Month: December 2021

No, not *that* kind of housekeeping. 😉

I try to write something about every two to three days and some of ya’ll are so sweet and check in on me when I go a few days without updating my site.  I am actually very touched when that happens.  I wanted to let you know I’ll be traveling for work for the next week or so and I won’t be posting during that time.  I’ll likely be sending random tweets so you can keep up with my random thoughts there if you’d like.  I’ll approve any pending comments and post Ask Hannah answers when I return.

I also try to post on significant dates, and New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day aren’t any different.  Since I’ll be traveling I won’t be posting on those days, but I wanted to write a little about this year and the upcoming one.  So!  Here we go.

I try to be positive, God knows I do, and God knows it’s not always easy.  We started 2021 with a LOT of hope fueled mostly by a vaccine against COVID.  Things felt dark and bleak for most of 2020 but… I don’t know.  Maybe it’s just me but I feel more pessimistic and scared these days than I have in a long time.  I think those feelings are a response to the world still being impacted by COVID but the world also trying to go back to normal at the same time.  Mask mandates are rare at the moment, people are returning to work, schools are open, and events, whether they are concerts, football games, or celebrations are forging ahead.  Things are bad, AND they don’t look like they will get better any time soon.

When COVID hit part of me thought this would go away in a few weeks.  When that didn’t happen, I felt that things would turn around with a vaccine.  That happened for a bit but things are really bad again.  During the first days of the pandemic we waited until things would go back to normal but it’s obvious things won’t do that and we must learn to adapt to THIS for now…. and we’ll continue to wait for whatever world we’ll have when the pandemic ends (because I am still optimistic enough to think that it WILL end).  When I would think about life returning back to normal, I thought of the things I would do.  Go shopping without a mask, visiting friends, maybe even flying pretty.  I looked forward to these things.  Looking forward to things helps keeps me moving forward.  As time passed, these moments looked more and more elusive.  These days I don’t plan things like that, I don’t plan anything more than a few weeks in advance and when I do, it’s always with the understanding that things could change abruptly.  I am supposed to fly out of Minneapolis tomorrow, but there’s a good chance my flight will be canceled.  I can’t even plan on my trip still happening as scheduled.

And this KILLS me.  I am a planner, I like to know what I am doing this afternoon, in two weeks, and I like to be reasonably confident that my plane will leave on time.  Everything has gone out the window.  In the early days of 2020 I was a wreck.  My life, my day had no structure.  Everything changed very quickly.  We had to adapt to working at home, parents had to adapt to their children doing remote learning, and washing our hands increased by a billion percent.  And for the most part, this is where we still are.  Little has changed compared to 18 months ago, but WE had to change.  We had to adapt.

And we sort of did.  Some people are ignoring the pandemic and trying to go back to normal.  I get it.  I really do.  I want things to be normal again but we can’t force that.  COVID has its own thoughts when it comes to our plans.  I adapted by accepting that I can’t plan things.  Not being to schedule ANYTHING causes my anxiety to go up a billion percent.  These days I don’t FEEL *that* anxiety.  I don’t get anxious about my flight potentially getting canceled tomorrow and disrupting an entire week of work that I have planned.  I SHOULD feel anxious and maybe I do but perhaps I am used to it and not noticing it the way I used to.  This level of anxiety might be my new normal.

I had to learn to live in the moment.  And living in the moment sounds so inspirational and freeing, but in reality it’s not always so.  I am stubbornly and reluctantly living more day-to-day.  Maybe my flight will be canceled?  Maybe everyone in the world will get vaccinated?  Maybe COVID will stop evolving?  These thoughts aren’t necessarily a sign of optimism, rather they are a result of almost two years of THINGS happening.  Could anyone have possibly predicted the world that we have today?  Well, probably, but the point is this is not the reality “for now”.  This IS reality…. and God knows how long this will last.

Changing my mindset from planning every minute of every day to just… seeing how things go has been surprisingly… liberating?  Again, I don’t know if I am simply so anxious to the point where it’s become my new normal mental state and therefor I don’t notice it, or if it’s something else.  The point is I am going into the new year with zero plans.  I have no goals, I have nothing that I hope to do.  This sounds overly pessimistic but I’ve learned that until *THIS* goes away, I can’t make plans.  I can’t make plans that stand a good chance of getting disrupted which would create disappointment.  So, I am planning nothing and well, let’s see how that goes.

