The original reason for starting this blog page has died a quiet death at my own hands; and that’s a good thing. Since the funeral, I’ve been wondering what to do with the thing, especially since I own this domain name across the known universe, with the possible exception of the Klingon Empire. Negotiations are ongoing.
A few days ago, I had an idea. (No it’s not the only one I have ever had, but this is one of the good ones.) I will use it to journal about the toughest battle I will ever fight. Where before I intended to share opinions, in this effort, I will share my life. Particularly, that part of my life pertaining to the final major hurdle to my happiness.
The technical name for it, appropriately I think, is Morbid Obesity. The not so technical names we all know, but to state the obvious, I am a very fat chick and need to change that for a number of reasons.
As with my life, this will be chaotic. I will write about what’s on my mind at the time. No time tables or set subject matter. One day you may see a simple progress report, another a story from my fat past, another a rant against society’s love affair with food. It won’t be for you, it will be for me, and thus I will be blunt and you will read things you may find distasteful. But I need to see them in all their pixel ugliness. In sharing I will accomplish two things; the first is I will come out of hiding and bare my last deep secrets and second, hopefully this will help someone else. It has the additional appeal, at least to me, that it is about a much different transision.
Let’s begin.
Today begins the second week of attempt number 18,615 to lose weight. I weighed in at 393 pounds. I lost 12 pounds last week. Before you get all excited, remember a gallon of water weighs 8 pounds and reducing Carbohydrates, at least in my body, results in constant peeing. Still 12 pounds is 12 pounds. I have a tendency to ignore the positive in exchange for a recitation of my past failures. And there are plenty of those. I worked hard last week to stay focused on the successes.
I weighed in on Day One at 405 pounds. I have weighed more. I decided in that first week to cap only one parameter and that was Carbohydrates at 110 grams a day. That’s 440 calories, roughly one-and-a-half Snickers bars. For someone who loves bagels, rolls, and sandwiches, that ain’t a lot of Carbs. I could eat whatever else I wanted and as much as I wanted as long as I held the Carbs down.
I held the line on Carbs and I ate plenty of whatever else I wanted; around 3,000 calories a day give or take, mostly fat calories. This week I am capping two parameters; Carbs at 125 grams and total calories at 2,500. I am holding down Carbs because I have ample evidence and experience to show that I have developed a resistance to my own insulin (Syndrome X.) If I keep my Carbs in check, my blood sugar tests well within “normal.” If I let the Carbs go, my blood sugar will test in the 110-115 range; so called “pre-diabetic” levels.
Enough for today. You won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t read this. As I said, it’s for me. I need a breakthrough; maybe this will be it.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Ours Is But To Accept
One of the great things about this trip is that I get to sit with relatives and friends and have long talks. We catch up on all that has happened in our lives since our last meeting; the successes, failures, highs, lows, family gossip and what the hell was I thinking. :) My Mother is no exception. The other day she said the most extraordinary thing to me.
First, I need to tell you a little about my Brother, Steve. I am the oldest of four kids and Steve is number two, thirteen months younger than I. We were not very close for decades. Our relationship has improved significantly over the past fifteen or so years. Even so, we are very different. It is those differences that led me to hurt his feelings; unintentionally, but significantly.
Steve is not the most tolerant person I know. Our “colorful” past and certain things in his nature caused me to conclude that Steve would not be very accepting of my situation and the subsequent decision I made to live my life, full-time as a woman.
I was wrong, very wrong and Steve was hurt that I would think he could not, would not accept my decision and continue to love me. And through my Mother, I learned just how profound my Brother’s mindset toward me actually is. Mother told me that in a conversation with Steve, where she was remarking that she just did not understand why I had chosen this path, Steve told her, “It is not for us to understand. Ours is but to accept.”
Wow!! That blew me away and I cried.
I have a blind spot when it comes to how others react to my decision. Because of this blind spot, I have sought to talk to those affected by my choice and learn exactly how it has affected their lives. To those I have hurt, I apologize and seek forgiveness. It was never my intent to cause pain.
All speak of the surprise to hear the news, but once the shock has passed, their reactions differ. Men often speak of the courage to make such a choice; women are usually sad that I had to live a life in hiding waiting for society to be more open. A few had suspicions that I was either Gay or Transgendered, a few others couldn’t put their finger on it, but knew I was unhappy. Most note that I am a better person, that I radiate happiness now, that I am far more active, social and personally involved in the community than before. They tell me that the qualities that matter remain and have been enhanced despite the change in my appearance.
