A New Year

I spent New Year's Eve with my friend Chris J at the restaurant bar of Bistro St. Tropez. I saw the chairman of my department having dinner there with his wife and he stopped by to greet me and wish me a happy new year. The restaurant gave out party favors to the handful of guests remaining for the midnight celebration. Prior to going out, Chris gave me a small bouquet of flowers.

Hugs

I've always felt awkward shaking someone's hand in my male years. It never felt right to me because my hands were so small and I always wondered why social customs required men to shake hands and women to hug their friends and family. Coming from a family and culture where feelings are kept bottled up inside didn't help my well-being, either. Nowadays, I hug people I like every chance I get because it feels right to do so. For others, my handshake is almost always two-handed, especially if the other person has big hands that can envelope mine. I've read that some people get creeped out by two-handed handshakes, but it all depends on the person who is greeting you. Would anyone ever get creeped out by a little girl like me? Nope.

Clare

My parents asked me why I simply shortened my boy name to get my girl name instead of picking a whole new name. I responded by saying I wanted to pay homage and respect to my birth name. I spent a lot of time thinking about my name and picked one that they probably would've chosen had I been born a girl.

Fluff to Icing

When I first presented as a woman in public in 1992, I started off with a very bold look and all of the "fluff stuff" like big hair, heavy makeup, breast forms, and hip padding was just a stage in my development as a woman. Over a period of about 12 years, I decided to get rid of all of the fluff. Something just clicked in me and I realized that being in a disguise just didn't feel right. It was like I was trying to be someone else when I should've been myself all along. I worked on a completely natural look taking into consideration my physical attributes and using hormone therapy to assist me. I slowly built myself up from the ground level to the look I have today. Every step of the way, I evaluated what worked and what didn't and I interacted with people in real life to gauge their reactions towards me. I didn't want anyone to look at me in a judgemental way. Prior to my divorce, I could only do these things in a limited way. I had a lot more freedom than some married men, but any chance I got, I made the most of it. To me, a woman is a woman if she presents as a woman and successfully looks like a woman to the majority of people. She is not a man in a dress or a genetic man trying to look like a genetic woman. She is confident in herself as a woman and not scared to walk into a new situation. My hard work and determination have allowed me to be who I am today, a woman who can walk onto a bus or down a busy street or into a women's fitting room and not get rude stares or harsh comments. When I got my nose and breasts done, it was icing on the cake for me because it was like a reward for all of the effort I had put into my look over the years. Some of you think I roll out of bed looking like this, and now I do for the most part, but I had to go through more than a dozen sessions of laser hair removal, dozens of spa facials, thousands of sessions tweezing my eyebrows, years of growing and maintaining my own hair and grooming my eyelashes, nails, toenails, and much more to look like my current incarnation of me. Many people have told me that my transition makes sense because they always saw me as a woman. I didn't grow up doing anything macho like playing football or "chasing skirt." I was a thinker. I was very quiet and reserved, like I was waiting for something. Obviously, what I was waiting for was my chance to be myself.

Rangoon

My friend Chris and I had an excellent meal at Philly's only Burmese restaurant, Rangoon. We had the Thousand Layer Bread with Curry Potato Dip, an appetizer sampler with spring roll, Burmese samosa, and crispy onions, Pagan Beef (stir-fried beef with cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, onions, potatoes, and coconut and peanut sauce), and Jungle Shrimp (stir-fried shrimp with assorted vegetables and lime leaves in a coconut green curry sauce). Everything was delicious. One of the servers had a little conversation with me and asked me if I was Thai. For some reason, Asian folks think I'm everything but Chinese. I've been thought of as Korean, Vietnamese, Thai, Japanese, and black. Yes, black! Nobody in my family wants to divulge all the details of our ethnicity, so I may never know what different kinds of Asian I am. Chris and I went to Talula's Garden afterwards where I enjoyed a couple of Haymaker cocktails (muddled pear, citrus, clove, and pear vodka).

Pretty Girls Need Pretty Haircuts

It's been three months since my last cut and color, so I was starting to look like a crazy lady with a bush on her head. A lot of hair was chopped off, about two inches all around. "Take it easy on the flat iron. You should only use a flat iron once or twice a week," Liz, my hair stylist, recommended. When I see bad hair in the mirror, I think to myself, "You're a pretty girl, but you're not living up to your potential if your hair looks like a rat's nest." Just a small change can make a big difference in anyone's appearance.

Jane

Jane is an older woman whom I sometimes see at my bus stop in the morning. She's retired and volunteers her time at the Penn museum. A classy lady, she has short silver hair, very pretty features, and a genuinely nice demeanor. We've exchanged a few words each day for the past five years, mostly about how late the bus is, and I can't help but feel inspired by her in some way because she's just so elegant. Perhaps someday when I retire, I'll do something similar.

Layering

I decided to try a technique called layering at my nail salon today where you apply one color on top of another to achieve a brand new color. I've been layering my nail colors for years so it made sense that Shellac gel polishes could be layered, too. The two colors I chose were Strawberry Smoothie and Romantique. The resulting color is a very classy bridal pink. I was pleased. My nail tech and her coworker were impressed, too. They also complimented me on my highlights. The manager was Chinese and was impressed that I was Chinese, too. She commented that I was "big and tall," especially for a Chinese woman. I replied that I'm tall like a basketball player, to which the girls in the salon laughed.

Compliments

I like compliments as much as any woman, but not at the expense of others, especially my friends. We had an unusual bar customer last night who was awestruck by me and told me he was "intimidated by me because I was so beautiful." As the night wore on, he got more intoxicated and kept trying to talk to me, but couldn't find the right words to say. It came to a point where he proceeded to compare me to the rest of the girls at the party. "That's a man in a dress and that one, too," the drunkard said aloud, pointing to each of them. He turned to me and said, "You're a woman. They're men." "No, they're women," I said, defending them. "Tell them that they're men," he said. "No, they're not," I said. He proceeded to rudely call every transwoman except me and my co-hostess men. "They're women," I repeated to him more firmly. "You've got to be kidding me," he said as he walked away. The bartender escorted the drunk ass out of the bar.

Relationships

Many outsiders might not be as forgiving as the people within our T-community when it comes to seeing us in our various stages of development. Even worse, trying to secure a dateable prospect is iffy because if our boyfriend-to-be doesn't know about our past, one of his friends will surely clue him in after talking to him or us. Somehow the guy's going to know about your past. Whether he accepts it or not is up to him. If you're someone with very little history and baggage, you will more likely be able to find some everyday guy who loves you and has friends and family who will accept you. I have been the recipient of compliments like "Whoa, she's hot" by one guy only to be put down by his friend who said, "Dude, that's a guy." It's disheartening, but I know I have to ignore the bigotry and move on. To many people, we will always be guys no matter how much we improve our appearance to look like women. You might think that looking like a woman and getting vaginoplasty will gain you instant respect, but it won't. You'll be shunned just the same by some people, even moreso by others. We have plenty of obstacles to overcome if we wish to secure a relationship with someone of the opposite sex who calls himself straight and has straight friends. If you're older, chances are more likely you'll live alone or will gravitate towards alternatives to the straight guy. I see why some transsexuals move to a different city to start over and erase their history, however, your past, especially if it was a significant one, will always follow you. Your old name will always be in someone's address book or mailing list. I also see why some transsexuals gravitate towards other transsexuals for relationships because being with someone who understands you certainly has its advantages. I also see why some transsexuals gravitate towards genetic women, but realistically few lesbians will want to be with a transwoman who isn't very passable as a woman. By the same token, few straight men will want to be with an unpassable transwoman. You don't see very many unpassable transsexuals going out on dates. "I like you because I can take you anywhere" is something I've heard from many straight and bisexual men. I've discovered that guys who are confident enough with their sexuality to date a transsexual are usually older. This is not a bad thing, especially if you're older, but if you're younger and seeking a younger guy, the dude will be influenced by his friends and if he doesn't have many friends, you should wonder about that.

Singing My Own Praises

Facebook can be your friend or foe. I often wonder how people can be so ignorant of all of the changes in my life, especially when they tell me they've met me long ago and ask me if I've transitioned yet. If my appearance doesn't clue you in, I'm not sure what will. Unlike my peers, I don't flash my driver's license every chance I get or sing my own praises on Facebook to prove that I'm a woman. I talk about myself mostly on this blog. That has backfired on me somewhat because some people still think I'm the married crossdresser they knew from the early 90s just like they were and still are today. I could've been a coward by running away from my past, but I chose to stay put and explain things patiently to each and every person who questions me because that's the kind of helpful person I am. I'm happy that I was given the opportunity to be someone of significance in my community even if I'm not the same category of trans person that I was before. I'm now a separated/divorced transsexual who was courageous enough to be who she was meant to be and still has a good relationship with her family, friends, and coworkers. That's certainly something worth singing about.

Plastic Surgery

This is the face and body I started off with back in November 2009. Since then, I've had FFS (rhinoplasty) and breast augmentation. I still praise the natural look and only encourage people to get plastic surgery if they feel they really need it, not because of what others might think of them. I gave this advice to a retired transsexual woman at a recent party and she knew I was right. Both surgeries are not cakewalks, especially the type of rhinoplasty I had that included septoplasty and turbinate ablation to help me with my breathing problems. If you truly want to change the way you look, you have to sit down and ask yourself if you are willing to go through with everything that is required of you to achieve the look you want. You will experience pain like you've never experienced before. Are you ready for it? My dearest friends from the early 90s onward all know that I've always had issues with my nose, but I've learned to live with it and love it because it really wasn't that bad. When my opportunity came to make a change, I sought the best surgeon, not the surgeons that most of my peers went to because I really didn't want anyone but the best touching my face. I had to still look like me, not me with a mask on my face. Anyone who's done any significant research on rhinoplasty knows that you go to a specialist to get your nose done, such as Dr. Daniel G. Becker or Dr. Alvin Glasgold in the Philadelphia area. I went to the latter because I felt he had a better sense of aesthetics than the other. He's known as Dr. Alvin by all of his patients and when Dr. Alvin first met me, he had no idea I was a transsexual woman. "What brings you to my office today? What can you tell me about rhinoplasty?" were his first questions. "Well, my nose has served me well for the past 42 years, but I feel I'm ready for a change. I'm a male to female transsexual and want a nose that's more appropriate for my face. I'm now living as a woman," I said. He looked confused. "So, wait. You're living as a woman and you want to look like a man?" he asked. I shook my head. "No, I was born a man and am now living as a woman," I said. He chuckled. "Pardon me, but I thought you were a woman when I first walked in," he said, "you look like a woman to me. Completely." I smiled and told him my past history as a male, then as an androgynous person wanting to be seen as female, and now fully presenting as female. I brushed my hair aside so he could study my face. "You have a very feminine face. Nice eyes, nice cheekbones, a very exotic look. The only thing that's masculine about your face is your nose. It droops and there's no projection. I want to raise the tip by placing a support inside it. I would shave a tiny bit off the hump. You don't have a big hump. I would also make the bridge narrower. We walked over to a different room where I saw an artist's rendition of my face using the pictures one of his assistant's captured of me prior to my meeting with him (the before and after pictures looked similar to the ones on the right that I created). "These pictures give you a general idea of what you will look like, but the end result will be better," he said. I wanted more of a curve to my nose, but not so much that it would look upturned. He disagreed. "I could give you a little curve, but too much and it would throw off the balance of your face," he said. I asked him if he thought my browbone was too embossed like other transsexuals I've seen, but he didn't think so. "Reshaping your nose will make a huge difference," he said. "I want you to have a natural-looking nose. I don't want people to think you had a nose job." We walked back over to the patient waiting room. "Are you comfortable working with someone like me?" I asked. "Oh, yes!" he said with great enthusiasm. "I'm going to make you look great! You're going to love the way you look. In fact, I would love to use your before and after pictures on my web site." "I just want to make sure you're comfortable working on transsexuals or people in the LGBT community," I said. "I've worked on a lot of LGBT people and I think it's wonderful that I can effect a change in their lives," he said. I smiled. "You seem like a mentally stable person, which is great. I would never want to proceed with people who weren't because they usually have unrealistic expectations," he said.

Alyan's Middle Eastern Cuisine

I've read many good reviews about Alyan's kibbe and falafel, so my curiosity was quenched recently when I took my son there for lunch. Sadly, it didn't live up to my expectations. I love Middle Eastern food, but the kibbe was quite bland and the falafel didn't have the soft, crumbly texture of many other places I like. The bread and vegetables were good and fresh, but there wasn't anything really special about the food. Mama's Vegetarian, a sit-down cafeteria-style restaurant, has much better falafel and bread. Ali Baba's Magic Food, a food truck, has kibbe and falafel with more authentic flavors. If I were to put my finger on something, I'd say the food lacks soul and is meant as a kind of beginner's Middle Eastern food for people who aren't used to the spices. Two nice ladies sat next to us and one of them told me how beautiful my son was. I thanked her and she asked me if I was Korean. She immediately concluded that my son must be part Caucasian to which I said yes. She said her husband was Filipino. When it was time to leave, I said to her, "Thank you and have a wonderful day!" She thanked me and wished me the same.

The Magic Number Two

It's always two pounds, two inches, or two degrees that irritate me. I seem to have a problem losing two pounds as easily as I used to. I wish I was two inches shorter so less people would know my secret. I wish it would be two degrees warmer or colder so I would feel totally comfortable whereever I am. I guess two is really not so bad of a number. It could be three or four or ten or twenty or God knows what. I should be thankful it's only two.

Mama's Vegetarian

Their warm, fresh pitas are soft and thick and quite possibly the best in the city. These are not paper-thin supermarket pitas, but pitas baked daily, fresh out of the oven. Few things are more satisfying than fresh baked bread. Stuff it with diced cucumbers, tomatoes, slivered lettuce, and your choice of falafel, fried eggplant, or latkes (potato pancakes) and you have an on-the-go meal suitable for any health-conscious girlie who doesn't want to skimp on taste for calories. It's not entirely healthy, as the falafel, fried eggplant, and latkes are deep fried, but health nuts don't seem to care. All I know is fried meets fresh tastes good. Of course, food this good leaves your breath smelling stinky.

Light Socket Hair

Cold weather can make a girl look like she stuck her finger in a light socket. Here are some tips I found to help curb the situation. Personally, I've discovered that wetting your hair resets it. Static only starts to rear its ugly head again once you start running your fingers through your hair or combing it with a plastic comb. Letting my hair air dry for a bit before turning on my hair dryer also helps.

Stealth

You might believe that working for a university is an ideal situation for a transitioner, but let me counter that bias with arguments that not every university has a good diversity policy and it's actually more challenging than you think. I graduated from and work for an elite university that attracts the best and brightest students from all over the world. Because there are so many people of all skin colors, races, creeds, and religions here, we have to have a hell of a diversity policy in place to ensure that there is no discrimination within our population. This wonderful diversity policy also helps protect transsexuals who wish to transition in the workplace, but what some folks fail to realize is just because such a policy exists doesn't mean that discrimination doesn't happen. The policy really enforces how faculty and staff should treat each other. Students have a lot more freedom to express themselves. When you're young, you sometimes say and do silly things. Unlike a "normal" work environment where I have to not only look presentable to my peers, I also have to look presentable to people of college age, too, especially people I take classes with. That's a challenge that many trans women would find highly daunting. How many of you can look as good as a twenty year old? How many of you can fit in with a bunch of twenty year olds? Passing in my environment equates to not only passing as a woman, but passing as a woman who reasonably fits into a campus environment. I don't want people to look at me and say, "Oh, this place must have a great diversity policy." Instead, my goal is to be a passable woman who flies under everyone's radar so that nobody can come up with such prejudice, however slight.

Pura Vida

My friend Chris and I ate at Pura Vida, a Latin American BYOB that received lots of rave reviews on Yelp. We ordered the Guatamalan tamales, ginger chicken soup, and salsa and chips for our appetizers and two entrées called the Playo Gaucho and El Playero. The Playo Gaucho was uninspiring as I felt the steak from overcooked and tough and the shrimp lacked any flavor. Both items sat atop a big bed of shredded lettuce and diced tomatoes soaked in too much vinegar dressing. The El Playero was a complete opposite. It had large flavorful shrimp and homemade ravioli filled with lobster and ricotta cheese in a magnificent sauce of garlic, butter, and cilantro. I couldn't stop eating it. We found ourselves dipping the relatively bland Playo Gaucho beef and shrimp in the wonderful sauce of El Playero. We went to Buddakan for drinks afterwards. That was fun.

