The Stained Glass Dream: Chapter 11 The Mirror

As humans we have always longed to see our own reflection. In prehistoric times we would gaze at a clear reflecting pool and wonder about the meaning of our existence. In ancient times a person would look into a plate of polished metal to be sure that our appearance was suitable to reflect the image we wanted to portray. Today it is a way of checking to be sure everything is right. So much of who we are is tied up in the way we look. Our image reflects our health, our mood, or even our social status and how much money we possess. The young teenager may dress in a manner that causes distress in their parents. A middle class person will often wear minor designer fashion that is recognizable, but not overly expensive. The wealthy person will dress with the intent of showing their influence without communicating it with words. Still at the end of the day we are trying to understand the meaning of our existence.

Amy came home from work, she came over to me on the couch and kissed me hello. Then Amy went into the bedroom to change out of her office clothes and put on something more relaxed for the evening. I was already comfortable on the couch and was waiting for my wife to join me. Andria was a teenage girl by this time and was in her bedroom and on the phone talking to one of her girlfriends. This particular night Amy seemed to be taking an excessive amount of time getting changed, so I went into the bedroom to see what she was doing. As I walked into the room I saw Amy naked in front of the full length mirror and staring into it. When she became aware of my presence she spoke to me without averting her attention.

“Hey babe, come here and look at my boobs.”

I smiled at this prospect and with a certain amount of sarcasm I said to her, “Oh alright, you know if you insist.”

I walked over and stood in front of her. Amy looked at me with an exaggerated pout.

“Do my boobs look saggy to You?”

This was a female trap and I knew it. There was no good way to answer the question without rationalizing my answer. Still I gave it my best shot. I walked behind her, put my arms around her and tried to sound confident.

“Babygirl, we are all changing. Have you noticed my gut here lately?”

Amy looked at me through the mirror sort of cross eyed, with that unique “you’re kidding me right?” look she has.

“Yes I have, you need to start eating less or get a bigger dress size.”

“Okay, I’m just saying that neither of us are what we used to be. I don’t know if you have noticed, but it takes me ten minutes in the morning when I get out of bed, just to get limbered up enough to be able to walk right? Although I have to say that you are aging beautifully. But it’s more than the way you look, there is a certain maturity in you that is incredibly attractive. A charm and gracefulness that comes with experience.”

Amy exhaled and went over and sat down on the bed. She then picked up her shirt and covered her chest with it.

“Oh god, now I’m experienced. That’s code language for: You’re getting old. Next thing you know I will be headed for the change.”

I went to the bed and sat down beside her. She dropped the shirt covering her chest as she put her head on my shoulder. I began stroking her hair and tried to put words together.

“Babygirl, you are more than just a great body. You have a career that you are extremely good at. You are my wife, you’re a mother, and you are damn good at all of those jobs. That teenage girl in the other room is growing up to be just like you. And I am so proud of that. Both of you are strong and independent. You know it was that particular quality that made me fall in love with you. It wasn’t your body, or even the fact that you are a great lover. I fell in love with you because I have never known another woman like you. So you will just have to excuse me if I’m not as worried about the fact that your body is changing as you are. In my eyes you will always be the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Amy wiped a small tear from her eye and then smiled at me. Amy then lifted her head from my shoulder and spoke to me.

“I guess I better put some clothes on so we can make dinner. Hopefully, before that daughter of yours turns into a raging teenager.”

Amy tilted her head to one side with a sort of cocky look and pointed a finger at me, “You know she gets that from you, and don’t even try to deny it.”

I smiled at Amy , I stood up, and held out my hand to help her get up from the bed. Amy didn’t bother to put on any underclothes but simply slipped on a pair of knitted gym shorts and a T-shirt. Then it was off to the kitchen to make dinner and be a mother to our precious girl. As for me I pitched in where it was needed, but secretly I was simply enjoying the evening.

I will have to admit that I have become very good with makeup. Which is surprising considering the fact I knew nothing about makeup just a few short years ago. After watching a ton of youtube videos and experimenting enough to know what techniques work for me. I learned that makeup could help me to overcome the testosterone poisoning I experience in puberty. I now put on makeup everyday. Even if I know that I will be home all day. I do this for myself more than anything else. I don’t like looking into the mirror and seeing how my body is betrayed with masculine features due to an unkind male puberty. Putting on makeup also puts my frame of mind in a better place. It affects my mood, and in turn the way I interact with the world around me.

