Hi there. I am Jamie.
I've actually been on this site for almost a year now but haven't actually made an account until now. I've been too shy I guess, strange when I consider how NOT shy I've become in the real world.
Many of you have already helped so much in my journey, and I don't think I can ever repay any of you... Perhaps I can at least spread a bit of the wisdom I've learned here since I started transitioning.
I'm not much of a talker, until something important needs be said I generally lie silent and wait. Watch. Observe and take notes. When I have something important to say, particularly in this form where I can excercise the full use of my vocabulary, I tend to be long winded.
For those of you who have not the patience to read a book, I thank you for at least reading this far. And I thank you also for being the love and support and help a girl needed when she was on her last dregs of energy.
For those who are interested and don't mind a wall of text, I've not felt quite like this before. I feel like sharing my story. Not necessarily because I'm particularly interesting or because I want feedback, just because I feel like sharing it. Not sure why.
When I was seven I remember my mother came to me and my brother and sat us down. "You guys remember your Aunt?" She asked. We responded in the positive. "She is going to be your Uncle from now on." She said. That was my introduction to the idea of being trans. She of course gave us his name and told us "so remember, it's he not she now". I grew curious immediately after. I was always wanting to wear the cute girly things, and momma would tell me "those aren't for boys". But you could CHANGE THAT? I was mystified and excited. I was curious and smart enough to realize that I could find answers if I wanted.
Some of the rest of my family were less open about such things, less willing to see my uncle as anything other than a silly woman playing at being a man. So I learned to hide it, but I knew then what I was. I told nobody, not even my mother or my brother. I didn't even ask momma questions, I just turned to the internet. I found my answers, and understood as much as I could back then. Mostly I was downhearted; we were poor you see and I had barely enough of a concept of money to understand that transition was expensive. So I tried to do what I could. I tried to find girly things to wear, but momma wouldn't buy me girls clothes. It wasn't that she didn't approve, she didn't care so long as I was happy. But, I was a white minority in a primarily black area. I don't care what color your skin is, if you're the only one with that same pigment around; life sucks.
I was already getting in trouble because of the horrible things children do to each other, and I was more effeminate than the other kids were comfortable with, so I was already getting in fights for being the "gay boy" in school. Momma didn't buy me cute girly things because she wanted to protect me from them. I understood it, she explained it many times. But I still didnt have the courage to tell her how I really felt.
So, I learned to fight. I learned to fight well. I learned to be "macho" to hide the effeminate things from everyone. According to the friends I had around the time I actually came out of the closet, I wasn't completely successful, but I'll get to that.
Despite playing macho I still wanted to be girly, I like nice things. Dainty things. Sweet and soft lovable things. But I wasn't allowed to wear them, so I found what I could. When I started middle school I started wearing makeup anyway. Not pretty like you might see if you look at me nowadays, my eyes rimmed in black and my fingernails and lips matching. My blonde hair long and pulled into a tight ponytail on the back of my head at all times. Mascara, eyeliner, way more shadow than anyone ever needs to wear at once. My wardrobe was equally dark. Black, and the occasional red. Anything else I considered too "girly" to wear. Soon I lost myself in the dark image I was presenting to the world, and I forgot all about how I felt. Bottled it up, and threw the bottle into a dark ocean of my new goth imagery.
I earned a reputation for revenge. A reputation as someone not to mess with. If my face wasn't enough to scare off the people that would hurt me, my demeanor and my willingness... no my eagerness to jump into a fistfight did. I fought anyone and everyone with the smallest provocation.
I was on the gifted and talented programs in elementary school, but in middle school I was in trouble too often, ditching school and fighting. Between me ditching and me getting suspended I was out of school more than I was in.
So we moved, my mom moved us to a place in another city. And here all the other kids were white. I was no longer the minority. But I was still angry at life. Compared to the ghetto I grew up in this place was a paradise. And slowly I learned that the kids here didn't know HOW to fight. Not for real. Not like the wannabe gangbangers I grew up with did. So I learned I didn't have to. Slowly, I opened my fists, slowly I regained a measure of myself.