It’s not as freeing and exciting as it sounds.  I am used to looking towards the new year with things I want to experience as Hannah.  This could be a new experience or something I’ve done before that I am keen on doing again.  My life (both of my lives) has been paused for almost two years.  Fun experiences can’t be planned, whether a vacation or hitting the mall en femme.  This paused time has given me moments of reflection and an opportunity to evaluate my life/lives.  For my boy life it’s been a significant shift from planning things to just… seeing how things go.  For Hannah it’s been reflecting how SHE fits into HIS life, mainly when it comes to coming out.  I used to want to come out to more friends.  I used to want Hannah to do things that HE does.  I don’t necessarily want that anymore.  I mean, it would be nice to have coffee en femme with friends that only know me as HIM, and it used to give me pangs of regret when I would think that moments like that probably wouldn’t happen.  These days I have a better understanding of what I want, and I don’t want a blurring of my two lives anymore.  The boy has HIS life and Hannah has HER life and that’s been the case for a while.  I used to want a little more overlap but… I don’t think so anymore.  

What changed?  I am not sure if anything really did.  Perhaps I just worked my way through any perceived conflict (so to speak) of coming out versus keeping things as they are.  I know coming out will require a LOT of conversations and energy but I don’t feel I have the emotional bandwidth to do that, especially in a pandemic.  I don’t want to take anything more on.  Of course, were I wanted to transition it would be a different story.  In some ways, coming out (for me) aligns with a desired outcome.  I came out to a female roommate a loooong time ago because I wanted to keep wearing a nightgown to bed and was tired of hiding my clothes.  I came out to my mom because I hoped that by me being honest with her about who I am would bring us closer.  We do have a better relationship these days but it’s not because I came out.  I came out to my sisters because I had hoped that they would like having a new sister.  

Coming out with having a goal in mind has met with mixed success.  My roommate didn’t care (so that was a win) but my sisters aren’t interested in meeting Hannah for coffee.  It makes me wonder if allllll the drama, all the emotion, all the talks were… well, worth it.  The track record, so to speak, hasn’t been encouraging.  If coming out to people in my life was always a positive experience I would be more encouraged to keep coming out, but that hasn’t been the case.  Of course, what one comes out AS can make a difference.  Were I to come out as transgender with wanting to transition, I have no doubt that most people in my life would be happy and excited for me.  Coming out as transgender, and more specifically bi-gender with no plans to transition… well, for some that’s a little new to them.  For most cis gender people, most transgender people they know of are those that have/or will transition.  Someone having two gender identities is a concept that isn’t easy to understand or relate to.  

Coming out changes your life and the lives of those around you.  I don’t feel the need to come out to anyone else.  For the most part I don’t think it will be worth the drama and the confusion that it could be bring.  My life/lives are as perfect as they can be.  I am happier and more content than I ever could have dreamed.  If this is all I will ever have, it’s more than I could have ever hoped for.  I am at peace.

Well, at peace as much as I can be in a global pandemic where everything feels dark and bleak at any rate.

I don’t have plans or goals for 2022.  I won’t have a wish for the new year…. except for this.  I wish you all peace.  I know how our gender identity and wardrobe desires can cause tension and stress.  I know how uncertain we can feel with what this means and what we want.  I know how it feels to be in denial and to resist what our hearts want.  I’ve been there.  If you still need to, I hope you can accept who you are.  While it’s true that accepting yourself doesn’t necessarily mean being able to wear what you want or to identify how you wish to the rest of the world, you can quietly accept who you are.  You can make peace with yourself, with who you are.  

And who you will be.

Happy New Year.

Love, Hannah

As much as I hate the term “journey” to describe our progress when it comes to our gender identity, I have to begrudgingly admit it’s also the most fitting.  Like any journey or adventure (hmm, maybe adventure is a better word?), our paths are fraught with peril, milestones, setbacks, and accomplishments.  Some aspects of our journey will end, some never will.  Sometimes the destination itself changes.  

I believe in celebrating milestones.  It could be a birthday, an anniversary, a promotion at work, the first time a girl like us leaves the house en femme.  I acknowledge small milestones and large ones.  I believe in moving forward on our journeys, even when it’s hard.  I believe in rest.  I believe in self-care.  I know life is often two steps forward, one step back.  I believe in looking back to see how far you’ve come.  You may not have made any progress compared to a month ago, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you were further along than where you were a year ago.  

