The New Puppy

"We don't need another dog," Angela said.

"Of course we do, we used to have three, and now we only have two," I said.

I wait. I wait another week. And then, my Angela came through. She said, "there are Bichons in the paper."

"Really?" I said. "Let me see that."

"That's a local call, you know," she remarked.

"Umhuh," I remarked.

"You could go this afternoon," she pointed out, "after your PT appointment.
"Yes, I could. I guess I should call," I pointed out.

"Umhuh."

She knew that if I went to look, we'd have a puppy, and so we did. I picked TinkerBelle out at three weeks old, and I checked up on her every week. I even took the grandkids with me twice, so they could see the puppy grow.

Tink was the first of the litter to venture out of her box, and she let me turn her over for a tummy rub from the first time we met. Eight-weeks went by so slowly, I could hardly keep myself away, and Angela loved the phone pictures.

I brought her in the house and she was first overwhelmed by Cassandra, the one year old puppy, and then our new baby dog made a pass through Angela's arms for a big snuggle. Next, the kids got to hold her, and  finally, her feet touched the floor and she was able to explore a bit. Angela beamed as much as I, and the grandkids agreed she was "a cupcake," as the eldest remarked. "That's because her collar has cupcakes on it, and that's how sweet she is." There goes that adult-concept-thing again in our five-year old granddaughter.

"I'll add the third lead to the leash," Angela said.


"That would be great." I said.


Here's just another Best Thing About Being Married To A Transsexual.

Her's two of our doggies taking a snooze: Chloe Petunia, the one year old, and TinkerBelle, the baby.

They are Bichon Frise with puppy (hair) cuts.

.

The Big Birthday Bash

I just love watching Angela work. She is a whirling dervish. No kidding. She never stops. She seems to be in several places at once. I look one way, and there she is setting up tables, I look the other and she's hanging a banner or a balloon. When the blow-up pools, yes plural, are filled, the playhouse open, and the  swing set dusted off again, it's time for the kids to arrive. There are nearly as many parents as there are kids, but that makes it all the more fun for the grown-up and the kids. We get to catch-up, while the little ones are allowed a little more freedom. Mommies and Daddies are close-by for small boo-boos, and call-out like "you are too little to do that," or "watch out for the littler ones." Our grand-kids are turning 3 and 5, and their vocabularies are turning 22 and 24: The now 5-year-old tells me, "the surface is slippery," when she comes out of the pool and steps on the cement porch. The now 3-year-old wants to know, "why can't the world stop turning so the breeze doesn't blow so hard?" When words and concepts like "empathy, levering myself up, and grip-strength" become common-place, Angela and I wonder what their teachers are going to do with them when they start first grade, not to mention kindergarten.

Angela watches the kids in the pool while others sit and talk, she helps hold the kids up to the monkey-bars, even the toddlers. She catches the older ones who's "grip-strength" doesn't last long enough for the 5 handholds. She pushes swings while Mommies fix hamburgers. She finds more paper for coloring while Daddies hand out hot dogs. She monitors games of chase so the little ones can catch the big ones, and she hands out spoons for the sandbox when the other toys run out. She even settles a few kid-sized arguments before they turn into traumas Moms and Dads need to deal with. When she finally sits down to eat, it's time to open presents. She happily takes her lunch to the new location to watch. Yes, I was there, talking, eating, sorting out kids, but mostly I was getting towels, band-aides, and food from the house. Other times I was being the potty-monitor so little behinds got wiped and small, wet feet didn't slip on the entry tile.

Yes, Angela is my overseer of all good things, and that's just another Best Thing About Being Married To A Transsexual.