Still, many do not understand and that is OK. The root of this change is, after all, a Disorder and a rare one at that. Many people will only know one or two Transgendered people in their entire life. Further, the roles of Gender are deeply engrained in everything we do. Those that are comfortable with the sex assigned to them at birth wouldn’t trade for all the tea in China. My youngest brother, Andy, watched me unload all the things I needed just to spend the night at his place, I looked like a pack mule, and remarked, “I know you HAD to do this. No one would willingly choose to be a woman and haul all this stuff around. Being a guy is much simpler.” Indeed.
Going back through the past two years, I can think of only three people that have rejected me outright. My spouse, but to be fair, she rejected me twenty years ago; and two male friends who have refused to talk to me despite apologies and attempts to engage them. As they no doubt don’t understand me, I don’t understand why they won’t talk to me. I simply chalk it up to human nature. In any case, mine is not to understand, mine is simply to accept.
First, I need to tell you a little about my Brother, Steve. I am the oldest of four kids and Steve is number two, thirteen months younger than I. We were not very close for decades. Our relationship has improved significantly over the past fifteen or so years. Even so, we are very different. It is those differences that led me to hurt his feelings; unintentionally, but significantly.
Steve is not the most tolerant person I know. Our “colorful” past and certain things in his nature caused me to conclude that Steve would not be very accepting of my situation and the subsequent decision I made to live my life, full-time as a woman.
I was wrong, very wrong and Steve was hurt that I would think he could not, would not accept my decision and continue to love me. And through my Mother, I learned just how profound my Brother’s mindset toward me actually is. Mother told me that in a conversation with Steve, where she was remarking that she just did not understand why I had chosen this path, Steve told her, “It is not for us to understand. Ours is but to accept.”
Wow!! That blew me away and I cried.
I have a blind spot when it comes to how others react to my decision. Because of this blind spot, I have sought to talk to those affected by my choice and learn exactly how it has affected their lives. To those I have hurt, I apologize and seek forgiveness. It was never my intent to cause pain.
All speak of the surprise to hear the news, but once the shock has passed, their reactions differ. Men often speak of the courage to make such a choice; women are usually sad that I had to live a life in hiding waiting for society to be more open. A few had suspicions that I was either Gay or Transgendered, a few others couldn’t put their finger on it, but knew I was unhappy. Most note that I am a better person, that I radiate happiness now, that I am far more active, social and personally involved in the community than before. They tell me that the qualities that matter remain and have been enhanced despite the change in my appearance.
Still, many do not understand and that is OK. The root of this change is, after all, a Disorder and a rare one at that. Many people will only know one or two Transgendered people in their entire life. Further, the roles of Gender are deeply engrained in everything we do. Those that are comfortable with the sex assigned to them at birth wouldn’t trade for all the tea in China. My youngest brother, Andy, watched me unload all the things I needed just to spend the night at his place, I looked like a pack mule, and remarked, “I know you HAD to do this. No one would willingly choose to be a woman and haul all this stuff around. Being a guy is much simpler.” Indeed.
Going back through the past two years, I can think of only three people that have rejected me outright. My spouse, but to be fair, she rejected me twenty years ago; and two male friends who have refused to talk to me despite apologies and attempts to engage them. As they no doubt don’t understand me, I don’t understand why they won’t talk to me. I simply chalk it up to human nature. In any case, mine is not to understand, mine is simply to accept.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Five Hours of Heaven
Last night I went over to my brother Andy’s place. He is divorced and this is his weekend to have the kids; Connor and Keegan, my teenage nephews and Kiernan, my six year-old niece. It was my good fortune that the kids had Teacher Conferences, so Andy had them early this week since they have today, Friday, off.
As I pulled up into their driveway, Kiernan came running out the front door, braving the cold and wind to greet me with a hug and escorted me into the house. Wednesday she had been so anxious to see me that she made her dad, my brother, drive twenty minutes to my Mother’s so she could spend half an hour with me before having to return to her Mom’s for dinner.
