I virtual pass!

Hooray for me! Whilst surfing the web, I came across a site that analyses web sites to determine if content is written by a woman or a man. It is believed that men and women use different vocabularies and have different writing styles which is relatively easy to analyse. I find this quite interesting since it is another subtle gender clue or tool that can be used by any of you t-girls or guys out there that are concerned with passing. People are, after all, complex beings and there are many pieces to the puzzle. 


My curiosity couldn't be withheld and I had to have my blog analysed. Right now, it thinks with 65% certainty that this blog is written by a woman. Yay for me! I pass! 
http://genderanalyzer.com/?url=www.fillysfrolics.blogspot.com

Filly's Frolic #13

I stumbled through my front door, collapsing on the floor and gasping for air. Bathed in sweat, I lay with my arms outstretched and began stretching my tired legs. I had just completed my run for the morning. Now that it was no longer freezing or pouring with rain every morning, I had decided to get my regular morning runs happening again. The weather this morning did not disappoint and whilst it was not exactly sunny or warm, it was at least tolerable if not pleasant for a coolish spring morning. If I was to get my tummy in check and lose the kilos I had mysteriously put on during the week, I could not afford to be too fussy about the weather I exercised in.



After I stretched and cooled down, I staggered into the shower to get ready for the day as I had to get ready for my blow wave appointment at my friend's salon. It was training time again and I was lucky enough to be the training model for one of the girls. She gets a model to train on and I get a free blow wave; I'm not going to argue with that. Her goal today was to complete the blow wave in an allocated appointment time. Understandably, it can be hard enough learning the correct techniques let alone doing them quickly, but the salon obviously can't allow hair dressers to take as much time as they want. 


She was definitely improving though. Between giggles, she mentioned that her arms weren't getting sore from holding the brushes and dryer all afternoon. Additionally, I had become accustomed to feeling the hot hair from the dryer turn into a searing heat against my scalp. A jerk away, possibly combined with a slight yelp, would signal to her that she had burned me with the dryer. Today, it didn't happen once! She was definitely getting better. The result was wonderful as usual but she still needed to work on her speed. No matter, I can always come back and model again another day!


What was more important was that I now had a fabulous hairstyle that I needed to show off somewhere. The weather had deteriorated to a miserable and wet day so it had to be indoors. I therefore headed to the self-proclaimed fashion capital that is Chadstone Shopping Centre. I was sure I would fit right in with my lovely blow wave, my new skinny ripped jeans, black heels, a white t-shirt with a black rose print and my wonderful bluish black jacket. 


I meandered through the centre, keeping my eye out for any bargains, and as I moved from shop to shop I noticed the two young men walking towards me. They were involved in a conversation but apparently I had distracted one of them. He had shiftily started staring at me, unbeknown to his friend who was still chatting away. I looked at him playfully and smiled. As they passed I realised he couldn't see me smile since the part of my body that he was staring at doesn't smile. I rolled my eyes and sighed whilst continuing my shopping without missing a step.


Several shops later, an older asian lady sneered and looked disapprovingly at my jeans. I sneered back. I thought of my parents who would probably not approve of me spending money on jeans that were torn. It was ok, I don't take fashion advice from them either... 


It wasn't long before I came across my shopping centre fear - the kiosk sales people. In an ever so familiar scenario, one of them held his hand out in front of me with a free sachet of skin cream as he greeted me and asked me to take it. I knew I would be doomed but I couldn't say no and I walked straight into his trap. He proceeded to ask me about what skin care products I use, then asked where I was from.
"What you have done, it must be hard", he said suddenly in his broken english with an eastern european accent.
I was stunned. Was he really saying what I thought he was saying? I felt a lump rising in my throat as heart began to sink in a newly formed hole. I cocked my head to the side and looked at him blankly. 
"Huh?", was all I could manage.
"You have done something. Yes?", he replied gesturing his arms up and down towards my body. His voice was a little unsure now ad he was probably second guessing his original assessment. 


I had been waiting for something like this to happen. Waiting for someone to acknowledge that they knew that I had transitioned instead of just hiding behind a silent stare. Acknowledge me in an affirming way and letting me communicate with them. "How did you know? What were the giveaways?", I would ask. I would be able to speak to someone with an unbiased opinion and find out how people in the public really see me. We would talk and the support of a stranger would be golden.