Getting my exercise

We have an exercise room, and we do use it, sporadically. One of us gets The Bug, and we exercise every day for, oh, let's say two months. Then, we begin to fall off our regime until the next time. I bet the same thing happens to you sometimes, doesn't it? Well, our exercise room has had an old and fading carpet since we moved in more than twenty years ago. We've talked about changing it, but nothing came of that particular plan other than adding equipment. So, guess what, Angela got "The Bug." No, not to exercise, but to change the carpet. We're also in the midst of working in the garden, replanting grass on our two acres and doing lots of weeding (my elbow injury let the wild things grow for a couple weeks, and we got behind). Evidently, she felt we didn't have enough on To Do lists, so she asked for my help. Usually, my help means "hand me this, bring me that, &/or hold this." That is not what needing my help meant this time. We had to get all of that heavy equipment out of the room. Let me emphasis the word heavy. The bicycle was no problem, even the stepper wasn't too bad, but the darn treadmill was quite a challenge. You see, I may have pointed this out before, but Angela doesn't have the same strength she used to have as a man because she is a woman now -- duh! I'm just going to say it was a bitch, okay? Sorry for those of you who said, "No." Anyway, even that paled next to the Universal Gym. Taking it apart, well part of it anyway, lead to two backaches, two strained shoulders, and a couple bruises in unusual places. Moving, even the pieces, was heavy work.

The carpet came up easily, even the tiles lifted right out, but the linoleum under that was less enjoyable, and see a prior post to understand what I think about taking the glue off. Damn, it was a beast, and Angela did most of that, this time. Next came the Pergo wood floor. Outside of a few blue words, we got it in in under a day. Well, except for the small/tiny bathroom, which Angela did all by herself. That was a mistake as that little project resulted in several trips to the nurse's station in one of our bathrooms for hydrogen peroxide, bacitracin, and a variety of band-aids and gauze patches. We moved all the equipment back in, oh, my pulled/strained muscles, bruises, and promises to never do this again.

But, the last thing to be returned to the room was my Star Trek display cabinet. So, I got to go through keepsakes again, and that was more fun than I can tell you. Yes, I boxed up a few things, but most of it is still in the cabinet. I hope it doesn't take another change-of-the-carpet for me to go through it all again, but I'll enjoy the new arrangement/display until the next time.

I guess I was getting my exercise fixing up the room, but I'll soon be having to use all that equipment again -- as soon as my muscles stop complaining that is. Anyway, I'm actually glad Angela got this particular "Bug," and yep, this is another Best Thing About Being Married To A Transsexual.

Hundreds of dollars saved

I drove the RV. I really did it. I didn't run off the road, knock anything over, or scratch the side. I stayed between the lines, made great turn,s and stopped at the white line. And, Angela didn't have a worry. I was sure she'd be  scared to death, white knuckled, and sure I'd kill us all. But she wasn't. She was calm, nice, and complementary.

Here I was ready to spend bundles of money to have someone else teach me, and I have a perfectly wonderful and FREE instructor - Angela, of course.

Shame on me.

I should have given her more credit. I should have trusted that her transition would have made the difference -  and it has. Gone is the dictatorial, seething, near-shame based trainer. Instead, I had encouragement. I heard, "You're doing great.", "Keep it up.", and "Perfect." , and what's more, I got a kiss at the end of our drive.

 "How about more lessons?" I asked.

"Tomorrow," she said.

What more could a spouse ask for?

She's just a social butterfly!

Ah, yes, there was a time when I was considered the social one in the marriage. David, now Angela, was not anti-social, exactly, he just didn't participate in conversations much. He always sat just outside of the circle, usually with his arms crossed. He answered with "Yes" or "No," and that was his version of participating in the conversation. Now, since the transition, her elbows are on the table, she's scooted right into the circle, and no talking can go on without her input. She's introducing herself to people all the time. She's suggesting fun things to do, and she is the Hostess With The Mostess when we have guests. She's a good cook too and an even better housekeeper. I guess I'll have to hand over my social butterfly wand and let her take over! Yes, here's another Best Thing About Being Married to a Transsexual!

Hormones!

