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At first I was shocked. Then I wondered if it was intended to be ironic. But, no, it was sincere.
I decided to go to the local park and walk around the lake on the path. It was a beautiful fall day in the upper 70’s, and I was dressed accordingly. Women’s running shorts, a simple heather patterned t-shirt, my male running shoes (I’m not going to worry about the shoes, these were feminine enough, but they are a size 12 men’s).
I decided to not bother trying to “pass,” so there was no makeup. No breast forms, or even bra as I’ve begun over the past year of HRT to develop some of my own (assuming that they could be mistaken, with a little slouching, for “man-boobs”). Yes, I had earrings (forgot to take them out), and nail polish.
But I was still quite surprised. Joyfully surprised.
As I developed a rhythm to my walk, I saw ahead of me a bearded man that I would call one of the good ole boys from my rural neighborhood, walking with his two young boys.
The boys were playing in the path, having a rambunctious time. When the Dad turned to look at them, he saw me coming up to them, he stopped and said, “Hold up there, boys, let her get by!”
Let HER get by, he said.
Correctly gendered. Well, that put a grin on my face!
I consider my transition beginning with HRT on 8/8/2020. I’ve transitioned socially over the past year, but I doubt that I’ll do surgery. Who knows.
I’ve come to realize that I don’t have to decide whether to dress feminine or not, except to be appropriate to the event. Even so, it’s still women’s clothes that I choose, no matter how androgynous they might appear.
But that walk in the park was such a liberating moment, to be recognized as my true identity, without having to scream it out with a bullhorn. Or a frilly dress.
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