And progress, moving forward on your journey, isn’t always visible.  Yes you may have been working up the courage to buy a pair of stilettos for months and perhaps it hasn’t happened yet, but remember, at one point you were in denial about wanting to wear them.  

We may feel alone on our journey, and we often are.  But in a grander scope we have each other.  We have our trans sisters cheering us on, encouraging us, believing in us, even if you’ve never met them.  I don’t know everyone personally who visits my website, but I am your biggest cheerleader (and not because of the cute, pleated skirt).

Many of us are celebrating, or at least, acknowledging that today is Christmas day.  All across the world a t-girl is celebrating the holiday for the first time in a sparkly dress.  A teenager who is transitioning is being told by her parents they have legally changed their name and gender.  A crossdresser was given a pair of panties by their supportive, albeit overwhelmed and confused wife.  

However, there are just as many of us who are wishing Santa brought us a new skirt instead of a necktie.  Wishing that we could have Christmas brunch in a dress instead of an ugly Christmas sweater.  Wishing we weren’t in the same room as our transphobic uncle.  I am your cheerleader, and I am also your sympathizer.  

Whether you are spending the day en femme, or wearing panties with candy canes all over them under your boy clothes, getting through the day with family, or spending the day alone, be kind to yourself.  Our lives are journeys, and sometimes holidays are the most difficult time of the year.  You may not be where you would like to be on your gender adventure (it IS a better word), but you are making progress.  Our adventures are visible achievements and they are also mental and emotional achievements.  Our gender journey isn’t always about walking more confidently in heels compared to a year ago, sometimes our achievements are accepting who we are, even if our closets are filled with only boy clothes.  

I wish you peace and happiness on this day, and all the others.

Love, Hannah    

The absolute worst feeling in the world is DREAD.  Leaving work on a Friday knowing you have a BAD meeting scheduled for Monday ruins your whole weekend.  At least mine will be ruined, not everyone is inflicted with the level of anxiety I get to deal with.  

On the flip (and more positive) side, the BEST feeling is peace.  

I’ve always been restless, I’ve always been ambitious.  These two emotions feed off of each other.  I accomplish something and would immediately look for a new challenge.  This is not necessarily a bad thing, I think ambition is an admirable trait in someone.  It’s one of the few things I like about myself.  Please don’t read too much into that, I am fine, I have a healthy self-esteem (maybe a little TOO healthy based on the number of photos I post, lol), I am happy with who I am (in all aspects) and amazed at how wonderful my life is turning out.  I like working towards SOMETHING, I like looking forward to things.  I find joy in work, whether it is a home project, something for my job, or seasoning a corset.  

Of course, the more things one attempts the likelihood of failure increases.  And that seems overly and perhaps unnecessarily pessimistic, but it’s the truth.  The only way to avoid failure and criticism is do nothing, to say nothing.   This is true in any aspect of life, especially presenting en femme.  When I post a photo or strut out of the house the reactions and interactions are mostly either positive or… non-existent.  At the mall I may have someone compliment my dress or makeup, but for every kind comment there are countless unspoken opinions.  And that’s fine, I don’t need compliments or reassure, I dress for my damn self, thank you very much.  

The risk of posting a photo or going out en femme are unkind people.  People who go out of their way to write something nasty about a posted picture or say something in public.  It’s just cruel, there’s no other way to interpret an action like that.  

And it hurts.  Sometimes it bothers me for a couple of minutes, sometimes I think about it every moment of every day for the rest of my life.  

I know I COULD completely avoid this from happening.  All it would take is for me to never leave the house en femme and completely vanish from social media.  Easy-peasy.  BUT!  I am not going to do that.  My ego wouldn’t let me resist posting a picture of myself that I really like for very long and staying home after getting a new and amazing dress is not an option.  However on a more enlightened (and less shallow) perspective, you shouldn’t let the haters win, don’t let some jerk ruin your day or dull your sparkle.  I know it’s easier said than done, especially when I can perfectly recall an unkind comment that someone said to me like five years ago when I was out shopping,  but God knows I try.