Once inside, she grabbed me by the hand and took me on a tour ending in her bedroom. It was painted two different shades of pink with a paper border around the room four feet high separating them. The head of her bed was covered with stuffed animals; among them were the Fish family, the Monkey family and the Statue of Liberty doll her dad had brought back from New York City. This menagerie rested atop a pink “Dora the Explorer” bedspread.
She showed me her closet, her clothes, her keepsake jewelry and the artwork coveted by her dad. She also showed me her purse, another prized possession from her dad’s trip to New York City. Then we went to see her Bearded Dragon lizard, Thunderball. Thunderball is one of three family lizards, but Kiernan proudly informed me that hers was the largest. Indeed, she was. From there, it was back to the bedroom to play.
She pulled out her Dora the Explorer house and started opening it up so we could play, but she saw a spider and immediately scampered on top of the bed. “Aunt Billie, can you please take care of the spider?” No problem, Aunt Billie to the rescue, then on to our play time. She demonstrated all the gadgets; the oven, the “real” door, the book shelves and the stove. I joined her on the floor where we played until it was time to go to Claxon’s for dinner.
After dinner, we retired to her dad’s room so we could watch “Daffy and the Quackbusters” and eat banana pie. She had obviously seen the movie a few times and made sure I knew the funny parts were coming. She eventually opened up her laptop and started playing a game where you cook various dishes and are scored on how you combine your ingredients and the cooking technique you use. She leaned away from her screen often to make sure I had not fallen asleep, commenting once or twice that I looked tired. (That banana pie was a carb overload!)
It was time to leave and as we said our goodbyes she asked if I could spend the night tomorrow. I told her Saturday night would actually be better, so I will come over then, “OK?” Nope, she couldn’t wait that long, so I am spending the night tonight, Friday.
As I drove home tears filled my eyes as joy filled my heart. THIS is what it is all about, all the pain and patience. I laughed remembering all those posts I have read arguing over terminology and definitions like, what is a woman. I have long since abandoned those debates, but I can answer that question. Last night I was a woman; through and through, one hundred percent pure, Aunt Billie.
And I loved it!!
PS - To see my precious niece, check out this video on YouTube!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDhnRfuj86Q
As I pulled up into their driveway, Kiernan came running out the front door, braving the cold and wind to greet me with a hug and escorted me into the house. Wednesday she had been so anxious to see me that she made her dad, my brother, drive twenty minutes to my Mother’s so she could spend half an hour with me before having to return to her Mom’s for dinner.
Once inside, she grabbed me by the hand and took me on a tour ending in her bedroom. It was painted two different shades of pink with a paper border around the room four feet high separating them. The head of her bed was covered with stuffed animals; among them were the Fish family, the Monkey family and the Statue of Liberty doll her dad had brought back from New York City. This menagerie rested atop a pink “Dora the Explorer” bedspread.
She showed me her closet, her clothes, her keepsake jewelry and the artwork coveted by her dad. She also showed me her purse, another prized possession from her dad’s trip to New York City. Then we went to see her Bearded Dragon lizard, Thunderball. Thunderball is one of three family lizards, but Kiernan proudly informed me that hers was the largest. Indeed, she was. From there, it was back to the bedroom to play.
She pulled out her Dora the Explorer house and started opening it up so we could play, but she saw a spider and immediately scampered on top of the bed. “Aunt Billie, can you please take care of the spider?” No problem, Aunt Billie to the rescue, then on to our play time. She demonstrated all the gadgets; the oven, the “real” door, the book shelves and the stove. I joined her on the floor where we played until it was time to go to Claxon’s for dinner.
After dinner, we retired to her dad’s room so we could watch “Daffy and the Quackbusters” and eat banana pie. She had obviously seen the movie a few times and made sure I knew the funny parts were coming. She eventually opened up her laptop and started playing a game where you cook various dishes and are scored on how you combine your ingredients and the cooking technique you use. She leaned away from her screen often to make sure I had not fallen asleep, commenting once or twice that I looked tired. (That banana pie was a carb overload!)
It was time to leave and as we said our goodbyes she asked if I could spend the night tomorrow. I told her Saturday night would actually be better, so I will come over then, “OK?” Nope, she couldn’t wait that long, so I am spending the night tonight, Friday.
As I drove home tears filled my eyes as joy filled my heart. THIS is what it is all about, all the pain and patience. I laughed remembering all those posts I have read arguing over terminology and definitions like, what is a woman. I have long since abandoned those debates, but I can answer that question. Last night I was a woman; through and through, one hundred percent pure, Aunt Billie.
