When the fact that you’re a girl (and always have been) sneaks up onyou.

In my heart I’ve always felt myself to be a girl.

I’ve known it (and thus needed it) all my life.

That said, I also knew the way I was born, I’m not deluded.

I existed as a male until my twenties, I experienced a pretty horrific male puberty and so it was painful, hard work and expensive recovering from that to where I am now.

There’s still much more I could do as well (surgically) if I was inclined, but I dare say that it is not likely to happen, as life has taken over now.

Anyway! On to the purpose of this post.

My boyfriend and I have been having a fight this week.

Our business consumes 98% of our time at the moment and that leaves us very little to spend on each other and our relationship.

 As such, I’m pretty protective of that remaining 2%.

That 2% is generally Saturday Mornings for a few hours, when we sleep in, make love and then get up and shower and have breakfast together.

Money is a bit tight around here at the moment (like everyone/everywhere it seems) and so he accepted some work he was offered for last Saturday morning which would mean that not only HE had to work, but that I would have to too, and that would mean changing around and trying to find time for everything else I had to get done, and also that our time together would not happen.

He just did this without even consulting me.

Normally I’ll be okay with things and understand, provided I’m at least considered and given a choice in the matter, it’s when I get no choice that I get miffed.

And so I did.

We have a pretty health sex life really (three to five times a week most weeks) but Saturdays are the important ones, the ones where it’s about intimacy, not just sex, where we take time for each other, where there’s no rush.

He cut out Saturday on me without asking, so the poor fella went without for five days straight.

He didn’t have to mind you, he could have made an effort himself at any point, taken me by the hand, maybe “romanced” me a little, but like most uncomplicated men, women (in his eyes) are an enigma, they’re un-predictable, he’s not quite certain where the line between him taking the lead and him forcing me is (usually he waits for me to start, or just put’s on one or two low risk moves, and then waits for me).

So in the end, he went without.

I’m a bitch huh?

We communicate pretty well as a couple, even when we fight, we just talk things out, we never yell, we always end our phone calls with “I love you”.

For Five days I’d been repeating to him how I wasn’t happy with what he’d done, that I didn’t feel like I mattered and that I didn’t care about the money, I cared about and wanted his time, OUR time, that money isn’t the most important thing in the world etc etc Blah blah blah!

And to his credit, he took it.

He gave in.

He apologised multiple times.

That man loves me.

What do I mean?

Well to men, money pretty much IS the most important thing in the world. Just about EVERYTHING in a man’s life depends on money.

It made sense when I stopped and took a moment to think about it.

But I DID actually have to actively think about it, it was an effort for me. (it wouldn’t be for a man)

No-one really supports a man, he supports himself.

The roof over his head, the food in his belly, the clothes on his back the car he drives, the woman he wants in his life, the roof over her head, the food in her belly, the clothes on her back, her health and medical needs, the children SHE wants, the roof ever THEIR head, the food in THEIR belly, the clothes on THEIR back, THEIR health and medical needs.

Interesting that I’d never thought about that before.

Sometimes it this whole being a woman thing sneaks up on me.

He’s a good man, I love him.

If I told you you wouldn’t believe me.

My boyfriend is a pretty simple kinda guy. That’s not to say simple as in “dumb” but more simple as in…..

Uncomplicated.

To him the world is a simple place, people are people.

Men are men and Women are a mystery (but he knows he loves a certain one, and needs her around).

That’s the world he lives in.

He owns his house, he has his trucks, his brothers, his nieces and nephews, he likes a beer with his buddies, and that’s life,

Simple.

Pretty much anyway.

If you were to try and talk with him on an in depth level about transgender(ism), about transsexualism, about homosexuality or any of the other phenomena that make the human race as broad and diverse as people are coming to understand it as being, one of two things would happen.

1.       You’d probably lose him completely.

2.       You’d probably aggravate him if you kept going, and you may end up in a physical fight with him.

 He’s not homophobic, He’s an amazingly kind and gentle man (considering his size and strength and how masculine he is) and wishes no-one Ill or harm, he simply doesn’t understand those things any further than to know they aren’t him and the thought of them is quite a turn off for him personally. that’s enough for him, he doesn’t need to know any more as far as he’s concerned.

He respects others as best he can and only asks that they respect him enough not to force things on him that he doesn’t want.

In a nutshell, he’s old school.

Where does that leave me?

I was born transsexual.

I mentioned before, I’ve told him that I had a sex change.

This man presents me to his friends and family as the woman he loves (the woman, not the "transsexual” or the ‘transsexual woman” or the “trans-woman”, just the woman, nothing else).

