Thursday, October 08, 2009

Something happened at the salon I “frequent” tonight that I wanted to write about. I’ve had the same stylist for about ten years. She went through my first transition to Tina, has been there as I decided to transition back to find “gainful employment” and so on. She is terrific, and even though I don’t really socialize a lot with her, I have gone to see her son play basketball and baseball, football and wrestling. So, I consider her a friend.

The salon has always been a safe place for me. In fact, it is a huge part of my “entertainment” budget. I don’t go to expensive shows or out for bar crawls (that has never been my “thing”), so I spend my money on treatments. Nothing overboard, but tonight I got my nails done.

Okay, here is the point of this blog: all the staff “know.” They have seen me as recently as three months ago in male mode. Tonight while getting my nails done, one of the stylists came by and called me “he.” That normally would just be very destructive to my ego, and perhaps it will be. But it got me to thinking about it.

Those who know about us have a concept in their minds of who we are. As long as they care for us and are not doing it to be mean, we have to understand that these things are going to happen. That doesn’t mean we have to like it, but we do have to accept it. She felt bad about it. She felt worse because I admitted that it played to my insecurity about not passing.

The reality is that people who “know” have a challenge. They have to change their concept of who we are. We need to cut them some slack while at the same time not letting it hurt us anymore than it naturally will. That is a tough combination. If I didn’t know that this salon is a safe place and that all the women want to treat me with respect, I might feel different. Instead, I try to just smile, knowing that although it still does hurt, they don’t mean it that way…it was merely a slip.

One of my friends from chat was sad yesterday because someone she considered a friend (I think) told her she was ugly. My friend is not ugly. Like most of us, she isn’t a 19 year old beauty queen. She is retired from her job (I met her six years ago while I was having surgery with Dr. Toby). That person calling her ugly played on her fears. She cried. First of all, no one should say such a thing to someone…and it says more about the person making the comments than my friend. I got similar comments from my father who added that my voice was a joke, and that this would never work.

It preys on our insecurities, and if we allow it to it will eat us alive. I know my friend well enough to predict that she will have had a good cry about it (like any woman would) and then get up and face another day with the dignity and compassion that are a part of her nature. At least I hope so.

In closing, I’m trying to find a way to transition at work. I have my therapist making discrete inquiries…at least she has said she will (it has been almost a week and she has been busy and hasn’t gotten a chance to do it…and or course I’m impatient, because waiting for her to find out is like water torture to me!).

Now it is time to end this message…the moral is to love yourself, not let comments from people permanently scar you. Easier said than done, but a lesson for each and everyone.