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How To Tell If Your Man is Really a Woman

“How to Tell if Your Man is Really a Woman!” Sounds like great blub for the cover of Cosmo, situated right beneath Zooey Deschanel’s armpit. I love her by the way. I can’t say if this has ever been an article or not for as you all know, most of these posts are hastily written, and even more hastily researched. I’m doing a PowerPoint presentation, replying to an email, and listening to someone tell me something I clearly don’t find important even as I write this. If it really was an article in Cosmo, Marie Clare, or even 17, it should not have been. Whoever wrote it doesn’t know a thing.

That doesn’t change the fact that it is something every heterosexual cisgender woman would really like to know. I don’t blame them one bit either. There are a lot of really good reasons for that. In terms of base animal attraction, there are a whole lot more late night fantasies playing about Channing Tatum than Cpl Klinger from M.A.S.H. I’m not saying it never happens, but come on. In the hetero female world shirtless Diet Coke guy always beats guy in a dress. That obviously excludes shirtless Diet Coke guy wrestling himself into a pair of Spanx after hitting the Old Country Buffet. Hetero women, cis or trans, tend to gravitate toward more masculine men. Even Sheldon Cooper comes in way above a trans woman, even when she was originally perceived to be a gentle yet commanding powerhouse of a dude.

Finding out you married a trans woman also comes off as a great big ‘fuck you’ to a whole lot of life planning. This is especially true in marriage. Everyone gets married with the expectation that this is it, no more having to worry about dating, ‘the scene’, and attempting to penetrate the confounding intricacies or lack thereof of yet another male brain. The thought itself is exhausting. Marrying, and especially having kids with, a trans woman is essentially the presentation of a huge complex problem for any woman, no matter what she decides to do with it. Suddenly she’s got to share the mirror, get constantly asked if her partner looks OK, go to countless family and friends and declare “well he, I mean she, sure got me!”, and all the other fun stuff. Plus the once big strong man who used to be able to carry in all the groceries in one trip now has to call some guy just to move a set of shelves.

Honestly, it goes on from there. I could probably spend all day on this. The point is that my razor sharp perception is that the vast majority of women sure would love way to see this kind of thing coming well before diving in too deep. As far as I can tell, however, there isn’t. At least not unless the trans woman in question is right on the hairy edge of being self realized and doing something about it. “But why Michelle? I mean all you do is go on and on about all the fricking signs that you were trans from the time you were like 4. Were these not big whooping red warning signs?” Yeah… now they look like that, but at the time they were sunk a mile beneath the earth in an abandoned mine shaft, cemented over, with rabid baboons posted miles away from the entrance.

I know I’ve said it before, but it can’t hurt to drag out again. If I didn’t know, you sure weren’t going to figure it out. Unlike the legendary gaydar, we can’t spot each other either. There was a trans woman sitting 20 feet away from my office just as I was starting to figure myself out. No facial hair, long beautiful hair, breasts, and I even thought she was a girl until I saw her male name, and failed spectacularly in putting the facts together. My chance of telling if someone is trans is as good as yours. Having the body of, plus being raised and cultured as, the wrong gender is the world’s greatest camouflage. Jack Byrnes, the living lie detector, would have passed me with flying colors.

“Bullshit Michelle, your stories are rife with clues! Share much?” Um, no. I sure didn’t. I should have, but even now looking back, there was no chance of that happening. I don’t know if it’s a form of super OCD, or something else all together, but I would have happily submitted myself to endless water boarding rather than ever breath a word of it. Exceptionally terrible things would have happened. Like the worst thing ever plus infinity. I don’t know why I thought that, but it was the stuff of nightmares, frequent ones, for well over 35 years. Even so, we minimize it all to the most trivial of unimportance. “Me dress female? Well, maybe once or twice, but only as a lark. Just a fun little diversion to take my mind off the Bills crap ass season.” Never mind the four cubic yards of clothes crammed in every hiding spot.