Hormones are a blessing and a curse. I’ve had it with hot flashes, to put it mildly, and I think it only fair that sometime in her life Angela should be blessed with the same situation, don’t you? Here’s the deal: Way back when, in 1998, when she started on hormones, she got massive doses: 5 full milligrams to my HRT dose of .325 milligrams. That forced teenage puberty. I’ve already written about the joys of having a 57-year-old husband going through the 13-year-old-girl stage. Most of it was fun and funny; I mean how many women get to tell their husband, “go back in there and take off half of that make-up, put on a longer skirt and lower heels?” I also got to give “sage” advice about make-up, perfume (oh lordy, that’s ANOTHER story!), color and hair. It wasn’t long until she became a teenage, and, of course, then she knew everything there was to know, and ‘who the heck was I to be giving advice?’ Ah well. So, back to hormones: since they found the cancer, I have had to be off hormones – completely. That means I'm having Hot Flashes - AGAIN.

When Angela had her surgery, at least for those first couple of weeks afterward anyway, she had to wear a pad. I suppose you could consider that a short-version of a couple ministration cycles. That was it; ho-hum right? That’s okay; but this hot flashes/flushes business is just not fair if you ask me. I figure if I have to have them, so should she, at least sometime in her life, even if it is when she’s eighty.

Beauty crisis

We're having a crisis around here. Angela's SRS was in January 2002. Before and after her surgery, she was beautiful. Her transition took 10 years off her face - all the fine wrinkles were gone, the beard was gone, and the new feminine layer of fat softened all her features. Time passed, and the dosage of HRT lessened, and, of course, she got a little older. She also acquired the laments typical-of-many-females: I’m not pretty enough, and I’m too fat. Yes, she’s gained a little weight. She’s still beautiful to me, and I’m envious of that beauty because I have the same issues, especially now that I have no hair and my eyebrows and eyelashes are falling out too (thanks to chemo!). The main problem, you see though, is that she’s often in blue jeans and a cotton blouse, polo or sweatshirt around the house. The other problem is that we don’t go out where we need to dress up anymore. Most of that is because we’re retired and have less disposable income, but part of that is a choice – we tend to go out to dinner at good, but more casual restaurants like Outback, Applebee’s and such. So, this weekend I’m taking her out for a shopping spree and to a “class joint” for dinner. I’m getting a special card today, to give her tomorrow. We’ll see what happens, and I’ll let you know. (Keep your fingers crossed!)

RVing with a Trans

Ah yes, there are joys unlimited with a transsexual as your RVing partner!

First off, she's the best driver in the world - thanks to years racing cars on tracks. She can evade a problem in a heartbeat - talk about fast reflexes!

Next she can fix almost anything on the RV, and of course, she can pepper any repair person with question (so she can learn more) whether the repairs are for around for Home, Computer, Shop, Car or RV. She has a two year degree in Automotive Mechanics, plus she was a Novell Computer engineer, and she's into woodworking and tile and hardwood floor laying. She's very versatile.

We've been RVing twice because I had a break in my chemo. Last week, we were in Bakersfield, and she helped drain and flush half a dozen ladies hot water heaters, and ours, of course. Additionally, she helped with two other repairs as the local repairman was swamped with orders and couldn't get to them all! There hasn't been anything on our RV she hasn't been able to fix, and her current project is to make a cabinet where the TV was in the bedroom (we don't often watch TV, and certainly didn't need a second one in the bedroom!). What all RVs can use is more storage that's easy to get to. She's a wonder, there's no doubt.

Then there is that "hormones don't change everything" aspect. When we got home, finished unloaded, cleaning and packing everything back in, she wanted to move the RV to is regular parking spot beside the garage. Of course, we'd had multiple rainy days, and the coach is not-exactly a lightweight. The "roadway," if you can call it that, across our east side "back 40" was soaked. Do you think that was a deterrent to her - nope! When she wants to move it, moving it will happen! So, guess what - it sank to its hubcaps! We had to call a tow truck to get it out. Oh well, I love my trans anyway! Just think of all the harassing I can do now - "I told you so," and "hormones don't change everything, dear!"

