To Lipstick or Not to Lipstick…
by Raven Usher
I had a meeting with my oldest daughter’s principal not too long ago. It was one of those boring chores you are forced to do when you are a parent. I dread school functions. A chorus of third graders singing public domain songs while performing bad choreography on the bleachers is enough to make me want to stick my finger through my eye, back into my brain and swirl it around. I am just not a PTO kind of mom.
My fifteen year old is soon to depart to the Midwest to compete in a national high school championship. It ensured that I would have to go talk to school officials. Ick. I had about a fifteen minute discussion with the principal. As I stood to leave he stopped me and said, “I just have to ask. You and Michelle are both Mom?”
He was so visibly uncomfortable asking. It was so cute. At that moment the little scene made me giggle and took off the unpleasant edge off of being at the school. Later at home I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror as I scampered around the house doing me daily chores. No make-up. Hair a mess. Ratty old comfy t-shirt. It was the kind of look on a parent that makes the kids want to be dropped off three blocks from school so their friends do not see their mom.
Then I realized that this is how I presented myself to the principal. Completely uncamouflaged. I had adorned myself with none of the trappings of the gender of my heart. I had passed a very close face-to-face scrutiny without any artificial societal markers of gender. In my teenager’s language, that was way kewl!
Way back when it felt really great when I passed as a woman for the first time. I was all done up. Twice as much time had been spent preparing for the night out than on the night out itself. It was worth it though.
This was so different. It was still very exciting. I do not know why I was so surprised. I have told so many aspiring trannies that their most effective tool is patience. You have to give everything time to work. I have been taking hormones since May of 2000. So it seems my own patience is paying off.
As I looked into the mirror, I thought about other people I have talked to recently. Waiters. The car salesman. Other parents. The bank manager. The security guard at the Boise Burn games. All face-to-face contacts. Close scrutiny. And with less and less prep as time goes on.
I think I may be starting to do what I have accused so many genetic women of doing. I’m starting to take being female for granted. Bad Raven! Bad, bad Raven!
Oh well. If I have to take something for granted I am glad its actually able to be this.
Blessed Be
by Raven Usher
I had a meeting with my oldest daughter’s principal not too long ago. It was one of those boring chores you are forced to do when you are a parent. I dread school functions. A chorus of third graders singing public domain songs while performing bad choreography on the bleachers is enough to make me want to stick my finger through my eye, back into my brain and swirl it around. I am just not a PTO kind of mom.
My fifteen year old is soon to depart to the Midwest to compete in a national high school championship. It ensured that I would have to go talk to school officials. Ick. I had about a fifteen minute discussion with the principal. As I stood to leave he stopped me and said, “I just have to ask. You and Michelle are both Mom?”
He was so visibly uncomfortable asking. It was so cute. At that moment the little scene made me giggle and took off the unpleasant edge off of being at the school. Later at home I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror as I scampered around the house doing me daily chores. No make-up. Hair a mess. Ratty old comfy t-shirt. It was the kind of look on a parent that makes the kids want to be dropped off three blocks from school so their friends do not see their mom.
Then I realized that this is how I presented myself to the principal. Completely uncamouflaged. I had adorned myself with none of the trappings of the gender of my heart. I had passed a very close face-to-face scrutiny without any artificial societal markers of gender. In my teenager’s language, that was way kewl!
Way back when it felt really great when I passed as a woman for the first time. I was all done up. Twice as much time had been spent preparing for the night out than on the night out itself. It was worth it though.
This was so different. It was still very exciting. I do not know why I was so surprised. I have told so many aspiring trannies that their most effective tool is patience. You have to give everything time to work. I have been taking hormones since May of 2000. So it seems my own patience is paying off.
As I looked into the mirror, I thought about other people I have talked to recently. Waiters. The car salesman. Other parents. The bank manager. The security guard at the Boise Burn games. All face-to-face contacts. Close scrutiny. And with less and less prep as time goes on.
I think I may be starting to do what I have accused so many genetic women of doing. I’m starting to take being female for granted. Bad Raven! Bad, bad Raven!
Oh well. If I have to take something for granted I am glad its actually able to be this.
Blessed Be
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