True peace starts with years and years of, well, living.  It also comes from forgiveness of others and forgiving yourself.  It comes from accepting that you will fail, and giving yourself permission to fail.  It’s not been an easy couple of weeks in my male life.  Everything is “fine”, but I am faced with a couple of things (one family and one work-related) that I am not used to dealing with.  Not being used to a challenge usually means it’s not something one has a lot of experience with, and therefore problem-solving and being able to process something on an emotional or mental level aren’t things one has had a chance to develop and ultimately apply to a problem.

In other words, I’m working on stuff I don’t know how to fix because they are not issues I’ve faced before.

Again, everything is fine, or will be fine.  No one is dying and I am not looking down the barrel of unemployment so please don’t think I am all doom and gloom.  Were I facing either of these (well let’s charitably call them challenges) individually life (on every level) would be more manageable, obviously.  But both of these at the same time??  Completely overwhelming.  I am exhausted and feel I could break under the pressure.  I’ve never felt completely defeated but goodness I am getting there.

I know things will get better. The work thing will pass and work itself out.  Without getting tooooooooooo specific my team at work are all working on a project and we all have specific responsibilities and obligations and based on our progress as a team AND as individuals we are all going to fail miserably.  As a team we have projects all the time at different times throughout the year and I almost always accomplish my tasks and often over-achieve to the point I can make up for a colleague’s shortcoming.  I am not used to being where I am in terms of this work project.  It’s been a while since I have crashed and burned in such a spectacular way on a work project so the feeling of impending failure (or dread) is not something I am used to. I don’t know how to cope with walking into a dumpster fire, if that makes sense.  My inner dialogue hasn’t been very kind to me lately.  The comfort (if you can call it that) I am clinging to (like a shipwrecked passenger holding onto driftwood) is that this project has to be completed by the end of the year.  

And it won’t be.  It’s… disheartening to start the new year in such a way, but there’s little that can be done at this point.  It would take a miracle for this project to meet the deadline.

And then?  Life goes on.  My manager will yell at us and he’ll get yelled at and then he’ll yell again… and onto the next project.  In other words we will stubbornly move on from the failure as we pour our energy, time, and attention to the NEXT project.  Dwelling on the past (in all of its aspects) isn’t healthy or productive.  Of course, I know this.  This too will pass, and all that.  But between now and then, this lingering and inevitable failure, this Sword of Damocles, will hang over my head and will occupy a lot of my attention over the holidays.  Which, to be honest, sucks.  I WANT to shut off the part of my brain that is reserved for work, but I can’t do that.  My anxiety doesn’t let me do that.  Instead I will be occupied with thoughts of missed opportunities that lead to this impending work project failure while I visit with my family and eating amazing food on Christmas.

As for the more important, family concern, well, it’s one day at a time.  Helping a beloved family member get through something is never easy.  The past two weeks have had its share of breakthroughs and frustrations, to say the least.  Yesterday was a good day, so I am feeling more positive.  Most of last week, not so much.  This roller coaster is killing me.  But that’s enough about this very personal situation.

Empowerment is important and sometimes I would argue it’s the only thing that will get you through something.  I told myself after a particularly frustrating day at work that I need to give myself permission to fail.  Not every project will be successful, not every stride in five inch stilettos will be without a stumble.  Being able to shake off a stumble, a failed work project, a negative comment is not easy but God, you have to do it.  Sometimes time heals a wound, sometimes it takes a personal revelation, sometimes it takes years of therapy.  If I knew how to shake off everything that dulled one’s sparkle I could write a self-help book and sell a zillion copies and never have any (financial) problems ever again.  But I don’t have all the answers and I never will.  

Knowing you don’t have all of the solutions, knowing that not every strut will be graceful, knowing that every day at work will not be an amazing experience… this is how peace slowly creeps in.  If you let it.  I know (and I know from personal experience) that this can consume and frustrate someone in incredibly negatively powerful ways.  But God I need to let things go.  Giving myself permission to fail, acknowledging that I am feeling unprepared when it comes to helping someone in need (and asking for help myself), this is how I can begin to productively handle a situation.  You need to stop panicking before you can be of any help to someone.  Drink some coffee, put on some lipstick, and handle it.

Or at the very least, put on your favorite panties.