And I loved it!!
PS - To see my precious niece, check out this video on YouTube!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDhnRfuj86Q
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Tie That Binds
I wish all those relatives out there who have rejected their kin for being Transgender could meet my cousin Gary and his wife Barbara. Their kindness and generosity could not help but influence even the hardest heart.
I can’t remember the last time I saw Gary and Barbara; that is before my sister’s funeral last year. Gary hadn’t seen me as Billie up to that point. Not that it mattered. From the way he acted, you would think seeing his cousin dressed as a woman was an ordinary event! We didn’t have much time to chat about what had happened; we were there to honor my sister Kate, not talk about me. Before we parted, Gary said I was welcome to come visit him anytime.
I took him up on his offer as part of my Sabbatical and just finished a wonderful three day visit. Gary and Barbara put me up in the guest room and made me part of their lives. I posted some video of their lovely place. This time we had the time to chat about what I had been through, what my life had been like and answer some questions.
But more importantly, we connected as family. We reminisced over old times, shared new stories, got caught up on our kids and other kin and remembered those that have departed both recently and long ago. We sang songs we remember from our youth, Gary played a record he made for our Grandparents when he was six and I recounted a train ride to Bartlesville when I was eight. In every story, every memory, every smile, family provided the common reference, the string that held it all together.
I wonder if those that have rejected their Transgender relatives know how much they are actually paying. In their rejection, they cut the family tie and even if it is eventually restored, the damage and loss cannot be repaired. I cannot think of the thing that would cause me to reject my kin. I may not like everything I see, but love can still prevail.
Thank you Gary and Barbara for loving me, for inviting me to come visit and for showing me a wonderful time while I was there. You are the greatest!!
I can’t remember the last time I saw Gary and Barbara; that is before my sister’s funeral last year. Gary hadn’t seen me as Billie up to that point. Not that it mattered. From the way he acted, you would think seeing his cousin dressed as a woman was an ordinary event! We didn’t have much time to chat about what had happened; we were there to honor my sister Kate, not talk about me. Before we parted, Gary said I was welcome to come visit him anytime.
I took him up on his offer as part of my Sabbatical and just finished a wonderful three day visit. Gary and Barbara put me up in the guest room and made me part of their lives. I posted some video of their lovely place. This time we had the time to chat about what I had been through, what my life had been like and answer some questions.
But more importantly, we connected as family. We reminisced over old times, shared new stories, got caught up on our kids and other kin and remembered those that have departed both recently and long ago. We sang songs we remember from our youth, Gary played a record he made for our Grandparents when he was six and I recounted a train ride to Bartlesville when I was eight. In every story, every memory, every smile, family provided the common reference, the string that held it all together.
I wonder if those that have rejected their Transgender relatives know how much they are actually paying. In their rejection, they cut the family tie and even if it is eventually restored, the damage and loss cannot be repaired. I cannot think of the thing that would cause me to reject my kin. I may not like everything I see, but love can still prevail.
Thank you Gary and Barbara for loving me, for inviting me to come visit and for showing me a wonderful time while I was there. You are the greatest!!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Good, the Bad and the Androgynous – 09-23-2009
The Androgynous – I did learn a couple of things on the trip to Denver. It is important for me to enhance every female “cue” I can. At a minimum, I need to choose feminine clothing, wear a touch of mascara and always, always put on lipstick. These simple things go a long way toward countering my male cues. The more androgynous my appearance through ambiguous clothing or no make-up, the easier it is to read my “Trans Badge.”
The Bad – Fear, real honest to goodness fear made for a restless Tuesday night. I have travelled alone before, slept in my vehicle at rest stops many times and was never concerned. I wasn’t a woman either.
I found I was really nervous that the windows were not covered, so someone could see in. I was startled at the slightest noise. (It is amazing how much noise a vehicle makes cooling down after hours and hours on the road.) :) I was constantly looking around, checking the mirrors and watching where all incoming vehicles wound up. All of this vigilance took place while gripping a loaded revolver. Thankfully, I did get some sleep. However, I need to improve my security for sleeping "al fresco."
The Good – After my restless night, I decided I wanted a good, sit-down breakfast. I stopped at the Denny’s in Tucumcari. I got the breakfast I needed as well as a big boost to my confidence!!