The Best Place to Live

How can a recent study citing Philadelphia as "the most depressing place to live" be true? Where else can I find a cross between my hometown of Brooklyn and my playground of Manhattan? Where else would I be able to go to an Ivy League school, eat at hundreds of nice restaurants, and meet so many cool diverse people from all over the world? Philadelphia is the city I made my home for the past 23 years. I've lived here far longer than any other city. This is where I learned how to drive and where I learned the satisfaction of paying off a mortgage. This is where I met my ex-wife and where I watched my two children breathe life for the first time. I've watched Philadelphia improve to something better than it was and I'm glad to be a part of that transformation. I wouldn't stay if I thought it was a shit town with nothing going for it. You certainly need money to live in the nicer areas of the city, but the same is true anywhere. Philadelphia is a fantastic place for someone like me and I make no regrets moving here. Those who don't like Philly can get the fuck out.

The Power

"You're so beautiful. Guys must hit on you all the time," my friend Jack from Ohio said one night. I shook my head and shrugged. "No, and if so, where are they?" I replied. "Well, have you tried?" he asked. I said no. That made me curious about my power. My friend Ann and I had a bite to eat at Mizu and she wanted a martini afterwards, so I suggested we go to the best place for martinis, a posh steak house nearby. The steak house's bar was known as a "cougar bar," so we fit right in. The bar was crowded, but we found two seats. We sat down, got our cocktail menus, and shortly afterwards the guy sitting next to me asked, "So what are we having tonight?" I told him we were just having drinks. He looked over at Ann and then at me. He and I talked for a little while. He was from Boston and we talked about our college experiences there. I felt that he may have discovered my secret. He left, but his seat was quickly occupied by his friend who had sat next to him. Ann went to the restroom. "My friend and I looked over at your friend earlier and he immediately figured out that she was a transvestite. He could just tell," he said. I corrected him by saying that the proper term for her was transsexual. His friend thought that because Ann was trans that I may be, too. "You're not a man, are you? 'cuz if you're a man, then I'm fucked," he said. "I'm not a man," I said, looking at him as if he were crazy. "No, of course not, and I apologize. I meant no disrespect," he said. He bought me a couple of drinks and asked me if I wanted something to eat. I said no, so he ordered a big salad with a chicken breast the size of a ten-ounce steak for himself and offered me half of it. I accepted. "The bacon bits are great," he said. Indeed they were, as they were huge cubes of cured pork belly. He played a lot of footsie with me and massaged my hands a lot during our conversation. He ran his fingers through my hair and brushed my hair away from my face to see my face better. Was he trying to see if I was wearing a wig? I let him scrutinize every minute detail about me. He told me that I was beautiful several times during our conversation and admitted he wanted to "jump my bones so bad." Ironically, he was married and an ethics professor. He offered to let me sit in on one of his classes some time and suggested we could have dinner afterwards. He gave me his business card and asked me to contact him. I did some research on him and discovered that he's one of the top 100 lawyers in Pennsylvania. I've concluded that the power that I have is knowing the importance of being a highly educated woman who has lived in three cities. This has enabled me to attract a better class of men. I've gone out to dinner with many lawyers, a very famous politician, an architect, a CFO, and more. I doubt that I'd be able to attract such people with just looks or intelligence alone. You need to have both.

My Parents

I haven't seen my parents or my brothers in over a year because of my turbulent roller coaster life. My ex, my mother-in-law (I still call her "mom"), and my kids all agreed to meet my family at the shore for lunch at a Chinese restaurant. My friends have asked me if I was nervous about meeting my parents, but I was surprisingly calm and not nervous at all. I felt like this is me and I'm finally comfortable with who I am. It took me a long time to realize this. A crazy long time. When my mother saw my ex, she walked up to her and hugged her, cried, and said, "I'm so sorry." She knew that my ex had lost her husband. In many respects, it was true. My ex assured her that she and the kids were doing fine. I'm always happy to see my father. We hugged inside the restaurant and I told him I love him. My mother looked at us a few yards away and I felt like she was judging me. I had expected her to shower me with a guilt trip, accusations, and venomous remarks during lunch, but she was surprisingly serene. I spoke to my brothers at length about everything before we met. They were fine with me and my decision. My little brother still calls me Clarence. My middle brother calls me Clare. He told me that our mother was moody lately, being okay with my transition on some days and not so much on others. My father told my mother that she should be supportive of me. My father wasn't always there for me as a child because he was always working, so I was impressed with his openmindedness. My mother told me in private, "I still feel I have three sons." I replied, "I know, mom." It'll take time for her to adjust. It'll take time for all of them to adjust because I could tell from their faces that they weren't used to seeing me as a woman. I wore nice natural makeup and dressed rather conservatively in a turtleneck, pullover hoodie sweater, black tights, and UGGs. My mother-in-law liked my UGGs. She wants a pair. My mother told me to take care of my health. I told her I love her and this time I meant it. Everyone hugged me before they left. In a strange way, I felt closer to my family now than ever before. My mother-in-law felt that it was a good first meeting with my parents.

Care Package

My parents always leave my ex and I with a care package every time they see us. This care package usually spans several boxes of goodies that includes cookies, cakes, pies, nuts, fruit, homemade dishes, and more. As I grow older, I yearn for the garlic roast pork or soy sauce and scallion chicken she makes. It's like Eddie Murphy in Raw (1987) when tells us how he yearns for his mother's "big green pepper burger" when he gets older. My mother now makes Rice Krispies treats and cheesecake for the kids and sticky rice with meats and vegetables wrapped in banana leaves in addition to the pork and chicken dishes. I never really appreciated the good side of her because my judgement of her was so clouded by the bad side.

Amis

Good Italian comfort food is a great belly filler on cold weather nights. My friend Cherise and I had dinner at Amis where we enjoyed appetizers of seafood frito misto (fried calamari and shrimp) and swordfish meatballs with creamy polenta and pinenuts and entrées of roasted lamb with potatoes and roasted head-on shrimp with smashed chickpeas and watercress. Everything was really good as expected from a Marc Vetri restaurant. After dinner, we went to a Human Rights Campaign-sponsored dance party and drag king show at Sisters. We topped off the night with a slice of pizza from Gay Pizza. We enjoyed bowls of Vietnamese noodle soup at my favorite restaurant in South Philly for such.

Fuji Mountain

I met John, a Canadian network design consultant, at my party and when our conversation turned to cachaca (Brazilian sugarcane liquor), I quickly mentioned Rum Bar and the good food I had there. "Is it open now? Are you hungry?" he asked. That's like asking me if cows moo. I called Rum Bar, but nobody answered. John asked me what else could be open at 11:30pm. "Do you like sushi?" I asked. "I love sushi. Everything but sea urchin," he replied. "Then you haven't had good sea urchin," I said. "Where can we get good sea urchin?" he asked. "Fuji Mountain!" I said without hesitation. I called Fuji Mountain and discovered they were open until 1:15am. We took a cab there and enjoyed some wonderful sushi, including kampachi, scallop, white albacore tuna, fatty tuna, king crab, sweet shrimp with fried shrimp heads, sea urchin, eel, and red snapper. Until recently, the thought of eating shrimp shells disgusted me, so I was surprised to discover how much I enjoyed the fried shrimp heads that accompanied our sweet shrimp sushi. The light, crunchy tempura coating and rich, creamy innards are a perfect contrast and the flavors and textures of the shrimp heads reminded me of lightly fried soft shell crabs. "I can eat a bunch of these with a bowl of rice," I admitted. We shared a bottle of Nigori Creme de Sake, which is similar to a coconut sake version of Bailey's Irish cream. I learned something new from John, that it's impolite to pour your own drink when eating with others in Japan. You pour your companion's drink and your companion pours yours. We did this and ended up holding hands and enjoying each other's company. He walked me home after our late night meal and we ended the night with a kiss.

Photography

Two of my pictures from India will be shown in the upcoming Penn Undergraduate Juried Exhibition from January 19 to February 9. The juror will be Roxana Perez-Mendez, a Philadelphia-based artist who has exhibited works at the Morris Gallery and Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. My new photography course is on Studio Lighting and Still Life. We have nine students, five female and four male. The professor feels this is the optimal number of students for an advanced photography class. We reviewed different lighting scenarios shot through a Hasselblad H2 tethered to a Mac. Before class started, one of my classmates loved my highlights and ran her fingers through my hair. "You have such nice hair," she remarked. It's nice to be noticed like that. Our first assignment requires us to photographic our version of what we believe a still life is.

Buddakan

My friend John and I had dinner at Buddakan where we had Malaysian Spicy Lobster, Hot and Sour Scallops with Chinese sausage, sweet corn, tofu, and black mushrooms (similar to Ma Pao Tofu, which I love), Dungeness Crab Sticky Rice, and Chinese Eggplant and Garlic Sauce. Everything was sooo... goood... yum... John loved it and thanked me for the suggestion. We stopped by the Roxy Theater to see what was playing and we would've seen the new Sherlock Holmes movie had we known that the last showing was 7:30pm on a weekday. We took a stroll through Rittenhouse Square Park and went to the lounge at Sofitel for drinks and stimulating conversation that left me with a very good feeling about him. Unlike so many guys I've met, John didn't try to push himself on me, which I appreciated. "Without a doubt, you're the most normal, stable woman I've ever met. You don't have all the hang ups of most transwomen," he said while we were cozying up on a couch by the fireplace. It felt so nice to close my eyes and lay my head on his warm chest. He was much taller and bigger than me, as most men are, and it felt right to be with him at that moment. It was ironic that the one part of the lounge that could be its most intimate area had floor-to-ceiling glass windows for everyone outside to look in. "You're gorgeous. You must get hit on all the time. Why did you choose me?" he asked. "I'm always up front with people and tell them when I'm free. I figure if someone is truly interested in me, he'll ask me out and if I like him, I'll accept," I said. Unfortunately, a lot of guys are lecherous and think that dinner equates to a free ticket to sex. I've met many guys who make unwanted advances, trying to grab this and that, and I've always thought they were disgusting human beings. It's nice to meet normal guys like John who aren't like that.

Video Games

I have two Nintendo Wiis, one white and one black. The optical drive in the white one wouldn't read game discs anymore, so instead of sending it to a repair house, I reasoned it would be cheaper to buy a new one. Recently, I came across information on the problem and discovered that the reason for such is usually a dirty optical drive lens. I could either buy the $25 cleaning disc Nintendo sells or make my own with less than a dollar's worth of parts I already own. I made my own, inserted it into the Wii, did a couple of in and out strokes as taught in the video, and pulled it out. Much to my surprise - and horror - the cleaning cloth material rubbed off and stuck itself inside the optical drive! Try as I might, I couldn't fish it out using various tools, such as a metal ruler or straightened paperclips. The cleaning process worked as my game discs could now be read, but there was some friction upon inserting a game disc into the Wii. This told me that the cleaning cloth and tape somehow lodged itself against the upper wall of the optical drive. I discovered that the Wii can be opened with a little patience using a $5 tool kit. I opened it and, try as I might, I couldn't find the cleaning pad. Repeatedly inserting and ejecting game discs have somewhat reduced the friction. I figure the cleaning pad and tape are adhered to an inaccessible part of the optical drive and will likely be a permanent part of it until the drive fails again and I need to replace it. I'll send my Wii to the repair house the next time I get read errors. Recently, I bought a Sony Playstation 3 for the sole purpose of playing Soul Calibur IV. I got addicted to playing the game at a friend's birthday party recently.

The Key to Success

Over the years, I've blogged about my life and all of my many successes and failures and some of you might be wondering what the keys to my success are. I could chalk it up to being confident, pretty, passable, kindhearted, and sincere, but there's more to success than being any of that. Many younger transsexuals might wonder if they can do what I have done, such as owning a house, cars, lots of cool gadgets, and more and having long-term (5+ years) relationships, children, and pets, without depending on anyone for support and without resorting to prostitution. The answer is a resounding yes. You can do anything you set your mind to, but you have to give a damn about yourself and your situation and you have to be willing to do what it takes to propel yourself forward so you can reach your goals. That's the key to success. Life is a series of milestones. If you don't have goals and aren't steadily improving yourself in all aspects of your life, you are not the type of person most people would find interesting or be attracted to. Ultimately, your transition is about how well you interact with the people around you and how well they accept you as a woman. Ultimately, you chose to acknowledge yourself as a woman, so now you should do everything in your power to make your life a good one.

Appreciation

I've inspired many people with my writings as I get emails of this sort regularly: "I just want to tell you what an amazing story you have and how awesome you are. Your smile lights up others to smile. I would love to meet someone just like you. It is obvious that you have inspired others. You have inspired me to be me as well. Thank you for your struggles and successes. All the best. -WM"

Still Life: First Assignment

Our first assignment in Still Life class was left purposely open-ended to give us a chance to show our classmates what we think a still life image looks like. We were asked to pay attention to lighting, composition (paying attention to what's in the frame), and styling (manipulating and arranging all of the small details) and we are discouraged from overly Photoshopping our images in the interest of capturing something that exists in real life. We are asked to disable autofocus and set our cameras entirely on manual mode so we can get exactly the shot we want. The goal of our pictures is to set the mood and toy with people's emotions. We were warned that the assignment was not as easy as it sounds. "Once you get into your work, you'll be obsessed with manipulating little details throughout the image," my professor said. Using skills learned from my Lighting for Editorial Photography class, I created this image out of found objects in my home. It took me about 140 shots and dozens of detail manipulations to arrive at this final image that I call "Valentine's Day." The class as a whole liked my image. This is a refreshing change from many previous classes populated with mostly younger students who just didn't understand my work.

Celebrated as an annual commemoration of the love and affection between two people, my Valentine's Day image speaks about
imperfect relationships, lost loves, broken hearts, and what brings two people together may also create an unmendable rift between them.

Holiday Party

Every year my department has a faculty and staff holiday dinner at a nice restaurant. This year we went to Moshulu, a boat restaurant that has garnered excellent reviews. I was going to wear my hair long and straight for the dinner, but decided against it an hour before my friend Chris J arrived because of the way my dress was cut. I wanted my hair to fall right on my shoulders, so I curled it. All of my peers who saw me remarked that I looked great, which made me feel good. One guy who'd occasionally give me unsure looks in the past approached me and said hello. "Curling your hair is a very nice look for you," he commented. I thanked him. A couple of my peers were going ape over the wine and beer. The beer connoisseurs liked that Victory Storm King Stout was available. Alas, I'm not a wine or beer drinker. I'd actually prefer a mixed drink with vodka or rum with my meal. The food was very good. The hor d'oeuvres were nice. The shrimp ceviche, chopped pieces of chilled shrimp in a citrus salsa served on tiny blue corn tortilla chips, was a treat. The chicken and guacamole burrito slices and apple and maple walnut dumplings were good, too. The only item that was out of place was the pigs in a blanket, which I equate with bad wedding banquets. Given our department's budget, we couldn't get a beef entrée as we normally do, but the free range chicken dish I had was actually quite good. I'm a food snob and I don't normally praise chicken.

If I were to negatively comment on any aspect of the holiday dinner, it's that everyone's choice of dress was inconsistent. Only in an academic environment would you see a range of clothing from nice suits and dresses to turtlenecks and jeans. Jeez! It's a formal dinner and most everyone is well over 30, so there's no excuse for looking frumpy at the holiday dinner. The way I looked tonight is a preview of how I'll look for a black tie event this Friday. My date will be wearing a tux! After dinner, Chris J and I went to R2L for drinks and good bar food, including lobster and crab spring rolls and chicken, shrimp, and veggie tempura.

Ignored

I didn't get to say hello to everyone at the holiday dinner, so two of my work friends were very upset with me. They accused me of ignoring them, but the truth is the reception room was so packed, I couldn't really move over to see them. Once we sat down in the dining room, each table of eight was pretty much isolated from the others. When I was a man, nobody at my workplace really cared if I said hello to them at these dinners. What I should've done was simply walk over to every table with my camera and take pictures and say hello to everyone. There are so many people who attend these dinners every year and nobody ever documents who goes to them.

