True Colors Conference: The Rest of My Story

I attended the True Colors Conference at my alma mater, UCONN, on Friday.

I was dressed and out the door at 8:40 AM and parked my Subaru in the campus parking garage one hour later.

I walked one block  to the Student Union and although it was a raw day, it seemed as if the sun was shining through the clouds as I passed hundreds of kids dressed in every color of the rainbow.

The vendor and support organization booths were in the Student Union and I quickly found the booth of the Connecticut Outreach Society (COS). I met Janice, who was coordinating the booth and sat next to her to interface with any and all who stopped by.

I worked the booth for about two hours, then took a break to get a cup of coffee. There was a Dunkin' Donuts at the other end of the Union, so that was my destination.

The five minute walk to Dunkin' Donuts took about a 45 minutes because I ran into so many friends and acquaintances along the way. I was surprised how many!

Here is a shout-out to all of them: Angie, Barbara, Diana, Glenn, Holly, Karen, Kelly, Lisa, Lee Ann, Liz, Robin G, Robin M, and Tony.

A lot of trans kids visited our booth. Although COS is intended as a support group for adults, we fielded all the kids' questions and concerns and they seemed to be satisfied customers.

Throughout the day, my Nine West shoes received rave reviews. I lost count how many kids and adults told me, "I love your shoes!"

I wish I could say the same. All was well until about 2 PM when both my feet began to ache. I had a pair of comfortable heels in my car, but I toughed it out by avoiding walking, which was easy to do since I sat at the booth.

Diana and I planned to go to dinner, so we left the Conference around 3 PM and met up at Rein's Deli in Vernon. (I switched to my comfortable heels before leaving the campus and driving to the deli.)

There is a big contrast between the True Colors Conference and Rein's Deli. Whereas the conference was full of TLGB folks and their allies, Rein's was full of civilians, yet we were treated with respect at both venues. None of the staff or other diners at Rein's seemed to give us special notice. Is it because trans are so commonplace and/or accepted in Connecticut that no one pays them any mind or did we blend in so well with the civilians that no one noticed us? I like to think it was the latter, but it is probably a little bit of both.

During the conference, I was talking with another girl about how lucky we were to be living in Connecticut, where diversity is more accepted as well as legally protected. On the other hand, I have never had much trouble anywhere I've traveled en femme, yet I still appreciate living in the Constitution State.

A funny thing about living in Connecticut... when outsiders learn that you are a Connecticut resident, they often think you are rich and live on a multi-acre estate. That is a false impression promulgated by the mass media, particularly Hollywood films.

Yes, there are rich people in Connecticut, just as there are in any other state, but most Connecticut residents are not rich including me. But I digress.

I had one on-the-spot outreach session during the conference. While I was washing my hands and fixing my makeup alone in the ladies' restroom, a high school aged girl walked in and as she passed by, she greeted me with a loud friendly Fonzie-like,  "Eh."

I was surprised by her greeting and was slow with a comeback, but finally replied with, "Eh… it's Friday!"

We exchanged words about how the day was going and then she asked me how I identified.

I responded, "As a woman."

With that she assumed that I was a post-op transsexual and asked me about my surgery and hormone regimen. I enlightened her that I had no surgery and I never took hormones. She admitted that she had just learned something new. (That was the outreach portion of this encounter.)

She then said that I looked "great" and asked my age.

I replied, "Guess" and she immediately responded with "In your 30s."

I told her my age; she was surprised and I was elated.

But thinking back when I was in high school, I recalled that my accuracy at guessing the ages of adults was poor and I am sure most high school kids are in the same boat.

Back then, I ball-parked ages accordion to my relatives' ages. My parents were in their 40s and my grandparents were in their 60s. So according to me, anyone who was not retired and wrinkled was a contemporary of my parents, that is, around 40, whereas anyone who was retired and wrinkled was a contemporary of my grandparents, that is, around 60.

So, I guess that my elation was justified after all.

