lots of people. Dunbar’s number may be 150, but Kyle’s number was about 5. A year ago, Sonia had about 100 on her holiday email list. This year I have about 250. Is that possible?—that Sonia’s sphere could really be that big? Mm, almost certainly not. I compiled my list of 250 by looking through all of my social networking friend lists, including anyone I could remember anything at all about, and also including almost anyone I had emailed over the last year. I thought if I had made some deliberate contact with a person, there was a good chance they would remember me and would appreciate the attention of being included in my holiday emails. Ok, so for a couple of them, the last email they got from me was my holiday email last year. But not too many.

Which brings me to Danielle. She didn’t get a holiday email from me last year. She wasn’t in the Sonia Sphere. Strange thing is though, she should have been! In fact, I think it was right around this time last year when I ran into her at GNO, introduced myself to her, and…I’m not sure that she didn’t laugh as she attempted to jog my memory, saying something like “Sonia, don’t you remember me? We met at Laura’s party.” Oh, um, embarrassment, but, yeah, maybe I did remember…sort of…a little bit. So this story comes back to me clearly now, a year later, as I review my email archives and find 47(!) posts from her, including at least four threads where we both participated, sometimes one of us commenting directly on the other’s post. All this and still I hadn’t realized that all of these posts were from the same person, and in fact a person I had met at least twice, and now I’m afraid, probably even more times. How is that possible? Monkey researchers would say easy—I hadn’t let her into my monkey sphere yet. I say a year ago my girl skills were still weak. I’m not sure they’re particularly strong today, but I hope they’re stronger. I do like to think that I’m turning into a girl.

Inside

I journalled a bit from jail. Much of what I wrote is aimless. Here I’m just transcribing parts of interest. My writing starts with me still in a daze:

Wednesday, October 24. Nice to have paper and pen after just one day here. I suppose also nice to have a year or so of writing practice. No idea what to write about. First the fact: I’m in jail. And I’m alive. Concerns of others that I might be suicidal have been proven unfounded. My concern, that I would be incapacitated without ibuprofen, has also passed. My neck has been spasming some, but not as badly as I’d feared. Rest helps, massage helps, Dr. Deb’s acupressure technique helps. Just changing positions, standing for a while, helps. Quite likely the biggest help of all is relief from the stress of this day finally passing. The uncertainty of it and the self-brought stress of not doing anything to prepare for it or avoid it. The obvious question is why. I dread that question because I don’t have an answer. I don’t know why I’ve done this. I really don’t.

[I ramble here about detoxing, being bored with people telling each other tales of violence, the world series, buying cosmetics rather than snacks from the jail canteen, my chaotic sleep patterns, and how the late night trashy dating shows on TV are so het.]

I’m enjoying little expressions of femininity. When I first got a bunk here Tuesday, Kirin was the first, really the only, person to say hi and ask me my name. “Sonia” I answered He blinked in disbelief and said “No, really.” “Kyle” I tried again. He recovered his composure and said, “Oh, you’re funny….” Later in the day after he’d had time to think, he came back for more detail. “So you’re gay?” “I was living as a woman” I came right out and said. He wanted to caution me not to throw that in people’s faces there because they don’t care and don’t want to know–at best. So I haven’t been, but I’ve been quiet in general, minding my own business, but trying to at least be aware of what’s going on. Most everyone else seems pretty good at this and so my feminine quirks don’t seem to bother anyone. My nails are delightfully long right now and still nicely covered with clear polish. My eyebrows still have their severely plucked shape, my face still not showing much of any beard shadow. And I’ve been flaunting as few mannerisms here there. I’ll sit in feminine ways and try to follow my usual practice for elbows, arms, hands, fingers, posture, shoulders, and walk. My arms still look nicely enough shaved and it’s been nice to wash them and then use this nice smelling lotion [that I bought from canteen.]

[More rambling about my sore neck, my diet (documented in absurd detail,) dealing with soft contact lenses, dealing with the jail medical staff.]

One thing I didn’t report was my transgenderism. Medical might like to know, but this is, yet anyway, an undiagnosed medical condition. I’m not even sure I want that diagnosis. I do miss being Sonia, but I’m ok with putting her away for a month and that’s all that seems to make sense. Physical modifications to my body aren’t so dramatic that anyone here seems bothered, I’m not on any hormone prescriptions, and I’ve always said how fortunate are the TS’s that can put the girl in the closet for a limited time in order to achieve longer range goals. Time to take my own medicine.