My Biggest Fear

I sometimes wonder if my kids will turn out okay knowing that their daddy is now a woman. Every time I have such doubts, new articles like this one come out that give me hope. Coming from an Asian family where guilt trips are the norm, I know that if my kids get into any sort of trouble or suffer from some social or psychological disorder, I'll probably get blamed for it. The only thing I can do is make sure my kids get the attention they deserve, continue to help them with their homework, and do fun activities with them. The rest will hopefully work itself out.

My Collection of Coats

I have almost two dozen different jackets and coats for all seasons. One of my winter coats, my long puffer, is finally starting to look weathered. I like the coat for its warmth, but not for its style. I've been described as resembling a soccer mom in it, which is not far from the truth, but you never want to admit such. I recently bought a new hip-length puffer that looks really nice on me. It's a generously proportioned "medium" size that doesn't constrict my chest and lets me show off my legs. Now I won't be mistaken for a soccer mom anymore.

Blackfish

My friend Chris and I had dinner at Blackfish. We had appetizers of applewood smoked Scottish salmon with crispy potato and fried egg and roasted bone marrow with brook trout roe. For our entrées, Chris had the lancaster county poulard with butternut squash, cipollini onions, and shittake mushrooms and I had the roasted Scottish salmon with trumpet mushrooms. It was a very nice meal, much like my first Blackfish experience back in October. I liked both salmon dishes although a bit more lemon would've cut down the fishy smell more. My bone marrow was more like jelly whereas Chris' bone marrow was more like butter. Both were good and the portion size of each bone marrow dish was huge compared to other places. Surprisingly, I thought Chris' poulard (spayed hen) dish was a winner. The crispy skin had plenty of flavor and the meat was juicy and tender. We went to my Thursday night party after dinner. One of my guests told me I have a gorgeous smile and that my smile "lights up a whole room and makes others want to smile."

Paesano's

My friend Chris J2 (I know way too many Chrisses) and I had lunch today at a little South Philly sandwich shop called Paesano's, which was featured on Bobby Flay's Throwdown. Last time I ordered the Arista, a roasted suckling pig sandwich with Italian long hots, broccoli rabe, and sharp provolone. This time I ordered the Paesano, a beef brisket sandwich with horseradish mayo, roasted tomatoes, pepperincino, sharp provolone, and a fried egg. The rolls used in all of their sandwiches are seeded Liscio rolls, which I find more enjoyable to eat than Sarcone rolls. Alas, one of these sandwiches is way too big for me. I found myself eating just the insides of the second half of my sandwich. For just a dollar more than a Pat's or Geno's cheesesteak, you can get a highly memorable gourmet sandwich at Paesano's.

The Power, Part Two

I was supposed to go to The 2012 Philadelphia Auto Show Black Tie Tailgate party, but my date was a no-show and I didn't want my preparations to go to waste, so I took a cab to my favorite cougar bar in Philly. It was Restaurant Week and the bar was packed with people, but within minutes, I was able to get a guy to give up his seat for me. His name was Wes and during our conversation he told me he has homes in Philadelphia and Detroit, a restaurant in Detroit, an energy drink that competes against Red Bull, and a rapper. "How do you own a rapper?" I asked. "He's in my energy drink commercials," he replied. Wes bought me dinner, which consisted of three beef sliders, a colossal lump crabmeat cocktail, and a drink. I couldn't finish everything, so I got two of the three sliders wrapped up. Later in the night, after Wes left, a guy named Harry approached me and said, "I'm not a pick up artist. I've actually never approached a woman before. My friend from across the bar gave me a tip that you might be single and alone." I turned to his friend, waved, and smiled at him. Harry invited me over to the other side of the bar, which was brighter and away from the distracting television monitor. We sat down, he bought me another drink, and we had a very nice conversation. Harry was married five times and was once the supplier of all of the seafood to Bookbinder's in the 70s and 80s. He, like Wes, was insanely wealthy. He also offered to buy me food, but I declined because I had already eaten. He warned me about Wes who has a live-in girlfriend but is always on the prowl. We talked about going places and meeting all of his high-society friends, many of whom are famous Philadelphians. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun!" he said with great enthusiasm. It was strange that both Wes and Harry described me as "gorgeous" and "adorable" and our conversations built up to the point where each expressed their desire to take me home and then each did a complete 180 once they received a text message on their phones from someone named Lane. I caught wind that Lane was the manager of the restaurant. "There's something I gotta' know," Harry said, after I returned from the restroom. "What's that?" I asked. "Are you a transsexual?" he asked. I looked at him like he was silly. "I have to know the truth. Were you always a woman?" he asked. I couldn't lie. Lying gets you nowhere in the long run. "I wasn't always a woman," I finally said. "That's all I gotta' know. I'm sorry, but this won't work," he said. He pulled a twenty out of a wad of money in his pocket and handed it to me for cab fare. "Take this, my dear," he said. I was shocked. "Trust me, I'm doing you a favor," he said, putting his hand on mine, and then promptly leaving, taking his takeout bag of lobster cocktail with him. Earlier, he had promised me his lobster cocktail to go along with my beef sliders that Wes bought me. I was really looking forward to the lobster because the older couple I had talked to in between my time with Wes and Harry was raving about how good it was. Harry had also promised me a manicure, his treat, at a nail salon near where he lives before the rug got pulled from underneath me and left me feeling fucked. I felt alone and sulked in my seat for what seemed like five minutes. The bartenders ignored me, so I knew something was up. You know when you're not welcome somewhere. I looked around for hidden cameras. I could usually spot them. How was Lane spying on me? How did he know my secret? Why did he warn these guys about my status? Did I fuck myself by going to this bar with another transsexual in the past? I couldn't stand it anymore. I decided to take action. I got my coat on, walked to the front podium, and signalled the only man wearing a suit among the staff. He walked over. I asked what his name was and who Lane was. "I'm Carlos. Lane just left," he said. "I know, that's what Harry told me. Do you know Harry?" I asked. "Yeah, I know Harry," he said. "Is Lane the manager?" I asked. Carlos nodded. "I just wanted to say that what Lane did to me was very wrong. I'm a human being, a paying customer who has dined here several times. I like this bar and I want to come here again," I said. Carlos assured me the next time I go he would "take care of me," which usually equates to free drinks. "I know that you work for Lane, so he has say over everything you do," I said. "I wouldn't say that," he assured me. He asked me to write my name and number down on a card so that Lane could return my call. I could only imagine some Christian Republican dude on the other end telling me that I'm a man who shouldn't be leading other men on. So the cold hard reality of life is as passable as I am, it's still not enough to convince everyone that I'm a woman. I wish every transsexual well, but the reality is all the beauty, brains, and charisma in the world cannot erase the stigma that you're just a "tranny" to some people. Vaginal surgery isn't going to help convince these doubters you're a woman, either, because these guys never asked what was under my skirt.

I sent this letter to the corporate offices of Smith & Wollensky:

Joe Floyd, Director of Operations of all Smith & Wollensky restaurants in this region, called me and will launch a full-scale investigation on the entire situation. He apologized on Lane's behalf and will find out more details soon. "Know that you have a friend in me and anytime you need to call me for food or drink, just do so. I know it won't make up for what happened, but this type of behavior is not tolerated at any of our restaurants," Joe said. I'm glad Joe called me. On another note, my no-show date owes me a huge apology and explanation, especially after I tried calling him and a woman answered his phone. Could this be his wife even though he said he wasn't married? The next day I ate my two remaining sliders. I noticed they were actually bacon cheeseburgers. The bread was buttered and toasted. I enjoyed them.

Iridescent Purple

I got my nails done at my salon today and this time I got Tutti Frutti (fuschia pink) layered on top of Fedora (reddish black). The result is a gorgeous shade of iridescent purple. A Latina cashier at Rite Aid liked my color.

Virtual Reality Distortion

No wonder why kids, and some adults, are so screwed up noawadays. Until recently, I haven't caught on to the new crop of games that allow you to assume the identity of someone else, such as Batman in Arkham City and Arkham Asylum, Ezio in Assassin's Creed, or Kratos in God of War. These games have cinematic footage and very realistic situations that pull you into their virtual worlds. It's easy for someone with an active imagination and not much social skill to play these games endlessly and believe after a while that he or she is the main character of the game. That's quite sad, if you think about it, but it's a testament to how good games have become in the last five years. Unfortunately, some of these gamers might end up living their lives on SecondLife.com.

My Lasagna Again

I toyed with the idea of making a seafood lasagna after my wildly successful first lasagna back in November, but I held back because I still have to figure out what seafood I'm going to use besides shrimp and scallops. I still believe whiting (imitation crabmeat) is a good choice. A Google search on seafood lasagna recipes reveals spinach as a good ingredient. That's a good idea! My new meat lasagna is much larger than my previous one. I've used almost twice as much Angus beef and sweet Italian sausage as before. This time I used a shredded cheese blend that includes mozzarella, provolone, parmesan, asiago, fontina, and romano cheeses in additon to whole milk mozzarella, shaved parmesan, and ricotta. Seven different cheeses! I made it a little less garlicky than last time and it was still very flavorful and delicious. I ate two pieces. Oh, I'm so full! I gave a piece to my doorman and my coworker. My coworker gave it a thumbs up. My next upgrade will be to use curly lasagna pasta.

You Can't Escape Your Past

Suppose you transitioned at your current workplace and decided to go for a new job, perhaps in another city. Any meaningful job will ask for references from your previous employers. You can't erase or change your history. It's part of you and if you worked as a man in those previous positions, you'll have to call up every one of your past employers and inform them of your transition so there are no surprises when your future employer calls them (a very good reason why you may wish to make your current name a close variant of your old name). Every friend you've made in your previous workplaces will eventually find out about your transition, too. Some won't care while others may unfriend you. Nobody ever said this was an easy life and, as a transitioner, you chose the most difficult life to live. If you are not pretty, passable, and presentable, your life will be fraught with anguish and frustration and, in truth, it is nobody's fault but your own because the world won't bend for you and how you choose to define yourself. To all the world, you've made a choice, a carefully planned decision to be the gender you were meant to be, so it is up to you to make the most of your life, to be the best that you can be, and to make the most of your opportunities. There are people I know who could be so much better, but they choose not to be. They sit around doing nothing, have no skills, and suck money from their parents and the government. When they die, their legacy dies with them. Your past defines who you are today. Be proud of everything you've done in your past. If you're not that proud of your past, make it something to be proud of by starting with a clean slate and achieving the goals necessary to make your life praiseworthy.

Silk Infusion

Four months of flat ironing and curling my hair has left me with a lot of broken and dry hair. The broken hairs look make my hairline look odd. The dry hair looks frizzy and needs to be straightened. It's a neverending process with hair styling. I decided to invest some time and money into revitalizing my hair. I did some research and bought CHI Silk Infusion, a product that makes my hair look silky and shiny. It's very expensive, but worth it. A friend of mine informed me that I should be using a thermal protection spray or lotion in my hair before I flat iron it. Silly me, I kept thinking my hair was indestructible, so I never bothered to do so and I paid the price in broken hair that'll probably take a year to grow back. I bought Got 2b CrazySleek Flat Iron and Blow Dry Lotion. We'll see how that works over time. I like this kind of hairstyle because it takes a minute to create. All you do is straighten your hair and curl the ends. It's so easy!

Still Life

Today in my Still Life class, we were divided into small groups and asked to photograph a table of objects using nine different lighting scenarios with tungsten lighting. I was selected as one of three team leaders since we had the most photography experience in the class. The two pretty undergraduate girls in my class chose my group. The class exercise prepared us for our second assignment, which is to mimic a still life portrait created by one of nineteen famous artists, such as Eugene Delacroix and Theodore Gericault. There's lots of reading in this course, so it's as much a course on art history as it is on photography. Unfortunately, the senior student in our class, a retired man who owned restaurants, dropped the class. He was my greatest advocate during our first assignment critique.

Backstabbing

Someone asked me for advice on people in her workplace and what they might be saying about her behind her back. I always tell transitioners to beware of everyone because you will discover that the people you thought were supportive really aren't and the people you thought would never support you might be your greatest allies. The biggest mistake any transsexual can make is thinking that everyone will accept her transition just because she is pretty and passable. Being pretty and passable can sometimes evoke envy and jealousy among the not so pretty genetic women.

The Unwritten Dress Code

My ex-boyfriend thought about situations involving women in the workplace and said that there is an unwritten dress code in every work environment where every woman dresses a certain way so as not to show up anyone else. If you walked into work one day looking all sassy and sexy, you will irritate the women in your work environment because they're all trying to look as plain as possible. They will argue that people should look nice, but not great at work. Looking sassy and sexy is reserved for after work parties, cocktail hour, etc. A secretary friend and I had talked about the inappropriateness of wearing high heels at work, especially with regard to this one woman who was about five-foot-two wearing five-inch heels and a short dress. She looked like a little kid wearing her mother's things! There are certain liberties you can take in an academic environment, but not like that! I'm kind of a rebel in my own way because I sometimes dress a lot younger than I am, but as a technology person I don't have to wear jackets, skirts, and pumps.

Benihana

There's something ultimately satisfying about a Benihana meal. I've always loved hibachi-style cooking, especially when the show of utensil acrobatics is as good as the fresh vegetables and meats cooked right in front of you. While it is fun to sit at a table of eight, the experience cannot compare to the having your own chef for two. My friend Chris and I enjoyed selections of hibachi steak and colossal shrimp and seafood diablo (shrimp, scallops, calamari with noodles in a spicy sauce). For the first time ever, my steak was prepared the way I like it, medium-rare, and my shrimp was not overcooked as in previous visits. At the Benihana in Plymouth Meeting, we waited a few minutes before our server decided that nobody else was going to join our table. The Benihana in Pennsauken would've made us wait until our table had eight people before starting the grill.

Pig Parts

The second project in my Still Life class asks us to mimic a famous still life painting. I would've felt unworthy of my cameras if all I photographed were bowls of fruit and vases of flowers, so I decided to take on a much more challenging portrait, Théodore Géricault's Anatomical Pieces, 1819. Géricault painted this and other disturbing portraits of severed heads and limbs en route to his masterpiece, The Raft of the Medusa, 1819. I didn't have access to a morgue or thousands of dollars to buy RealDoll parts or enough time to import Body Bakery limbs, so I substituted pig trotters for human arms and legs that I found in a butcher shop in South Philly. The way I envisioned this project, it was either going to be really awesome or an ultimate fail. I've never purchased pig parts before. As a child, my mother brought home all kinds of cow parts from the butcher, but pig parts were always avoided, perhaps for sanitary reasons. Pigs have gotten a bad rap over the years even though it's one of the most popular meat choices available. I would've loved to have used a longer limbed animal to imitate the look of human arms and legs, but butchers don't sell cow legs and I'm pretty sure four of them would be quite heavy. The only thing I could do was buy "long trotters," which are longer feet with shank meat connected. The first thing I noticed was how much the trotters smelled like bacon. It was a good smell, but the trotters looked hideous. I skinned the shank portion of one of the trotters using scissors and a small knife. This was a new experience for me and I quickly discovered how tough pig skin could be. Pulling the fat off of the muscles also proved quite a challenge. My kitchen was starting to smell like a butcher shop. Ironically, I ordered a baby suckling pig sandwich from Paesano's for lunch. I could never finish a whole sandwich, so it becomes a lunch/dinner meal for me. After photographing the trotters for more than an hour, I came to the conclusion that my golden image was somewhere in the 190 shots I took. I made my image resemble Géricault's painting as closely as possible given the limitations of the pig limbs. It would've been quite interesting to reproduce the painting using real human limbs, but I probably would've been freaked out for a week. I baked one of the trotters in the oven for two hours at 350 degrees. I foil-wrapped it with olive oil, garlic, and onion. The meat was very tender and the skin fell off the bone on the pan side. It looked yellow and disgusting. No wonder why people marinade pig parts in dark, opaque sauces! I found very little edible meat in the shank. It was mostly fat and gristle. I avoided eating any parts that were exposed to air during my photoshoot, which left very little meat to eat in the entire foot. I concluded that if you love lots of fat, then trotters are for you. I do like fat, especially in pork belly, but trotter meat is too fatty. I was under the impression that pig meat was naturally salty, but it's not. It has a slightly gamey taste like duck. Next time I'll soak the meat in brine for a day to add flavor. I'm confident I can cook a tasty pig. One of my classmates did a remake of another one of Theodore Géricault's anatomical parts portraits. He constructed his body parts out of cloth and tape. As expected, three classmates did fruits and vegetables images. Two didn't turn in anything. Our next project is to redo this image using strobe lighting.

