Tag Archive | Make-up

And yet another

20160824_150210It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I’m still alive, though extremely exhausted. Work has been brutal these past two weeks, and I don’t see it letting up anytime soon. I could use some time off. I should look into scheduling a vacation.

Things on the Stefani front is still about the same. I did bring someone else into the fold, my cousin. It began when she brought up a guy we went to school with, someone I always wondered if he was transgendered. There was something about him that made me suspect that he was.

That conversation led me to disclose my own gender identity, though I was nervous to do so. I opened myself up to her, and we ended up talking until after midnight. She was surprised by supportive. I showed her a picture, and she was amazed that I didn’t come across a some drag queen. I took that as a compliment.

Earlier, I had wondered out loud whether I should grow my hair back out, and she pieced it together, that my desire to grow my hair was an extension of my gender identity, and my loathing for wigs. She then made the suggestion that I should try to use extensions instead.

We talked clothing, makeup, and other girl things, which I found quite strange, but oddly satisfying. I could drop all pretenses and be me. It was great. I felt free, happy that at least I have an ally in the family. She did agree with me that my parents would never accept me, nor would my sister, but that’s a longer conversation.

What I hate is that I don’t have ample time to me Stef, only the occasional stolen moments. A friend asked me if I intended to transition, and all I could say is that I didn’t know. I’ve maintained that I had no intentions to do so, but this pull is getting stronger, and though I’m unwilling at the moment to say that I will do so, I have to concede that it is a possibility.

I don’t have to make up my mind yet. I can still dress when I have the chance. It’s the best I can do, and it’s fine for the time being. I have found some measure of peace whenever I do get to dress. I have found happiness, though only for brief moments of time.

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The transformation

stefThe ritual begins with a quick shower. Depending on what I plan to wear, I may shave my legs, or I may decide against it, but I usually do. Even if I’m just wearing jeans, I like the feel of pantyhose on freshly shaven legs. And yes, I usually wear pantyhose, even in jeans. I love the way they feel.

After I’m out of the shower, I’ll go into the bedroom and start to dress. I try to avoid looking at myself in the mirror at this point because all I see is a middle-aged man staring back at me. Once I’m finished dressing, I’ll put on my shoes and then head to the mirror to do my make up. I have no choice but to look at myself at this point.

Looking into the mirror, I’m confronted with ridiculousness of the sight. I’m 39, clean shaven, and after almost fifteen years, I feel naked without my goatee. I steel myself and prep my face and then begin my ritual. I like to present a natural appearance, so my make-up is minimal yet necessary. I apply concealer to my beard area that doesn’t quite hide everything, but I’m still searching for the right products that work with my face.

I pat my foundation on, followed by my powder. Next I being working on my eyes. I’m using liquid eye-liner at the moment, and it’s interesting to use, but I still haven’t quite mastered the technique. I fumble forward and apply my eye shadow, followed by mascara. Once done, I brush on some blush, apply a second layer of powder to set everything in, and finally I’ll do my lips.

I glance into the mirror to see my handiwork, and I feel silly. I’m the clown in my own private hell. I close my eyes before I turn to walk away. I glance at the full-length mirror and catch the middle-aged creep staring back at me, looking like the laughing stock I feel at that moment.

I slip on my wig cap, followed by my wig, and the man disappears. It’s at that moment that I emerge, no longer silly, no longer ridiculous, but a woman as I feel I am. I touch up hair, give my make-up a once over, then I step in front of the mirror and I’m looking into an alternate reality, one where the person looking back at me is the person I know I am. I feel beautiful and I’m mesmerized by the look of contentment that appears on her face. It’s the same look I know I’m radiating.

In that moment when I slip on my wig, I’m transformed, and I’m aware of the transformation. It washes over me and I become a new person, a happier person. I pause before stepping out of the bedroom and into the living room to show my friend, and she usually gasps appreciatively. I’m complete.

I take a few pictures of myself, selfies to memorialize the stolen moments I have away from the prying eyes of society. I share them online, a concession to my need to be accepted by my peers. A few make unwelcome comments, a little to sexual, a little too graphic. Sometimes they are desperate pleas for attention. I’m cautious about who I reveal myself to. I don’t hesitate to block those who make me uncomfortable. I’m not here to be someone’s fetish.

I remain me for a few hours before I peel away the layers and the magic fades into memory. I come down from my momentary high, back too this haze of oppression by body locks me in. I look at the pictures, and I read the comments online, smiling as I think about how happy I feel being Stefani. I envy those who have had the strength to go full time, to transition completely. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.

But for a few hours I got to be me, and it was glorious!

An unexpected sick day

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Things are looking up – or at least I am! Stefani Lara 2015

What a day! I went to work as scheduled, but I didn’t remain long. As I was about the step out of my car, I got a dizzy spell. It sucked! I don’t like missing work, so I decided to soldier on, like a good little employee, hoping the spell would pass. It didn’t While at the morning meeting, while our manger stood there leading our stretches, I mentioned the fact that I was dizzy to a co-worker who turned around and told our manager as soon as the meeting was over. I stood there, holding on the counter behind me, trying to maintain my balance. He sent me home.

I called a friend, feeling that I wouldn’t make it all the way home, and she let me crash at her place. I slept for several hours, confirming in my mind that I was most likely suffering from exhaustion. It happens from time to time, but thankfully not that often. When I finally got out of bed, she asked if I was hungry, which I wasn’t really, but I knew that I needed to eat to get my strength back up. Of course, I paid.

Afterwards, we went shopping. We hit a few stores, but money is a little tight, so all I bought was a blouse and a camisole. We went back to her place, and after deliberating whether or not to dress up, I did. Once again, she did my make-up, explaining all the steps she was taking to put me together, all the while discussing the different brands of make-up I should try, reserving what she uses herself until I gain some proficiency putting it onto myself.

I stayed dressed for all afternoon until I decided to come home. The more I dress up, the more comfortable I become with myself. It’s a wonderful sensation to lounge around as the woman I wish I were. I stepped out a bit into the hall way of her apartment, wishing I had the courage to walk out and into the light of the world, but I’m not ready yet. It’s scary, don’t you know, and I don’t want to rush my journey. I’m only now discovering who I am, and why share it prematurely?

My face is naked!

My face feels so naked! I don’t like it. I shaved my beard and mustache off for the first time in ten years, and I look weird. I realize they had to go since I didn’t want to be the bearded lady, but I’ve sported them for so long. “Steve” will certainly take a while to get used to the look and the feel.

Stefani, of course, is ecstatic. I can’t wait for my next opportunity to get dressed, and maybe start trying on makeup again. I’ll need to figure out how to do fix myself up again, and I’ll need a good concealer and what color do I need? Oh I have a lot of work to do! I need a TG-friendly cosmetic consultant. I NEED HELP!

Baby steps…. That is my mantra of the moment. Baby steps…. I’m making strides in accepting myself. I feel no real shame that I am what I am…, or who I am. I may be “Steve,” but I’m Stefani, too. I’m learning to love that aspect of myself. Every day is a new discovery of what that means.