I know this is very simplistic.  I know this is alllll easier said than done.  But every strut in stilettos begins with a small, tentative step in kitten heels.  Every life changing revelation has its beginnings in a small, quiet realization.  Whether it is giving yourself permission to fail or a in sudden bolt of inspiration.  

This website does it’s best to provide relevant and relatable content to our cute little community.  I also know that this website is a LITTLE self-serving and self-indulgent (again, I post a lot of photos and recognition I may get) and will from time to time post about something personal (such as this).  Just like I dress for myself, I sometimes write for myself.  Writings like this help me with some perspective and I find it therapeutic to sort out some of the thoughts swirling around my head and consuming my heart.  Thank you for bearing with me as I go on and on (and on and on) about my brain and life.  I do try to equate my thoughts with relatable experiences to ya’ll, like dealing with nasty comments or walking in heels so I hope if you read this it wasn’t a TOTAL waste of time, lol.

Love, Hannah 

I am fortunate to have a fulfilling (although stressful and anxiety inducing) career.  I am fortunate to have (as far as I know, lol) stability at my job.  AND!  I am fortunate to work at home (even outside of this global pandemic).  Not having to wake up super early to drive in the snow to some miserable little office with coworkers I hate is something I will be forever grateful for.  At home I get to wear what I want and most of the time it’s a cozy pair of leggings and a femme cardigan.  Every few weeks I do need to go into the office and put on boy clothes but at least I can still underdress.  

There’s no secret that I love my dresses and skirts and heels and stockings and lingerie and everything.  Love, love, love.  I love that I have something for almost any occasion I can think of.  Even if I don’t go to the club, I have dresses that would be perfect for clubbing.  I have dresses for Sunday brunch or a formal event or spending the day at the mall.  My absolute love and adoration of femme clothes (not that clothes are gendered but you know what I mean) is so strong that sometimes I feel I am in a paradox of whether or not I am trans because of the clothes or I wear what I wear because I am trans.  Regardless, I don’t fret over it tooooo much.

I am happy with being bi-gender.  I am comfortable and content when I present as a boy and I am confident and happy when I am en femme.  I don’t want to, nor have I ever felt that transitioning is the right journey for me.  I like going back and forth, as it were.  I don’t want to choose one gender to present as for the rest of my life.  

It’s fair to say that growing up I felt a LOT of jealousy towards the girls I went to school with as well as towards my sisters.  They were allowed to wear dresses to school, they could wear makeup, paint their nails, and countless other little things that I longed to do.  As my journey progressed I was able to create a wardrobe that I wanted, that was right for me.  If I need a day out en femme, I can take one.  I can scratch that itch, if you will.  This jealousy has subsided over time, it also diminished as my wardrobe grew and as Hannah spent time out in the real world.  

But jealousy still creeps in.  It often comes out of nowhere.  Well, perhaps not completely out of nowhere.  It can often subtly and progressively grow when I hear the click of someone else’s heels.

The other day I was out running errands in boy mode and I heard the unmistakable sound of high heels against the floor.  I turned my head and saw a woman wearing a pair of black patent heels, black stockings, paired with a skirt and blouse (God I sound like a creep).  She looked like she was on her way home from work.  Nothing remarkable, just someone running a quick errand at the end of the day.  The contrast I felt was significant.  I was in jeans, a big bulky winter coat, and hadn’t shaved my face in a few days.  Basically I was VERY MALE, and felt even more so compared to her.  It didn’t take long for jealousy to set in.  We all have to run errands, but if I have things to do I would much rather do them en femme.  I wondered how much fun it would be to be able to go to work en femme.  

I know I can work from home wearing whatever I want, but like running errands, if I had to spend the day in an office answering silly emails and attending meetings, I would much rather them do it in a cute pencil skirt.  Besides, I can’t go COMPLETELY en femme at work thanks to my team’s penchant for spontaneous Zoom meetings.

And yes, on some levels this is a fantasy.  I’m sure wearing heels and dressing up EVERYDAY isn’t as much fun as I think it might be.  But goodness, just once.  Just one time.  

I have done more en femme than I ever could have imagined.  I am blessed beyond my imagination.  There will always be more things I can do (such as flying pretty) but there will also be things that won’t happen, such as going into the office en femme.  And that’s okay.  I can live without it.  However, jealousy will always be a part of this part of me, and often that envy is just a few high heel clicks away.  

