Wednesday, November 9, 2011

I really don’t care

2011-11-09_shoe After dieting my feet for three weeks, I concluded that my feet are never going to fit comfortably into the red and black patent Mary Janes that I bought at Nine West last month.

(Why I thought that they fit ok when I tried them on in the store is a mystery.)

So, during my lunch hour Tuesday, I dashed to the Nine West store in boy mode to exchange the shoes for the next size up.

The saleswoman who sold me the shoes when I was en femme was not in the store; another young saleswoman was holding down the fort.

Now in the not-too-distant past, I would have formulated an elaborate excuse about the shoes.

"My wife asked me to return these and get a larger size."

"I bought these to wear for Halloween, but they were too small, so I'd like to exchange them for a larger size for next Halloween."

"My dog ate my homework."

Instead, I walked up to the saleswoman and told her, "I bought these shoes. They are too small for me and I'd like to exchange them for a pair in size 12."

Without batting an eye, the saleswoman broke the bad news to me: the store only stocks shoes up to size 11, but she could order a pair in size 12 and have them shipped to my home.

In the past, I might have suggested a Plan B, for instance, could I have them delivered to the store and pick them up when they come in? Anything to avoid giving my name and address to a stranger, who might later ring up the troops from Transphobia and send them to my house to decorate my trees with pink toilet paper.

Instead, I handed her my driver's license to copy my name and address to complete the transaction; my shoes should show up at the house in 5 to 7 days.

I really don't care anymore who knows about me.

That doesn't mean I go looking for trouble and tell every Tom, Dick, and Harriet that I wish I was a girl. But if someone I knew came up to me and confronted me about it, I would admit that I am really a woman, who happens to have the body of a man.


  1. Perhaps part of the lesson that you and many of us who follow your blog are learning is that when we get out and interact with the general population, there is a strong application of FDR's statement that "We have nothing to fear but fear itself".

    With you, and certainly with me, it seems that everytime we cross another perceived barrier towards civilian acceptance of who we are and what we like to do, we learn to appreciate that many of our fears are ungrounded.

    Certainly there are multiple accounts of a lack of acceptance, and even violence against TG/CD/etc people, but as more of us make more inroads and have more interaction with the civilain population the more acceptance there will be for all of us.

    You are a great ambassador for many. As a rule the more we can interact with the world at large, either while nicely dressed or even in drab the more the general population will come to accept the fact that we are here and that we are not a threat to them.

    Keep on keeping on.


  2. I would admit that I am really a woman, who happens to have the body of a man.

    Omigod! I'd never do that. But mostly because that's not who I am. I would say, "it's something that I do, sometimes."

    No matter our final destination, I think all of us are on the path to "I don't care." It's an important step in accepting ourselves, and having others accept us.

  3. Wow, sounds like "teachings from life" on some obscure TV show or movie, lmao!

    IMHO, except for the kids in my family I helped create, the more folks who know about me the better.

    My doctor knows about me and automatically tests me for AIDS every time I see him. He has even made comments on my tan line before he does my prostate exam!

    Good for you, Stana!

  4. Bravo to you for your courage, and especially brava to the sales clerk for her professionalism!

  5. More power to you, Stana! I am nowhere near where you are at in regards to selecting and/or returning items. I would just bring them in and state that I need to return them. If pushed, I would state that they were too small, but never admit to the fact that they were too small for me.

    I only wish that finding size 12 shoes were my problem... as I'm more of a 14 or 15.

  6. I have found that the direct approach is the best approach. I used to try to hide it initially. When I went shopping for
    clothes, purses, shoes etc, the salesperson would ask: Is this for your wife/gf/SO? They would assume I am some neanderthal who has no clue about what he is looking at- your typical "normal" male. That got awkward because I could not ask detailed questions or could just linger around for half an hour looking at things.

    I have changed my approach now, I just tell them that the item is
    for me. They bat an eyelid, look at my face and when they see I am serious, they just go: Oh, in that case, have you looked
    at/tried this other thing? It is fun to see how they open up and give some inside tips. Sales people are ready to help any customer so long it is a paying customer. I have been to lingerie shops, departmental stores, makeup counters- you name it and never have I been treated with contempt with this direct approach- in fact, most sales women treat me just like any other woman around me- even when I am in male mode!

    I guess it is just about making connection and not be afraid that you are doing something wrong. If you think in your mind that you are performing a criminal act by shopping for feminine things, then the universe will reflect the same vibe back to you but change your thinking, and you will see miracles happen! :)

  7. Reading this post got me a little choked up! It reminded me of getting a phone call from my partner (a very recently out-of-the-closet femulator) about the excitement and freedom of saying that same thing to a salesperson. It's been a privilege to take part in that journey! Way to go, Stana!!