The Man in the Mirror

I’m a girl that loves mirrors.

But I am not always looking at my reflection for vanity reasons. I might be checking my lipstick, making sure my hair isn’t a mess… but sometimes I am looking for him.

We all have days where we look or feel like a man in a dress. A man in a wig. A man wearing lipstick. These days are worse than days when I just feel kind of ugly. And I have those days.

I am not trying to pass (there’s no such thing). I assume that everyone who sees me knows I am transgender and really, that’s okay. I would prefer people interact with me knowing I am trans as opposed to treating me a certain way because they think I am a ciswoman.

When I see a mirror, sometimes I want to see how…masculine I look. Contouring, thigh pads, and lipstick can only go so far. Obviously I know what I look like in male mode, and when I look into my reflection I want to see how much of that guy is there.

There are days where I don’t I look like my male self. Whether it’s because I am naive or my self-esteem is so through the roof that I am being delusional. Other days, well, a man in a dress.

For me, presenting as a girl requires more than just a cute outfit. It’s how I walk, how I move, how I carry myself, how I talk, what I say, pressing my knees together when I stand, how I sit, my mannerisms. It’s a little bit of a lot of things. Sometimes it takes me a little time to… well, get into character, for lack of a better phrase. Some days it takes no time at all. Sometimes I am on my game.

Mirrors are a way to catch yourself in the moment. If you see a mirror you can, in a way, prepare yourself. But last week as I walked to my car I passed unexpectantly by some very tall mirrors on an office building.

I watched myself walk, how my dress danced in the wind, I noticed my stride, if my hair looked natural in the breeze. I watched how I carried myself.

I was watching for him.

I didn’t see him. And that made me happy.

To be clear, I am perfectly happy in both of my gender identities. I am happy being male, but Hannah isn’t.

After the wall of mirrors ended, I pondered the unsolvable question: do I look that good, or am I only seeing what I want to see?

But I suppose it didn’t matter. For that moment I was a girl in a pretty dress, feeling the wind in my hair on a beautiful day, listening to the click of my heels against the pavement.

Love, Hannah

3 thoughts on “The Man in the Mirror

  1. When we’ve made all that effort, spent the time trying to meet our own standards, to see straight through all we’ve done… Well, I feel that reduces things a little.

    I don’t think it’s about delusion or trickery: just trying to be our best other self.


  2. Since I don’t wear a wig and my hair is grown out, there are times even in boy mode after a close shave, with my hair pulled back there are times I will catch a glimpse or “her” in a mirror or my reflection in a car window! And this makes me sad to know she’s in there and wants to be out!


  3. You smacked me upside the head again Hannah. Fall back stubble, beard, beer, drab and work thoughts flooding out all else and you come and do it again! When will that book come out?

    Liked by 1 person

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