(And yes, I know this is all pretty shallow but there you have it.)

Love, Hannah

In case you haven’t noticed or are perhaps living under a rock, it’s the holiday season.  Even if you don’t celebrate or recognize any of the holidays that occur in December, it’s hard to not be impacted by them.  Work comes to a grinding halt, the shops are busier, and everyone is stressed.  It’s exhausting.  Life is exhausting in itself, and trying to simply exist in a global pandemic is on another level altogether.  But we must soldier on, apparently.  I feel we live in a world where we are told that self-care and rest are super important but we are subtly discouraged from doing that very thing.  

So many things in our lives are outside of our control.  Sometimes I feel like a beach ball that is just bounced back and forth between different life events, both small and significant.  Like trying to walk through a mall or an airport but you are walking against the crowd and therefore are being bumped into and jostled around.  But again, we keep going forward.  It would be almost inspiring if it wasn’t so tiring.

Although it doesn’t always feel this way, at my most optimistic moments I really, really think that the majority of people (a SLIM majority, I’m not THAT optimistic, lol) really want others to live the life they feel is right for them.  To be who they are, to identify how they feel, to wear whatever pleases them.  It doesn’t always feel this way because there is so much NOISE and discourse and even legislation that seeks to hurt us, whether it is politically, medically, or emotionally.  Although I present as male most of the time when I am outside of the house, it’s very possible Hannah could get into a car accident and have to be taken to the emergency room.  In some states it is the doctor’s right to refuse to treat me because I am (obviously) transgender.  That’s… that’s not right.

Most of us know that we are who we are and nothing can change that.  At one point we may have thought that we would grow out of our preference for wearing panties and would eventually start wearing boxers (ugh, why would ANYONE wear boxers?).  Perhaps we thought this was a phase.  Perhaps we thought we could control our desires, to deny who we are and simply… stop.  At various points in my life I honestly believed I could stop.  Looking back I see the futility and naivety of that thinking.  I couldn’t change who I was, and thank God I couldn’t.  I love who I am.  I love what I wear.

No matter how many laws are passed, and no matter how many nasty Facebook rants are posted about the trans community, none of that can or will change who I am.  Every person I know in my life could attend an anti-trans rally and yes, it would break my heart but even that can’t change what is in my closet.  Mean tweets and legislation are not written with the expectation of changing a trans person, they are meant to hurt us.  Conversion therapy isn’t designed to “cure” us (no matter what we are told), it is meant to punish us.  To scare us.  

As we push through the final days of the holiday season, many of us will attend family gatherings and see relatives we might typically avoid.  I have a few like that myself.  And because everyone is allowed to have their own opinion on, well, anything and everything (and everyone), it’s not surprising when someone we know (or related to) has a… perspective that is different from your own.  I work with people who think the trans community is filled with confused sinners.  I know people who think we are sick and perverted.  I am related to people who would vote to obliterate us off the face of the earth given a chance.  It is heartbreaking, to say the least.

Most of the world sees me as a cis gender male.  Most of my family knows me that way as well.  Hardly anyone I interact with knows about my gender identity.  I am, essentially, undercover.  Therefore a lot of people are not shy about sharing their opinion about trans people.  “Did you see that tranny?” is something I’ve heard from co-workers.  “Did you hear that (insert celebrity name here) is one of those, what-do-call-them, transgenders?”  is something I’ve overheard from a relative.  I visibly cringe when I hear that.  Do I ever (well, confront might not be the best word here but I’ll go with it) confront the person who said something so ignorant?  Of course.  I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t.  Even if I wasn’t trans I would still speak up.  But I also realize that it is pointless to have that conversation with some people.  I will never, ever convince my uncle that are more than two genders, so I don’t even try.  

If I was out to everyone and Hannah attended holiday events instead of me in male mode, perhaps these comments would stop.  OR! they would increase.  It’s hard to say.  Again, comments, tweets, Facebook posts are meant to HURT us, not change us.  Perhaps the people who write and say things like this know that we aren’t going anywhere, no matter how much they hope we will.  I know the same thing.  I am not going anywhere.  Nothing can stop me, whether it is a law or a cruel comment from a hateful relative, from being who I am.  I’ll always be trans, I’ll always wear a nightgown to bed, I’ll always wear panties, I’ll always have days when I dress to kill as I strut around the mall. Nothing can change who I am, or who you are. We can lose our rights, or access to medical care, our ability to legally change our gender, but they can’t take our identity.