Trans trumps all

If one ever wanted one of those obvious "the transition made a difference" moments, we had a couple over the last few days. Pre-transition, the Christmas tree always came down the weekend after New Years, if not before. It was like clockwork. All the extraneous stuff started being put away on those days leading up to the weekend, and then on Friday the icicles and garland were removed. Saturday, all the balls were put away. Sunday was a dawn to dusk lights-off-and tree-packed-away marathon. It didn't happen this year. In fact, this first weekend, we've been away on an RV trip, and the Christmas tree is only missing the icicles and the balls. The lights are still twinkling away. Furthermore, instead of immediately diving into the remove- the-lights-and-pack-away-the-tree mode, which would have been 100% the expected pre-transition activity, Angela is at the daughters painting the dining room! That'll be at least a two-day, and probably three-day project, and then we're off on another RV adventure for the weekend. So, the tree will probably not be packed away until we return. There hasn't been a word said about the still standing and partially decorated tree. Additionally, by now, all of the boxes would have found their way into their appointed spots in the attic. Instead, a pile ov boxes remains stacked in the garage, and I note What a Difference a Transition Makes. Aren't Transsexuals wonderful?

Choice

Let me begin by saying that I firmly believe that being Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, or Transgender is NOT a choice. When we speak to groups there frequently is someone who claims that being GLBT+ is a Choice. I believe that I am perhaps one of a very few people who have CHOSEN the GLBT+ lifestyle. I say that I have chosen it, not because I was born GLBT+, but because my spouse was. Angela had no choice about being transgendered. She was born to be a female, but her exterior body did not match her feminine brain. I was born a woman who fell in love with a man and married him, 43 years ago. I chose to stay with him when he was able to transition, because he was the person I loved. I embrace that change wholeheartedly, and I continue to support that change. Angela is finally able to BE who she always HAD to be. I am very happy that I chose to stay married to her, that I welcome the GLBT+ lifestyle, and that I am proud to be deemed a Lesbian. To do otherwise would be anathema. I am welcome in this lifestyle and am more than happy with my choice. There is no question that I am as attracted to Angela as I was to David, so why should I deny that? While I didn’t expect to be in love with another woman, I am absolutely certain I love Angela. I am also certain that should I outlive her, I would likely choose another woman as my spouse.

Spring

Spring is certainly here. Here in Fresno we are already having temperatures in the high seventies, and that means lots of yard work. My back and shoulders are already aching just thinking about it! You know what, though, Angela is the one that has to do all the hard stuff, and she never complains. It's sprinkler-fix time. Yesterday afternoon, while I was having lunch with friends, she dug out three sprinklers, replaced them, and had them up in running in the two hours I was gone. Now, if you live in a place where the soil is nice and sandy, that would not be a challenge. BUT: around here, we have this dreadful thing called hardpan. So, digging a hole that's deeper than about 6 inches is a real back breaker. So, I bless her little heart (and strong muscles, even though they are far less strong than when they were before David's transition ! Yeah, hormones sometimes work in reverse too.).

I get all the fun jobs like mowing the lawn, weeding and planting the garden. When I started laying out my vegetable garden, Angela quickly got involved. She got out the graph paper so my plots were perfectly measured out. While I helped dig the sixty-foot trench for the main line of the sprinkler system for my irrigation, she designed it! Not only does it work perfectly, but the row of sprinklers is detachable so I can get them out of the way for rototilling and harvesting. It's great to have a mathmatical whiz in the family. She has all the design savy of a decorator and all that logical brain stuff from her years as David!