But I had been taken off guard. Confusion ran through my mind and I could not pull my thoughts together. I felt as if all my old fears were suddenly rising up again and all I wanted to do was just make them all go away. Time seemed to stretch on for eternity as I started at him and he looked back, increasingly apprehensively, waiting for an answer to his question. I began to shake my head and as I mouthed "No" I felt the twinge of regret running down my spine that was soon disintegrated by the cold stigma of cowardice. I had denied myself.


"Oh", said the salesman reservedly, then, recovering in lightning speed, he added "Can I show you this exfoliating cream?"
"No, I don't need any more of that right now", I lied as a backed away. At the very least, I had found an exit and I was taking it. He didn't try to keep me there and I managed to get away without buying anything.


As I walked back to my car, I reviewed what had just happened. Someone had extended sympathy towards me and I had rejected it. Embroiled in fear, my character had shown through and I was not happy with what I saw. I was a liar and I felt like a traitor, letting myself down and the trans-community down. I kicked myself mentally. Was I ashamed of who I am? Why did I let what other people think affect my thoughts and feelings so much? This was not the person I wanted to be. The questions and thoughts swirled through my head and, as I started my car and began to drive home, I knew they would not be easily answered.

Filly's Frolic #11

I returned my attention just as the young checkout girl lowered another plastic bag onto the pickup area. My brows furrowed as something about the bag seemed a little odd. It only contained one bottle! Where were the other two, I wondered as my gaze darted amongst my bags of groceries. My furrowed brow transformed into a single lifted brow above wide eyes and dropped jaw as I realised she had packed three bottles in three separate bags. As a stood there with my jaw gaping, I startled myself back into action as I remembered that I was supposed to loading these bags into my trolley and the girl had almost finished scanning all my groceries. I quickly lifted each bag and placed it carefully into my trolley, only to realise that I had the loaded half a dozen bags in the time it took her to scan two items. No, she wasn't the fastest bee in the hive. No matter, a few swipes and signatures later and I was on my way.


I made my way through the shopping centre, pushing the trolley and trying to guide it around the dawdlers using whatever strength and lack of grip I could muster. After years of only buying rubber soled shoes that had a deeper tread than a four wheel drive, I was now walking in tread-less boots that had as much grip as an ice cube in a glass. Suddenly, an asian lady walking the other way decides that she might walk diagonally across the aisle towards whatever she is looking at and in doing so, walks right in front of my trolley. My heart skips a beat and I try to haul my trolley to a stop as the useless soles of my boots skid straight across the floor. I catch a heel and almost fall over but manage to use the trolley to save myself just in time. Now I know what truck drivers must feel like.


"Whatever happened to looking where you are walking?!", I yell in my head. Far be in from me to actually yell in public... unless I'm really angry.. like, The Hulk angry. "In fact, what ever happened to looking at ME??" I've been getting used to people glancing at me and then having the double take or just plain staring, wondering how I dare show my face in public like this. But, this lady had the gall to walk in front of my trolley without even looking at me! I stared at her as she turned to look at the trolley that had stopped just centimetres from spelling her doom. She glanced at the trolley and then looked at me with disdain as if to admonish me for the way I was pushing my trolley. Then she looked towards another shop window ahead and started on her way again. 


"What?? No double take??? No second glance????", I thought to myself as I stared after her. She turned back to look at me and I thought my old fears were about to be upheld. Instead, her gaze was different and she looked at me indignantly as if to ask "What are you looking at?", then she looked away and was soon gone. 


Once again, I began pushing my trolley though the mall but now my pace was different since I was preoccupied with what had just happened and the irony of the events that had just passed. I had long ago decided to consciously try and not pay attention to whether or not people were looking at me since I was sure the knowledge that I was being stared at constantly would have been so very demoralizing. But was I now not paying attention to something that wasn't happening anyway??? I decided to put the question to the test and began to deliberately look and see if people were looking at me in the way I imagined. 


I pushed my trolley through the entire mall watching the eyes and reactions of the passing strangers. An elderly asian lady walking past turned and stared at me. I stared back and watched as the thought processes in her brain suddenly made her aware that I was looking back at her. Her eyes widened and she looked away in embarrassment. I giggled to myself. 


The good news is that she was the only person to look at me strangely all day. The bad news is that I still attract a lot of stares, except that they seem to be lecherous stares from sleazy old men.... and I don't even have a cleavage. So it seems I'm escaping from one set of unwanted stared and have now been loaded with another that may not go away so easily. But at least its not so much the stares that are the problem any more, just the people they come from.....

