MargieFancypants(switch trans woman)
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3 years ago •
Dec 26, 2022
3 years ago •
Dec 26, 2022
I assure you, there is no transitioning deadline at age 30! I myself am almost 52, and I am just starting to transition — it was six months ago that my old self discovered me inside them, and realized my role in keeping both of us alive and sane as the world went mad and tried to kill us, again and again and again.
I had a sort of part-time existence at first. My initial appearance, and the cause for all the thought that went into "who is Ms Margarita Fancypants?" was a character sketch for a drag show for a trusted friend on their birthday. So from within, I guided my/his creative process, and so the kinky and hilarious "Noted Philosopher & Dingbat" persona emerged. And the show came to be, and it was a smash hit with the audience, who were by and large members of the Burning Man community. It was a perfect group to come out to.
His expectation was that cross-dressing in a more everyday context would be a constant experience of fear and vulnerability. And this is where my story really comes in line with the OP question; because the madness I alluded to before, which continues even now, about a quarter of a century on, had left him with severe complex PTSD. Coping with that had colored his entire existence in a negative and toxic way.
Going out as Margie did not invite hostility from the world at all! Strangers on the street acted friendly and supportive, not hostile or demeaning. I felt, and continue to feel, actually *safer* as Margie than as my old self! This was revelatory, and over the summer Margie became my preferred identity. It was therapeutic! Imagine my surprise.
And so it came to pass, on December 12, just two weeks ago, that I was in a thrift store dressing room trying on dress after dress after dress, and looking at myself, and thinking, "DAMN I look so good!" And eventually I realized this amazing feeling of being attractive, and hot, and curvy, was gender euphoria. And hey presto, my mind was made up.
I wanted to be Margie all the time. Forever.
My poor old self, once he'd realized that I was the answer to the mystery of his survival, had given me a summer in the sun by way of thanks. But in the end, it was a way that his tired, battered, abused, and disillusioned self could retire from the frustrations of the world. He is happy to go, and his parting gift to me was his body (in shockingly good shape after all his hellish experiences) and his life. And for that I am eternally grateful and endebted.
For, while there are horrific obstacles still to overcome, I have become both deeply empathetic and also tougher than nails, and with my satirical worldview I am equipped to deal with these in a way he never could hope to do.
Margie, in short, is not a threat to my mental stability, but an active righting force. And while I wish these decades were not gone, I feel ready to enjoy the decades to come in a far better way than could happen otherwise. I am ready for the world!
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