Transition

Tranny Get Your Gun

I might have mentioned how angry hormones can make me. Not always specifically but there is one thing that always makes my blood boil.

To be misgendered. After two plus years I think I might have finally earned She and Her. Mostly even strangers can manage that much.

But still, sometimes, the desperately uneducated push that button. The last time was less than a week ago. Two 17 or 18 year old youths watched me walk past. As I did, I heard one ask his cloth eared companion “Is that a poof?”. Americans should read gay or faggot there.

For one brief second my propensity for imagined violence was very much at the fore. I felt utter rage. Not at the comment and not that it was very publicly vocal. It was just inaccurate and blatantly unfair.

I wanted to scream ” No, it’s a fucking transsexual, since you ask”. But it’s a pointless argument I cannot win with that sort of idiot. Ever. And to rise to the bait is sort of self defeating.

It was short lived anyway. Two minutes later I walked into a bar with a female friend. Greeted with a cheery “Are you ladies in for food or just drinks?”. And all was well with the world again.

I am usually unassailable because my sense of humour is mostly self deprecating. I have the kind of friends who poke fun without mercy. As it should be amongst real friends. And it’s always made my journey easier than I thought it would be.

But if you are going to call me names in public? I can do so much better. Really. I am the shemale in my blog title. My gender has definitely been through the blender. But I am proudly and defiantly a chick with a dick. How dare anyone comment on me behind my back, like the cowards they are. And expect to keep their teeth. No, in the end, hormones don’t seem to have affected me at all. I’m as level headed in the face of adversity as ever. And “You’re going to die clown!”.

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