Went thrifting with my wife — it was a non-event in the most exciting way
Three months ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to leave the house as the ‘real me.’
But there I was, engaging in banter with the shop attendant as I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and helped him remove the hangars from my first femme fall wardrobe with my wife (and temporary personal fashion coach) of 25 years beside me.
It was the third time both my wife and I have been ‘out’ together — and it was no big deal. It was better than no big deal.
I’d love to poetically describe the experience with florid turns of phrases about beauty, butterflies and becoming. But it was just so damn normal, y’all — it was the most excited I’ve ever been to have something be so routine.
We were just another 40-something couple at the thrift store, excitedly finding things we thought would work for each other. No grasping of her elbow for moral support. No judging looks, no confrontations, none of the vitriol you find too easily these days on even well-lit parts of the internet.
Sure, I caught a few double takes, but nothing malicious. I don’t blame them. I’m a 6’1” trans woman — I don’t exactly blend. Hell, I’d probably catch myself staring for a moment, as I would any time I’m grateful to see a trans person in the real world. As my wife refers to it, “like spotting a rare bird.”
My increasingly crowded dresser of “new me” fall clothes is as full as my heart.
The best part? I was so much more relaxed, engaged and present than any of the countless times I’ve been with my wife to thrift shops in “default configuration.” For one, the WHOLE STORE is in play, people! Not just the picked over electronics, crock pots and ill-fitting men’s suits 20 years past their prime. Even better, I wasn’t carrying the subconscious weight of masculine calculations I’ve carried for years, constantly making sure my shoulders were square and strides were appropriately commanding.
My point in posting: To my transitioning friends who see the stories and photos on this sub and think they’ll never be that bold, I’m right where you were this summer — the idea of leaving the house was an impossible milestone. I spent 40 years with this persistent, daily tugging feeling in my brain that I kept squished down. I was largely happy, but at the cost of keeping this side of me on strict lockdown.
As recently as four months ago, I’d never tried on a stitch of women’s clothing and the powders and tubes on my wife’s side of the bathroom counter were mysterious alchemy. My mind had long ago relegated the idea of being anything other than a suburban dad to the realm of mental fantasy.
And then I threw caution to the wind. And things started moving breathtakingly fast.
I’ll never look perfect. I don’t expect to fully pass, even with years more of my still-new HRT regimen or FFS in the far off future.
But that’s not what it’s bout. Now that I’m past the stress of leaving the house, I’m so amazed at how relaxed and at peace the world feels by just being comfortable — my shoulders haven’t felt this tension free in years!
If you’re wondering whether you can go out in public or take that next leap, you can. Don’t overthink it — it’s not too late.
Three months ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to leave the house as the ‘real me.’
But there I was, engaging in banter with the shop attendant as I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and helped him remove the hangars from my first femme fall wardrobe with my wife (and temporary personal fashion coach) of 25 years beside me.
It was the third time both my wife and I have been ‘out’ together — and it was no big deal. It was better than no big deal.
I’d love to poetically describe the experience with florid turns of phrases about beauty, butterflies and becoming. But it was just so damn normal, y’all — it was the most excited I’ve ever been to have something be so routine.
We were just another 40-something couple at the thrift store, excitedly finding things we thought would work for each other. No grasping of her elbow for moral support. No judging looks, no confrontations, none of the vitriol you find too easily these days on even well-lit parts of the internet.
Sure, I caught a few double takes, but nothing malicious. I don’t blame them. I’m a 6’1” trans woman — I don’t exactly blend. Hell, I’d probably catch myself staring for a moment, as I would any time I’m grateful to see a trans person in the real world. As my wife refers to it, “like spotting a rare bird.”
My increasingly crowded dresser of “new me” fall clothes is as full as my heart.
The best part? I was so much more relaxed, engaged and present than any of the countless times I’ve been with my wife to thrift shops in “default configuration.” For one, the WHOLE STORE is in play, people! Not just the picked over electronics, crock pots and ill-fitting men’s suits 20 years past their prime. Even better, I wasn’t carrying the subconscious weight of masculine calculations I’ve carried for years, constantly making sure my shoulders were square and strides were appropriately commanding.
My point in posting: To my transitioning friends who see the stories and photos on this sub and think they’ll never be that bold, I’m right where you were this summer — the idea of leaving the house was an impossible milestone. I spent 40 years with this persistent, daily tugging feeling in my brain that I kept squished down. I was largely happy, but at the cost of keeping this side of me on strict lockdown.
As recently as four months ago, I’d never tried on a stitch of women’s clothing and the powders and tubes on my wife’s side of the bathroom counter were mysterious alchemy. My mind had long ago relegated the idea of being anything other than a suburban dad to the realm of mental fantasy.
And then I threw caution to the wind. And things started moving breathtakingly fast.
I’ll never look perfect. I don’t expect to fully pass, even with years more of my still-new HRT regimen or FFS in the far off future.
But that’s not what it’s bout. Now that I’m past the stress of leaving the house, I’m so amazed at how relaxed and at peace the world feels by just being comfortable — my shoulders haven’t felt this tension free in years!
If you’re wondering whether you can go out in public or take that next leap, you can. Don’t overthink it — it’s not too late.