Does that shock or surprise me?

No, not really.

What am I like as a person? as a woman?....

Mostly pretty unremarkable.

I’m not the prettiest most delicate, feminine, beautiful specimen you’d ever see. Hardly! Although experience has shown me I’m not terribly un-attractive either.

Where I stand out from most (not all) women is my intelligence and how I display it, my confidence, how hard I work, and that I’m not afraid to work hard nor do dirty or physical work.

Is that intended to be insulting or degrading to other women? No.

In truth I wish I was exactly like them, however I’m not, I’m not able to have babies, and I wasn’t raised to believe I was “special” because I could. I wasn’t raised to believe I was special because I was or am beautiful, nor given an upbringing or a life in which I was expected to be “dumb” or incapable and lead to believe I should be taken care of, (and YES! I know that isn’t life for all girls and women, IE ME included).

The simplest way I can put it, and no matter what I write here, I’m likely to piss someone off and be told I obviously have “no idea” or that I’m “privileged” a “man” or whatever (I don’t care, honestly! Go nuts! Have fun!) Is quite simply, I never learned to take myself, my body and my pussy for granted, I wasn’t given them at birth, I had to work for them.

That’s pretty much me, humble.(whether you believe it or not).

I just am and I just DO.

And I just BE.

Myself, a woman.

And that is hard for people to argue with it seems.

So yes, I’ve told him I had a sex change.

He struggled with that for about a day and then he seemed to change.

Almost like yes he knew, and he knew I wasn’t lying, but he didn’t really believe.

Perhaps you think that’s wishful thinking.

Maybe you’re right, I don’t know.

All that I know is what I live every day.

The reaction I see from him, his family and all of the people around us when it comes to phenomena like those mentioned above, and how oblivious they all are to me and my history when they are having those reactions.

Soul sick. Being OK.

Being ok is the hard part.

When it’s done and life moves on, it’s so hard to be just ok… Ok with who you are, with your life, with what you’ve been through and had to go through to get to, who you are.

There aren’t many blogs out there from women like me.

Women.

Like me.

That’s all I am, a young woman, with a boyfriend (long term, think YEARS! we're talking about marriage here, soon!), we have our own home, our own business, friends, family, hopefully our own children soon.

I’d desperately like for that to be where it all ends, but if that were it then why would I be here and what would this blog be about?

I don’t know many, not in person anyway (in fact I don't know ANY in person).

I’ve been in contact with some women online, but most often I find their life (as they describe it to me), their approach to being ok is not quite the same as mine.

All that I’ve read online about this part of our lives, seems mostly the same. Most women do all they can to try and hide it.

They call it “stealth” or even “deep stealth”

I’ll be honest, I struggle with that, it implies that one is invisible, or undetectable.... hidden. This is not me, I am not invisible, nor undetectable, not hidden, nor actively hiding

So others would say I’m “woodworked” but that does not feel accurate to me either.

What I feel is that most exert energy on it, on keeping their past silent. On being a certain “way” so as to attempt to avoid suspicion.

I don’t.

Not really.

I’m conscious of it, my past and my resultant present.

 I’m conscious of others, that they talk, that they have opinions and that they share their knowledge and opinions about all things (me included) with others.

Conscious that the world is a small place and that those others may not be as far removed from people who are important to me and my life (and those important people’s lives) as I might like them to be..

So in that light, I don’t promote myself or my past, but I’m not undetectable.

Is it scary?

Yes.

My boyfriend knows.

Not all of it, but he knows the basics.

He didn’t to begin with.

We’d had sex, we’d been seeing each other for a few months. I decided that I did love him, that I didn’t want to see him hurt because of what others might think of him for loving me (if word got about), and I felt that it was probable that he loved me back (but you’ll probably never really know, I’ll talk about this in a later post).

In my immediate daily life he’s the only one. We haven’t told his family his friends, my friends.

At the same time they all know. They all know I’m not as “simple” as most women, that I’m different somehow, that I have “baggage” that I don’t talk about or bring up.

But I’m a nice person, I’m generous, caring, compassionate loving, and I’ll do anything for anyone.

They like me.

They don’t want to “ruin” things any more than I do, so they don’t pry. They’re kind back.

And life goes on.

Am I ok?

It hurts.

My soul is sick.

But I’m ok mostly

Doing the best I can

Filling my life with "causes"

With people to love and look after, with things to keep me busy, as many of the experiences (than I need) as I can, so that when it’s over, hopefully I look back and not feel like a waste.

And now I have this blog and you.

I need to write, I have before and I do again. lets see how I go shall we?