My Not So Secret Identity

When I was closeted, my secret identity was a well-kept secret. People who knew Stana, only knew Stana and people who knew Stan, only knew Stan.

After I left the closet, people who only knew Stan, now knew Stana, too. To confuse matters, Stan no longer existed to some of the people who only knew Stan – they only know Stana. On the other hand, since I am not Stana full-time, there are people who know me as both Stan and Stana, like the staffs at my hairdresser, bank, doctor's office, grocery store, former employer, the boutiques I regularly patronize, etc.

Then there are the people, who I met after I came out of the closet. They never knew Stan and only know Stana.

I almost need a scorecard to keep everything straight (if you can call that “straight”).

I should be straight with everyone and that would make life easier, but there are some people who cannot handle the truth... mostly relatives who have known Stan (and only Stan) for decades. But now that I think about it, some of those relatives have seen “Halloween Stana,” so they might not be as surprised as I think they might be.

If I can only convince my wife about going full-time, but that is probably a bridge to far. Then again, maybe not.

Wearing Eloquii

British professional femulators Colin Ross and Terry Bartlett, circa 1940

Give Me Credit

Jan has a credit card in her female name. Recently, the credit card company asked for proof (Social Security number) that she is indeed Jan.

The problem is that Jan is legally a male; all her government paperwork indicates that she is male and that male is not named "Jan."

The credit card company does not care one iota that Jan is transgender and that Jan is her trans-female name.

No resolution in Jan's favor seems to be in sight.

I don't know what Jan's male first name is, but my male and female first names start with the same letter (S), so I have credit cards using just the initial of my first name with my last name. That works for me in girl and boy mode and probably would work for anybody with male and female names starting with the same letter.

And if a credit card company asks for proof that I am S, I've got that covered.

Wearing Venus (source: Venus).

The cast of Northeastern University's 1924 all male production of the musical comedy Listening In (source: Northeastern University Library).

Like Clark Kent

Like Clark Kent/Kal-El/Superman, I have a secret identity, although it is not as secret as it used to be. And even without Lois Lane snooping around, it can be difficult keeping my identities separate.

I compartmentalize my life in order to maintain my secret and in general, I have done a good job. Femulate readers who are determined to find me out can and have figured out who I am. And that is not a concern.

However, there are friends and relatives who do not know about Stana and  I want to keep it that way for now.

One area where I have come close to outing myself is with e-mails. I have two e-mail accounts - one for him and one for her and on occasion, I used her e-mail account to compose his e-mail and vice versa.

After that happened a few times, I figured out a way to avoid the problem. I simply added a "signature" to her account, so whenever I compose an e-mail en femme, the signature is automatically inserted at the end of the e-mail. If I am composing an e-mail for him and see that the e-mail already has a signature, I know I am using the wrong e-mail account and switch accounts before proceeding. (My signature consists of a jpeg of myself en femme, so I can't miss it!)

Since I added the signature, I have avoided outing myself via e-mail.

Just a thought… imagine if Clark Kent/Kal-El/Superman was transgender, too!

 

 

 

Wearing Robert Rodriguez.

 

 

 

British sailor femulates as Miss Everton in the 1950s.

Diana Prince Vs. Wonder Woman

I am very tired of maintaining a double identity. Compartmentalizing my life is work; I don't know how many brain cells I use trying to remember who knows what and how much they know. And I feel dishonest about it in a lot of ways. I am out to a lot of people and I have the green flag from my employer to come out at work. But I do not want to upset the applecart at home, so I will soldier on like Clark Kent and Diana Prince.

 

 

 

Marie-Christine Bouvier, a beautiful femulator from Germany.

 

 

 

Wearing Rachel Pally (top), Tibi (skirt),
Loeffler Randall (bag) and Edmundo-Castillo (shoes).

on my mind on Friday

On weekdays, I am up at 5:45 AM to get ready to go to work. I am the first one up and it is very quiet in the house with no distractions, so my mind wanders and wonders.

After a shave and a shower, I get dressed and as I pull up my briefs, I fantasize that I am pulling up a panty girdle and as I pull up my socks, I fantasize that I am pulling up pantyhose.

I have this same fantasy nearly everyday that I get dressed to go to work. I think it helps me maintain my Staci identity on those days I know I won't be en femme.

***

I often say that I am "trans-something" because I am not sure what I am. I don't feel comfortable identifying as transsexual, transgender, transvestite, transgenderist, crossdresser, etc. because none of those labels fit me like a T.

Parts of me scream "crossdresser," just as parts of me scream "transsexual," but there are other parts that whisper "crossdresser... not" and "transsexual... not." Even the label I invented, femulator, does not say it all for me.

I think part of it is I don't want to be pigeon-holed or rather I don't want to pigeon-hole myself. Like Groucho Marx said, "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member."

I think more of it has to do with the fact that we are all unique and we do not fit perfectly in any pigeon hole. I know I certainly don't feel that I fit perfectly in any of the trans pigeon holes because I see parts of me in the other trans pigeon holes.

So, I have concluded that I am not trans-something, rather I am Staci.

My Theory of Operation

When I do outreach, the other presenters almost always identify as transsexual. I only recall doing outreach on two occasions with others who did not identify as transsexual.

Listening to the transsexuals tell their life stories always causes me to consider my own identity. Tuesday's outreach was no different. Since then, I have done a lot of thinking about my identity and I believe I have had an epiphany.

I identify as a heterosexual male-to-female crossdresser, who crossdresses once or twice per month (in deference to my spouse). However, I readily admit that if I had the opportunity, I would crossdress 24/7 and live full-time as a female without surgery, hormones, or other body modifications. I likely would get electrolysis, but nothing more than that.

If I desire to live full-time as a woman, am I still a crossdresser? Or am I something else... something beyond a crossdresser, but not quite a transsexual mainly because I never felt that I was a woman trapped inside the body of a male.

I admit that I am not the most manly male, at least according to other people's opinions of me. When I was young, I was called a "sissy," "fairy," "twinky," "faggot," etc. because others perceived me as being effeminate. That perception may still exist, but as an adult, the people I encounter are polite enough to keep such opinions to themselves.

I did not (or do not) make any effort to be effeminate (or masculine, for that matter). I always acted in a way that was natural to me and my natural inclination was to act effeminately according to the "standards" set by our society.

I never felt I had a masculine or feminine side and I never felt that I was a woman trapped inside the body of a male like the typical transsexual, who hid or suppressed their femininity in boy mode.

I never felt that I was a woman trapped inside the body of a male because SHE WAS NEVER TRAPPED!

I never suppressed my femininity because I never realized I was acting effeminately, so as far as I was concerned, there was nothing to suppress.

Back in college, I attended a Halloween party in drag. One of my classmates who knew me well was impressed on how my normal persona was such a good fit for my costume. Until he saw me in drag, he never realized that my everyday persona was so feminine. That confirms what I always believed, i.e., "I" am the same person in boy mode or in girl mode except that "I" am a better fit in girl mode.

In conclusion, I am not a woman trapped in a male body, rather I am a woman with a male body and I’m OK with that. I realize that my body has nothing to with my gender and further that having a male body does not make me less of a woman.

(By the way, this is pretty heavy stuff for me and I would greatly appreciate any and all opinions on my theory of operation.)