Not a lot to write about concerning my recent trip to Detroit.
My first day there I wore pants. I keep trying to talk myself into wearing them and then changing my mind later so this time I sort of forced myself into it by bringing only two outfits. So I tried a couple of new blouses that I recently bought:
I love the look of the one on the right except . . .it works against me when it comes to the dreaded
beard.While it is not apparent in the pictures, in person the contrast between the beard free skin in the cleavage area and the beard I was trying to hide on my face was a bad thing. Having that much clear skin exposed just highlighted the beard. So I took pictures (that I quite like) and then put it aside for this other blouse and went to the mall and went shopping!
When I returned, the outside door at the end of the hall of the hotel refused to open with my room key like it is supposed to. No worries, I always ask for TWO keys for just this reason. Only problem is, the second key wont open it either. So there I am sliding the darn key over and over and I see a gentleman approaching to door from the inside. He’s still about 20 feet away when the key suddenly works and I’m in. He looks at me and smiles apologetically and tells me “I was just on the way to let you in”.
Wow, for just a moment I was being treated like a lady. He saw a lady stranded at the door and was going out of his way to help. Neat!
Found a “friendly” club that was supposed to do karaoke and headed out at around 7 to find it and decide if it was a place I wanted to be. It was about an hour from my hotel so was a bit of a drive, but it looked quite nice from the outside, and also appeared to be in a pretty nice neighborhood. The only problem is, their web page had lied – there was not going to be karaoke there. I will put up with the cigarette smoke and bar atmosphere to sing and to hear singing, I will NOT put up with it just to sit and drink, so I went back to the hotel. As I’m walking down the hotels hall, I see the desk clerk approaching my room with a pair of slacks I’d put in the laundry. I’d called them several times earlier in the afternoon trying to get them before I got “dressed” to save just such an awkward moment, but apparently their laundry doesn’t get back until 9PM! So I approach as he is knocking on the door
“I believe those are mine,” I said with my biggest smile. He looks at me like I’m nuts.
“Yours?” he asks, clearly surprised that a woman was asking for slacks that he knew the guy who was staying in that room had dropped off.
“Uh huh, I called y’all about them earlier.”
Ding Ding Ding! At last I see “the” look that says he gets it.
“Oh . . . OH! Well here they are then! You have a good night now!”
Hmmm . . . I passed again, at least until I had to lead him by the nose to the point! You just never know . . .
Like I would have to tell any of you reading this, the bad news is that the life of a TG can have a number of head trips. For the most part I’ve come to terms with my head trips, but every once in a while one or two of them jump up and slap me in the face . . . hard.
Like today when I’ve got a two hour lay over in Atlanta and I decide to walk the length of the airport for the exercise rather than take the tram. As I’m walking I see the flight crew from Korean Air . For those of you that don’t fly much, I’ll fill you in on this. Korean Air must have very strict uniform rules because their flight attendants always look flawless. I’m not talking about just good, or cute, but absolutely flawless. There are four of these young women, each wearing this cute little white uniform, and each with her hair held up perfectly with a long hair pin. I kid you not, from the rear I could see that each woman’s hair pin was aligned at exactly the same angle as the next. – standing side by side they were perfectly parallel. With over 12 years active duty Army, you tend to notice these little details and appreciate the fact that it took some effort to achieve and maintain. I see I’m getting distracted from the point I wished to make. So looking at these perfect and petite young ladies, in their perfect uniforms, with their perfect hair, I was once again struck by the depression monster. All of my flaws just started screaming at me.
I’m too tall
Even with half an inch of foundation I can’t cover the beard shadow
I’m a . . . man . . a man .. in a dress
I’m not . . . a . . .woman . . .
This is not a plea or a ploy for compliments where I’m trying to get everyone to argue with me and try and convince my I’m wrong, or I’m my own worse critic, or etc, etc. In fact that would make me intensely uncomfortable. What this is about, I suppose, is just to say that I’m human, and today I’m depressed.