Thirty-three

Today started out a little different from the normal. I woke up and realized that I’d had a wet dream. I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t had one of those since like college...last century. Although Junior doesn’t work very well anymore, I guess there is enough stuff functioning to leave it’s mark. I’m still amazed that I had it. I mean, I remember the dream, but I never thought, well, that it would be that much of a problem again. Come on, I haven’t had morning wood since I started the spiro and premarin, and then this rears it’s ugly face. OK, well, I’ll admit the dream was nice, just....well....messy. I almost thought about not writing about it in here, but hell, I’m pretty much out there, so I might as well share.

I also had another dream that I remembered from last night, but along a significantly different line of thinking. I was in a women’s clothing store picking some stuff out, and a coworker was in there as well. She recognized me and wondered what I was doing in there. I think I said I was buying something for me. I’m not out at work, so I can see myself having these types of dreams. All of my life up until last year when I came out to my family I had dreams that they would catch me dressing up. Those all came to a screeching halt when I came out to them. Since work is one of my last places to come out, I can see how that subject is rattling around in my brain.

A question I like to ask other T’s is how they see themselves when they dream. Most of them seem to lie to me and tell me they always saw themselves as a woman in their sleeping dreams. I say that’s bull shit. I see myself in my dreams pretty much as I see myself in the mirror, although often in my dreams I am just a dark reflection without much definition. Only a few times can I actually remember dreaming where I was a full-on woman. Those are the best, but so few and far between.

So, I spent many attempts today trying to call Dr. O’s office. I tried this morning a few times to reach Mira, but she was usually on the phone with someone else. Finally, she calls me at 11:45am as I am riding with my coworkers who are taking me out to lunch since it’s my birthday. Oh, yeah, happy birthday. Number 29....uuuuhhhhh...ok, number 33. Anyway, I tried contacting Mira a few more times, but she never called me back. How depressing....I really wanted to talk to her today. It would have really made my day.

Well, I called my friend Marina up when I got home to see if she was interested in going to Trannyshack tonite. She said yes. Cool.

So, after doing a nice 3 mile run, I got ready. With my sister, Dad, and Mom calling to wish me a happy birthday, I was a little behind schedule (nothing new). Anyway, Marina and I hung out at Trannyshack for a little while, not because we were trannies, but simply because I knew it would be a safe environment. I didn’t want to cause any trouble at a regular bar, especially when I haven’t been out much in general anyway. The really nice thing about tonite was I enjoyed two rounds of drinks on the house, and I didn’t have to do anything special. The bartender just said “On the house”....twice. Of course, they were only sodas, but to help out my ego, let’s just say it’s cuz I was one of the pretty girls. Phbbttt, yeah right! OK, it was probably because they were only sodas and we were the draw for the club that night. The bar becomes packed with gays and straights in the late hours before the drag show, and to have a bunch of trannies there just makes the place that much more unique. It’s funny, I’ve never stuck around long enough to watch the drag show.

"Marina, guess what today is?" I asked after returning with the drinks.

"Your birthday?" she guesses.

"Yep."

"It better not be!" she announces. I think she would have wanted to do more for me since it was my birthday, but I just wanted someone to hang out with...in some place I could be me...safely.

Marina and I also talked a little about being T in San Francisco. Sure, it is a great place to transition, but it is horrible for passing. There are just too many T’s in the area that everyone knows when there is one around. There are girls who do pass though....quite well.

I then drove home, but to celebrate on my own, I had an Oreo Cookie Ice Cream Bar. Those things are incredible.

I’ve always hated getting older, and being T makes it worse. When I was talking to my parents tonite, I said I felt like I was getting old, but they said I was still young. My dad wished he was 33 again. But what’s really hard to explain to anyone who isn’t T is that a part of me never got to grow up correctly. Part of me is stuck as a teenager, and she never got to grow up like a normal girl. Now, she’s living in a mostly male body that’s 33 years old. She’ll never have her childhood. My mom said “you’re only as old as you feel,” and I said, “Yeah, but I feel like I’m 16.” It’s just so hard to communicate the lost childhood that a lot of T’s experience.