I was wearing my signature color; pink capris, a pink top, flats, not running shoes, and pink pearl earrings. I brushed my hair before I left the van, had on a touch of mascara and pink lipstick. While I was eating, I ate as I have seen my girlfriends eat; small bites and placing my utensils on the plate between bites. I picked up my book from time to time, showing indifference toward the food for a moment, then back to eating. I was being “dainty,” at least as dainty as a 400 pound woman can be. :) (This is also a good practice to guard against overeating!)
Half a dozen people came in. We exchanged glances, a smile, a nod or a “Good Morning;” it was all quite ordinary. Even the three construction workers who sat next to me looked me over with the indifference only a middle aged woman could engender. I loved it; kind smiles and acknowledgments toward the nice lady, nothing more.
I pondered why this is so important to me. I concluded that it is no different than many of my born-female friends. They control the environment around them; improve their safety and security by avoiding undue attention, by not dressing or acting provocatively and by presenting themselves in what they describe as a “lady-like” manner. They hold to a standard of public behavior passed down from their Mothers that says there is a difference between being a woman and being a lady and being a lady is preferable.
Perhaps if I were born Jennifer Love Hewitt or Cameron Diaz, I would think differently. But I am a woman born man whose grip on femininity is tentative at best. Society’s fear and misunderstanding of people like me complicates matters because it is impossible to know how someone will react if they scratch my surface and find a past they did not expect. The best way for me to protect myself, protect people like me, is to be what others expect a middle-aged woman to be.
And to act like lady.
The Bad – Fear, real honest to goodness fear made for a restless Tuesday night. I have travelled alone before, slept in my vehicle at rest stops many times and was never concerned. I wasn’t a woman either.
I found I was really nervous that the windows were not covered, so someone could see in. I was startled at the slightest noise. (It is amazing how much noise a vehicle makes cooling down after hours and hours on the road.) :) I was constantly looking around, checking the mirrors and watching where all incoming vehicles wound up. All of this vigilance took place while gripping a loaded revolver. Thankfully, I did get some sleep. However, I need to improve my security for sleeping "al fresco."
The Good – After my restless night, I decided I wanted a good, sit-down breakfast. I stopped at the Denny’s in Tucumcari. I got the breakfast I needed as well as a big boost to my confidence!!
I was wearing my signature color; pink capris, a pink top, flats, not running shoes, and pink pearl earrings. I brushed my hair before I left the van, had on a touch of mascara and pink lipstick. While I was eating, I ate as I have seen my girlfriends eat; small bites and placing my utensils on the plate between bites. I picked up my book from time to time, showing indifference toward the food for a moment, then back to eating. I was being “dainty,” at least as dainty as a 400 pound woman can be. :) (This is also a good practice to guard against overeating!)
Half a dozen people came in. We exchanged glances, a smile, a nod or a “Good Morning;” it was all quite ordinary. Even the three construction workers who sat next to me looked me over with the indifference only a middle aged woman could engender. I loved it; kind smiles and acknowledgments toward the nice lady, nothing more.
I pondered why this is so important to me. I concluded that it is no different than many of my born-female friends. They control the environment around them; improve their safety and security by avoiding undue attention, by not dressing or acting provocatively and by presenting themselves in what they describe as a “lady-like” manner. They hold to a standard of public behavior passed down from their Mothers that says there is a difference between being a woman and being a lady and being a lady is preferable.
Perhaps if I were born Jennifer Love Hewitt or Cameron Diaz, I would think differently. But I am a woman born man whose grip on femininity is tentative at best. Society’s fear and misunderstanding of people like me complicates matters because it is impossible to know how someone will react if they scratch my surface and find a past they did not expect. The best way for me to protect myself, protect people like me, is to be what others expect a middle-aged woman to be.
And to act like lady.
Monday, September 21, 2009
What's the Diff?
My transition story isn’t much different than anyone else’s; I had two roles, the hidden female role and the male role, which was visible to the world. After nearly 18 months of living full-time as a woman, I find to my horror that I still have two roles and the dream of finding peace in my life will likely escape me.
The visible role has changed, I am no longer living as a male. I spend my days as a woman and enjoy that life immensely. In this sense, my dream has come true. I love being Billie and any doubts about making that change have long evaporated.