That Funny Little Feeling

I'm a very emotional person. I cry when I see a masterful painting or a good drama with a happy ending. I get excited over the possibility of doing a fantastic thing. I get hellishly angry when someone peeves me off. One emotion I don't get very often is that funny little feeling you get at the bottom of your belly when you meet a guy or a girl you're really into. It tingles and feels funny and nice at the same time. I smile when it happens because I know I feel safe and that I'm the luckiest girl in the whole world. I've only ever felt that way a handful of times and each person I've felt that way with is special to me.

Not Eggs

I've eaten egg substitutes in the past two days in omelet and scrambled egg form and, I'm sorry, but they just don't taste good. Why would someone want to eat these fake eggs when they could eat the real thing? I love egg yolks. I love the whites of the eggs. I feel the same way about daiya vegan cheese. I like seitan and soy meats so long as the texture matches the real thing. Really, though, nothing beats the real thing. Perhaps this is why Quiznos puzzles me. Even though their Angus beef and pulled pork have the same texture as cold cuts, their sandwiches taste good. I think the sauces mask the flavor of the bad meat.

True to my Roots

Crossdressers and transsexuals have asked me why I'm still connected with the T-community now that I've transitioned. They tell me that if they looked like me, they would never look back. I don't think I could ever leave something I was a part of because it would be cruel to forget about your old friends. I believe that every crossdresser support group meeting has one or more budding transsexuals who need guidance to help them be who they were meant to be. I wish I had that kind of guidance when I was attending those meetings. In many ways, my parties are like support group meetings for both crossdressers and transsexuals. They are places where like-minded individuals meet and discuss everything from makeup secrets to upcoming surgeries. I make myself available to the people at my parties so they have a resource to go to when they need to find answers to questions they might have about themselves or transition. While there are crossdressers, and even transsexuals, who concentrate on the fetish aspects of wearing women's clothing, many are just trying to find out why they are the way they are.

Percy Street BBQ

I'm a big fan of Chef Erin O'Shea's pulled pork and pork belly meats, so I was delighted to see pork cheeks served with sweet potatoes and brussels sprouts on Percy Street BBQ's new menu. It was damn good! The pork cheeks were cut into small bite-sized pieces, marinated, and cooked like all the other wonderful barbecue meats. I've had pork cheeks from baby suckling pigs that tasted like custard and really soft meat. These pork cheeks, presumably from an older pig, were much firmer, similar in texture to filet mignon. The bitter flavor of the brussel sprouts was a stark contrast to the sweetness of the sweet potatoes. I would've preferred a vegetable that was a lot less bitter. I tried all three sauce choices - Sweet Thang, Old Faithful, and Hot Mess - and found the hot sauce to be pretty intense. My favorite was the sweet sauce.

Morton's

Morton's is my favorite steakhouse because it not only has great steaks, but fantastic appetizers. Their crabcakes are made of all jumbo lump crabmeat with no bread crumbs. Their Colossal Shrimp Alexander, basically panko-crusted fried shrimp sitting in a butter sauce, is to die for. The hosts and servers at the Philadelphia and King of Prussia locations all remember me and that's a wonderful, welcoming feeling that should exist at any restaurant. If the bar had lots of people, I'd definitely frequent it, but the big problem is Morton's is not in a very scenic area and there's no concept of window views. My friend Chris and I shared a crabcake, a plate of Colossal Shrimp Alexander, a double cut filet mignon, and mashed potatoes. It was a fabulous meal. "I could eat this every day," Chris remarked. I could, too, but then I'd weigh 400 pounds.

Baby Blues BBQ

My foray into pork continues at Baby Blues BBQ where I had a lunch platter with pulled pork, beef brisket, and a sausage link with a side of sweet mashed potatoes and cornbread. Four sauces were available - Sweet, BBQ, Hot, and XXX. The Hot and XXX sauces were nowhere near as spicy as Percy Street's Hot Mess. Sweet was close to Percy Street's Sweet Thang. I found the pork to be tasty enough to not require any sauce, but I always try to take my food in different taste directions during the course of my meal because I get bored sick of the same old thing all the time. I went to Baby Blues with five of my workgroup mates to celebrate my birthday.

The Best Birthday Ever

What an incedible week this has been! We had Madonna's Super Bowl halftime show, Republican Maureen Walsh's speech, and then Jeremy Lin's outstanding 38-point performance in which he schools the Los Angeles Lakers. To make it even more incredible, my birthday parties were sandwiched in between these events and I got to spend quality time with people who love me. I love watching basketball, especially when a player I've followed from college to the pros comes from a school that is not typically associated with great basketball players. Such is the case with Jeremy Lin, a Harvard graduate, who, against all odds, has made a huge impact in the NBA this week and has done so in such a convincing manner. This man is a taller version of Allen Iverson with all of the flash and none of the attitude. Ironically, Lin's team, the New York Knicks, has a history of hiring Asian talent as it drafted the first Asian NBA player ever in Wataru Misaka. Note: Three days after I wrote this, a Philadelphia Inquirer sportswriter came up with the same comparison and showed that Lin is actually superior to Iverson in his first four starts.

Au Natural

I visited my nail salon today and this time I got Negligee (sheer sparkly lavendar) layered on top of Romantique (lilac). The result is a very natural peachy pink shade. I'm beginning to like natural colors a lot more than dark colors because they look more elegant. Dark shades are fun, though, so I'm not giving them up anytime soon. My nail tech and I were talking about our boyfriends and it turns out she is also in a long distance relationship.

The Guru Speaks

People come to me for all sorts of advice. I'm a wise, old sage, kind of like Yoda from Star Wars. Many younger folks ask me why being trans is so hard and how they can make their lives better. I always tell them what they don't want to hear: finish school and graduate with a four-year college degree because life will be so much easier if you have a college education. You go from A to Z one step at a time. Nobody starts at Y to get to Z. In related muppet news, I saw Harry on my way to my nail salon. Same orange skin and white hair as when I first saw him. We were walking in opposite directions. I smiled and said hi to him and he smiled and said hi back. Somehow, I knew I'd see him again. Even though he left me quite abruptly at Smith & Wollensky a few weeks back because of the general manager's treachery, I can't blame Harry for what happened. In related Star Wars news, for Valentine's Day, a dear friend of mine bought me a box of Star Wars chocolates and a box of Ghiradelli chocolates as a backup in case I didn't like them.

Coach

My new Coach bag is about three-quarters the size of my old ones and it fits my MacBook Air, too. I love the awesome raspberry color! A couple of years ago, this same style wasn't large enough to accommodate my laptop, so I'm happy they've updated it. The inside pockets are the same as their larger counterparts with accommodations for a cell phone, a wallet or compact, and a zippered pocket for keys and other items.

A Spiffier Mac and iCloud

I pined for more storage space on my MacBook Air and finally got it yesterday. Upgrading its Solid State Disk was a snap. I upgraded my operating system to OS X Lion, Apple's newest operating system that has total compatibility with iCloud. There was supposed to be no way you could sync calendar events between the previous operating system and the new one, but I'm a smart cookie. I found a way, but it was a band-aid solution and didn't work 100%. Now that my computer is upgraded, my life feels more organized because I could update my calendar events on any of my devices. Yay!

Flakbuster

I've gotten lots of criticism over the years for telling people the truth about hormone therapy and what it can and cannot do. Some of my critics haven't even transitioned yet, but they still dared challenge the accuracy of my opinions and experiences. Sadly, they must not have paid much attention to the fact that my information was labelled as "opinions and experiences," but they criticized me anyway all the while pretending to be women on the Internet with their fake names and profiles. But who am I to judge? I'd rather see happy folks than sad folks, so I scrapped the wonderful knowledge I've gathered and will let everyone go blindly into the night. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. I think what might be more useful for transsexuals is information on name and gender change, so I started penning a new transition section for those of you who are serious enough with your transitions to take the steps necessary to change your name and gender on all of your official documents and id cards.

Still Life

Today in Still Life class we practiced using a strobe kit and many different light altering devices to illuminate various tabletop objects. I'm not a big fan of studio power packs, but today I finally felt comfortable using them. I still believe that portable flash units are the way to go. A couple of women I met today complimented me on my hair and said it looks really nice. "You look like a whole new person!" one woman said. I think the CHI Silk Infusion, Salon Grafix thermal heat protect spray, and flat iron really helps. I also found a curling technique that works for me.

Bibou

February has been a magical month so far and with my newest restaurant excursion, the magic continues. My friend Chris J treated me to an amazing dinner at my favorite French restaurant, Bibou, recently minted a prestigious four-bell rating by Philadelphia Inquirer food critic Craig Laban. Our first course was a complimentary amuse bouche, a crème de chou-fleur cauliflower cream soup with croutons and saffron cauliflower florets, that was delicious. Our appetizers of pork rillettes and foie gras Bergamot crème brulée and seared foie gras with grapefruit were equally outstanding. When I first ordered this Foie Gras Duo, I was sad that the portion of seared foie gras was halved in order to make the foie gras crème brulée, but the crème brulée is such an amazing dish on its own that I would miss it if it were stricken from the menu. For our entrées, Chris had the sautéed dorade fillet with fennel compote and watercress emulsion and I had the duck leg confit and duck sausage with sauerkraut, bacon, and tourné potato. I often compare French and Chinese cooking because they actually use many of the same ingredients and I usually favor the cuisine of my heritage, but Chef Calmels' makes amazing duck and his homemade duck sausage easily eclipses the Chinese version by a long shot. One of the nice experiences of any restaurant is when the chef walks around asking his patrons how they liked their food. Chef Calmels and his wife Charlotte stopped by twice because I had the great fortune of dining with an old restaurant friend of theirs. Chris J happens to be the former restaurant manager of Brasserie Perrier, a sister restaurant of Le Bec-Fin. The three of them reminisced of their days working for gastronomical giant, Georges Perrier. I was sad that bone marrow wasn't offered as a special that night. "We did offer it," Chef Calmels assured, "but it went so fast. We always prepare ten every night. If you call next time, we can reserve a bone marrow for you." Awesome. Bone marrow here is not like bone marrow anywhere else. It's stuffed with chanterelles and Scottish partridge in Madeira sauce. For dessert, I had the banana tartin with honey ice cream. The tartin was like a flattened banana cake soaked in a sweet sauce. Prior to Bibou, Chris J and I went to Buddakan for drinks. My hair looked pretty amazing that night.

Cannuli's House of Pork

I entered Cannuli's House of Pork to buy some pig trotters and the cashier, an old black man, hit on me while I was getting one of my trotters skinned. Licking his lips and giving me a sly grin, he made me blush when he asked me if I had ever dated a black man. I said yes, even though it was a lie, and replied, "Of course. I'm from Brooklyn and 80% of my high school was black." He was happy that I replied positively. "Mmm, you look good... but you must be a handful, huh?" he asked. I take that to mean that I'm high maintenance. "Yes, I am," I grinned and confirmed. He looked me up and down. "I just want to see what's under that jacket... mmm... must be nice!" he punctuated. If he only knew, I thought to myself. He asked me why I wanted one of my trotters skinned and I gave him details about my photography project. He seemed interested, but perhaps only for the opportunity to talk to me more. He wanted me to return with pictures to show him. The butcher who was handling my trotters called me over to the back of the store. I waited for him to prepare my meat while I talked to a second butcher about my adventures in cooking pig trotters. I asked him if he liked cooking and he told me a story about how his cereal-encrusted cookies caught on fire in his kitchen. "They never let me in the kitchen again," he remarked. When I left, a few voices bade me farewell, to have a nice day, and a prominent voice asked me to come back again. Interestingly, the prices here are half that of the place I previously shopped for trotters. As I walked up the street, two more black men who manned fruit stands made near-quiet "mmm" comments to me. As a child, I remember my mom getting hit on by the butchers and fruit stand guys all the time.

Pig Parts, Part Two

How do you improve upon something you had put your heart and soul into? Adjusting and balancing each piece, preserving every detail to make your work look and feel right, controlling the light to hit your sculpture just right - these are things that take time and patience. Our professor wanted us to make our most recent still life picture even better and inject our own personality and symbolism into it. Théodore Géricault completed a series of five grisly still life portraits called Anatomical Pieces, 1819 depicting severed heads and limbs. This series is considered preparatory studies for his masterpiece, The Raft of the Medusa, 1819, a painting that recounts the horrifying tale of the survivors of the ship Medusa returning to France, unprotected and near starvation, surviving only by cannibalism. When Géricault painted Anatomical Pieces, he wanted to reflect his fascination with the morbid and with physical suffering. To ensure the correct representation of dead bodies, he collected corpses from morgues and dissection amphitheaters of hospitals and kept them in his studio until the stench of decomposition was too much to bear. Sounds like me and my pig parts. My first version of my still life mimicked the original by using a bloodied rag. I thought to myself, why not use the skin of the pig to represent the bloodied rag? Brilliant. Then I thought to myself, how can we make this more like The Raft of the Medusa? What object can we use to represent the sea? Can we improve upon the pyramid, the powerful visual storytelling technique that draws your eyes from left to right, that is so carefully crafted in both of Géricault's works? Can we center the vertical limb to improve upon the space on the lower right side to emphasize a feeling of hopelessness? How can we show the struggle of bruised, decomposing bodies? I used a female mannequin torso to symbolize the sea. The new set of trotters I purchased looked much more hellish than the previous batch. From the myriad of bruises, it is certain that these pigs lived a hard life. This set of pigs' feet did not exhibit the same wholesomeness, meatiness, or cleanliness as the first batch. Even the hair between the toes was left intact. With this new still life, I wanted to show the struggle to survive, the struggle to attain something previously thought unattainable, the hope, the hopelessness, and the hardships. Like Géricault's Anatomical Pieces, I am instilling life into something dead through arrangement, composition, lighting, and artifice. I achieved a color tone closer to the original still life and managed to color the shadows with a non-Photoshop lighting trick. Would the still life be more effective without the mannequin? Would it have the same symbolism? These are things you have to think about when creating a still life. It's not as easy as you think. My professor commented that something so normally grotesque actually looks beautiful in the way it's presented. He said that my image actually looks better when presented in a smaller scale.

Forget Me Not

I run into so many people I know on the streets and they always say hi to me by my name, but I don't remember theirs. I'm so bad with names. Two of my old classmates said hi to me today. I spent a whole semester with them and eleven others, living with them 24/7 for more than two weeks while I was away in India, and I couldn't remember both of their names. I didn't want to say one name and not the other, so the only thing I could do is say, "Hi! How are you doing?" I feel guilty about it, but what can I do but admit that I'm an airhead? Chloe is an easily remembered name, but Caitlin isn't. What I could do to make up for it is go to their gallery exhibitions to show my support for their work. My son and I were riding our scooter and bike along the Schuykill Banks when we saw someone else I knew from my department whom I always say hi to but never knew his name. Well, I found out his name today and it's pretty easy to remember: John.

Are Guys Who Like Me Gay?

It's nice to be seen as that rare combination of beauty and brains by a lot of guys and one of the questions many newbies to the trans scene ask me is "If I'm attracted to you, does that make me gay?" I always reply by asking them, "Are you attracted to masculine-looking people?" They invariably reply no. "Then you're not gay," I tell them. They breathe a heavy sigh of relief as if to say, "Whew! I'm glad!" I don't know what goes on in people's heads and I don't pretend to know. I may be some kind of fetishistic fantasy to some men, a chick with something extra, but what I see myself as is someone who was denied at birth of something that should've been mine. God put the wrong mind in the wrong body and somewhere out there, there's a woman conceived at the same time as me who feels that she should've been born a man. That is the person whose body I should've had and he should've had my body. Unlike a lot of trans folks, I don't hate the world or myself because of this. It is what it is and I had two beautiful sons as a result of being able to love the only woman I've ever loved and still love. Some trans folks never find that special someone to love, man or woman, and that's truly a shame. I've been very fortunate to have shared my heart with both men and women and I believe I have become a more complete person as a result of it. To ask me if I think you are gay if you like me is actually an insult to me because I believe that if you're a man who wants to be with me and you don't see a woman standing before you, then you're not the one for me.