Random Sonia thought: Kissy face lip pose. I think I just learned this last week! The trick to making the lips pucker is to pull the corners of the mouth toward the middle. So simple, but I didn’t get it until last week! This was a problem at Natick one night about a year ago when Danielle had done my lip makeup and we were posing for Tiffany’s camera. Someone had the idea of us doing a photo with pouty lips and I didn’t know how to do it. I tried to push my lips out and succeeded in only making a face like I had put something with a bad taste in my mouth. A clue that it was possible came from Jessica, the esthetician at Beauty and Main. She said I had good lips. “Really?” I questioned her. I thought my lips were impossibly thin male lips but she argued that they were plenty full. Frustrating evidence came with a picture Rachel posted of herself with super pouty kissy lips. Rachel’s lips are as thin as mine! How did she do that? (Also frustrating, how does she know that and I don’t? It’s frustrating that some girls are seemingly so much more naturally feminine than me! (( The final key came when I watched an episode of “America’s Next Top Model.” With serendipity, the gimmick they had picked to this episode was to have the contestants (women) crossdress as men for a photo shoot with professional drag queens. At one point, one of the judges, a man, was criticizing one of the contestants for failing to make her lips look masculine. He pointed to one of the photos saying “See? You’re doing this…” and he made the pouty face, “instead of this” and he let his lips return to their natural thin-lip male shape. Wow! So there it was demonstrated right in front of me! I tried a few times in front of the mirror and I saw the light. So… just one day later I’m getting my mug shot for jail and I try practicing. I don’t exactly want a kissy face, but I try making my lips look fuller by pulling the corners in a little. It worked! It’s not an attractive photo by any means. I look totally beat, like, scary stressed, weary and defeated, which of course, I was. And, another lesson I still haven’t learned is not to let my head tilt to the right for straight-on pictures because my mouth is already tilted to the right a bit and tilting it more makes for photos where my mouth just jumps out as looking disturbingly crooked. My mugshot is like this. But at least the lips are full! I was pleased. One last posing tip from the show: They were saying that a clenched jaw masculinizes the face. Haven’t practiced that in the mirror yet but it makes sense.

[More rambling about food, getting medicine, playing Monopoly.]

[Ha, there’s a funny story I didn’t write up about my Monopoly partner relating a nightmare where lots of crazy things happened. One of the scary things he dreamed was that I was scratching him with my long fingernails.]

CD Aunts and Grandmothers

Saturday the plan was going to the FoRCC roll call party with Daphne. I met her at South Station when she got off work at 3:00, we went back to her place. We got to RCC at 11:15. I was pretty frustrated, but couldn’t complain because I hadn’t communicated my wishes to her plainly enough. What I should have said is that I really hoped to get there early so as to have lots of time to seek out and get to know better some of my CD “aunts and grandmothers”—girls that are like a generation or two ahead of me in CD time. You know what I mean? You start going out as a new CD and you’re like a teenager. Wild and exuberant and daring and exploring and testing limits. You do that for a period—a year or two, I think, and then you move out of adolescence into your CD “young adulthood” you’ve got some social skills now, you’ve mastered your look and your personality, you might even have a reputation(!), but you probably haven’t quite found your place in the world. You might drift away from your first social circles, find new ones, you might go back to your roots. Then, if you’re lucky, you settle down in whatever part of the TG landscape feels best to you. Some of these girls were at RCC, and most of them I don’t know very well yet. Me, I’m kind of graduating from my teenage phase, I think, and looking for new horizons. I’d love to listen to wisdom of some of my elders at this point. *sigh*

So, 11:15 didn’t leave enough time for that. Vonnie was wonderful to me, as she has been. I had a nice time talking with Paula. She was so happy to realize that it was Daphne and I that were dating. Dianna, I stood and listened to her tell one story, and I gave her a hug goodnight when she left. That’s all I really wanted to hang around her more. Junie, I embarrassed myself in front of. It’s only been like four times that I’ve met her now, so I was pretty sure I knew who she was, but it was late, I’d had a couple of drinks, and I blurted out, “who are you?” “I’m June Casad”, she said in a very sincere voice and looking into my blurry eyes. *sigh* I think she knew I was struggling. Lace? I still don’t know who that is. I hear she was there. *sigh* Still just a name to me. Crap, crap, I’m still so bad at meeting people and getting to know them. < Oh, one girl I really liked meeting was Denise, but I just met her at the end of the night and was drunk and just got an introduction and a picture with her. I wish I knew how to contact her now. She looked so advanced in transition. Really, I can’t imagine her passing as a guy.