Oh yeah, we're going to have to take down a tree. Dast oh dear! Retirement has its blessings, but having lots of ready monies for hiring people like tree trimmers and gardeners is not one of them. So, we have to take down the tree; It's roots are getting under the patio. The last time we did this it was a math project, so I'm sure this one will be all the more so because it's near the house. There are also several other trees in the back yard, so this particular tree must be dropped in exactly the right place. I know it will be triagulated, measured, and cut perfectly, so I have no worries. Again, Angela is my mathmatical angel.

Yep, spring makes me aware of many of the Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual!

Happy Birthday to Angela

Today is Angela's Birthday - well, one of them. It's the Anniversary of her SRS. There were a few years when she celebrated her "real" birthday, the date she began hormones, the date she began to dress full time, AND the date of her sex reassignment surgery. As you might imagine, being a woman, she expected gifts for each of these occasions. I indulged her initially, and then I began to whittle down the dates until it was just two - her natal day, and her arrival day. After we retired, she elected to maintain only her original birthday, as that is when her family celebrates it with cards, letters, and gifts.

I can't, however, let this day pass, because it is important in ways far more noteworthy than merely a date on a calendar. Officially, for sixty years, she existed in the wrong body. She hid herself. She hid from her parents, siblings, relatives and friends, and then she hid from her wife and daughter as well as more friends and colleagues. She became withdrawn, depressed, angry, and more and more unhappy with each passing year. Finally, she confessed to me. She was sure I was going to leave her, divorce her, and take our daughter with me. She was sure she'd loose her family and all her friends. Instead, she found - and freed - her true self.

She became a woman somewhat gradually, starting out as a closet cross-dresser, and then, after her dramatic revelation, she dressed openly. We joined Tri-ess, got counseling, and discovered that Angela's belief that she should have been born a woman was real. We began to follow the Harry Benjamin Standards as we moved towards her SRS. We had the help of excellent professionals, particularly our councilor and psychologist, Sally Hunt.

Her surgeon was a marvel, and we certainly recommend Dr. Brassard from Montreal, Canada. His clinic and staff are wonderful, and his recovery lodge is delightful. We both wish all who make this transition an equally outstanding medical team.

Now, Angela is ALL woman! She wears blue jeans and sweatshirts sometimes, and she isn't always in heels. Inside her, though, she's dressed to the nines - or even the tens or elevens, if you ask me. The reality is that she is happy. She IS Angela, and she's all mine. If this transition hadn't happened in 02, we would have been divorced, and both of us would have been unhappy. We would have lost our soul-mate, and we would be without our true selves. We are individuals, but we are part of a team, a twosome, and we are a couple. We couldn't be happier.

Happy Birthday, Angela, I love you!

Holidays with a Transsexual

Again I know how blessed I am to have a T in the family. She's just plain tops in the kitchen! She can lift the heavy pots that I'd have to struggle with - like the turkey in and out of the oven, quickly and efficiently. She's great at carving it up too. Since I've retired, she's stopped doing all the cooking, which is fair, but she continues to do ALL, and I mean ALL of the clean-up. Now, who could ask for more than that?! But, even given that, she was in and out of the kitchen to help with this and that as I was getting prep done. She also always sets the table when we have company, even when it's just the kids. We had Daniel's folks over Xmas Day evening for dinner, so we had 6 for dinner, so there was plenty of cooking going on.

She's just a treasure with the gathering up of all the discarded wrapping paper and helping with keeping the various piles of gifts organized so we can get pics with each person and their gifts. Then she whips it up into bags so those who are away from their homes can take them easily. She's very organized without being anal about it. It's positively GREAT!

She's a good hostess too. She helped with all the falderal that goes with Xmas with guests. Almost none of that would have happened before the transition. He would have helped with the clean-up, and he'd have been "nice" to the guests, but, as I said above, the transition has made a remarkable difference. It's still fun to watch her interact joyously with folks, even after almost 8 years since the transition (Jan '01). She's also right in there with the kid and all her toys too! What an entertainer she is, and the two of them together are quite an act.