The other role brings far less pleasure, the role of Transsexual. Before I started this journey, I thought I would be transitioning from one sex to the other. It did not occur to me that the transition would never end. I knew I would never be “born woman,” but I thought that between medical science, training, practice and the courts, my male past would only be visible to those to whom I revealed it. With a body that matched both my mind’s eye and the paperwork, I would be as close to born woman as one can get. Transition complete.
Now I find the only way to achieve that end is to do something I find equally distasteful; cut off all contact with the Trans community. Abandon those that have helped me, those that I could help, and those that are lost in their own struggle. I can’t do it; yet I hate wearing this label and I hate even more the need some have to ensure the world knows I am wearing it.
I didn’t like being Bill, but it was a role I had mastered. Although there was always a danger that my secret life as Billie would be discovered, at least I didn’t have anyone actively trying to out me. Maybe I was better off than I thought.
The visible role has changed, I am no longer living as a male. I spend my days as a woman and enjoy that life immensely. In this sense, my dream has come true. I love being Billie and any doubts about making that change have long evaporated.
The other role brings far less pleasure, the role of Transsexual. Before I started this journey, I thought I would be transitioning from one sex to the other. It did not occur to me that the transition would never end. I knew I would never be “born woman,” but I thought that between medical science, training, practice and the courts, my male past would only be visible to those to whom I revealed it. With a body that matched both my mind’s eye and the paperwork, I would be as close to born woman as one can get. Transition complete.
Now I find the only way to achieve that end is to do something I find equally distasteful; cut off all contact with the Trans community. Abandon those that have helped me, those that I could help, and those that are lost in their own struggle. I can’t do it; yet I hate wearing this label and I hate even more the need some have to ensure the world knows I am wearing it.
I didn’t like being Bill, but it was a role I had mastered. Although there was always a danger that my secret life as Billie would be discovered, at least I didn’t have anyone actively trying to out me. Maybe I was better off than I thought.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The Walk About September 15, 2009
Hi everyone. I am a little behind. I have spent a lot of time gaining the technical skills needed to make this happen and it looks like I have most of the kinks worked out. Following is some insight into our first day on the great Walk About. For those that don't know, Toni D'orsay has come along with me. I am expecting a grand time with her along!!
I was telling some folks before I left for this adventure that I was really interested in finding out how the rest of the world reacted to Billie. I felt that in Phoenix and in particular where I work, I was insulated to a great extent. After all, after living as a woman full-time for 17 months, I have not received a single derogatory comment. I am already finding out and it’s just the first day!! First, some details.
The first leg of the trip took on a new priority when son Tony flew into Phoenix with a friend to move his stuff up to Denver. Since Tony was unable to borrow a truck, he asked if we would consider hauling a trailer up there for him. Unfortunately, there was no time to lollygag as both Tony and Thom needed to be at work on Wednesday. Toni D. and I figured we would have arrived in Denver in two or three days if we had stopped at all the places we were interested in seeing. :)
We had hoped to be on the road by 5:00 am, but didn’t get out until 5:45; not bad. The journey went well; the van performed flawlessly towing the massive trailer. The event of interest was the convenience stop on the Navajo reservation at Indian City. As I was paying for a candy bar, the clerk, a very nice lady, asked me, “So, you two are actually men dressed as women, is that correct?” I am sure she could hear the incredulity in my voice when I responded, “That’s not the way I would I put it.”
She was very kind and made it clear that she was simply curious and did not mean to offend. She asked how I would put it. I said, “I am just a woman.” She told Toni and me that she didn’t get out much and liked to take advantage of learning situations as they occurred at the shop. So, we talked with her for awhile, long enough to bring the boys in from outside to see what happened to us. I vowed that from here on out, I will lose the attitude and become curious myself.
Tony and and his friend, Thom are great kids. Tony drove for several hours so I could catch a little sleep. With all the stops needed for my aging bones and bladder, the trip took 17 and-a-half hours. When we arrived, I actually backed the trailer into a parking place at their apartment complex! I never thought I would be able to do that. I have to confess a few plants may have suffered. :)
We had an interesting experience when we arrived at the hotel. Toni and I arrived around 1:00 am and we were exhausted. Most guys, even the most selfish will help two women struggling with their luggage, if only to hold the door open. This guy, the night desk clerk, was sitting in a chair, in the lobby, a mere 20 feet from the front door, notebook computer on his lap watching the History Channel. Toni and I both were loaded down and could barely open the door. The clerk did not budge; twice.
