Reply To: When you look in the mirror…


Not so much mirror. I get confused signals. 😁 It’s photos since I came out to my family. I don’t wear my clothes much at all. Almost always his. I like his clothes and really don’t mind wearing them on that level. I’ve done it for 61 years now. But time wearing those is time not wearing one of my beautiful dresses that make me feel pretty and feminine and like a real girl by which I mean woman. I just like girl better.
Anyway, once in awhile I put on a dress and makeup and so on and go someplace where no one will know me and spend time shopping, hanging, whatever. A couple of times my college age daughter has gone with me. She loves it. She remembers not to call me dad when we’re out like that. She calls me Abby.
So anyway, I’ve got a few pics from those occasions and that’s what I look at. You see yourself differently in a pic than in the mirror. And I think it’s a truer view. And you can just sit comfortably and look and see what you see – eye color, lips, cheeks, smile (or no smile – why?), lines or a youthful lack of them, hair – length, amount, style, need a brush, thinning up top or bushy to the point of almost being aggravating, ears, neck, freckles, how light plays off your skin and features perhaps even softening them, the wonderful job you did with your makeup (or maybe not!😂). And if you have a full body shot there’s even more.
I prefer mostly to look from the chest up. Maybe I don’t have much hope for the rest. 😁
Anyway, I’ve got a couple of really good pics from when I was out with my daughter. And as I looked I just so loved the smile on her face – in one pic somewhere between goofy and beautiful. And then slowly my eyes were drawn to my face. And I usually ask myself if I see any of the feminine. Usually it’s no or not much in my opinion. But that day – it was magic. I was looking at Abby just as sure as could be. I realized I needed to stop talking myself as she and her and Abby as if she were someone else. Abby is me. I’m Abby. And I look like the woman I am. At least to me and that is what is important. If others don’t see it or choose not to see it or opt to make fun of it that’s on them. I’m Abby. I’m Abby.

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