Filly's Frolic #10

Oh, those darned titles. For the sake of this story, lets pretend my former name was Axe Why. Most of my medical prescriptions just have my name on them and, since my name change hasn't come through yet, it is my former name. Yet, there I was today with the two prescriptions where my name had been prefixed by the now inappropriate title "Mr". It was not the first time I had been faced with this situation of course and inclusion of the title was now just an annoyance rather than a cause for concern. The pharmacist, who was a student at Monash judging from her name badge, took my prescriptions and asked the customary questions in a professional manner to which I was usually accustomed. She handed me a pager and I wandered the pharmacy while my prescription was being filled.


Some time later, I was browsing yet another random aisle with no intention of buying anything in it. I was momentarily startled by the buzzing and vibrating in my hand and realised that my prescription was ready. Quickening my pace towards the prescription counter, I was expecting the pharmacist to ask the same routine questions regarding side effects, fluid intake, la la la la... As I approached the counter I realised I was to be served by a young male pharmacist. He looked at me as I approached the counter and handed in my pager.


"Are you picking up the prescription for Mr. Axe Why?", he asked me. I momentarily froze with confusion then I quickly nodded, a whisper of a "Yes" escaping my lips that began to curl with a mischievous smile as I realised the assumption he had just made. Pointing to my hormone prescription he continued,
"This prescription is for medications normally given to women. Do you know if the doctor intentionally prescribed these to Mr. Why?". Well, at least he was being conscientious about the health of his customers.
"Yes, I'm pretty sure that's correct", I replied, trying not to giggle or laugh. "Would I be able to have a tax receipt for all the medications I've bought here?", I added.
"Of course, just for Axe or for yourself as well?" he asked helpfully.
"Just Axe" I replied. I have no idea how I managed not to laugh at that point.


He disappeared to the back benches and returned a few minutes later with an envelope in his hand. 
"Because you are picking this up for Axe, I have to put it in an envelope", he said sounding very helpful. Handing me the envelope he added almost apologetically, "It's just privacy and all that". 


I thanked him graciously and immediately turned and headed straight for the cash registers, another moment there and my impish grin would have turned into laugh. Thank you Mr Pharmacist, you made my day and made Mr. Why very happy.

Filly's Frolic #8

Despite the cold, or maybe because of it, the crowd milled around the restaurant. Comforting warm steam and delectable aromas rose from the open kitchen in the middle. I made my way to an empty table and slid onto the chair next to a table of young asian girls. They looked young enough to be in high school, but add a few years for the "asian youth gene" and they were probably young uni students.

One of the girls glanced at me and then had a double take her eyes widening in surprise and bemusement. Her expression was the same my mum used to have when she saw overtly gay men walking down the street; I know that look well. She turned to whisper to her friend next to her, her gaze still transfixed on me. Her hand was held up to her friends ear, shielding my view of her mouth. It's like when you're teasing someone at a party and you overtly want them to know that you are "discreetly" talking about them. How that is appropriate in a public setting, I do not know.

Her friend looked at me briefly, then, with a look of nonchalant disgust that can only be pulled off by a teenage girl, looked away and whispered something back. The eyes of the first girl widened a little as she giggled and stared at me again. She whispered something else and stared and giggled again as her friend nodded.

Fortunately their meals arrived and she threw me a few more furtive glances before her attention changed to something more interesting with her friends. Who said short attention spans aren't a good thing?

I enjoyed my lunch.

At home I turned on the tv and saw an ad for the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty. It's purpose is to put beauty into perspective and help young girls with body image and self esteem issues.

Sometimes life can be so ironic. 

Barriers - Acceptance

There are many barriers or hurdles faced by trans-people that can hamper or prevent a successful transition. I thought I would write about a few the issues I face since it might shed some lights on the worries that are always in the back of my mind. It might also help explain the elation and sorrow that I write about in some of my frolics or other posts.


I imagine that most, if not all, people want acceptance, which is the first barrier I shall be writing about. It may be acceptance of their work, acceptance of their friendship or acceptance by others of themselves as the unique individual that they are. It may be acceptance of their role in society as a hard worker, as a decent child or as a good parent. So the concept and struggle with acceptance isn't different to what I face. In fact, the struggle is similar to anyone who faces discrimination or prejudice on a daily basis. 