Pizza and a Ride Doesn't Mean Nookie

I created my parties so my friends and I could have friendly places to sit, hang out, and meet people. If it weren't for my parties, I would never have met John, so I'm happy about that. There are always other guys vying for my attention and affection and I must admit it's pretty cool to know that I'm not hideous. One thing I don't understand is when a guy wants me to invite him into my home just because he bought me a slice of pizza and drove me home. Gay Pizza does make a very good Sicilian meat lovers slice, but still! There was no kissing, no desire on my part, and no connection. What makes some guys think that a girl would willingly open themselves up to someone they had just met? I figure he must've been successful getting access to some girls' homes being that he's a big six-foot-three blonde Irish dude, but still... if I know the drink glasses at my bar more than I know a guy, I'm going to be very cautious. I find it quite insulting that he even dared ask me to invite him in, but I commend him for trying and saying that I'm gorgeous. It does take a lot of courage for someone who claims he's never been to a trans party to talk to me so openly.

Icons

Every week I receive nice emails praising what I've done for the trans community. Many of these folks are now full-time women. Some have transitioned ten years ago, but still respect and acknowledge me and it is wonderful to know that I've touched so many people's lives in so many ways. I think this is what being an icon in the community is all about. I always try to set high standards for myself. This is why I promote being the best woman you can be looks-wise, intelligence-wise, and personality-wise. I call it LIP and it's not lip service. What I preach is backed by years of helping others achieve their goals and, in many cases, helping their dreams become reality. Many people would never know they could be who they were meant to be without a strong, positive role model. I'm glad I could be that person for many people.

Knowing What Works For You

The reason why most trans women ultimately look bad is not necessarily due to height, weight, or masculine features, but rather from not knowing what works for them. So many girls are like walking fashion faux pas. If you're tall or short, fat or thin, or old or young, you don't wear certain things that don't suit you. Dressing appropriately is what women learn how to do from experience and this is why it takes years of experience experimenting with different clothing styles to find a set of looks that work for your body type. Having just one look will get you labelled and pigeonholed into a category you probably don't want to be in and had no idea you were in. This is why I've told many people that if your look is attracting the wrong kinds of people or the wrong kinds of attention, it's time to change your look because it sure as hell ain't working for you. Knowing what works for you is an art that can be developed over time. You won't develop it in a few weeks, a few months, or even a few years. It is something you learn over the course of a lifetime. During that lifetime, you get feedback from many different sources who will tell you if your look is or isn't working for you. Perhaps this is why arguing with tgirls who aren't full-time women, who aren't living the life, is pointless. Their experiences are limited to a small number of hours each week where only a limited number of people get to see them. They don't get the feedback they need to go forward, so they end up looking the same way for many years. Sometimes what looks best on you isn't necessarily a good look that elicits positive reactions (by normal, everyday people during the day) and if this is the case, then the look isn't working for you.

Being Trans Sucks

I often hear this statement from other transsexuals and I'm left wondering why these people decided to transition. Perhaps their lives sucked before they transitioned and they had hoped that being a woman would solve all of their problems. I'm always puzzled by that reasoning because it is just so counterintuitive to what a rational person would do. Wouldn't you want to be mentally stable and financially secure before you transition? And yet, a good number of transsexuals I've met and read about don't have their acts together. They complain about how life treats them so unfairly just because they're trans. I want to tell them that the only thing that's hindering them from being better than they are is themselves and that's the truth. Take a good, hard look in the mirror and ask yourself if you can be successful in this world as a woman. Ask yourself if you even look like a woman because in order for others to accept you as one, you must absolutely, totally, unequivocably without a doubt accept yourself as one. If you don't look like a woman, you will have a tough time integrating yourself into society. If you don't feel like you're a woman yet, you're in worse shape than those who do. You can complain all you want about how God fucked you over with masculine features, but the truth is you have to go out and do something about it as quickly as you can if you feel your masculine features will hinder you from your goals. But before you can do that, you have to be mentally stable and financially secure because no reputable surgeon will operate on you if they feel you aren't. Being trans doesn't suck. Being you probably sucks. Once you realize this, you can make plans to fix your flaws and make your life better than it was.

Devon Seafood Grill: Bar

It was a beautiful night in late February, weather in the high 50s, so I decided to walk to Rittenhouse Square from my office. It was a mere 20 blocks away and I needed the exercise. I passed by lots of nice guys who said hello or good evening to me. I sat in the park for a few minutes to rest my feet and was approached by three Temple University students who wanted to photograph me and interview me for their journalism project. That was cool. I walked into Devon Seafood Grill to get a bite to eat at the bar. There are lots of appetizer and drink specials. For $7, you can get a New England lobster roll with fries. I logged into my Foursquare app on my iPhone and noticed that there was a special that night, a free calamari appetizer! I love calamari. It came with sweet potato fries and fried jalapenos, more favorites of mine. I met a nice couple sitting next to me, Andrea and Brandon, who also happened to be Penn employees. We chatted for a while. The bartender, Lawson, is a nice guy. This place isn't the cougar bar that Smith & Wollensky's bar is, but it's a nice place where I could sit and eat at the bar in peace. There was, in fact, one shirt-and-tie office guy who bought his martini and stood behind me for a while sipping his drink and resting it on the bar every now and again. We looked at each other a couple of times, but never talked because I was busy talking to the couple next to me. A lot of the guys there were out-of-towners who stopped in for after-work drinks. There were mostly pairs of women on my side of the bar and couples all around.

Ali Baba Magic Food

My favorite food truck is now up for sale. Sami, the owner, would prefer to sell it to someone who cooks Middle Eastern food, but he's open to any offers. Today's special, Riz a Djaj (rice with stewed chicken) is my one of my favorite dishes there. How can you go wrong with chicken, ground beef, peanuts, cashews, and cinnamon flavoring the rice? Like all of my previous trips there, Sami gave me a free falafel for waiting and a free soda for being a good customer. I will sorely miss this truck.

Everyday

I think I started a revolution by being the first transsexual to do a picture a day blog. Seeing what I started, others are following suit posting their daily pictures on Facebook, YouTube, Flickr, and more. I'm actually not the first person to do this. That distinction belongs to an artist with the same name as me, only Kalina is his last name. Like me, Noah Kalina is also a photographer and born in Brooklyn. His Everyday project was shown on VH1 and parodied on The Simpsons. I record a picture a day to show myself and the world how I'm progressing as a woman. It's very educational to see what we look like every year. Some of my trans friends have truly blossomed into the women they were meant to be.

Those Hideous Rainboots

For the past year, I couldn't get myself to buy a pair of those hideous rubber rainboots many girls wear on rainy days. Then my attitude changed when I found this pair of Ralph Laurens. I'm normally not into animal prints, but these boots grabbed my attention for some reason. They don't do anything for my calves, but they do keep my feet dry on rainy days. Best of all, they're easy to walk in.

Incredible!

That's how I would describe my sixteen-layer seafood lasagna. That's right... sixteen layers... four pasta and twelve of everything else. I used a one pound box of Barilla Lasagna (sixteen of the twenty sheets), a 28 ounce can of Cento Chef's Cut Tomatoes with Basil, a 12 ounce can of Rosa Tomato Paste, one pound of pre-cooked peeled and deveined shrimp, 8 ounces of pre-cooked imitation crab or lobster, 2 to 3 ounces of baby spinach leaves, 12 ounces ricottta cheese, 4 ounces of shredded Italian six-cheese blend, 4 ounces of shredded mozzarella, 2 ounces (or a handful) of shaved parmesan, one large egg, two cloves of garlic, parsley, sea salt, ground black pepper, garlic powder, basil, butter, and olive oil. Boil water in a large pot. Add a shot of olive oil and three shakes of sea salt to the water to prevent the pasta from sticking. You don't need to use large or colossal shrimp for your lasagna because it'll all get chopped up anyway. Wash the shrimp to remove any remaining loose shells and ice. Take half of the shrimp, coursely chop it in a blender or by hand, and set it aside. Take the remaining shrimp and all of the imitation crab and blend it to a finely minced mixture. Sauté it for a minute in butter and olive oil. Mix in a dash of ground black pepper and a couple of dashes of garlic powder. This is the seafood mousse. Now you have two textures of shrimp in your lasagna! Finely chop the baby spinach. Mix the ricotta, spinach, and egg in a mixing bowl. Drain the canned tomatoes of excess liquid and remove the basil leaves if you wish. Lasagna should always be prepared with lots of love and generous portions of whatever foods you use. It should be a relaxing event, not something to stress over. I prepared all of my layers as shown in the following list from bottom to top. In my previous lasagnas, I always avoided putting the main meat ingredient on top of the top pasta layer, but I did so this time with great success. Credit for the seafood lasagna idea goes to Kevin Lynch and credit for the "meat on top" idea goes to Ree Drummond. I've noticed that most lasagna recipes on the Internet have just two or three pasta layers. I grew up in an Italian neighborhood where lasagna was made nice and thick, so I'm used to at least four pasta layers. If you want a much thicker lasagna and don't want to make a huge batch of it all at once, get the Giada de Laurentis ceramic loaf pans. You'll have to trim your lasagna to fit the pans. Each pan makes four large servings. Top it with parsley to garnish.

Place the loaf pans in a roasting pan lined with aluminum foil. Cover each loaf pan with aluminum foil and bake in an oven at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Remove the foil and sprinkle shaved parmesan on top. That's your sixteenth layer. Be careful not to mess up your parsley garnish! Bake uncovered for 15 more minutes. Your lasagna will have absolutely gorgeous layers of red, yellow, and green. Best of all, it tastes great, too. The next time I'll try sautéeing my seafood mouse in white wine. That should make it even better. With three successful lasagnas made using my knowledge as a foodie, I feel confident I can make any kind of lasagna now.

Dan

I met a nice guy today at my new Rittenhouse Square Wednesday night hot spot. He's not a potential boyfriend, but more of a talkie friend, someone you can just sit and talk to with no commitments. His name is Dan and he was a former IT Director for Princeton, Director for Quality Assurance at Temple, and consultant and manager for two large consulting companies. He joked that he started as an errand boy for the IT department at Princeton and worked his way up to IT Director over a fifteen year period. He then got a job at Temple, worked there for several years, and then moved to industry. "There was a time when I made $45,000 per quarter. I had so much money I didn't know what to do with it. I had a five bedroom house in Haddonfield. I sent my children to private schools and colleges," he said. Most impressive. The man is 70 years old, but looks younger. He was married twice, has three children of which only one adores him, and believes that interracial children (he is black and his ex-wife is a blue-eyed blonde Swede) usually end up smarter than single race children. He showed me pictures of his ex and his daughter. His daughter is a tenured professor in anthropology. "She went from growing weed in the back yard to getting straight A's," he mused. I showed him pictures of me with my two kids. "You have a beautiful family," he said. I thanked him. "So are the children with you or with him?" he asked. I paused. "It's a long story," I said. He chuckled and said, "That's okay. I don't mean to pry." He told me that he's usually seen as a mentor to younger people and I can see why. He has the wisdom of Yoda. Of course, in between his wise words he told me I'm "a very attractive person" and "a bright, beautiful young lady," holding my hand and such, but he didn't try to hit on me or get me drunk on drinks. In fact, he didn't even buy me a drink, as guys usually do when they talk to me, and I felt happy about that. He moved in to try to kiss me on my cheek, but didn't. Twice in the hour I spent with Dan, Joe the manager walked up to him to see how he was doing and I kept thinking to myself, "Oh, no, not another evil manager situation like at Smith & Wollensky," but nothing happened. I even got to say hi to the manager both times. Thinking back to my conversation with Dan, I remember him saying he had been with an Asian woman before who "taught him things" and I wonder just what he meant by that, especially since he mentioned that the woman he was with was named Kim, which could actually be an Asian male name. Dan's friend, Joe, another older black man whom he had been chatting with earlier sounded like he worked for the city government. John was making small talk with me earlier, too, asking me how I liked my calamari. Dan offered me some of his lobster. How I ended up talking to Dan came about when John left. Dan stayed behind and talked to me for almost an hour. Somehow, I think he planned that. "It was a pleasure to meet you. I sit in the park a lot during the day. Say hi if you see me," he said, "I'm the guy with the yellow baseball cap." Dan left before me, but before I left, one of a pair of yuppie guys in their twenties a few seats away smiled at me. I smiled back. He was cute.

Edward Weston

For our mid-term assignment in Still Life class, our professor asked us to prepare a short presentation on an artist we admire. I wrote about Edward Weston, the man who found beauty and commonality in everyday things, such as peppers, sea shells, landscapes, and nudes. We were also asked to create an image that serves as an homage to that artist. I created my own take on Weston's Pepper No. 30, 1925. I used Cubanelle peppers brushed with olive oil to add shine. I shot these images with my Sony NEX-5n and they turned out great. My classmates thought that they were darkroom prints! One MFA student said she loved my shadows. "I've never seen pepper images like these before!" the professor exclaimed. Immediately, people were reading sexual content in the images, although that was neither Weston's nor my intent. It's funny to see how people project their own emotions into pictures. My classmates gave presentations on Hans Bellmer, Mark RothKo (whose painting White Center, 1950 fetched $73 million at Sotheby's), Thomas Demand, and Irving Penn.

Philly Delicias

Most people think negatively of food trucks, but the fact is some of the most amazing food in the world can actually be had from a food truck and I'm not referring to the proverbial hamburger. World-class Korean tacos, authentic Jamaican jerk dishes, and fabulous falafel sandwiches can be experienced for a fraction of the price of expensive restaurants. And so it is with Philly Delicias, a Venezuelan arepas truck new to the Penn/University City scene. The ladies who run the truck prepare authentic food from their native country. Not wanting to stray from what the truck is known for, I ordered an arepa filled with chorizo sausage and pico de gallo. Es muy delicioso! An arepa is a corn patty that is lightly toasted and piping hot. You can have it filled with shredded beef, chicken, chorizo sausage, or veggiesw. The only negative is they're not that big, so two would make a satisfying meal, but ten dollars is pretty pricey for a food truck.

My Kind of Blue

My ultra-cool nail color this week is a dark navy blue that looks almost black from a distance. It's called Russian Navy by OPI. It looks good with my new sweater I got from a recent shopping trip at The Gap. My son helped me pick this and other color tops for me. One of the girls working in one of the research labs in my building liked my nail color. She showed me her nail color which was one of those colors that changed depending on how the light hits it. Cool!

Tampopo

There's really no good reason to order the spicy squid bowl when the spicy pork bowl gives you more food and the same great flavor. Aside from a couple of gristly pieces, the pork actually tastes better, too. The spicy sauce didn't help my conversational abilities as I was chatting with a guy I liked at my party. It was pretty embarrassing to be burping up the stuff throughout the evening, but what can you do? I'm as real as you can get.

It's Easier to Be Gay

My friend Jen R and I discussed a very interesting topic about being trans versus being gay. Basically, if we were gay men, and this applies mostly to trans women who started off as attractive Asian men, we could find a man quite easily because gay men are much more socially accepted in this world than trans women. The truth is I've never seen myself as a gay man. In fact, I was a joke of a man before I transitioned because I had such a small build and effeminate features. I tried to fit into the social norms of being a man by doing what was required of me but never quite became what society expected of me. There are ample social networks, groups, and literature that cater to gay men. Such is not the case with trans women. Some trans women feel that their needs are best served by aligning themselves with genetic women, but doing so does not guarantee that they will be accepted by everyone wherever they go. Jen R and I talked about how few people will accept you as a woman in real life if they know you're trans. We talked about finding that special guy, that needle in a haystack, out of the myriad of perverts and weirdos who just see us as a big fetish or something to cure their gay curiosities. When I think about what I am, I feel that I'm not the one who is gender confused because I know I should be a woman. All of the perverts and weirdos out there who see me as a fetish are gender confused because they don't know if they want to be with a man or a woman. Wanting to be with someone who is in between genders is fine if that is what a guy wants, but it might not be what the trans woman ultimately wants. "Do whatever makes you happy" is a great statement made by a couple of good guys I've met recently and it makes sense to me. I hope I find a man who will accept me for who I am and will not have issues with my history. I have so much to offer someone, so it would be nice to find a man who has a lot going for him, too.