True Colors Conference

I attended the True Colors Conference at the University of Connecticut on Friday.

Returning home Friday evening, there were issues with Internet access here and I was unable to post anything about the day.

This morning, I have a million things to do, so I will leave you with this photo and promise to fill in the details about the day later.

The photo was taken by Glenn Koetzner using my point and shoot Canon. Glenn is a pretty famous photographer in the TLGB community around here and I was very happy when he acquiesced to my request to take my photo.

More later.

Bridesmaid

This young femulator was a bridesmaid for a womanless wedding fundraiser at his church.

Visit this page on Tumblr for more photos of the pretty young bridesmaid.

(I wish there were photos of the rest of the wedding party!)

Beneath It All

Circa 1963, my mother wore bras and girdles, so they were my foundation garments of choice when I began femulating. (I really had no choice; Mom wore bras and girdles, so that is what I borrowed when I femulated.)

When I mustered up enough courage to purchase my own foundation garments (in person at Frederick's of Hollywood and JCPenney), I stuck with bras and girdles (like mother, like son). However, since I was more Rubenesque than my mother, I bought longline bras and waist cinchers to supplement the girdles.

That combination of foundations suited me well for a very long time.

Then I discovered Spanx shapewear and its copycats. I packed away the girdles and waist cinchers and switched to a variety of Spanx-like shapewear, typically the Bali and Hanes brand knock-offs because Avon sells them and since I am an Avon rep, I can buy them at a discount.

In addition to losing the heavyweight girdles, I also packed away the longline bras because the Bali and Hanes shapewear permits me to wear regular bras like the cute, sexy bras sold by Victoria's Secret ("Hello, Bombshell").

Occasionally, I strap on my heavy-duty corset-like waist cincher if I think I will need a little extra curvature, but normally, Bali or Hanes and Vicky are all I need.

I'd love to hear what you all are wearing beneath it all. (Does anyone still wear a girdle or has everyone switched to Spanx?)

6.125 inches

Ten days ago, I asked "How high?" was the latest ShoeDazzle offering named "Privy."

ShoeDazzle claimed that the shoe's heel was 5.5 inches, but added "that "measurements are approximate and may vary by size."

I surmised that in my size, the heel would be about 7 inches high because larger sizes require higher heels.

I wrote that "I cannot imagine walking in shoes with a 7-inch heel, but I am tempted to order the shoe just to see how really high it is."

I gave into temptation because in addition to my curiosity about the heel's height, the lime-green color of the shoe was a perfect match to a lime-green / white polka dot dress that I own.

The shoes arrived last night and I measured the heel as soon as I opened the shoe box.

The heel is not quite 7 inches high, but pretty close: 6 and 1/8th inches.

After measuring the heel, I slipped on the shoes and I am happy to report that I am able to walk in shoes with a 6.125-inch heel! 

What’s in Storrs for Me on Friday

On Friday, I will be returning to my alma mater, the University of Connecticut, which is the site of the True Colors Conference this weekend.

The Conference focuses on the needs of LGBTQ youth and their allies and thousands of young people and adults from around the country will be in attendance.

I have conducted workshops in the past at the Conference, but I did not get my act together in time this year, so no workshop for me. However, I will be staffing the booth of the Connecticut Outreach Society (COS) throughout the day (that’s me in the photo at the booth in 2009).

If you are attending the Conference, please stop by the booth and say "Hello."

Five Million!

A few minutes ago, the hit counter passed the 5,000,000 mark here on the old Femulate blog.

Thank you all for your patronage!

Best Wishes,

Stana

Call Me Sissy

According to my recollection, the first negative word ever hurled at me was "sissy."

"Sissy" according to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition is "a boy or man regarded as effeminate."

To illuminate that definition, the dictionary defines "effeminate" as "having qualities or characteristics more often associated with women than men; characterized by weakness and excessive refinement."

Yes - that's me. The dictionary could print an image of me next to the printed words to illustrate the definition.