I liked seeing Amy Avalon there. I’d been thinking about her just recently. And then I didn’t get to talk to her except to say hello goodbye. I love her because so far, while I’ve been in my “teens” I’ve thought of her as being in the generation just ahead of me and I’ve looked up to her. She’s past her teens, and into that more sober phase of finding her place in the world. How do I know? Well, people tell stories of how she was just like me, going out every week, going dancing, and then she started appearing at fewer CD events. That when she did, she would show up with unshaved legs sometimes. I know I’ve seen her lots of different ways, from looking very finished and perfect, to…male mode! I’ve heard her talk about how she’s considered FFS, and thought hard about where she was and where she wanted to go next. Very cool stuff, and always, I’ve thought, facing just the sorts of issues that I’ll be facing myself before long. How did she look Saturday? In a very short and very flirty black skirt that was tiered and lacy. Like, how fun for a Saturday night with the girls?

Hmm, what else? Wendy and Natasha both bought me drinks. I talked with Terri for a bit. There was a Diane there that was a good friend of Terri’s. I said hello to Dahlia, Jonelle, Winnie, Mellisa, Nadia. Talked with Wendy, Erica, Danielle. Saw Dina leave looking very drunk. Ashley didn’t show up. Omg, not fair…I know there were lots of other girls I talked to but forgot to mention here.

Sunday with Daphne was about as lazy as a day gets. We napped, ate, napped, ate, and basically did nothing. It was nice. The weekend with Daphne was nice, but sadly with too much tension. Daphne and I both have money problems, roommate problems, and health problems. Both of us are kind of sick with worry about problems that we’re not dealing with well. Both of us are kind of wondering about our relationship together. With all that though, it was nice. It was a weekend together.

Oh, just go buy a black skirt

Friday was a milestone night. Trina from Arizona was coming to see me, go to Sisters with me, and spend the night. I can’t resist retelling the story of Trina here.

It was the last week in July last year. Two weeks earlier I had been to GNO for the first time. I went with Jessica, and while we arrived just about the time the party was breaking up to go into Boston, I had seen the cross dressers from across the bar, talked with Krys Ann, and was now crazy curious about cross dressing. I was at GNO this night on my own, early this time, to have time to actually talk with the cross dressers and figure out if they were crazy or like normal people or what. This night when my mission was to meet some real live cross dressers, Trina was in Boston on business and looking for fellow CDs to hang out with and perhaps show her how they have fun in Boston. Trina and I then, being both eager and unfamiliar with the GNO routine, were at the hotel bar long before anyone else. I um…(sorry Trina!)…read her pretty easily and sat down next to her to strike up a conversation. This alone time gave us a chance to trade stories and get to know each other a little bit. This had to be a huge help for me to have the ice already be broken by the time others began arriving.

I’d love to know what her initial take on me was. I really think that she read me as TS at first glance. Anyway, over the course of the night, she put one of her bracelets on me, used female pronouns on me, and basically gave me my first rush of gender euphoria. By the end of the night, my fate was sealed. I was going to be a girl. Over the next *week*, I did everything: bought my first makeup, wig, purse, heels, outfit, jewelry, and picked a name. Trina was instrumental not only in transforming me that Friday night in July, but also in providing emotional support during this frenzied week. After my first attempt at shopping for an outfit ended in total failure, with me unable to imagine myself in anything, and therefore paralyzed from even trying anything on, Trina’s advice (by email from Arizona now) was “Oh, just go buy a black skirt!” “Right, right” I thought, my panic dissipating, “just go buy a black skirt.” And I did. I went back out the next night, tried shopping again, and with the panic gone, was able try on a number of things, and pick out a complete outfit–yes, that included a black skirt. The rest is history, mostly preserved in my journal here on the internet.