Body Image

Finally, six months after my breast augmentation surgery, I pulled out my tape measure. My band size while breathing normally... 31.5 inches. If I "expelled all the air in my lungs" as one band size measurement guide suggests, it would be 29.5 inches. My bust size is almost 39 and each breast mound is 9.5 inches around. The final result is 36C or 34D... or 34DD in Victoria's Secret bras with their vanity sizing. My hip size is 36 inches. Now, if I had the 26-inch waist I had in my twenties, I'd be golden, but I'm working on it. Rome wasn't built in a day and I certainly am not, either. I believe that having a good body image makes you feel good about yourself and helps you come to terms with who you are. I decided to reveal these measurements to my readers to dispel any myths surrounding my size. Perhaps this is self-validation on my part, but it's also to show everyone that I'm telling the truth, which is sadly not always the case when you see trans women on the Internet.

Weight

I don't understand my body sometimes. I can pig out on a plateful of four different junk foods, including Nutter Butter Bites, Golden Oreo Fudge Cremes, Lay's Kettle Chips, and Lay's Sour Cream & Onion potato chips, and have a Good Humor Toasted Almond ice cream bar on top of all of that and still go from 136 to 134 overnight. Some people claim that they can just look at food and gain weight. I devour it and lose it! One of my friends told me, "It'll all catch up to you someday." I think it did already when I went from 129 to my present weight. I see many Chinese women who have the same funky metabolism. I once saw two Chinese girls each order an appetizer and an entrée at a Chinese restaurant and ate everything off their plates in record time. An entrée at this particular Chinese restaurant can be shared by two people! So what am I doing lately to beat bloat? Perhaps my recently revitalized situp regimen has something to do with it. I bought an Iron Gym Total Upper Body Workout Bar and have been doing 40 sit-ups and 10 dips every other day. I tried doing push-ups and pull-ups, but I can't seem to do very many. My metabolism and fitness were measured to be athlete level in college. It's a shame I never took up any sport to utilize them at the time. I guess it's for the best because many ex-athletes I know have bad knees and backs. Some even have pot bellies, which is a shame.

Relentless

That's how I would describe my little two year old. He never gives up! I first noticed this trait when he turned two and his favorite activity was standing on my ex's step aerobic trainer and leaping off of it and onto a nearby lounge chair. Desiring a greater challenge, he moved the step further away from the chair and leapt from step to chair on repeated trials until he missed the chair and landed on the ground. Thankfully his head always hit the cushion of the chair. I think I would've given up at that point, but something drove him to keep launching himself off the step until he landed perfectly on the chair. Wouldn't it be exceptional to have this kind of energy and motivation for every goal you set for yourself? This trait did not end with acrobatic stunts. This little guy would never want to lose a fight with my seven year old. My seven year old has a kind and gentle demeanor. He rarely has a nasty disposition. When my seven year old gets upset, he cries. Not so with my two year old. He gets mad. In a fight between my seven and my two year old, you can bet safe money that my two year old would win. One time, my seven year old punched him. This turned out to be a mistake because in a fit of rage, my two year old jumped onto his back and started pounding at his head. He didn't want to lose. He's like a mini Terminator. How would you like to fight someone who keeps coming at you? It isn't fun.

Makeup Maestro

The ladies in my business office see me as a fount of makeup knowledge. One of them is getting married soon and asked me for foundation and skin care product advice. Isn't it cool that your friendly neighborhood Director of Computing is also a makeup expert? "I've been to cosmetics stores for makeup advice, but I can't trust some of the people there because they don't look good, so how can they make me look good if they themselves don't look good?" she commented. A wise observation!

Planning My Next Lasagna

I've conquered beef and sausage lasagna as well as seafood lasagna. My next challenge is to make a great vegetable lasagna. I remember Le Bus had a great vegetable lasagna. Now they seem to be content with just selling sandwiches. What I liked about it was the variety of vegetables in it, including eggplant, squash, spinach, and more. Mine will include those and more. What vegetable lasagna is complete without portabella mushrooms? I'll need to experiment with a vegetable medley that works. This will require me to make plenty of vegetable omelets and vegetable hashes before I prepare my pièce de résistance.

Jake

You know you had a great date when: 1) you had a great dinner at a great restaurant with someone who is willing to experiment and try new foods, 2) you don't want the night to end because the conversation is so good, and 3) you go to last call at three places in the course of one evening. The icing on the cake was a small bouquet of flowers he gave me. Yayyyy!!!!!! There were also doors open for me, him helping me put my coat on, holding my hand... the whole nine yards. I wish my friends could experience what I experience every time I go out with a nice guy like Jake. If you ask me what I like about being a woman, it is companionship with someone who is into you. You don't get to experience this unless you put in the time and effort to be the best woman you can be.

a.kitchen

"Mmmm! Chicken and foi gras, two of my favorite things in one dish!" commented a woman a few seats away when she saw my entrée. Jake and I spoke briefly to her and her dinner companion during the course of our meal. We sat at the kitchen bar watching the chefs expertly prepare our meals while Chef Bryan Sikora supervised the entire operation. I had read rave reviews about the Fried Chicken and Foie Gras dish at a.kitchen. I knew I had to have it, but let me preface what I'm about to say by stating that I seldom order chicken in a restaurant. I'm a culinary snob when it comes to food. When you're raised in an Asian household where your mother cooks up five or six unique dishes every night to be shared with the entire family, you get spoiled. Chicken? Why not duck? Steak? Why not lamb? Flounder or salmon filets? Why not the whole goddamn fish? You can see why I look at simple meals with great disdain. Simple is not good in my life. That's why I'm always seeking the next great dish. I have my favorites, but finding that next great dish is like discovering a piece of Heaven. Everyone knows I love foie gras for its taste, texture, and decadence. An ounce is not enough. Two is fine. Three is grand, but a heart attack on a plate. The amount of foie gras in Chef Sikora's dish is probably somewhere between one and two ounces. It's not a lot. It's there to make a statement, that you're eating a more decadent version of a Southern-style giblet gravy. The fried chicken is actually a chicken breast rolled up, formed into the shape of a golf ball, dipped in buttermilk and cornmeal, and deep fried. It was phenomenal! The rave reviews were all correct. This was the best chicken I've ever had. It was so soft my knife cut through it as if it were jello. How do they do this? The little bed of "winter slaw" was there for decorative purposes, to give you the much needed veggies in your diet. I also had the Fish Stew which was absolutely delicious. Calamari cut like noodles, diced swordfish, tender scallops, and a chunky tomato broth with saffron. It was Heaven on a plate. I'm a big fan of cioppino or fisherman's stew. My dessert of almond macarons with chopped nuts, creme fraiche, and yuzu jam was a nice ending. Jake had the seared scallops, duck with corkscrew pasta, and pomegranate semifreddo. He let me pick his meal for him so he could try new things. He enjoyed everything, too. I thanked the two chefs who prepared my meal. I told them the food was awesome.

Erawan Sampler

Today I tried one of LivingSocial's daily deals, a $5 special for the Erawan Thai Cuisine appetizer sampler that is normally $8 plus tax. The sampler includes a spring roll, a fried shrimp, a skewer of chicken satay, two spicy veggie fritters, and two fried dumplings. Everything was really good and it was an excellent value. Even the usual $8 price is a bargain for this. The big negative is almost everything's fried.

Testosterone Damage

A number of my friends have mentioned FFS (facial feminization surgery) as a solution for lessening the effects of testosterone damage, but I've seen mixed results with this. I think for some trans women who just need one or two things done, it might be fine, but how do you fix certain things that are unfixable and what if your surgeon messes up and you don't get the results you want? These things have weighed on my mind heavily before my rhinoplasty. I also thought about browbone reduction, but that would likely throw off the balance of my face now that my nose was reshaped to complement the rest of my facial features. My browbone shows more prominently in some pictures than others, but I can usually lessen the look of it with a little pressed powder. I think the biggest part of my testosterone damage is my skin. Excessive hormone production probably attributed to the massive acne breakouts I experienced as a child. It also didn't help that I was a sexually repressed teenager. As a result, my face was a veritable pizza pie complete with Crisco. Yuck. It wasn't until I was 21 that I started learning about skin care and hiding the ill effects of acne craters with makeup. I wear very little makeup nowadays, a testament to the skin care regimen I followed early on.

Paul

As I waited at the bar at Devon Seafood Grill for someone who never showed, I thought to myself it should serve me right for agreeing to meet a dude ten years my junior. As luck would have it, I met a guy at the bar anyway. His name was Paul and he bought me a drink. He's the Director of Photography for films starring Tom Cruise, Denzel Washington, and Colin Farrell. He invited me to the set of an upcoming film he's shooting over the next three months. "You should stop by. We're filming all over town," he said. He asked me what I did for a living and I told him I was an IT Director with a passion for photography and music production on the side. I showed him my photography and he seemed genuinely impressed. "This type of stuff should be in a gallery," he said, "and I'm not just saying that." He really liked the work I did in my Color Photography class. He didn't try to sleaze me like many others. We just sat and chatted about everything. I gave him my card before he left. When I later found out how famous he was, I was shocked.

Sonny

I never look very glam on weekends. I basically wear eyeliner and eyeshadow and blow out my hair. I was strolling through the aisles of CVS in South Philly today when an old Italian man with olive skin and retiree clothes noticed I was intently studying the hair products. "You don't need that stuff. Your hair is beautiful as it is," he remarked. I thanked him. He followed me to the checkout line with his AA batteries, replacements for his remote, he said. He told me his name was Sonny. "So what do you do besides looking all beautiful?" he asked. I told him I work with computers, large servers, the kind that run businesses. He was very impressed. He said he owned a used car dealership off of MacDade Boulevard. "The kind in Auto Shopper magazine?" I asked. "Yes, we sell all kinds of cars in the five to fourteen thousand dollar range," he said. I asked him if he had any Mini Coopers for sale. "I can arrange to give you a private tour of the dealership on Sunday," he said with a devilish grin. I didn't trust him. "If you be my girlfriend, I can give you a free car," he said with a salesman's smile. I shook my head and told him that's okay. He followed me out of CVS, but was stopped by the cashier who told him he forgot his batteries. "Heh, she's so damn pretty I forgot why I came here," he told the cashier, picking up his batteries. I was sure at some point in the bright sunlight he'd suspect I was trans, but I don't think he did. "My God, look at you. So damn beautiful! That hair, that smile, those slanty eyes... beautiful! I saw you bending over in one of the aisles. You've got a great ass!" he said. "Wait... you were looking at me?" I asked, surprised. "Oh, yeah!" he said, matter of factly. He pointed out his car in the adjacent lot. It was a big long car, the kind that you could hide a body in its trunk. He popped open the hood and showed me its brand new, recently installed 4.6 liter engine and said something about it being an "850." The engine looked like it should've been in a truck, not a car. You know that funny feeling you get around certain people? I was right. I couldn't trust him. He revealed he was the son of a Philly mobster, someone with "Barber" in his nickname. He said he gets special treatment in restaurants because he's the son of a mobster. Yikes! "I have no place to go. How about I meet you here at CVS every Saturday at four?" he said, smiling. I laughed. "God, your teeth are so nice!" he said. He asked me if I was married. I said no. Not wanting to reveal my trans status, I told him I was in a lesbian marriage, but now I'm not with my wife anymore. "Oh, I like that! I'd pay to see that! That's so kinky," he said. Then the perv came out, as if he weren't one already. "So were you the he or the she?" he asked. "I was the he. I made most of the money," I said. "Oh, I like! If you were a playa (player), I'd be a paya (payer). I'd definitely pay you to play," he said. "I'm not a playa," I said. "I like to be tied up, too, and whipped," he said in a whisper, "and... y'know... do me with a strap on. I'd like that." Whoa... what a dirty old man! "Okay, that's it," I said, concluding the chat. "Come on, gimme a chance! Meet me again and let me show you around," he said. "No, that's okay," I said. "I'm going to be fantasizing about you tonight, you hot lesbian," he said as I walked away from him. I like old people. They usually have good stories to tell, but not when they're pervy old men!

So Green

I'm not Irish, but I painted my nails green in honor of the upcoming St. Patrick's Day festivities. The shade is called Jade is the New Black by OPI. Ironically, jade is not limited to the color green. There are jade gemstones that are white, gray, almost black, brown, red, and lilac. Other colors are available by dying the jade by impregnating it with colored polymers.

Veggie Lasagna

The Lasagna Queen strikes again! I created an incredible fifteen-layer veggie lasagna, but made a stupid boo boo by forgetting to use my ricotta-spinach blend until last minute, so I made that my top layer. It still tasted great, but my lasagna would've held together better if the ricotta-spinach were inside. My veggie blend included eggplant, tomatoes, mushrooms, bell peppers, Cubanelle peppers, onions, garlic, basil, and oregano all diced and slow cooked in olive oil. I used the Barilla curly lasagna pasta, the kind you boil in a little salt and olive oil to keep the pasta sheets from sticking together. Baking was a 50 minute affair, 25 covered with foil followed by 25 without. Next time I'll get the layers right. I gave a piece to my mother-in-law. My ex said, "Oh yeah! I forgot to tell you she loved it. So did my dad! I didn't think he would eat it." My mother-in-law returned my Tupperware container with a serving of her delicious ziti with homemade meatballs.

Old and New

I was going through my old photos and noticed how some things never change. The things that we do in the present are sometimes inspired by the experiences we've had in the past. I see this in a lot of the things I do now, from music to photography to computers. Everyone has a rich set of experiences that shapes their lives.

Me on someone else's boat in 1968 and 2010.

Me in my music room 1969 and 2011.

Icons

Who we are today is the result of the people who've inspired us. Other people might've looked up to Marilyn Monroe or Madonna, but I had my own mom as my beauty icon, a veritable five-foot-tall stunner with a beautiful smile, gorgeous hair, and 36-24-36 measurements. Every Chinese guy wanted to marry her because they knew she could give them beautiful children. She chose my father, who was not the typical doctor, lawyer, or businessman she had the ability to attract, because he had a good heart and was a good-looking guy. She admitted that his smile is actually better than her's and wanted that possibility in her children, too. That's where I got my smile from. As you can see, I got my big round face from my mom.

Love My Muffins?

I'm going to try my hand at baking muffins next, so I'm starting easy with Betty Crocker's Blueberry Muffin Mix. I want to get the basic taste and ingredient set written down, find some recipes, and start creating my own from scratch. I know I can make awesome cupcakes and muffins. After all, I'm an engineer and engineers can do anything! God, I'm eating one now... nothing beats fresh out of the oven food.

Chatty

One of our service repair guys needed my help accessing a lab today. As we rode the elevator, he asked, "Why are you cooked up in here when you should be outside?" "I gotta' work," I replied, smiling, "but I was out earlier. I had a class earlier today." I like that more people are chatting with me now. None of those guys would've talked to me when I was a boy.

Dee

My usual Wednesday night hangout was packed and I was lucky to find a seat at the bar. It was a warm night, so lots of people were out in Rittenhouse Square for food and drinks. As luck would have it, a familiar face from my past stood at the other end of the bar. I couldn't believe it... it was Dee! She was taller and more muscular than I remember and her low-cut tanktop revealed her ample bosoms. Unfortunately, she looked a bit out of place because of her size and the way she dressed. Her advantage is she's pretty and that sometimes makes up for height and a big build. She's five-foot-nine and about 140, which is small compared to most transsexuals, but she always wears heels, making her look taller. People around the bar were talking about her and not in a good way. "Don't look now, but that tall woman standing over there... that's a man!" one woman said to her boyfriend who sat next to me. By contrast, I asked this couple how their oysters were. They liked them. If they knew about me, they weren't letting on. I ordered a few oysters and crab spring rolls. They were delicious. I wanted lobster or calamari, but they were out of both. Strangely, no guys tried to talk to me even though I thought I looked pretty good. When it came time for me to leave, I knew I had to pay my respects to Dee. She was, after all, someone I looked up to, a role model because she lived as a woman back in 2003 when I first met her. I tapped her shoulder, she turned around, and I said hi. "I thought that was you! Oh, my God, how have you been?" she said. We caught up on each other's lives. "You look really good," she said. I thanked her, returned a compliment, and told her what an inspiration she has been to me in my transition. We talked some more and she touched my hair and squeezed my boobs. "It's all me," I said. She told me I looked beautiful. "I remember when you were young and all the steps you took to get to where you are. You're really beautiful. I would take you home and fuck you," she said. I was surprised that she said that. Then again, I wasn't. "I wasn't sure it was you at first," I said to her. "Oh, come on, honey, nobody has my mouth with all the cursing I do," she said giggling. She introduced me to her friend Deecee who was a very nice woman. Dee caressed my arm. "Kiss me," she said, and she leaned forward to kiss me. Her magnificent, full lips reminded me why so many men and women wanted her, even if they weren't sure she was trans. Her lips were pillow soft and very kissable. She kissed me again in front of everyone. And again. Her tongue was slipping in between my lips the third time, but I pulled away. I turned to look at the curious businessmen standing behind us who watched with great interest. "Sorry," I said to them with a smile. I excused myself, hugged Dee and her friend, went to the restroom, and then left. I walked over to Barnes & Noble and geeked out for an hour and a half reading books.