The thing is that the first time I was called a sissy, I had no idea that I was one. All I knew was that I was "me" and I was not intentionally emulating females.

But the name-calling continued. And then there was bullying.

So I figured something was wrong with me and when things really got bad, I eschewed anything feminine.

After things settled down, I went back to my old ways and was myself again comfortably picking and choosing what I liked from the masculine and feminine aisles in that big department store called "Life."

Older and wiser, I eventually ignored the taunting, learned to embrace my self, and became my own man or should I say "woman."

Actually, I am somewhere in between. Circumstances prevent me from being a woman all the time. Some of the time, I am a feminine man and some of the time, I am a feminine woman, so you can call me "sissy;" it's a good fit.

The Million Dollar Question

She's the Man

Like Father, Like Son

Aunty Marlena sent me two links (1 and 2) to the Misster Teen Redfield womanless pageant, which was held at Redfield Junior High School (RJHS) in Arizona.

Visiting the school’s Facebook page, I discovered two links (1 and 2) for the Misster Redfield womanless pageant (Warning: bearded femulators).

Seems that two womanless pageants are conducted on the same night: one for the male students at RJHS and one for the fathers of the students at RJHS.

The femulations were average, but my kudos go out to the student who won the teen division of the pageant. Instead of a wig, his own hair sported a female do and his makeup was perfect (see the accompanying photo).

Blog Minutia

E-mail Backlog

I had two big freelance editing projects to complete recently and in order to meet my deadlines, I had to throw something under the bus. That something was answering e-mails, so for the last ten days or so, e-mails have been piling up unanswered.

I apologize for not answering your e-mails, but something had to give.

The good news is that I buttoned up the last editing project last night and can begin catching up with my e-mails.

Off Thursday

To celebrate the completion of another orbit around the Sun, I am off Thursday, but will return to our normally scheduled programming on Friday.

Trans-Nazis and Trans-Harpies

I attended the IFGE convention in Philadelphia in 2004.

Previous to the convention, I did not get out much en femme. I attended my support group's monthly meetings and occasional outings and I attended First Event a few times.

Back then, my support group and First Event were more oriented towards crossdressers, rather than  transsexuals. Although my support group was a gateway for crossdressers who discovered they were transsexuals (who would then leave to join the local transsexual support group), most of the members were non-transsexual crossdressers. As a result, I did not encounter many transsexuals until I attended the IFGE convention.

The IFGE convention was more oriented towards transsexuals than crossdressers and that's when I encountered my first Trans-Nazi.

Except for the girl who carpooled to Philly with me, I knew nobody at the convention, so I tried to be outgoing and make new friends and acquaintances at the convention.

When I sat down at a random table for our first luncheon, I introduced myself to everyone at the table. Most of the girls responded in kind, but a couple gave me the cold shoulder; they were a couple of post-op transsexuals with bleached blond hair and lots of plastic surgery (they must have used the same plastic surgeon because they looked like twins, although they were not related). They ignored everyone else at the table and eventually, we gave up trying to be social with them and ignored them in kind.

They were the first, but not the last Trans-Nazis I encountered at the convention. "No respect for you," was their unspoken refrain.

I met a lot of nice friendly people at the IFGE convention, both transsexual and non-transsexual, but the attitude of the Trans-Nazis in attendance was a turn-off.

Did they think they were better women than me because they cut off their penises and ingested hormones?

The Trans-Nazi phenomena was an eye-opener. I always thought we were all sisters in the same boat and should help each other traveling through troubled waters, but some of our sisters would just as soon dump some of us off the side without a life preserver.

I encountered my first Trans-Harpy after this blog began attracting attention. A Trans-Harpy is a Trans-Nazi who writes a blog or comments on other people's blogs (usually anonymously).

The Trans-Harpies are worse than the Trans-Nazis; whereas a Trans-Nazi will just ignore non-post-op transgenders, the Trans-Harpy verbally abuses non-post-op transgenders with hateful words. 

Shame on them!

