This has nothing to do with what follows, but one of the most powerful songs I've ever seen in movie musicals is Jane Powell's "Wonderful Wonderful Day," in "Seven Brides For Seven Brothers." Chills, every time.
I feel I must apologize for talking about myself; but I have nowhere else to say these things.
I don't pass. I'm 60 years old. But in November, I went to Sephora for a makeover; and the woman who did me gave me a gift beyond price. She made me pretty. I'll spend the next year trying to recreate what she did for me.
It's only recently that I've begun presenting female most of the time I'm not at work. My wig and I have had a problematic relationship, but we're making progress. Today, getting ready to run errands, after putting on my face, I put on my wig. Lately, the hair has been falling in my eyes; and I never figured out how to use combs, bands or bobby pins to combat this. Well, today, I did. I managed to put two bobby pins to good use. My only purpose at the time was to keep the hair out of my face; but when I had succeeded in securing the hair, I was shocked at what I had accidentally created. My hair, pinned back, framed my face in a way it never had before; and I was pretty. I want to cry, just thinking about it.
I went out with such confidence today.
I want all the girls who don't pass to know that you don't have to pass to be pretty, or attractive. Seriously. I knew this before seeing myself today; but seeing myself was a great boost.
Then I came home and promptly burned popcorn in the microwave.
All in all, a good day.

P.S. Isn't it great to be female? I want to get down on my knees and thank the Powers for it. So, I'm trans. So, I didn't know for nearly 60 years. So, testosterone has done its work on me. So what? This sacred privilege, this honor, this gift ... there are no words.