Mentoring

Last night, I met a newbie tgirl who told me she wanted to live full-time as a woman now that she's alone and retired. She had very little experience going out as a woman and asked about restaurants, bars, and other places to go that were tranny friendly and "accepting of girls like us." She was concerned about how the people in a diner she usually frequents would react if she suddenly walked in dressed as a woman. She then asked me, "what kind of wig do you wear to have such natural-looking hair?" I told her I was full-time and that my hair was real. She was amazed that I had such beautiful hair. Many of my full-time transsexual peers would scoff at this poor, misguided soul, but I remained patient with her as she reminisced of her fun times at parties at The Raven and Blue Pacific, two events that cater to very closeted crossdressers. In essence, she thought like a crossdresser even though she wanted to live full-time as a woman. Being cautious is fine, but she was so overly cautious that I can't help but think she's not ready for transition yet. "I would never go into a women's fitting room because women don't want anyone who is remotely male going into their private spaces," she said. She avoids using the fitting rooms at New York & Company, for example, but that's a store that has individual stalls in their fitting rooms, so really anyone can use them! The reason why individual stalls exist is because some women are very body conscious and private and don't want to undress in front of others. Some transsexuals feel the same way for similar reasons, especially pre-ops who need a little extra precaution. Unlike my peers, I wouldn't be Kalina Isato if I didn't have the patience and kindness to help newbie tgirls like this with advice and lessons on makeup and social integration. I told her that with my skills, I can help her realize her potential and encourage her to go out to different places to build up her confidence so she doesn't have to think the way she currently does. Some male-to-female crossdressers and transsexuals will always disturb women in public restrooms and fitting rooms because they look and act like guys, but appearance and behavior is all ultimately correctable.

Voice

In line with my statement about things that are ultimately correctable is voice. It's sometimes a crapshoot whether I'm referred to as "sir" or "ma'am" over the phone. In person, it's quite easy to convince people that I'm a woman even if my voice is androgynous because they see a woman in front of them. I never really focused my attention on my voice because my energies were always devoted to appearance and mannerisms. When I take my time talking, I can actually get into a female sounding range with all of the inflections and phrasing structures. It surely helps that I'm always around women at work and in my classes, so I think about how they talk and that probably affects the way I talk. It's surprising when a customer service representative calls me "sir" over the phone even though my name is Clare and my sex is female on their computer screens. I'm not sure some of those people even bother to read the gender marker on their records. They just go by gut instinct about the person's sex by what he or she sounds like. When I hear "Thank you, ma'am" over the phone, it's a great feeling and I know I've arrived.

Abe

Back in January, when I was with my friend Ann, I met a man at Smith & Wollensky who was one of the top lawyers in Pennsylvania and also an ethics professor in law school. He agreed to meet me for drinks at Pod, a nice Asian fusion restaurant near my workplace. I was interested in him purely for academic reasons as I'm very attracted to brilliant people. He was attracted to me because there was something about me that was different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. I revealed to him that I'm transgender through the course of our conversation. "I had a feeling you were transgender because of the company you keep," he said. "Your friend I met that night I met you, for example..." he said, shaking his head, "clearly looked like she was born a man, but you I wasn't so sure about." "Lots of transsexuals can't help but look like men, but many of us are doing something about it," I said. "That new insurance policy that passed will surely help," he said. I nodded enthusiastically. "I'm excited about it. You have to understand that it's not my fault I was born this way and I'm doing things to correct my situation," I said. "I'm not concerned about what's in between your legs. I see a very attractive woman in front of me," he said. I asked him why he didn't show up last Wednesday at Devon Seafood Grill like he promised. "Oh, I did stop by," he said, "and I walked up to someone whom I thought was you and asked her if she was Clare Din and she replied in a snippety way, 'No, you need CLEAR VISION, honey!' I was very turned off and left." "That must've been Dee," I said, smiling. I showed him a picture of Dee I saved on my iPhone and he confirmed that it was indeed her. "I thought that wasn't you. She was just too tall and muscular," he said. Now I have to wonder if Smith & Wollensky had a problem with me because they mistook me for Dee. Abe tried to understand his attraction towards me. "So was your ex-boyfriend gay?" he asked. "If you ask any man I was with, he'll say he's straight because I look like a woman and look like I should've been born a woman," I said. Abe and I spent about an hour and a half talking at the bar before I had to leave for my bartending job that night. I ordered a quick meal, a Pod Lobster Roll that I had to take with me in order to make my gig. Abe paid for it, of course, as any nice man would. He did creep his hand up my leg a little too close for comfort a couple of times and asked me to kiss him several times, but I only gave him one peck. "There, did that feel like a boy kissing you?" I said. "Heavens, no, I wouldn't want to kiss you if you looked like a man," he said. "So have you ever been with a trans woman before?" I asked curiously. "Never. I've never been with any other woman other than my wife. She's a nice woman, but we don't even live together anymore. Lots of women have approached me, but I always said no to them," he said. I often wonder what makes a man want to suddenly turn to a trans woman. When I was younger, I knew I had the power to turn men into trans women lovers. Now that I'm older, I use that power much more wisely. Abe wanted me to go home with him, but I'm just not that kind of girl. I have to be wined and dined and there has to be a connection on so many levels before a relationship can turn physical. "Kiss me again," he said. "I already gave you a kiss," I said. "Oh... fuck you," he said, frustrated. "Fuck you, too," I said, smiling. We played a little of this cat and mouse banter a few times during our conversations. When I stood up to put my jacket on to leave, he had no problem reaching out to feel my butt in front of many of our colleagues who were probably in the restaurant. "Abe! Someone we know is going to see us!" I said. "I don't care," he stated. I shared my Pod Lobster Roll with the other two bartenders at my gig. A couple of the younger professors at the party were impressed with my takeout bag from Pod, so I told them about my meeting with Abe. "He was curious about me," I said, smiling.

Chris and Meredith... and Joe

Two of my girlfriends from Penn, Chris and Meredith, stopped by my party last night to meet me and my trans friends in a party lounge atmosphere. Meredith and my friend Kristin both love horses, so they had lots to talk about. Chris and I caught up on our lives and I always seem to discover something new and amazing about her, such as her snowboarding expertise. Unfortunately, Joe, who had been to my party twice and is also a Rutgers graduate student, tried to interject himself in every conversation Chris and I or Meredith and Kristin had. Joe's demeanor was obnoxious at times and we caught Joe lying on several occasions. Chris and I talked about Ippudo, a popular ramen noodle shop in New York that I had been to. Joe claimed he had been to Ippudo and we caught him in his lie as he claimed he had a bowl of spicy beef soup there. The only meat Ippudo serves is pork. Chris and I talked about next year's fine arts studio abroad that may be in Tibet. Joe injected himself into the conversation yet again and talked about a Tibetian coin he owned even though he never stepped foot outside of the United States.

Gel at Home

Until now, the only way to get a gel manicure was through a nail salon for $25 to $60. SensatioNail Invincible Gel Polish has changed all of that. With a little skill, you can create gel nails that have the same durability and sparkly shine as any salon-quality gel manicure. Can't believe it's true? Believe it. The starter kit is $60 and includes gel cleanser, gel primer, gel base and top coat, color gel polish, lint-free wipes, nail file, manicure stick, and LED lamp. I was able to do a gel manicure and pedicure in about 40 minutes. Instructions are included for applying and removing the gel. I actually found it easier to paint my nails with gel polish because the polish doesn't dry until you cure it with LED light. This means you can go over the color several times without streaking the polish. There are 12 nail colors to choose from, each sold separately. I wouldn't be surprised if people started posting images of their layered gel colors soon. The starter kit includes your choice of Raspberry Wine or Scarlet Red.

Tanning

I popped into Hollywood Tans and signed up for a new tanning package. It's been over a year since I got my last tan. I'm glad all of the bulbs were working in the tanning booth I was assigned. It really sucks when one or more bulbs are out because you're not getting your money's worth. I walked out of my nine-minute HT54 session feeling a little fried. I usually don't sunburn easily. I'm prepping my skin for some beach days in the summer.

Zama

Jake treated me to a wonderful meal at Zama where we shared appetizers of miso black cod, red snapper crudo, and king crab tartare, sea urchin with quail egg sushi, a Philly Style maki roll (premium Japanese Washugyu beef, provolone, spicy mayo, rice, and bibb lettuce wrapped in red pepper flaked soy paper), and a Bibou maki roll (escargot sauteed with shallots, edamame beans, and shiho in a soy dashi butter set atop tempura haricot vert and fennel maki). One of the things I like about Jake is he's open-minded and adventurous like most of my guy friends and I'm incredibly fortunate to be able to attract the kinds of guys who make good dining partners. What I never like to hear is a negative response from someone who doesn't even dare try a new food because of built-in prejudices that keep him from experiencing Jake and I went to Square 1682 for a drink afterwards. We stayed until closing, which was 12:40am. I like Jake because he's unpretentious, calming, and very easy to talk to. There must be something in the stars because every decent man in my life right now is around my age. That's so cool.

Benihana

My friend Chris and I each ordered a delicious filet mignon and colossal shrimp combination meal at Benihana. Somehow we finished our miso soup, garden salad with ginger dressing, grilled shrimp appetizer, grilled zucchini, onions, and mushrooms, and our steak and shrimp with not much food left over. We felt so full afterwards and yet somehow I ended up losing weight the next day because the scale said 133. I'm liking my body again.

Popeye's

Whoaaa... I rarely praise fast food, but Popeye's Butterfly Shrimp Tackle Box is not to be missed. I've never had good fast food shrimp. Even Sid Booker's shrimp stand in North Philly doesn't make shrimp as good as this Popeye's special. There's something about the seasonings that add just the right amount of flavor and spiciness to the shrimp. You're supposed to get eight pieces in a serving, but I got nine both times I ordered it. Be sure to ask for the Confetti Sweet & Sour sauce as your condiment, however, the shrimp is so good on their own you won't need it. Substitute the fries for a small red beans and rice for a more satisfying meal. God damn, this is good! Anyone on Drexel's campus should try the Cap'n Crunch Tilapia Burrito from Cucina Zapata. I turned a couple of coworkers on to this secret find! I also love the chorizo, egg, and cheese arepas from Philly Delicias. (No, don't read this as a way to take me out on a cheap date.)

Everything Plastic

Only in Philly is there a plastic superstore where you can get bulk plastics cut to your specifications. Want a trophy case, a stand, a sign, or a lightweight mirror? You can find it all at Everything Plastic. You'll even discover odd things, such as faux crystal balls, faux marble tiles, and... drumroll... polished plastic chairs in your choice of color for $750 each. Ouch. I bought a whole bunch of stuff for my upcoming still life project.

My Wonderfully Complicated Life

I have a full-time job that requires at least eight hours every day, Monday to Friday, and occasional weekends. I take one, sometimes two, college classes each week that take up some or all of my weekends. I host my parties Monday and Thursday evenings. I get to see my two- and seven-year old sons on Tuesday and Friday evenings. I can go out Tuesday and Friday evenings after I see my children, but I'm usually tired after a long day of work and travelling to my children's home. That leaves Wednesday evenings as my special night and whoever's lucky enough to grab this time spot gets my undivided attention. My Thursday party basically helps pay for lunch for a few days because I'm perpetually broke. Technically, the only event I don't have to do is my Monday night parties, but I enjoy the camaraderie of Howard the bartender and my friends whom I get to see only once or twice a week and it's nice to meet new people who come from all over the world to check out my parties. Plus, it's a nice neutral place to meet guys who are interested in me. So when someone demands more time from me than I have to give, when someone sings her own praises about what she does for the community and how I'm just one big party planner, I can unequivocally state that my life is wonderfully complicated and filled with family and social responsibilities. My uniqueness and social status have allowed me to find nontraditional ways to help my community and allow it to thrive. It's funny to see transsexuals pat themselves on the back for their recent community service activities and try to take a dig at me when I've been participating in such events and groups as the IFGE, the Transgender Day of Remembrance, ASIAC, Gay Pride Day, and other LGBT community-related activities as far back as 2003. My how certain people choose to forget about such things!

Beadworks

I took an introductory wire working class at Beadworks that covers how to effectively use your hands, tools, and wire to construct your own jewelry. There were two other girls in this class and we were all struggling to follow what the jewelry instructor was teaching us. The class felt like it was over before it started because all we really accomplished in the hour-long session was wire-wrap looping four beads and connecting them together to make the beginnings of a bracelet. Still, this class was a prerequisite to all of Beadworks' advanced classes, such as Earring Fundamentals. The class was discounted ($12 instead of $30) as part of a special promotion and I waived the option to buy a voucher for $15 to get $30 in beads. How much was a bead anyway? A typical bead can cost anywhere from 50 cents to $4 depending on its size, material, and design. Some can cost over $10 each, so $30 doesn't get you much. Still, the possibility of creating any jewelry design you can imagine is pretty neat. After my class, I went to 5 N 2 Tokyo for dinner. I had a bowl of steaming hot miso soup and a sashimi platter with twelve pieces of red tuna, white tuna, albacore, salmon, and whitefish wrapped around cucumber and topped with roe. 5 N 2 is just a hole in the wall sushi place, but it has some of the freshest fish I've ever tasted. I popped into Nova Ice, but was not impressed with their big, gaudy earring selections and I let their salesgirls know it. I've never stepped foot inside Mostly Books until today. It always struck me as an old vinyl record shop that sold nothing of interest to my generation. The store recently expanded by purchasing the former Philly AIDS Thrift store location and now this store is huge and filled with books, CDs, DVDs, and, yes, vinyl records. If you can get over the moldy, mildewy smell, you will might find a secret treasure here and there, such as a first edition of London and Upton's Photography for the cost of a cheesesteak. The Pecan Coconut peanut brittle at Cookie Confidential is amazing. I bought a jar and finished it quickly. You can return the jar for a free cookie. I'm tempted to try their Cheesesteak Cookie.

Tension

Spending seventeen hours to perfect the look of an art project for my Still Life class that requires balancing delicate pieces of plastic, glass, and string is not something I'd recommend for the impatient or faint of heart. Having the project fall aparty or unravel itself several times while meticulously shifting pieces in three-dimensional space can make most people go bonkers. Several times I experienced frustration and tried to convince myself to stop, but something made me continue working on my project to make it even more visually pleasing and satisfying. I became obsessed with creating spatial relationships that seemingly defy gravity. It was like a mini magic act and I was the magician presenting my miracles on a stage no larger than a cubic foot. I became intrigued that my best balancing act was yet to come and somehow I had to capture this amazing display in my photographs. Does 267 pictures to get the perfect shot sound like an obsession? Most of the scene was a clear or silver color when I started. Mixing music and mixing colors require pretty much the same skills. It's all art in different forms.

Clare Din, Tension, 2012

This picture was produced using a 5 second exposure at f/22 and ISO 200 on a Nikon D3s with an AF-S Nikkor 17-35mm 1:2.8D lens and Nikon SB-900 flash. Each object was painstakingly positioned to give it its own space and allow it to interact with other objects. Several objects appear to float in the scene and if you walked around this diorama, you'd be wondering how I did it. Have fun trying to figure out how I was able to defy gravity.