Getting back to the main point, there will never be an accurate article with this title because there simply can’t be. Even the most powerful psychiatric tools available are wholly and completely dependent on the person being ready to acknowledge the truth and answer honestly and openly about it. To even the trained and highly experienced professional, it’s a grueling process. So sorry my cis sisters, if I could tell you I would in a heartbeat, but in truth you are just playing the odds. At least they are heavily in your favor.

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About michellelianna

I'm a transgender woman now in the maintenance stages of transition having all the electrolysis and surgery one can reasonably be expected to undertake. While busy exploring my new world, I took to blogging about it with dubiously popular results. I don't have quite as much to say as I used to, but I'm not quite done yet either.

15 responses »

  1. Reblogged this on I am Deanna and commented:
    I had to share this one because it made my day and I couldn’t have said it better myself.

    Reply
  2. I’ve got to hand it to you, Michelle, that once again you have made my day and I’m sure my neck and cheek muscles are going to have to pay the price by the end of it.

    My two older brothers were diagnosed with “adult onset diabetes” a few years ago so I can one-up them both now with my “late adult onset transsexualism” which sounds a whole lot “cheekier” to me than some other sub-category used in the latest version of the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual) to describe those of us who didn’t exhibit any outward or even apparently clear inward indications of our “disease” as children, adolescents or even as middle-aged adults.

    I can tell you for a fact that I sure didn’t see this coming a year ago, but here I am well on my way to a life of wholeness I could have never imagined in my wildest dreams, of which I can also honestly say, I’ve had my fair share.

    Deanna

    Reply
    • Great comparison sister! You know, I used to be OK with our “condition” being in the DSM, but honestly, I’m starting to resent it a bit. Oh, I get it that it is to provide us help via insurance coverage, but that is for a couple of years and we then have this tag on us for life.

      Just curious, did you have no clues, or just occasional ones that you managed to stuff back down in there and forget they existed? Everyone’s experience is different and I’m always interested in knowing how it all worked.

      Love, Michelle

      Reply
  3. I was at work one day, walking from one building to another. It was hot as hell out side and I just a few days before told everyone that I felt I was a transsexual and I was now, finely going to do something about it and it hit me. Wow I could literally hide from myself, something the size of a bus, in my bedroom all my life, walk around it and and not even notice it, WOW! If I could do this to myself I don’t think anyone else had a chance of knowing. My wife would never married a transsexual in a million years, now that shes hooked and loves the hell out of me it’s working out for me, I hope it in the long run works out for her too. I will continue to do my best by her, understand the dynamics of our relationship has changed and though out the old way of looking at it and make a new. So far it’s working and I hope it keeps on. That is, I think the biggest puzzle for the people around us to try to put together. “How did I not see this, no way” your crazy I’m not a lesbian fuck that!! Anyway that’s the way it came down at the Detty’s house. A very good post Michelle.
    Hugs
    Tedie

    Reply
    • I kind of messed that up at the end, I hope you can make sense of it

      Reply
    • Oh, it came down that way in the Wolf house as well, to a degree. We all land somewhere between hopelessly clueless and malevolently deceptive. That I simply couldn’t let myself fully know, or speak of it, even given every opportunity, makes no sense at all in the cisgender world. It’s very frustrating having no words other than, “yeah, I really did kind of suck with that, didn’t I?” Every analogy is picked apart for inaccuracy and can’t stand the scrutiny because it is inherently erroneous the moment it sees daylight. I don’t know if there is a way, so in the mean time we endure as best we can. 🙂

      Love, Michelle

      Reply
  4. Pingback: The End of the Beginning | I Hate Roller Coasters

  5. I myself found that the “rabid baboons” were enough to put me off trying to get deeper and more affirming about my “identity” and “feelings”. After all who wants a out of control primate throwing bananas? It seems sound to turn tail and run away…

    Identifying who you really are is rather like going through that proverbial closet and in between the corset collection and the naughty nighties is a jigsaw puzzle. There’s no image to guide you, you just keep examining the pieces and trying to fit them together. Some make sense and fit easily, some don’t and you have to keep trying, over and over, until the intersections make sense and then *snap* it’s in place. The more you piece together the more you get an idea what you are looking at as a whole.

