My Two Little Fingers and a beach ball!

Most of us still have our two little fingers, unless for some interesting reason you don’t; like a table saw or angry spouse or something took them. They happily reside on each hand opposite the thumbs; often called pinkies from where I come from. I love that!

My two little fingers have been boasting what a dear friend calls, “hooker red” nail polish for a few years. Why not paint all your nails; are you afraid? Is this your way of expressing, but not fully? Are you still hiding?

Well, the truth be known, each baby finger nail is for two men in my life who are no longer in their bodies. I won’t say who specifically, out of respect, but they carried the same last name and the same secret as I have carried. They are a previous generation of men within my family.

Both of those gentle souls were closeted crossdressers from birth till their death, and the unpainted nails remind me of how dangerous their time was, even legally, as they were both military men.

They spoke of their dressing to only one person on this entire planet; one person only, which is who contacted me after the second one passed a few years ago. It helped to shed some light on my own desires. “You come by it naturally, Char, it’s in your genes, so to speak,” and they went on to explain how both men, sisters, would wear her shoes when she was out and other articles of hers until she purchased a few things for them. She would go shopping for no reason at times just to be out of the house.

I chose to stop denying and resisting the open expression of my authentic-self some time ago. Denying Char the freedom to express, which I did for the better part of my recently attained 57 years on planet earth is no longer acceptable to me. I hope to help as many others feel as comfortable as I do in my own acceptance. Please repeat aloud after me, “It’s Showtime! It’s My Turn to be free!” Doing so without violating the rights of others, if this is something you choose to embrace.

Many of us have been holding a really, really big beach ball under water with one hand, on the very windy day called our whole life. One day, around the mind-snap time frame for me, I decided to make a different choice for “me.”

Others can take care of their own comfort zone, and I will take care of mine. Yes, I will be careful not to violate their rights; I do my best not to be where I know I’m clearly not welcome.

The truth is, those folks who are not welcoming me into their space, are not welcome in my space either, unless they have come to genuinely get a better understanding; then, I have many things to say. So I’m good with staying out of their space and they can stay out of mine.

Even water will wear down solid rock by taking the path of least resistance, expanding it a little at a time. Girlfriends, gentle pressure and steady, unwavering persistence changes all minds, even our own!

My favorite quote of Papa Gandhi is, “We will not use violence; we simply will not comply!

I am rising above the old beliefs that were planted in me as a child, beliefs born out of fear, “for my life”.

Actions meant to protect me from the hellish world that hated “different” with passion. The compressing of Charee’ was to keep my mother’s gentle little girly boy son from being beaten, harassed, and who knows what back in the 70’s and 80’s

The unpainted finger nails remind me of the suppression and fear-driven control that hung over the heads of many of our previous generations. Expressing as freely in the world as we do today would have been a certain suffering, even a decade or two ago. “I am sooo Grateful for my freedoms!”

The two brilliant red pinky nails express the freedom to “be” on their behalf, your behalf, and my behalf. My only reply to those who ask why they are painted is, “I like it.” No further explanation required.

Do we really need to justify or offer up a multitude of reasons for simply being? We are only responsible for one comfort zone; respectfully, that is our own. Simple to say, but not at all easy for most of us; it gets easier if we choose that.

When the most wonderful woman ever said yes, and we were married, I was not nearly clear of the distance my dressing would go and I told her so; we are working together to find our personal and singular win/win. She bought me the cutest Sketcher Aqua sneakers, some very comfortable leggings, a few dresses, and a sweet aqua bracelet recently in support of my meness. I love her for giving me the room to breathe, and I am grateful.

The more I imagine me free to “be” with no shame or guilt attached, the more I see it happening around me. I imagine walking through the malls, parks, and stores with my head held high and sporting my usual outgoing, accepting, friendly demeanor no matter what. I imagine how absolutely wonderful it feels to be free! I refuse to acknowledge an insult but simply smile and say, “Thank you for sharing your opinion,” and walk on. Insults are very few these days because confidence is an armor not many are willing to attack. Fake it till you make it because practice makes you better!

Recently, I was invited to Hawaii with my amazing wife and several of her sisters; (large family, because I’ve been claimed as one of the sisters.) None of the other brother-in-laws are invited or allowed on this trip, so I respectfully declined. I was told immediately that it wasn’t an option; the girls are going and so are you! So pack your bikini honey!

My point? We spend so much of our time obsessing and focusing on the negative aspects of our passion, the passion to express ourselves freely, openly, and lovingly.

Someone once said to me, “I love hitting myself in the forehead with a hammer because it feels so good when I stop.”

I practice daily laying down the hammer and becoming water. I’m allowing the beach ball to float lightly upon the sunny surface as it’s meant to do. That is what is natural…I no longer create my own suffering by forcing, but instead I quietly “be” and allow others the room to breathe, not without fear at times, but as best I can. I do it with courage, persistence, and painting my nails “hooker red” of course; I love that color!

I tip my hat to each of you who summons the courage in not complying with staying small; who expresses as freely as it is safe to do so, while stretching the limits and changing minds a little more each year.

The minds that we most need to change are our own. We do not need to force anything or anyone because what I am experiencing is that once we are fully accepting of us, then they will eventually follow. Who knows, you might even get invited to Hawaii or Canada for a girl’s retreat (wink, wink!!)

Namaste’ Dear Souls

Thank you for being exactly who you are!

Char

The following two tabs change content below.
From a life of struggle, addiction and suicide attempts, to Published Author, Certified Life Coach/Certified Hypnotist and building an online support service for peeps like us. Intentionally and Consciously Creating a Rewarding, Abundant Life of Purpose, Passion & Possibility is what I Am all about...

Latest posts by Charee (see all)

Tags:
2 Comments
  1. Alysson Manson 4 weeks ago

    I have been painting my nails for a year now ,I use a purple and all natural nails and I feel no shame ,in fact I have more boldness and women love my nails ,it helps break the ice when talking to a female stranger ,clothes and nails girlfriends work wonders today

  2. Stephanie Kennedy 4 weeks ago

    Char,what a wonderful sweet story. It really touched me in so many ways. It confirmed a one of the theories I have about genetics being a answer to two of my questions why am I like this? What. Went wrong? I always suspected my father of having lets say similar interest in enjoying the feminate world. It explained why I had to be protected from him by my mother when she found me wearing my sister’s cloths. She would always say hurry get out of those cloths before your father gets up. She never asked me why i was wearing it I believe now he hated the thoughts he had of trying to express who he really was. He has passed on . He hurt me so deep when he said to me the words You look like a ugly girl at the age of thirteen..He told me to get a hair cut. I just had my hair cut and styled. It was a time when long hair on boys was somewhat accepted. My hair cut was really cute layered with natural slight curls. I was always complimented on my pretty hair. I did not want to look ugly no girl wants that. That began a life long story of hiding a ugly girl. Thank you for a memory

Leave a reply

©2019Transgender Heaven | Privacy | Terms of Service | Contact Vanessa

Subscribe To Our Newsletter

Subscribe To Our Newsletter

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and updates from Transgender Heaven.

You have Successfully Subscribed!

Log in with your credentials

or    

Forgot your details?

Create Account