Anyway, I'm blessed to have a T in my life. If you have one, I hope you are equally blessed!
Happy New Years to everyone

Same person, different package - there is no death

People change. Children grow from infants - to preschoolers - to teens - and to adults. Parents age and often become dependent, and the person who transitions changes outward appearance as well as assuming more outward traits of their new gender. All of those things are real, and they are natural. Many people say the person transitioning has killed their daddy, or their mother, sibling or their spouse. THAT IS NOT SO! Did I say that loud enough? If every child, spouse or sibling that screamed "you've killed my Daddy/Mommy/Spouse/Brother/Sister" at the transitioning person had their heads screwed on right, they would realize that it is THEY that have "killed" their loved one.

Okay, think about it. When your kids grew up, did you stop loving them? They certainly aren't in the same package they arrived in, not by a long shot. As they grew, their personalities changed; did you stop loving them then? When they became adults, they changed more, as they took on adult responsibilities. Did you stop loving them then? No, because they were still the same person in a different package.
Has your spouse changed from that romantic person you dated? Do they still dress up every day, or is it blue jeans and a shirt?What? There are no more high heels, no vests and ties? Do you two still hang on every word the other speaks? Do little presents happen every week? Do you still go out on dates regularly? Adults change too - same person, differnt package.
So, why do some think that it isn't okay for the transitioning person to change - even dramatically - even into another gender?
It's their choice if they kill off the transitioning person.
Oh yes, there are certainly adjustments to be made, especially for a spouse, but look at it this way. Let's suppose the transitioning person had had a stroke or was in an accident. What if they were suddenly debilitated in some way. Would all of the friends and family think of the person as having died? NO! Would they think the person dead to them because of this dramatic change? NO! In fact, friends and family would EXPECT the spouse to stay and take care of the newly debilitated spouse; children would adjust to Daddy or Mommy: Siblings would adjust to this changed Brother or Sister that's now in a wheelchair, or blind, or whatever else might've been the result of the stroke or accident. But, when a person changes gender, some families fall apart.

Here's my take: they never loved the PERSON. They only loved the "being a couple," having the money, having the just-like-everyone-else person.

Angela and I have been blessed, we are still together (42+ years), our families accept us (except for one sister out of 6 siblings), and most of those who were our true friends are still with us (yes, we lost a few in the transition - their loss, in my opinion).

Angela is the same person; she's just wrapped up in a different package. She's so much happier, and that makes happy. She's so much more outgoing(less inhibited), and that's a plus for me. She's certainly freer with herself to me, our daughter, our family and our friends. I love it. I think I'm the one that is blessed.

One bit of advice to the transitioning person: go slow and follow the Harry Benjamin Standards. You won't regret it.

It's all about love

Loving a T is pretty easy. Just do it. Ts aren't really any different than the rest of us. They just need to be who they have to be. If you're trying to figure out IF you should love them, the answer is yes, because while they are still the same person you always loved, there will certainly be some changes. It comes down to loving the person or the package. Now, society would tell you, "how could you leave a spouse who had an accident or a stroke that left them changed." Those same folks would ask you, "how can you stay with someone who is making this change." First off, if it's the person you love, then the change will only be for the better, because they will be who they really have to be, and they can stop hiding, and holding that real person down. What freedome that will be for them - and YOU! When we told our families about Angela's transition, which we did in letters, one from each of the three of us - David/Angela, me and our daughter (then in college), this is one of the paragraphs that speaks to this issue:
I like David, I love Angela, and I know making a life with her will be much more pleasant and easy going than at any time with David. I do not regret any time with David. I always knew Angela was back there, hiding, somewhere inside. I knew it then, and I know it now. It was Angela I was in love with, as a part of David, and now as a much larger part of the whole Angela.
David did not tell me about Angela until we had been married 20 years, yet I knew there was someone she was hiding inside because I could see climpses of that real person often. What a difference it made when WE freed Angela. David isn't gone, he's still here in our memories and our hearts, and in lots of pictures around our house. There are pictures of us together as a family, and all of his A.F. awards are in the study - 36 Air Medals and the Distinguished Flying Cross among others. There's no need to grieve the loss of David, because he's still here, as a part of Angela. It's just that the right personality has been allowed to emerge, and it has literally saved our marriage. Now, married more than 42 years, I can happily say that; and I would encourage anyone wondering if they should encourage a transition, I'd answer YES! But, please insist the T follow the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care. Everyone we know who has done so has had a wonderful and safe transition. Those who have not, have had nothing but grief, problems, and serious physical problems. Do it the right way, and you'll never regret it. One other suggestion - go, watch the surgery, you'll see that every part is reused, and you'll know what's what and where. Look it at this way, every woman wants a wife!

