It’s Friday, so shall I try and get my sh** together this time? 😉
Last night was the first night out in a weeks. Well, okay, first trans night out, I should add. I was, oddly, not quite sure about going. Sure, I wanted to catch up with everyone, but it was the getting ready that I wasn’t really sold on. But, as I tell myself when I’m packing a bag, hollow point or subsonic match? No, ah, sorry, that’s the other blog. 🙂 Silliness aside, I tell myself, you’ll be okay when you get there…. which, so far, has served me well.
It’s only been a month, or so, but it felt like longer. It did seem rather odd, looking in the mirror and slowly making myself up into my other look. I won’t say alter-ego, because I don’t consider myself to be two people (No, I don’t do I? – No, Mrs. – As you were, Jones…). Maybe a person with two very different styles of dress, but so it goes. The concept of mirrors came up in a piece a fellow blogger, Jonathan – of Male Femme – had written. He emailed me and asked if I’d have a read, before he sent it off. I won’t spoil any of it for you, well, other than saying I thought it was very thought provoking (in a good way).
One line was “I can’t remember any transvestite writing about the mirror…” and I found myself thinking on this, before moving along with the rest of the section. I think, I have a love/hate relationship with the mirror…..
On good days, I look in and I see a man. A man getting slightly thinner on top and rounder around the middle. I see laughter lines and I see an earring and I don’t mind what I see. Sometimes, I look in the mirror, and he’s doing his best to look female. He’s wearing a wig, make-up too and it isn’t too heavy. The clothes are working and maybe, there’s even a hint of a smile. In either world, things are good.
On bad days…. neither image is right. The man looks tired. Not just physically, but in the eyes – as if the light is muted, like that of a cloudy day. Best look away now, don’t dwell on the negative. Don’t think about what you’d prefer, wishing solves nothing. His eyebrows are too trim, he looks camp. Sometimes, he’s half made-up: a face full of slap half done, and he’s not happy with how it’s going. He sighs heavily, ploughs on, hoping that if he keeps going, if he could just get the eyes right, or the foundation blended, that maybe, just maybe, he’ll look like he feels within.
On very good days, I look in the mirror and I’m happy with who I am. I don’t see a woman, but I do see a trans person happy with their appearance. That makes me feel confident and I can walk tall, knowing I’m okay…..
How we – no, nix that – how I perceive myself, that’s a tricky thing to define. I did say ‘we’, but I think I shouldn’t write on anyone’s behalf, after all, I don’t really know what goes on in your head. I do use a mirror to check how I look and – dare I say it? – in trans mode, I’ll use it to see if I pass muster. Not ‘pass’ as in pass as a woman, I’m not sure I ever will and I think worrying about that is just a hiding to nowhere. No, for me, the mirror is a tool I use to grade my own appearance. Do I find myself attractive? No. Do I feel I look attractive? Again, no and I’m not looking to attract anyone. What I am looking for – or even, more accurately is, am I dressed in an attractive – as in, acceptable, cool, presentable – way? Do I look a mess, or do I look okay? When it all comes together, the mood, the make-up, the clothes: maybe I feel I look pretty…. and pretty, is pretty good 😉