    Michelle this is a wickedly funny blog and I shall be sure to keep following you and reading, reading, reading. Well, it helps pass the time because staring at all these jigsaw pieces is about to drive me bananas and I have enough of them about from those rapid baboons target practice sessions! 🙂

    Reply
    • Bananas I wish! 🙂 Samantha, you totally nailed my own experience to a tee! I had my own jigsaw puzzle moment, which I like to compare to the “grand realization” moment in ‘The Usual Suspects’ with my own true identity playing the Kevin Spacey role. All the information was right around me, but I was oblivious. Ugh. Impossible not to feel like a fool.

      Thank you so much for the lovely compliments! Printing out these posts and throwing at the baboons is great fun, just so you know. 🙂

      Love, Michelle

      Reply
  6. Michelle I agree that the signs are not visible, even sometimes we see the “rabid baboons” (I laughed really hard at that) and go well, best not go *there*… it’s one of those things where you realize jammed over in the corner of a closet, crammed in between a corset collection and a few naughty nighties is a jigsaw puzzle. There’s no picture to describe the end result. One must just start picking up the pieces, start generating ideas and start putting the parts together where they fit. Where they don’t, put them down and pick up something new, until a developing picture begins to emerge.

    This is such good writing, enjoyable and fun to read. It brought be a lot of smiles and laughs, but also a lot of nodding and understanding. You speak the honest, outright truth and that can’t be surpassed by any other feelings than awe and respect. Wonderful work. I am definitely going to be following your blog!!

    Reply
  7. Michelle, great piece!
    In reading this, it reminds me of the “boys wear blue, and girls wear pink” notion we all grew up with. Our generation was not quite on the brink of a free thinking society. However today’s children are far more free to express themselves more adequately than we were, generally speaking of course…
    Transdar, hmmmmm not sure it exisits as of yet either, although I am positive some scientist is working on a patend for it, or at least a trademark.
    Late on-set transsexualism, as I like to refer to our situation, tht being the self realizations of someone over 30?, is something amazing. We grow up knowing there is something askew, however we are terrified to come out with it, not even knowing why. Just knowing that “there is something wrong with us and we are probably the only ones like us”, or should I say me? Fact is, we learn to play our phyical gender role so well tht we even fool ourselves for a while. And if we can fool ourselves then fooling others should be a no brainer. Finally we can no longer keep inside who we really are and it comes out imploding our lives, and in most cases devastating our lives, our families, and our wives, or husbands. It is a cruel joke, tht makes a mockery to the ppl we married in good faith, and earnest trust.
    Every time I see the younger generation coming out sooner, I applaud them and cheer the fact that Transdar will not be required by their potential partners. Although the younger generation more than likely could go stealth, which could cause problems down the road, I believe they are much more open about themselves.
    Michelle sorry for clogging yr blogging but you really hit home with this piece, and I just couldn’t stop lol.I am sure I could ramble on forever on this point and the tangents associated with it. But I will stop here.
    Love and Huggs Kristine

    Reply
    • Thank you so much Kristine! You know, your thoughts on it match mine so perfectly that I would swear we grew up but a few blocks from each other. 🙂

      I think that the generations after us do have a much better chance of being themselves before this late onset business and all the damaging complications that come with it. I am absolutely thrilled for them! Wouldn’t it be nice if one day they could just identify us at birth and act accordingly?

      We have to get together sooner than later sweetie!

      Love and big hugs, Michelle

      Reply
  8. I’m going to break the rules and post on something very similar to you today. I have been working on a post about the reasons behind the long process that we have to go through to prove ourselves to the world. Tomorrow is my big psychiatric evaluation. A lot of it talks about how good we hid ourselves.

    I’ll leave you the rabid baboons line, although it is brilliant and I really do want to steal it.

    As usual, extremely well said, and very funny. Now get back to work!

    Love,

    Becky

    Reply

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