Loss

There's a lot of comfort in a hug or a hand on the shoulder. They have the most power in times of passion and sorrow. We loss those who are special to us in different ways. Sometimes a dear friend moves away and chooses not to stay in contact. In that case only memories linger, generally of times of laughter and shared experiences. The loss though is "casual," the pain of the loss is a memory with distance. The loss of a dear parent, a sibling, or child is front and center of our day to day life. Even the thought of such a loss brings compelling sadness; then when it happens it is devastating for days. Weeks and months pass before the hole fills with memories; Years pass as the loss softens into the touch of feelings. The loss of a pet, too, brings harsh emptiness for a long time. The hugs and touch of those closest to us wash us with love as we face those losses. Angela is particularly good at knowing just the right time to reach out with a hug, a pat on the shoulder, or a personal gaze with meanings of nothing but love and support. I treasure the knowledge that each loss is abrogated by her enduring love and caring. There has been no immediate loss, although both of my parents recently passed away, and now two of my pets are seriously ill. Even so, Angela always seems to know when I'm lost in a memory of those losses, or the impending ones. She appears from somewhere, and out of the blue, reaches for me to touch or draw me into a hug. It's a special bond we've only shared since her transition. I bless the day she began following the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care including hormones, real life test and her final transition.

What's it all about?

What's marriage all about anyway?
Love, caring, sharing, commitment, at least that's my answer. I think a lot of marriages have that. I also think a lot of them don't. My parents did, and my sister and I often talked about how hard it was to live up to that example. There is no question that those two people had all of those qualities in the 100% range. They'd easily die for one another, and, in fact, they did. My mother pined away while my father was in a nursing home recovering from a bought of pneumonia. She just didn't cope well without my father around, even though she saw him often, and for long periods. She dropped dead on her 80th birthday. Literally. My father returned home not long after her funeral, and he was gone within a year. He cried over her pictures nightly. At the funeral, my niece gave a beautiful eulogy about how when she'd come to visit she'd see them dancing together in the living room - sometimes to music only they heard, and sometimes to something on the radio. She spoke of how they often touched one another, and how you could see love in their eyes whenever they looked at one another. When they spoke of each other they always had nice things to say, even if they were passing over a rough patch. Yes, they had a few fights in life, usually at night, after we kids were in bed, but they always went to bed together, and always had kisses in the morning over breakfast.

Our daughter would say the same things about us now. Now that Angela has transitioned, I mean. Before that, at least from the time she was in 3rd or 4th grade, we didn't get along well. David was reclusive, compulsive, depressed and critical. By the time our daughter had started school David and I were growing apart and starting to argue. I had become tired of always feeling "not good enough." He didn't want to leave the house unless he had to; he always criticized what I wore; he never liked the way I did almost anything - cleaned house, fixed dinner, loaded the dishwasher, folded the clothes - and yes, I altered how I did them often to suit his current needs. By the time she was in junior high school, we were two people living in the house, but we were living apart. We slept together, because sex was always good, but we could no longer cope. Our arguments were loud and not pleasant.