I am not sure if he was lazy or indifferent or whether he had read us as “trans” and was translating his opinion of us into non-action. I suspected it was the latter when he started using male pronouns in reference to us. I told him I intended to file a complaint about his behavior; which really upset him. He called his boss, who apparently exonerated his lack of action. At the conclusion of the call, he simply smiled and said, “I hope you have a nice evening.”
I will file the complaint. As a customer, irrespective of my gender presentation, “hospitality” is simply good business and I am sure the higher ups at the hotel will be interested in knowing how this franchise treats their “guests.” I will be happy to share the name on the establishment upon request.
We will see Tony and Thom again, and Gina too, on Wednesday evening; then Gina has Thursday off so the three girls will rat around Denver all day. From here Toni and I will be on our own and for starters will head back down to Trinidad for a visit.
I have posted a short video on YouTube. It is the very first using my new camera and the sound is not great, but you get to see my wonderful son, Tony. More tomorrow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6xf0CzmFpA
Take Care,
Billie
I was telling some folks before I left for this adventure that I was really interested in finding out how the rest of the world reacted to Billie. I felt that in Phoenix and in particular where I work, I was insulated to a great extent. After all, after living as a woman full-time for 17 months, I have not received a single derogatory comment. I am already finding out and it’s just the first day!! First, some details.
The first leg of the trip took on a new priority when son Tony flew into Phoenix with a friend to move his stuff up to Denver. Since Tony was unable to borrow a truck, he asked if we would consider hauling a trailer up there for him. Unfortunately, there was no time to lollygag as both Tony and Thom needed to be at work on Wednesday. Toni D. and I figured we would have arrived in Denver in two or three days if we had stopped at all the places we were interested in seeing. :)
We had hoped to be on the road by 5:00 am, but didn’t get out until 5:45; not bad. The journey went well; the van performed flawlessly towing the massive trailer. The event of interest was the convenience stop on the Navajo reservation at Indian City. As I was paying for a candy bar, the clerk, a very nice lady, asked me, “So, you two are actually men dressed as women, is that correct?” I am sure she could hear the incredulity in my voice when I responded, “That’s not the way I would I put it.”
She was very kind and made it clear that she was simply curious and did not mean to offend. She asked how I would put it. I said, “I am just a woman.” She told Toni and me that she didn’t get out much and liked to take advantage of learning situations as they occurred at the shop. So, we talked with her for awhile, long enough to bring the boys in from outside to see what happened to us. I vowed that from here on out, I will lose the attitude and become curious myself.
Tony and and his friend, Thom are great kids. Tony drove for several hours so I could catch a little sleep. With all the stops needed for my aging bones and bladder, the trip took 17 and-a-half hours. When we arrived, I actually backed the trailer into a parking place at their apartment complex! I never thought I would be able to do that. I have to confess a few plants may have suffered. :)
We had an interesting experience when we arrived at the hotel. Toni and I arrived around 1:00 am and we were exhausted. Most guys, even the most selfish will help two women struggling with their luggage, if only to hold the door open. This guy, the night desk clerk, was sitting in a chair, in the lobby, a mere 20 feet from the front door, notebook computer on his lap watching the History Channel. Toni and I both were loaded down and could barely open the door. The clerk did not budge; twice.
I am not sure if he was lazy or indifferent or whether he had read us as “trans” and was translating his opinion of us into non-action. I suspected it was the latter when he started using male pronouns in reference to us. I told him I intended to file a complaint about his behavior; which really upset him. He called his boss, who apparently exonerated his lack of action. At the conclusion of the call, he simply smiled and said, “I hope you have a nice evening.”
I will file the complaint. As a customer, irrespective of my gender presentation, “hospitality” is simply good business and I am sure the higher ups at the hotel will be interested in knowing how this franchise treats their “guests.” I will be happy to share the name on the establishment upon request.
We will see Tony and Thom again, and Gina too, on Wednesday evening; then Gina has Thursday off so the three girls will rat around Denver all day. From here Toni and I will be on our own and for starters will head back down to Trinidad for a visit.
I have posted a short video on YouTube. It is the very first using my new camera and the sound is not great, but you get to see my wonderful son, Tony. More tomorrow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6xf0CzmFpA
Take Care,
Billie
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