A transgender person will often experience what is medically known as gender dysphoria. This is the state of mind that drives us to live our lives as the opposite gender from our bodies. It is a feeling of extreme discontentment. It is the feeling that something is terribly wrong with us. It drives a person to the point where they can no longer live with the way things are in their life. At the age of nineteen I decided to grow a mustache. For me it was like wearing a mask. It was that quintessential vestige of manhood. I would often gaze into the mirror and say to myself, “You know you’re not a bad looking man, but you would make one hell of a ugly woman.” Eventually, I got to the point that it didn’t matter if I was an ugly woman. The truth was I was one unhappy man. Even with the mask of manliness, I still experienced the majority of my life binging and purging. I would get a large collection of female clothing so that I could quiet the dysphoria at least in the evening at home. Then in a fit of guilt and irrational cis gender logic, I would get rid of everything girl related. Then in a couple of months the pressure would build again and I would find myself collecting girl things. Then the cycle would start all over again. I eventually got so unhappy with my life and who I was that I knew I could not go living as a man. It was either admit who I was in my heart, or do the unthinkable. My marriage to my ex wife was on the rocks, and my work was suffering. I knew I had to find a way out of my current existence.. I chose to get help and talk to a professional. I called the LGBTQ center in my city and they were able to direct me to a health center that dealt with these issues. I remember the first time talking to a counselor at the LGBTQ center; this was before therapy even. It was literally the first time I said the words “I can’t stop dressing in girl clothes.” I couldn’t even get the words out in one smooth sentence. I felt as if I had to physically reach into my mouth and drag the words out with my hands. The counselor was very patient with me and just sat and let me wrestle with what I needed to say. After I expressed my issue she gave me a recommendation to a medical facility that specialized in helping people to align their hearts with their bodies, starting with therapy, and then if appropriate; hormones. At the health clinic, Purely by luck of the draw, I got the perfect therapist for me. My therapist never once “told” me what was wrong. She merely listened to me talk and then ask questions. She once asked me what my greatest fear was about transitioning. You would think that my greatest fears would involve fear of rejection from friends and family. Well the truth was my family had already rejected me without understanding what was going on. No one knew of my cross dressing. They only knew that I was the proverbial black sheep and never fit in with the rest of the family. I instinctively felt that my own personal fear of transitioning was built around becoming a masculine and ugly woman. I know this sounds incredibly shallow and trite, but for me it was a real fear. I kept thinking: “Did I really want to spend the rest of my life looking like something out of a bad exploitation movie?” The last thing I wanted to look like was a man in a wig and five o’clock shadow. The mirror is indeed a cruel mistress. Still as I began my journey into living female, it was that drive that kept me pushing myself to be the best woman I was capable of being. Even now that I have a pretty good grasp on how to feminize myself, I am still experimenting with ways to do better. My wife often says that she is the one getting older and I’m only getting prettier.

As our daughter has begun that leap forward into puberty, she is also experiencing consternation with the mirror. The female hormones have started flowing into every part of her body, including her brain. She is in constant anxiety about her developing womanhood. There are issues with her skin, this new found period thing, and of course her developing breasts. Her mother is well endowed and graced with what most women would consider to be the perfect size. I have the feeling that our Andria is going to take after her mother. Andria’s sexuality is also starting to become acute. At this point her focus seems to be on boys. Personally , I have a natural bias against boys because they have a tendency to grow up to be men. However, that being said I would never stand in the way of her attractions. With the exception of a person that is morally absent. With that particular trait, it doesn’t matter whether they are male or female.

I will sometimes overhear conversations that Andria is having with her girlfriends on the phone. I hear her talking about what this boy said or did, and I am reminded of the awkward transition of my own male puberty. She is no longer a little girl, and yet not quit a woman. My wife and I used to take my daughter and her friends out to dinner, but now it seems she is embarrassed that she even has parents. It’s not at all because I am transgender. She has been raised with that and is just simply the way things are. It has more to do with authority. The way we “restrict” the path she is taking and for not seeing that she is capable of making her own decisions. I guess that has been the struggle with teenagers since time began. The movie, Rebel Without a Cause illustrated this perfectly. The struggles and emotions that Natalie wood and James Dean, expressed still rings as true today as it did then. Only the circumstances of the era have changed.

As we observe the world around us, we start to form the opinions and reactions that we will carry with us and integrate into our lives. We began to do this at a very young age. Most of these habits come from our parents. We get more of our influences from our friends. However, the majority comes from the way we interact with the world around us, and in turn how the world reacts to us. Fortunately for all of mankind, we are not bound by these social characteristics. As a person’s intellect expands and one’s life experiences broaden; we are able to adapt to new information and form new opinions. We as humans never stop changing, or at least we shouldn’t. Even if we make a conscious choice to never change, we will wake one day and find that the world has left us behind in its continued evolution. I’ve heard it said that change is the only thing that ever stays the same. So then we cycle back around again to the mirror. We reflect on how much we have changed , or maybe how much change has affected us. Either way it is that physical or metaphorical mirror that rules our lives. However, this is the thing that most of us forget. The mirror as you see it really is not the actual truth. You see the image that you see is reversed. What you see is on the left is actually on your right, and in turn; the right is in truth your left. So in reality you are still not seeing yourself as the world may see you. So you see that you are never tied to being the person in the mirror. You are free to be the person you want to be, not the person everyone else expects you to be.

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Category: Fiction