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As a transgender woman of a few years, I have a tendency to look back at my life. When I do, often the positive memories out number the negative ones. Of course I remember the benefits of being younger and potentially more attractive. I had substantially fewer wrinkles as we all do when we are younger but on the negative side, I had more and darker beard growth. These days I can get away for the occasional close shave every couple of days with no electrolysis ever.
Then there were all the other days when I seemingly wanted to force my way out of my closet by making very bad fashion choices and ended up being ridiculed by a discerning public. For years I was sure all the public was just looking at me. Heading home extremely depressed to the point of crying most certainly were not the good old days. As with anything else in life, I needed to learn the hard way on how to properly face the public as a feminine transgender woman before I could experience the days I remember so fondly now.
Ironically, so many of my so called positive experiences were more adventures than anything else. Since I was always under a self imposed curfew to be home and undressed before my wife arrived back from her job, I seemed some nights I was literally counting the minutes. Those were the early nights when I was approached by several different lesbians in a small venue I…
