LITTLE GIRL LOST...

We all make mistakes, because those that don't make mistakes never tried anything. This a difficult thing for me to write about because people I love are involved. I met a wonderful woman and fell deeply in love. I forgot, or ignored, all my gender issues, issues I was well aware of but chose to bury so not to embarrass loved ones or myself. I couldn't be a girl because I wasn't born one. I know a lot more today than I did than, but that came from years with psychiatrists, therapists and failed suicide attempts. Real life isn''t as pleasant as your dreams are. I married and had two great kids, a son and a daughter. These three wonderful people would bear the brunt of my disease. It's flippant to say Gender Dysphoria is a disease cured with a dress. Sure a nice dress may help you on the road to recovery, a name change can help make you feel better and a new birth certificate with your girl name and
FEMALE" listed under GENDER on it may send you over the top, but there are people who are badly hurt by your cure. To get a heart transplant someone has to die. My family, my friends, and even the ability to make a living all were critically injured in the wreckage of my cure. Hey I was highly educated, Masters degree in Management from the University of Virginia, a ground breaking thesis on the Community Reinvestment Act predicting a massive real estate bubble, not taken very seriously when I wrote it in 1981. I was a Senior Vice President of one the largest banks in the country, I was part of Senior Management, I had thousands of people who worked for me, I made a lot of money. To say that a dress would cure me is a sick comment in my book . To be sure I wear a dress now and then, even a tight skirt, unfortunately it's as a waitress or hostess that I wear my hard won feminine attire, not as a respected banker. My journey to that dress, that birth certificate, and my new jobs was a difficult one both emotionally and physically. It wound through New Jersey, Colorado, Utah, Virginia, Alabama and Canada. It went through doctors offices, therapist offices, a private island in Canada, and a locked psychiatric floor in Colorado Springs. A long journey that I'll take you on if your interested. This journey includes the Mosad, lost medical licences, conspiracy accusations, state investigations and me. Come on along  (To be continued...)

DOES A DRESS MAKE THE GIRL???

I was in love with everything feminine. I wanted to wear make up , stockings, lacy slips and pretty dresses. Hey wake up stupid you have to make a living. I'm not going to lie I never wanted for anything in my life . I lived in a gated community with a private country club, pool, tennis golf, ahhh the good life!! Unfortunately my Dad always told me that I was lucky because he had some money, but I had to earn just like he did. So I always seemed to have job. Sold grave blankets and Christmas Tress door to door, pumped gas, sold pots and pans even spent a summer working on a garbage truck in New York City. This, of course, prepared me for a life in banking. With a degree in Political Science and my past work experience banking here I come!!

Well while I was diligently working my way up to lower middle management I spent a lot of time drinking and dating. I wasn't as dumb as I looked, I began dating the niece of the Vice President in charge of my department. At the same time I was also dating Personal Assistant to the head of Public Relations at Madison Square Garden. There wasn't a concert, hoops, or hockey game I couldn't get into for free. I was living, of course I was living with a black cloud over my head, but I was going to ignore and live La Dulce Vita!!!  Or so I thought...but that's a story for next time. (To Be Continued)

NOW THAT I KNOW I'M A GIRL??????

Whew!!!! Now that my Dad has given me his medical opinion what do I do with it? I was uncomfortable talking to him about this subject, embarrassed I guess. I could talk to my Dad about anything, politics, philosophy, his work, sailing (we loved to sail) anything that crossed my mind I could talk to my Dad about. When I was in high school he helped me with Latin, Physics, Trig, Algebra, any subject was fair game with him. He oftened complained that learning Latin was fine but "any" classical education that didn't include Greek was wanting in integrity. Of course I pointed out to him that he was no help at all to me in studying French!! That was all well in good but how did I talk to him about possibly being his daughter and not his son. The solution was we never talked about it again and he took his thoughts with him to his grave when he died suddenly at the age of 60.

Well I was single, living at home a college grad looking for a job, I should just move forward with my life. Move forward, in retrospect, even though I was in a panic about what gender I really was. Move forward even though I wish I were one of my sisters instead of a brother. Good Lord where would this lead?? In those days I knew nothing about a "Transgendered Community"!! I knew I was in pain and had no idea what to do. Of course its easy looking back not so easy being there and "moving forward". What the hell am I going to do??

OH GOD I'M A GIRL!!!!

For many years, well for as long as I remember, I thought God had made a horrible mistake. I was obviously a girl but why didn't I start to mature as one? Every night I prayed and cried "MAKE ME A GIRL"!!!! I guess God never got my prayer. All through Catholic grammar school and Catholic prep school and college and graduate school I knew I was the wrong gender.

I started getting migranes that drove me nuts, my father was a doctor and I asked him what was causing this. He hemmed and hawed for a while than said he had a theory when it came to me. I was intrigued since my dad was a genius (really). He told me that I was a twin, and my twin, a girl, had been still born. He said the migranes were sometimes caused by too much female hormones and this could have happened to me in the womb. MY GOD I'M A GIRL!!!. Well this answered a lot of questions in my mind. It's funny as I write this I realize I never told my family this story. I doubt it would help them understand any better.       (To be continued...)