A birthday

It has been a lovely weekend. It was my birthday and although I am not sure it is, it feels because of Covid, that it is the first one I have been able to celebrate since I have fully transitioned. Before I have chosen to visit my family in an “androgynous” style….jeans, jumper, no make-up so as not to rub there face in it so to speak. I have taken the view that they did not choose this and there is no reason for me to make it harder than it needs to be, to give them time to get used to it. I am not sure that is actually the right approach, or even if there is a right approach. However, it is the one that I adopted. Maybe it is the same as there is no right or wrong decision, just the decision you make which then has consequences one way or another.

Although we have spoken regularly I have not met or zoomed my eldest daughter and her family for twenty months so they were unaware of the changes that have been going on quietly with the benefit of HRT and my hair growing out. So needless to say my paranoia set in, how would they take it? It is easy to ignore what has been going on by just talking to someone but the reality of seeing me fully transitioned was  going to be a completely different matter.

I umm’d and arr’d about should I wear a skirt, should I wear jeans but with make-up? My hair is below my shoulders now….etc, etc. By wearing a skirt I would be making more of a statement than if I wear jeans. I was aware it was paranoia, yet right until the time I was getting dressed I was unsure what was the right thing to do. So in the morning when I got up early, as I had a drive to do to catch a ferry, I had still not decided. As it turned out it was the long skirt, a top and make up, just what I would normally wear, no need for concessions…this is me.

On the ferry, I got several “Madams” which boosted my confidence. Then I turned up at my daughter’s house and was greeted completely normally. No comment, no mention of how I was dressed or on my appearance from my daughter her partner or the grandchildren; we just got on with the day! My fifteen year old granddaughter in the afternoon just asked me quietly what pronouns I would prefer her to use and made a comment that it is all much more accepted by her generation than when I was her age.

So as it turned out there was no need for the paranoia. I really could be myself. The following day I met my brother and his partner and my younger daughter and her partner who are all used to meeting the real transitioned me, followed by a virtual meeting with my friends rounding off an enjoyable birthday weekend in the perfect way.

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