I try to live and let live. As long as you don't tread on me or my loved ones, live your life as you will and let me live mine.

Why Would Anyone Want To Be A Woman?

Reading "Why I Decided To Become A Woman" yesterday reminded me of an encounter I had with an old friend last May at the Dayton Hamvention.

At Dayton, I sought out old ham radio friends and acquaintances in order to come out to them.

One friend, who I had known for over 30 years was pleased to see me once he recognized me en femme.

He listened attentively to my story. Then he asked some questions, which I answered.

Finally he said to me, "Why would anyone want to be a woman?"

My jaw dropped. I felt like everything I had said to him had gone in one ear and out the other.

It was not a choice. I didn't decide one day that I needed a change of pace and would become a woman. I didn't decide to become transgender to spice up my life.

Life would be so much easier if I was not transgender... if I was not a woman who found herself in a male body.

Like Joy Ladin wrote, "There’s nothing so bad about being a man... as long as you’re a man.”

I'm certainly not a man. That explains why I feel uncomfortable when en homme, but at ease when en femme. 

And so it goes.  

Why I Decided To Become A Woman

And what’s so bad about being a man?

Good reading!

A Huffington Post excerpt from "Through the Door of Life: A Jewish Journey Between Genders" by Joy Ladin [University of Wisconsin Press, $26.95]

Time Flies

It seems like I just finished my Christmas shopping and here it is, March 5, with less than four weeks to go before the big T event of the year in this part of the world.

On the evening of Saturday, March 31, I will be attending the annual Connecticut Outreach Society (COS) banquet at the Four Points Sheraton in the Meriden, CT with about 75 other trans ladies and their guests.

I bought a new evening gown and pair of shoes for the event. I picked out the song I will perform during the entertainment portion of the banquet. And I mailed in my check to confirm my registration. So, I am all set and look forward to the gala gal affair.

I hope you will join me at the banquet; I guarantee that you will have a great time. For more information and a downloadable registration form, visit the COS website and click on the big red link.

I'd Order A "Pink Lady"

How High?!

Have you noticed how high heels are getting higher?

I am not one to shy away from high heels. Typically, 3 or 4-inch heels adorn my feet.

Last year, I joined ShoeDazzle, which is a book-of-the-month club for shoes. Since I joined, most of their heels have hovered around the 4-inch mark, but as spring approached, I noticed that their heels were getting higher.

On March 1st, I received an e-mail (like I do the first of every month) revealing my ShoeDazzle selections for March. I was taken aback by the heel height of some of the selections, particularly the shoe named "Privy" (see photo) with its 5.5-inch heel.

ShoeDazzle notes that "measurements are approximate and may vary by size." The larger the shoe size, the higher the heel, which means in my size (the largest that ShoeDazzle offers), Privy's heel is probably 7 inches or more!

I cannot imagine walking in shoes with a 7-inch heel, but I am tempted to order the shoe just to see how really high it is.

Shooting Yourself

I understand that some transgirls take photos of themselves when they are en femme!

Really! Did you ever hear of such a thing?*

Seriously, I take photos of myself en femme nearly every time I femulate. I do it for two reasons:

1. To feed this blog. (The blog is hungry for photos and it must be fed.)

2. To see if my femulation is good, bad, or in-between. (Photos are more revealing than a mirror.)

Self photography is an art. I probably discard half the self-photos I take because there is something technically wrong with them (usually related to focus, framing and/or lighting).

Having tinkered with self-photography for over 40 years, I could write forever on the topic, but why re-invent the wheel when somebody already invented it.

Jennine Jacob, founder of the Independent Fashion Bloggers, wrote How to Take Gorgeous Self Portraits. She uses the same cameras as I do, so I can attest to the truth of what she wrote. At the end of her post are links to other related posts that you can provide additional help.

Have Fun!

* Which reminds me of a joke: How many transgirls does it take to change a light bulb? The answer is three. One to climb the ladder to change the light bulb, one to steady the ladder, and one to take photos of the event.

Does it come in his size?