Love, Hannah

Presenting en femme is empowering and absolutely humbling. There’s nothing like spending hours doing your makeup and putting on a new dress and feeling excited to see a gorgeous girl in the mirror…

And then it all falls apart. Our maleness stubbornly appears beneath our foundation, our masculine shoulders aren’t minimized by the pattern on the dress, and our boy feet are a LITTLE too big for our new heels.

This doesn’t happen all the time, but it has happened enough where I never will shake this feeling as I get ready. Even after all these years, now matter how often I dress up, I still wonder if I will see HIM or HER in the mirror.

This morning I am thinking about how this side of us can humble us. But I am also feeling humbled and grateful for YOU. For every subscriber, for every email, comment, my website generates.

When I started blogging I wondered if anyone would ever find, let alone read, what I wrote. I still smile every time I get notification of a comment or of a new subscriber. It’s nice to know people are connecting with what I write and think about. It makes me feel less alone when it comes to who I am, and more importantly, who WE are.

It’s also nice to get recognized by other bloggers, if I am being honest. A blog has to be well-written, it needs to provide content that readers connect with, and needs to be updated regularly. I just learned that this website made to it a few year-end lists which were ranked by traffic, social media followers, domain authority, and freshness.

I am number 21 on this year’s Top 100 transgender blogs!

I am number 11 on this year’s Top 50 Trans Woman Blogs and Websites!

I am number 15 on this year’s Top 60 Crossdressing Blogs and Websites!

Again, I am humbled by any sort of recognition, whether it is making it onto a list like these or having a new subscriber. I am proud to be on the same list as many other bloggers that I read and admire.

Thank you for visiting my site. I absolutely appreciate it.

Love, Hannah

I have a few friends that are transitioning.  I don’t see them as often as I would like but when I do it’s usually been a few months since our last visit.  Over time their transitions have progressed and estrogen, t-blockers, and lasering have done their job and there’s a noticeable difference in their appearance.  Although my friends look very different from when I last saw them, to them, these changes are gradual and subtle.  

I am transgender, but more specifically I am bi-gender.  I am comfortable and happy and secure having two gender identities and choosing one to live as or present as for the rest of my life is not something that I feel that is right for me.  On a physical level, I present as either boy or girl to the rest of the world.  My wardrobe, my face, my body are completely different depending on my gender presentation for the day.  For me, changing my presentation is either very quick (girl to boy) or very, very slow (boy to girl).  It’s not unlike watching a home being built over several months.  One day the foundation is laid, another day the wall frames are up (and a million other things happen, I don’t know, I am not an architect) and then… ta-da, the house is ready.  Boy to girl is similar.  I apply my foundation, false eyelashes are applied (and again, a million other things), and ta-da!  I am ready to strut my stuff.

Going from boy to girl is a daunting task.  It feels like cleaning a house that was trashed after a New Year’s Eve party.  When I am spending the day en femme, I usually get ready first thing in the morning.  I have a coffee and then get to work.  I don’t know about you, but when I wake up I feel tired, I LOOK tired, and my reflection stares back telling me that I have a LOT of work to do.  Coffee kicks in, I start to carefully and closely shave my face (having removed my body hair the night before), put on my gaff after carefully tucking, thigh pads, my stockings, my heels, my corset, my breast forms, and then finally my dress.  My primer and color correcting and foundation is next.  I rarely do my own makeup as I like to have it professionally done by one of the two makeup artists I regularly see, but I always do my own foundation and color correcting.  At this point I am looking more femme.  Or at the very least, less like a boy.  True, sometimes I feel like a man in a dress, but I’m getting there.  My attitude has shifted from “I am beyond hope” to seeing a little potential.  Coffee has done its job and I start to flirt and smile in the mirror.  I put on my jewelry, carefully apply my wig, and I am ready for my makeup appointment.