Most people are able to go about their lives in a comforting inconspicuousness, safe in the knowledge that the people they pass or the people they interact with will see them as just another person going about their daily life. Imagine if that were not the case. Going on a simple shopping trip, the heads of all the pedestrians turn and focus their attention on you the moment you step out of your car. Looks of scorn and disgust are plain on some peoples faces as they stare at you while others show bemusement or intrigue. Each step you take is an effort as you feel the glares drilling into your self confidence and you fight the desire to run back home where you can hide from everyone else. You hear the muted discussions and overhear the occasional sentence confirming their thoughts about you or maybe an insensitive bigot yells out his thoughts leaving nothing uncertain. Imagine hovering at the entrance to stores for a split second, unsure of whether the sales assistant will show a disapproving frown or ask you to come back at a time when the other customers aren't there or maybe they'll greet all the other customers and totally ignore you. So image the total bliss you feel should someone greet you with a smile and address you correctly.


Welcome to my world.


Or at least it was for a while. Once I was able to make myself look like any other female I could once again immerse myself in comforting inconspicuousness. In the ts world, this is known as passing whilst should other people be able to tell from your appearance that you are transsexual, that is known as being read or being clocked. But in the end, all I want is to be accepted as another person going about my daily life.

Filly's Frolic #7

A friend told me that I would learn to recognise the different types of looks that I'd receive during my daily activities. One would be the look of a guy wanting to get in my pants, another would be a look of someone who's clocked me (I've learned these two looks are not mutually exclusive!) and the third look is the look of someone who's trying to figure it out.

For the moment, we'll ignore the look for awful fashion sense or my, what a wonderful cloak you are wearing... We'll also ignore the look of jealous disgust that girls give me when I cinch myself into a corset and wander around with perfect 38-28-38 proportions. It's a shame that the first 38 is mainly all rib cage and hardly any breast... Oh well, can't win them all!

So it was with some amusement that I encountered that third look recently. I had accompanied my aunty to dinner and we had decided to walk to the restaurant that was close by. What we were thinking, walking to a restaurant on the night of the coldest day in years, I do not know. However, my scrumptious dinner of sliced beef in udon noodle soup had warmed me thoroughly and I was totally satiated. My aunty was still feeling the cold since she was sill a little weak since being discharged from the hospital a month or so ago. I was holding her hand and giving her support as we slowly made our way home, cursing at the wind.

As we approached the intersection, I noticed a young man coming the other way. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him glance at me and then the double take! Instinctively I looked at him and he had his head cocked and a quizzical look on his face. I'm not really sure what was so odd about a girl helping her aunt walk home... and no, I was not wearing my cloak! It seemed to me like he was trying to figure me out...

I smiled slightly before looking away as we continued our journey home in the cold wind. My only thought and reaction was "I'll have to tell everyone about this". I guess I'm learning to deal with it.. 

Filly's Frolic #6

I tend to avoid those people in shopping centres that have the little kiosks in the middle of the mall and try to attract your attention and then do the hard sell on you once they've got you standing there.. Sometimes it's a charity thing and sometimes it's for something like overpriced skin care products that make me temporarily stupid and terribly susceptible to their sales tactics. Hence, I generally try to avoid them while staying polite with a smile and a "No, thank you" as a I continue walking speedily like a rabbit running past a fox.

Recently, I was walking frolicking in the shopping centre again when a lady in a kiosk caught my attention, holding up a packet of something. I was just about to turn tail and dash off when I realised she was asking if I would like a free sample. Free sample? Free??? FREE?! How could I resist?

I slowly made my way to her kiosk like a fish to a shiny lure. "Hello Miss", she said. "Have a free sample of one of our products." I smiled, no, I beamed... she had called me miss! I felt the happiness swelling up inside me.

I looked down at the sachet in her hand to see what wonderful product I would be able to try and suddenly the bubble of happiness popped, leaving a sinking hole... It was facial after shave cream!!!! Had she clocked me and was trying to be respectful and helpful??? Were the remnants of my my facial hair that obvious and poking through my makeup?? Thoughts flew through my head like a whirlwind, wreaking havoc in my brain.

I stood there stunned looking at the sachet for what seemed like eternity but must really only have been a second. The lady looked down at what she was holding and said somewhat surprised and apologetic "Oops! That one wouldn't be for you!" She sifted through her sachets and offered me a packet of hand cream 'enriched with deep sea minerals'. "There you are miss.", she said. The whirlwind in my mind abated and the happiness returned.

Another fuss over nothing and I merrily continued my frolic through the shopping centre.. 

Filly's Frolic #3

I haven't seen my regular GP for some time and definately not since going full time but i had to go see him today. Since my change of name hasn't come through yet, my records are still under my old name. I turn up at the front desk and announce that i'm here for my appointment. The receptionist is very friendly and used to be able to recognise me on sight, but not his time! She looks at her computer for a moment before realization strikes and she glances back at me. I smile and nod, uttering "uh huh.." and she laughs and says "oh! Ok!". Quite amusing really.

