"Her?" Yeah, her. That geeky little strawberry blonde who loves running around in swing tanks and short shorts, or sundresses and wedges, or T shirts and skinny jeans, with her girl geek glasses and pink lipstick.
Yes, I love her, and I love being her. She unlocks an expressiveness I never had as a man. And I cry every time I have to take off that beautiful strawberry blond wig and put it back into the closet and wipe off the makeup.
I am out to my wife, and I have the run of the house and yard. I can go out with my wife dressed androgynously, but I have yet to go out in the world as Carly. I am not quite ready yet, still learning to walk in heels and still figuring out makeup.
But since finding her cowering in the dark recesses of my mind and inviting her out into the light, I know that to love her is to love myself for the first time in my life. She is not only a part of me, she is the best part of me.