When I was thirteen, I chanced upon a biography of Christine Jorgensen in the corner drugstore. Standing there, I quickly read the whole book (I am normally a slow reader). My thought was: aha, there are two of us, and the other one is willing to put herself on display in order to earn a living; I am not. Besides, I couldn't imagine asking my parents to fly me to Denmark for an operation that would permit me to be myself.
So, I spent decades learning how to be myself, even in the body I was born with. And I gathered a wife and kids and a support group of friends willing to tolerate my weirdnesses.
About three years ago, taking finasteride for a period of months for my growing prostate, my breasts starting growing and I felt euphoria and excitement like I'd never felt. It seemed to me I was destined to become the woman outside that I was inside. Searching the internet, I discovered Susan's and a whole bunch of weirdos like me. Simultaneously, I took an online test that said I was androgyne (an unfamiliar word to me). We know those tests mean little or nothing, and I have subsequently and honestly had the test declare me feminine.
I was delighted and grateful to discover the unicorn forest because it has afforded me the opportunity to explore and attempt to understand my weirdnesses, virtually guilt-free, without ditching all my relationships and bankrupting myself. Besides, as the result of presumably male genes and decades of immersion in testosterone and culture, I must be an androgyne.
I still prefer being quietly weird--as one of a group of women at work and one of a group of women playing mah jongg for liesure, cooking and caring for my wife/partner/best friend who works tirelessly in the outside world earning our wherewithal. In that regard, I must leave you now to go clean the refrigerator.
Be well,
S