All of that takes about an hour.  Until I have my makeup done I still look very male (in a traditional sense) but you can see what look I am trying for.  As this hour passes I can see the progression from boy to girl very gradually and very slowly.  It’s very methodical.  The last step of my look happens at the salon.  The makeup appointment is also a very slow and gradual process.  I can look at my reflection in the mirror and see my face transformed even further as contouring and highlighting are done.  Concealer is applied.  Eyeliner (a LOT of eyeliner) is applied.  False eyelashes are glued on.  Eyeshadow.  Lipliner.  Blush.  Lipstick.  And then, ta-da!  I look about as fabulous as I am going to look that day.

As much fun as it is to see my boy features replaced by femme features, I prefer not to watch this step-by-step process.  I much prefer to take one final look in the mirror before my appointment and then ignore my reflection until my artist is finished.  I love being WOWED by the makeover and the seemingly “instant” transformation of a middle aged man to (hopefully a cute) girl.  Seeing my reflection once the artist is finished is like opening a present.  A sparkly, pink glittered present.

Between my dressing and “prep work” at home and my makeover, this transformation takes about two hours.  It’s a lot of time to invest on a look, especially if you are just meeting friends for coffee.  But… well, to be honest, it’s what I need.  As I age my body and my face ages as well.  And as someone who is genetically male, I am aging as a male.  My makeup artist, my foundation, my corset, my… everything has to work harder than it did ten years ago.  Although time has blessed me with becoming more comfortable and confident in how I look, it takes me longer for me to look femme (in my own opinion) and sometimes I need a bigger pep talk than other times.  I still feel like a boy in a dress sometimes (especially before my makeover), but I make it work.  I have to.  

It’s pretty amazing how different I feel after these two hours have passed.  Before I started getting ready for the day my reflection was telling me that there’s no makeup or dress in the world that can make that man into girl.  I shouldn’t even bother or try and just go back to bed.  I want to listen to that voice sometimes, but I always press on.  My makeup artist, my forms, my corset, my dress have all done wonders in terms of how I LOOK but also how I FEEL.  

The opposite of this transformation is also amazing but in a different way.  Well, perhaps amazing isn’t the right word.  The act of creation is always slower and more work than the act of destruction.  Destroying something is quick, crude, and uncaring.  Going from girl to boy is not much different.  After I return home the undoing begins.  I slip off my heels, take off my clip-on earrings, and remove my wig.  I peel off my false eyelashes, I remove the rest of my jewelry, unzip my dress, unfasten my garters from my stockings, undo my corset, take off my gaff and untuck.  My thigh pads and breast forms are put back in their boxes, and I unhook my bra.  The man from the morning, the one who wanted to give up and go back to bed has returned to the mirror, but this time he is wearing a lot (like a LOT) of makeup.  His face is femme, but the body is boy.  I take a makeup removing cloth and start to undo all the hard work my makeup artist did earlier that day.  The eyeliner and eyeshadow she spent fifteen minutes on is instantly smudged away.  The contouring, the blush, the careful cupid’s bow on my lips all vanish.  It takes about five minutes to remove my makeup which is nothing compared to the hour that was spent on it.

Again, destruction is quick and crude.  It almost feels disrespectful to the artist who put so much work into my look, but I suppose makeup must come off at the end of the day, much like a chef expects the food they spent so much time preparing to be eaten.  Perhaps that’s not the best comparison, but there you have it.  The point is that it is startling to see the almost abrupt change from girl to boy especially in contrast to the two hours it took to transform the boy into girl.  Seeing Hannah disappear in a couple of quick swipes of a makeup removing cloth and then ta-da, the boy reappears.  Going from a reflection of a girl to a middle-aged man in a matter of seconds is a little jarring.  

I put away my femme clothes and forms and wig and put on boy clothes for the rest of the day.  He has returned and he starts to resume his obligations and responsibilities.  I’ll catch up on a few work emails that popped into my inbox while Hannah enjoyed her day, my wife and I will likely order some food and catch up with each other.  It’s not unlike returning from a work trip.  My boy world and girl world are so different from each other and it usually takes a little time to adjust to being “back”.  To that point, going back into Hannah’s life also takes a little adjusting, but the two hours it takes for her to get (physically) ready and presentable helps with that (mental) transition.

It’s a weird life isn’t it?  We have thoughts and feelings and experiences and perspectives few others have.  Having two lives, one of which is usually a secret and well protected.  In my boy life I protect Hannah fiercely, and she does the same when it comes to his world.  

Two sides, same coin.  

Two worlds, one planet.

One mirror, two reflections.

Love, Hannah