Then there was a dramatic change! David told me he'd been hiding his need to be a woman. I told him that was okay, and we moved forward to allowing him to cross-dress. We got counseling for our marriage, and after a time, finally discovered that all that bad behavior came from his suppressing who he needed to be - ANGELA! Once we found the right councilor, blessings on her, and David began to follow the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care, our lives changed completely. Angela was a happy person - the depression was gone, and with it went the compulsively and reclusiveness. She was the life of the party, finally free to be who she had to be. We began to kid with one another; we began to go out - often. And, my hurt feelings about all the criticism disappeared, because I understood David was projecting Angela on to me. He wanted me to be who he couldn't be!!! Duh! Why hadn't we seen that all along? So, when David became Angela, I didn't need to fulfill that roll anymore. I was free to be me too!

NOW we have that marriage my parents had. Now we have our own lives, and it is great! We love one another more deeply than when we met and married. We share our souls now, not only our lives, but everything about ourselves. We are committed to one another more surely than ever before. What a treat it is to be married to a T!

Getting Ready

I always seem to be getting ready to do something. More often than not, it's getting ready to get ready to do something. That's just not how it should be. In other words, something always comes along that sidetracks me while I'm doing all my "prep" work to finish up a project or two. Of course, the fact that I usually have more than one project at hand could have something to do with why they don't all get done in a timely fashion - including my blog. Angela, on the other hand, always seems to start a job and finish it before tackling another. That's not to say that distractions don't take her away from her primary task from time to time, but she's usually pretty dead on. I think that may be a more male trait that has hung on. I see that many women always are doing umpteen things at once. Perhaps that's because it's hard to focus on just one thing when one has children, much less children and job! So, we tend to multitask better. The good news is, Angela's transition let her multitask and keep on track. How's that for a Best Thing About Being Married to a T?

Kisses in the hall

Love is all about kisses in the hall, when you pass one another, or just when you happen to be close. Love is saying I Love You more than once a year, it's saying it every day, at unexpected times, and when it's least expected. Love is all those little "love" touches also in the hall, when you pass one another, or just when you happen to be close. It's also holding hands in the yard, in the house sometimes, and out sometimes. We are fortunate to be in California where two women, or men, holding hands, or touching one another in appropriate manner, is accepted. I have never been one to suggest necking in public, or deep kissing, or certainly not going futher, but hand holding is always okay. Anyway, think about how many times you tell the person you've committed your life to, then count the times you show it, say it, or act on your love besides actual love making. It's those little kisses and touches in the hall that make all the difference. They remind each other how much you really care. What a difference it made to us when Angela no longer had to hide who she was. David certainly used to touch, kiss, and hold hands, but it always felt more obligatory than desired. After she started cross dressing it was the most natural thing in the world. Now it's every day, and what a blessing it is. Yeah, this is one of those Best Things about being married to a T again!

Comments Please

Hey guys n gals n all else in between! I'd like to hear from you. Those of you who have left comments already, THANKS! If you leave a comment and want a response that isn't published on your blog, leave me your email address so I can contact you outside of your blog. I'm enjoying many of your blogs as well. I think that more couples will stay together as time goes on, don't you?

Sometimes our own fears about being perceived as a homosexual couple create problems for us. We don't "exactly" fit the "typical" gay couple mode since to just say, "We're a lesbian couple now" doesn't quite work, does it? You see, that sort of negates more than half of our married life. That's why I kiddingly say, I'm a "straight lesbian," or "We certainly appear to be lesbians now, but we don't quite fit the typical mold." Of course, both of those responses lead to more questions and answers. The whole idea is to make people think about labels. Labels work for a large group "in general." But when one gets down to specifics, about one or two individuals, those labels don't fit, do they? So, yes, we DO appear to be a lesbian couple, and we don't care if that's what folks think, but we find it much better to reveal that Angela is a T and that we've been married for more than 42 years! We can also joke about having it both ways. Trust me when I say, THIS way is the best!