After that I head off to kmart to buy some clothes. I ask one of the ladies if they have a certain item in size 12. "twelve?" she asks casting her eyes down to my waist. "are you sure you aren't a 10?" I laugh and thank her for the compliment, but no, I am a twelve.. 

Feeling rather happy with the way the day is going and happy to be in the sun, I go for a walk down Victoria st in Richmond looking for some cheap photo frames. As I walk along, I tense up as I hear a bogan man shout out in a crackling voice damaged by way too much smoking, drinking and talking shit, "You know what that is?! THAT'S A TRANNY!" His wife and he start cackling like two witches who have eaten one too many eye of newts. "Thats a tranny!" he repeats and laughs over and over again like rainman saying he has to buy his underwear from kmart. I do my best to ignore them and continue walking as he calls out to a friend in front of me, repeating the same sentence. His friend is a lanky caucasion leaning idly on a corner wall looking like he is selling drugs or something. (actually, I wouldn't know since I've never had anything to do with drugs. Im just being rude). The guy looks at me and screws his face up with a "what the hell are you??" kind of
look. The idiot behind me continues on. "you can tell by the way he walks." "look how big his hands are!" cackle cackle. "it's a tranny" cackle...

I walk on trying not to let it get to me.. But it really did put a downer on my day and try as I might, those three words keep echoing in mind as a reminder that I don't look as good as I would like and that I am different.

Filly's Frolic #2 - Update

Update..

Walking out of the hospital I had a conversation with a pleasant nurse who was as tall as I am; I'm 181cm.  She asked "does anyone comment on how tall you are?" I said yes and we had a lovely short exchange about what it's like to be tall girls. Today was a good day!... 

Filly's Frolic #2

I've been spending a lot of time with my aunt in hospital which was quite interesting on the first day becuase dad has been in denial about my gender even though I've been full time for over three months. 

When the doc asked my relation to my aunt, my dad said I was the nephew. When a nurse later asked the same, I replied I was the niece and dad corrected with nephew and I corrected him saying niece. He is also constantly surprised when I introduce myself with my girls name since he insists on calling me by my original name. Oh well.  I can understand his feelings....

Today I took a break at lunchtime from being with my aunt and went for a walk around Doncaster shopping town. I noticed one gentleman in his 50s eyeing me. He was shopping with his wife and I noticed his gaze following me for a good dozen metres. Feeling somewhat confident and playful today, I moved my eyes to his with the most alluring look and smile that I could muster. I grinned as he immediately dropped his eyes and looked away. I had to contain myself to not laugh out loud as I continued on my way. God, that felt so good!!!

Filly's Frolic #1

The sun was casting a lovely glow over Melbourne today so, I decided I'd take advantage of it and went for a walk along Chapel St. I was dressed rather casually in my flare jeans, a scoop neck purple tee and brow studded flats. (Sorry Michelle, I know you don't like flats.. lol) My makeup was also fairly minimal with just foundation, blush, bronzer, eyeliner and mascara which was hidden by my sunnies ayway. Walking casually past the shops, I notice the gaze of a young man shift towards me. As we walk closer to each other, I see his eyes drop to my chest and a smile cross his lips. "Heh! Men!!" His eyes shifted back to my face as we passed the smile not leaving his lips. Being somewhat paranoid and not a very good reader of peoples reactions, I was suddenly struck with confusion. Was that a smile of knowing or a smile of lust? I decided to take it as the latter and continued on with my day with a smile.

My next stop for the day was at the dentist and I was a little nervous since I haven't seen him since going full time. Since I'm still going through the process of officially changing my name, I'd also still be using my old name. The receptionists didn't blink an eyelid although the dentist did look a little surprised when I walked in. I should have said something, but I was too preoccupied trying to act calmly. He was fully professional and in the end there was nothing to worry about. Going back to reception to pay, I was trying to remember if there was a title in front of my name on previous invoices. To my delight I received todays invoice and it said "Miss"! They had changed the records on their computer without my saying anything! Yay!

Later on, I went to the supermarket to buy a few items. As I pulled my credit card out to pay (which doesn't have a title on it) the man at the checkout asked "Any Cash, Sir?". Sir?!? Sir?!?!?!?! I'm sure I still flinch when that happens but nowadays I try to ignore it with just a raised eyebrow...

Oh well, two out of three ain't bad.