I went through girlfriend after girlfriend. Turns out that when I took my makeup off I was rather the pretty boy. Straight girls and gay guys liked me. A lot.
I never had a boyfriend, I just wasn't interested in guys. But I went through so many girlfriends I can't recall their faces to this day, much less their names. The ones I was particularly fond of. I would devote myself to them completely. Lose myself in them. Suffer anything to make them happy, not caring about myself.
So it went for a long time. Long enough that when I finally found myself single again I was already 24. I finally had a chance to look at myself and ask what I WANTED. I'm not sure why, I have no idea what sparked the memory. But I remembered that long ago time... "remember boys, it's he now and his name is...."
I started looking into transgender things of all sorts, throwing myself into research. I looked up hormones, and that's when I found this site. I cruised all the pages and all the information I could find. It took me about six months, and I decided that THIS.... THIS is what I want.
I'm not sure if it was on here or one of the other sites I was stalking, but I discovered that the planned parenthood here in my state offers hormone therapy on an informed consent basis. I leapt at the chance, and made an appointment as soon as possible.
I went in still dressing as male, I told the doctor I would go full time when I was passing enough for it to be safe. She made a note in my file, and prescribed me the hrt I wanted. I took my first dose April 29 2016.
Firstly I noticed myself becoming calmer, not necessarily happier but less angry. I was terrified at that point. I didn't do full time for another two months. In that time though, I created a new facebook, a new email address, and found my name. I changed my profile around on one of my favorite invite only sites, to reflect my changing life. I deleted everything from my old life. I quit my job when I went full time and found a new one. I'm planning on leaving this place as soon as I have the money to do so. A fresh start, if you will.
It's been seven months, and as of a month ago I felt happy for the first time since I was a child. Now, I've never been happier. When I smile now it isn't a lie pasted to my face to fend off the annoyance of people wondering what's wrong with me. It's a real smile. Something I thought impossible.
My years with makeup were a benefit, I already knew how to correctly apply the eye makeup and had played around with it in the past so I knew what I liked already. Now though, it makes me feel pretty instead of making me feel like in wearing a suit of armor.
I seem to have a natural talent when it comes to women's fashion, probably due to many years of buying clothes for various and sundry females. And my hair has been long since sixth grade so I even had a leg up in that arena.
Two months into hrt, trans girls I spoke to were asking me how long I'd been on, and when I told them they were shocked. "But you look like you've been on it for years!" Said one. Said most in some way or another. Now I'm at seven months and I only get clocked when the person already knows a few of us. I'm a b cup, and at this rate I'll outgrow my bra here in a few months or so. I have an hourglass figure.
I'm super tall for a girl, six foot even. But my shoulders never did get too broad and I didn't grow to masculine when I went through puberty. My voice didn't even get that deep. So the hardest things were unlearning the things I had taught myself to be less feminine. My walk, my demeanor, my posture. Those things took longer than anything else, years of actively trying NOT to wiggle my butt when I walked, trying to appear macho.
All in all, I think I'm doing well, though I'd hardly call myself pretty, I'm at least a girl in the eyes of those around me who don't know other trans people. What's more important, at least as far as I am concerned, I am happy. I already did a bunch of research on it, but now I'm looking more in depth to see what I'll need to do to get SRS. I'm not sure how that will work what with the informed consent I'm getting my girl pills through, seeing as I've only spoken to a therapist about this once, sometime back in February before I started my pills. The doc says she can write my letter for me, but she's an MD not a therapist. I don't know, I just know that I'm happy to be here and I want the SRS. The other surgeries I don't really care about as much, but the thing between my legs must go, by any means necessary.
Sorry for taking so much space and time, I just felt like telling my story. Maybe someone who understands will take the time to read it, maybe not. I've been doing everything on my own. I don't have time to go to support groups or anything. I don't have any friends that are particularly interested in helping me learn the things I didn't get to. It's just me, maybe I can find a friend on here.
Thank you for your time if you read all of that.
I am Jamie Lenea. I am 25 years old, and I am transsexual.