Here, over a year later, Trina was finally getting to meet me as Sonia for the first time. The night was wonderful and magical, just perfect. I was most happy that Trina got a rich sample of my world. She called on the cell phone when she was a few blocks away and I ran to the end of the street to meet her. I recognized the car from her description and held out my arms in “come hug me” position to get her to stop. She said later her first thought was, “what is that pretty girl doing on the side of the street doing?” just before realizing, “oh that’s Sonia!” We drove two block to the metered parking lot, walked back to my place to change, walked to the Square for dinner. I loved going out in public with Trina because she was right with me on choices of places to go. Of course she wanted to go to places that weren’t hostile toward TGs, but she trusted me when I said we could go anywhere in Davis Square, and was happy to go to ordinary places. We ate at Antonnio’s, the very nice Italian place that’s right there in the square. I’d have to go back and read my journal, but I think I ate there once by myself as Sonia when I was very new. It would have been one of my early experiments in acceptance. I vaguely remembered that it went well so I thought that the place was a good choice. Another choice I offered was (La Spina) where, I explained, the manager knew me and would be happy to see me. Trina didn’t come right out and say it, but I think she was thinking it would be more interesting to go to a place without such a crutch of predetermined acceptance. Of course we were accepted, and dinner was wonderful.

At Sisters, Trina was amazing with her instant rapport with girls. She talked at length with Danielle (satin blouse Danielle) and came away with amazing stories. She talked with Steffi and came away with very personal information that I don’t think Steffi had even told me. Everybody loved her. I was so happy and proud to be there with her. Ah, it’s unrelated to this story of Trina, but while I’m at Sisters, I have to note that Deedee looked really really good that night. Great colors in her clothes, good makeup, a happy smile. Ah, but she’s in love… Anyway, Trina and I opted out of dancing with the girls and we headed back toward my place. Actually to the Alewife garage and then on the subway one stop to Davis Square. Trina has wanted the experience of riding the subway, so this was cool to give her just a little taste of it. Nothing scary, as it was the last train and I think we had the car to ourselves, but still, part of the experience of Sonia’s world.

Trina also wanted one more drink before going home. She first had in mind a bar with a pool table, but I didn’t know how to deliver that off of the top of my head, and I don’t play pool much anyway, so we settled on a Davis Square Bar. Again following the principle of going to places without guaranteed acceptance, we went to Orleans. I explained that I had been there just a few times but was no regular, that it was a fairly classy place with a fairly young crowd. Well it turned out to be not quite the unknown I promised. I think the bouncer recognized me and waved us right in, as he was checking IDs for other people. The bartender recognized me for sure, welcoming me with a big smile, and a “hey! how are you?” Oops, I guess people remember me. Anyway, Trina needed to pee. I reassured her that she was welcome to use the ladies room, sent her off in that direction, and got us drinks from the bar. We sat and sipped and people watched the crowd of college kids and again, it was another perfect little slice of Sonia’s world.

Home finally, we made good on promises we had been making each other for over a year, and then slept really really well.

The next morning I wanted breakfast before sending Trina off. We walked out the door before choosing a destination and I started enumerating choices. “Just up the street is a quaint, almost girly, little breakfast cafe…” “Perfect” Trina said, “I don’t need to hear the other choices.” And perfect it was. She was struck by how “New England” Renee’s was. A little independent mom and pop type place, with local art on the walls, a worn wooden floor and so on. She had gone in the place saying that she really wasn’t a breakfast person, and ended up ordering a big wonderful breakfast and then carrying on about how good each little part of it was. I escorted her on the T back to the Alewife lot, we picked up her car and she dropped me off at my house, and we kissed good bye. Omg, what a great visit.

Wendy birthday party

Sisters on Friday was a good one. I left home at 7:30, caught the 90 bus, the orange line, the 137 bus, in quick succession and was making record time. Not wanting to walk the last leg, I started calling people at random to see who could pick me up. Dina. She was just leaving her house to pick up Danielle. Negotiated in a flurry of phone conversations, Wendy ended up picking up Danielle, Dina scooped up me, and we all arrived at the hotel by 9:00. The crowd turned out to be the biggest one since our opening night in January. One special attraction was that Wendy had invited people to come and share her birthday cake. The cake was fun, and furthering the reverse giving, Wendy also brought little presents for everybody. I got a little bottle of red nail polish. Girls kind of went in different directions at the end of the night and six of us stayed to close down the hotel bar. 11:30 they were kind of shooing us out, and Daphne and I drove home.