The Fuss With SEPTA

Some trans people are up in arms over gender identification stickers on SEPTA transit passes. According to The Advocate, "SEPTA uses the gender on riders' state IDs for their passes, which sometimes doesn't match the appearance of riders. Transgender advocates say the policy leads to androgynous people and those transitioning to be denied service and subjected to embarrassing questions." Wait a second... what exactly are these embarrassing questions? "May I see your identification please?" is not necessarily an embarrassing question. You show your id to prove who you are. If your id doesn't match your appearance, you can expect to encounter problems. That's just the way life is. When you go up to a counter, act like an ass, and demand the right to have an F as your gender marker, you're not likely to get it. Wouldn't it be better to calmly explain your situation to the person and perhaps speak to his or her manager if needed? Good results are often achieved with courteous behavior. That way people don't think we're all a bunch of loonytoons on too much medication. I went up to the SEPTA ticket counter at Amtrak 30th Street Station today and asked the lady, a big black woman, for next month's SEPTA TransPass. She charged my credit card, never asked for my id, and put the F sticker on my card. It's that simple. I really think some girls have to do a better job at passing if they don't get an F sticker with no questions asked. There are just too many girls who don't care about what they look like. If you don't care what you look like, how can you expect others to perceive you the way you want to be perceived?

Jimmy's Sister

I rarely give praise to a menu item, but I have to admit that "Jimmy's Sister" from Pyramid Pizza on Drexel's campus is delicious. Imagine a grinder filled with steak, chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, fries, red sauce, cheese sauce, and optional hot sauce. All of the food is Halal so you're getting humanely slaughtered meats... for just $4.50. You heard it right. A big honkin' cheesteak sandwich with two built-in appetizers and a side dish for $4.50! By comparison, a vegan banh mi sandwich at another food truck was $4 and half the size.

Jimmy's Sister is a tasty sandwich designed to clog your arteries and make you really fat. I'm not sure I can eat another one any time soon. I gained two pounds in the past few days (I'm 135 today) and am probably going to gain another pound as a result of this sandwich. The owner of the truck makes the sandwich, rolls it up in the usual deli paper, and then raises the package and drops it on the counter before placing it in a paper bag for you. Strange. I studied him and he did this every time. Is this an Islamic tradition?

Lou

I like when straight guys at straight bars hit on me and tell me I'm good-looking even when I have hardly any makeup on. I thought it would be a quiet night with just me, my lobster, and my Fairway Solitaire game on my iPhone at my usual Rittenhouse Square bar, but fate has a way of connecting two people from very different backgrounds. "Are you alone?" a voice said to me and I turned to look at the gray-haired gentleman in the silver suit with olive skin and the most penetrating blue-grey eyes. His name was Lou and he looked like a younger Anthony Hopkins. I nodded and he sat beside me and we talked for a bit. He asked me what I was playing and I showed him. He saw the card motif and thought I was playing blackjack. "Do you gamble? Because I happen to have a limo that's going to take me to The Borgata tonight. Wanna' come?" he asked. I shook my head and told him I had to work the next morning. "I do, too, and I could have the limo drive you back to Philly," he said. I said no again. We were both native New Yorkers. He currently resides in Manhattan. I asked him what he was doing in Philly. "I'm opening a high-end cocktail bar about four blocks from here. I think this city needs one," he said. I agreed. "Wanna' work for me?" he said with a rogue-like smile. "So, I can be a bartender or something?" I asked. "Maybe, but if you work for me, you can't be my girlfriend. I never mix business with pleasure," he said. I laughed. "You have very beautiful teeth. Did you have braces?" he asked. "Never. My mom and dad have great teeth," I said. "You know, you have a very attractive voice. There's this quality about it that I can't quite put my finger on," he said. I've never felt my voice was one of my strong features, but it's nice to hear this. He also complimented my face. "You have a very attractive face. Beautiful features. I love these dimples," he said, touching the corners of my mouth. I thanked him. He brushed my hair back from my face. "Beautiful..." he commented, "and your hair is gorgeous." I smiled. "What's your nationality?" he asked. "I'm Chinese with a little mix of stuff here and there," I replied. "I'm Sicilian," he said and then he paused for a while, studying me, and smiled. He sat back confidently with his drink in hand, a glass of Grey Goose with club soda. I looked at him innocently. "You don't know who the fuck I am, do you?" he asked. I shook my head and said, "No, should I?" "I'm Lou G------," he responded. I omitted his last name to protect myself. "My family owns much of New York," he said. He studied me again. "I'm trying to get a read on you, but you seem so guarded, like you're holding something back from me," he said. Did he figure out I'm trans? What kind of territory am I getting myself into? "Are we getting along?" he asked. I nodded. "I ask that you be honest with me. I like honesty. Someone fucks with me I put a bullet through their head," he said, and then he chuckled, "but that just applies to my business associates. This is my personal life." Shit! Was he joking? Why did every hair on my body suddenly stand up on end? Yet something compelled me to continue talking to this man. Some girls, especially trans women, want to be with a black "bad boy" as self-validation that they can be with a "man's man," but as some people know, lots of bad boys who classify themselves as ballers are usually broke and full of attitude. My kind of bad boy is a Mafia type and I know I'm playing with fire every time I flirt with one, but somebody's got to do it and if they're attracted to me for some strange reason, I just figure I'm damn good. There are undoubtedly other transsexual women who are with mobsters, so I'm in good company. He asked me if I was married and I said no, I'm separated. I told him I have children and showed him pictures of me with my seven year old. "That's a beautiful picture of you two," he said. "Are they with you or him?" he asked. "With her," I said, and then he seemed confused, but I quickly explained that I was in a lesbian relationship with a woman. "That's really hot," he said. "So wait a minute. Are you into guys or girls?" he asked. "I don't want to have anything to do with girls anymore, so I'm totally into guys now. Well... 99%," I said. "That's hot," he said. "My ex-wife was a Playboy bunny with a nice body and I see that you've got a really nice body, too. Do you work out a lot?" he asked. I admitted I didn't. I could do sit-ups, but could only manage just one and a half pull-ups. "That's okay, you're a woman. You don't have as much upper body strength as a man," he said. He felt my arms and legs and loved them, remarking how toned they felt. I felt his biceps and calves and they were rock solid. He studied karate for nine years and was a linebacker who received offer letters from 31 colleges to play ball. He slipped his hand under my shirt and ran his fingers along my back and commented, "This is the softest skin I've ever felt." Ha! Now he's Kalinafied! He kissed me on my forehead. I showed him pictures of me from my Fashion Photography class and he was floored by them. He held my hands and marveled over my fingers. "You have the most feminine fingers I've ever seen. Long and slender. I could definitely see them around my d*ck," he said with a chuckle. "You could be a porn star if you wanted to. You've got the body for it," he said. He told me about his investments in the porn industry, such as Vivid Entertainment. "I take chances and invest in things nobody would think of and I've made a lot of money on my investments," he said. "I'm going to the Cayman Islands for two weeks. Ever been there?" he asked. I shook my head. "I have a house there. Maybe I'll take you there someday," he said. He asked me if I'd ever consider living in New York and I said no. "That's okay, I might get an apartment here," he said, "so if you had your choice of living anywhere in Philly, where would you live?" he asked. "Here in Rittenhouse Square," I said, "because there's lot to do here." "Do you want to live here? I can subsidize you, but the moment you stop sucking my d*ck, you're on your own for rent," he said, chuckling. I smiled and said, "No, that's okay," to his offer. He got close to me many times during the night to touch my hair, smell my neck, and caress different body parts. I made sure his hand didn't touch my crotch. He respected the boundaries I set for him. "You smell really good. That perfume you wear really pulls me in," he said, inhaling my scent. He kissed me again on my neck, then my cheek, and several more times as we talked some more. That was really cool. "You're really hot. I can suck on your labia for hours. Have you ever had anyone give you oral for two hours?" he asked. I can't say I have. First, I need a vagina! It would be nice if his offer still stood in the future. Suddenly, we were interrupted by a spunky redhead with the most beautiful long, wavy red hair. "Is anyone sitting here?" she asked us of a seat to our left. "No, but you can join us if you wish," Lou said to her. She explained that she was on a blind date. "Wow, she's beautiful," I whispered to Lou. "She says you're beautiful," he said to her, pointing at me. I blushed. She thanked me and told us her name was Dara. "I could tell you still have that lesbian side in you," Lou said to me. Dara admitted to us that she experimented with a lesbian in college. "Whoa, that's hot," Lou said, and then he turned to me and said, "Girls with girls is really hot. I'm not into guys with guys because I don't suck d*ck." He laughed aloud. I told him I thought our bartender, Lawson, was rather hot. Lou told Lawson what I said, embarrassing me once again. Lawson smiled and thanked me. "Y'know what, Lawson? You are pretty hot. If I was gay, I'd suck your dick, too!" Lou said laughing aloud. "You can't tell me anything. I'll just tell everyone," Lou said to me. Dara's date, Craig, finally arrived and the two of them conversed. In the meantime, Lou serenaded me with a song. He was actually a good singer. Craig wanted to impress Dara, so he showed her a magic trick and then reached for his harmonica. "Wait a minute, let me see that," Lou said. Craig gave Lou his harmonica and Lou played it like a pro. Craig took out a second harmonica and the two played a counterpoint harmony. There were many people at the bar watching us. I was having too much fun. Lou suggested that the four of us get together again sometime. I excused myself to go to the restroom. I expected the worst, like some d*ckhead blabbing my status to Lou and Lou threatening to kill me. When I came back, Lou was just as affectionate towards me as before I left for the restroom. Perhaps even more so. I counted fourteen kisses from him all over my face, my hands, and my arms throughout the three and a half hours I spent with him. I kissed him six times. He paid for my four drinks and my lobster. "I like you. Beauty and brains. That's a powerful combination," he said. Yes, it really is. Few girls have both. Craig went to the restroom and Dara admitted that she didn't like Craig. When Craig returned, Dara wanted to leave and Craig walked her out the door. Craig returned to us and asked us if Dara said anything to us about liking him. Lou and I had to lie, of course. Craig left, Dara returned and talked to us, and then Craig came back. Dara left again, Craig followed her out the door again, and Craig returned to talk to us again about Dara. Lou and I walked out of the bar at closing time. Lou again asked me if I wanted to go to The Borgata with him to play craps. "I need a beautiful woman like you to blow my dice and give me luck," he said. He liked making bets of a thousand dollars each time. I told Lou I can't. He wanted my phone number. I refused to give it to him. He got frustrated. The power any woman has that no man can ever come close to having is the power to say no. "I'll see you around then," he said. I walked up the street intending to go home. Walking in the opposite direction was Dara. I motioned her, grabbed her hand, and said, "Craig will probably be back. Let's get away from these boys." We walked down the street towards Sofitel and met these two really hot guys from Dallas who wanted to know where to go for drinks. We chatted with them for a little while and hoped they would join us. They didn't. That was fine because I got to spend the next hour and a half talking to a beautiful redhead. We poked fun of Craig and Lou's attempts at wooing us, especially the harmonica playing. "I think he was legit," Dara said of Lou's mob background. "I know, that's what's so scary," I admitted. She had thought that Lou and I were together for a while by the way she read our body language, but I said no. We talked about our recent experiences with men and part of me wanted to kiss her, but I didn't. I discovered she wanted to write a book about her travel experiences and I impressed her by telling her about my self-publishing company. "If you want to do it right and keep all the profits, you have to do it yourself. Find your niche market and promote and sell your books yourself," I said. "That makes a lot of sense," she said. She said she would call me sometime so we can go out and meet guys. She probably won't call, but who knows? This was one of those nights in which I can honestly say it's nice to be me.

My A Game

When I go out on dates, I always bring my A game. I look polished, proper, and speak and act very appropriately for a woman. This is why most guys see me as an incredible date. I'm smart, funny, and nice to look at. When I'm with my friends, I don't always look, act, or speak optimally because I'm in casual mode. My friends rarely see my A game. They see some regular Josephine who is just like them. I like it that way because it makes them feel comfortable around me. On rare occasion, I'll let my friends see my A game. They've already seen it in pictures and on special occasions, but it's refreshing to see me looking really nice from time to time. I admit I do feel a lot prettier when I have my A game on, but I don't want to look glammed up all the time. I live my life as a woman 24/7, so I don't feel the need to glam myself up every chance I get. I can pretty much pass with minimal makeup so long as I don't look and feel overly tired from lack of sleep. The moment I wear red or burgundy lipstick, my face really stands out. It's weird that coloring my lips can have such an effect.

Mike

In a spirited conversation last night at my party, a guy named Mike was willing to buy me drinks so long as I fetched them for him. "I buy, you fly," he said. I did so once, but never again. "I just want to check out your cute behind," he said. What a chauvinist pig! I'm not an object for his amusement! He was very smug and sure of himself, but got defensive when I mentioned some of the guys I met recently. "Why would anyone tell you he's Mafia?" Mike said of my story about Lou, and then Mike kept childishly referring to me as "Mafia queen" the rest of the night. The point is I never said Lou told me he was Mafia. My friends and I who discussed Lou's last name said it was a strong possibility if all he said was true. Guys like Mike don't seem to know how to act around me. Mike wanted a hug from me before I left, but I refused. Nobody who acts like an asshole deserves a hug.

Transition Expectations

Some transwomen seem to have unrealistic expectations of what they can do and they feel like the world owes them something just because they've felt horrible for being a woman trapped in a man's body for so long. They cry foul when people do not hire them. They feel a sense of entitlement just because they had an epiphany of who they really are. To loosely quote from a movie, "the world will beat you down if you let it." It's up to you to make the most of your situation. If you do not fit a company's corporate image, you have the option of changing the way you look or moving on to the next job opportunity. Remember that not every genetic woman will get certain jobs, either. I know transwomen who've gotten jobs at MAC, bebe, and other retail stores where looking great is essential to better sales. If you want to be a bartender at a posh lounge, nobody will hire you if you look like a truck driver in drag. It is up to the hiring officer to make a judgement on how well you will fit into his or her business environment. One of my peers was bitching about boycotting Victoria's Secret because they don't hire transwomen. One of my other peers correctly said, "But one would have to be young, attractive, and fit the VS corporate image well to work the floor at VS. This is why you'll never see an old, short, obese naturally born woman working there either... it just doesn't work." Well said. There are jobs for all of us out there if we know where to look. If you scan the Internet, you'll see many transwomen who have great jobs because they work hard and don't complain about their situations on Facebook or public forums.

5 N 2 Tokyo

It's funny when a seven year old who has shown very limited food inclinations in the past year suddenly becomes adventurous. "Can I have that?" my son asked, pointing at the pink fish maki roll in front of him. "No, you can't. It's raw and, besides, you might not like it," I said. He looked at it with greater interest, the raw pink yellowtail tuna and scallion roll glistening under the lights. It was too pretty not to eat. I nodded, so he took the piece and ate it whole, chewing it curiously as I watched, thinking to myself, "Oh, no, I'll bet he's going to ralph it up onto the plate." Then he did something I sometimes do, which is perhaps the reason why so many guys enjoy taking me out and watching me eat. He closed his eyes as he chewed and swallowed, as if he were thoroughly enjoying the experience. He opened his eyes and said, "That was good!" I have to give credit to the little guy for his willingness to try something new. It was his first time eating authentic sushi. He sampled a little bit of the sea urchin, too. "It doesn't taste like anything," he commented. "It's kind of like sea custard," I said. He tried the fish eggs and scallions next, nodded, and said, "Mmm, good." I didn't dare let him try the salmon nigiri even though he wanted to. It was just too much raw fish for a young boy. He enjoyed his shrimp nigiri and shrimp tempura maki roll, two sushi items with cooked shrimp. We went to Cookie Confidential next where he had chocolate chip cookies and I had the cheesesteak cookie and strawberry shortcake cookie. The cheesesetak cookie was very weird. "Cookie" is a bit of a misnomer in this case because it was more like a piece of flatbread, a salty flat piece of cheesy dough with chewy bits of beef in it. It was akin to a cheese arepa studded with beef bits. The cheesesetak cookie was smaller than the other cookies, but priced higher. The strawberry shortcake cookie was a treat to eat. My son and I played at Starr Garden Playground for a while before we headed to our dinner destination, Blackbird Pizzeria, for a slice of seitan sausage and Daiya cheese pizza. His eyes bulged as he ate it. "This is good!" he exclaimed.

South Street Magic

The old Hocus Pocus magic shop owned by Irv Furman used to be my local source for classic magic tricks. I was sad when Irv retired many years ago and his store turned into a tax shop. Late last year, Seth Rovner's South Street Magic opened in the old TLA Video space right next door to Irv's old shop and my inner child surfaced once again. Magic tricks... and new ones, too! Irv never sold the latest stuff like Seth does. If I can't wait for my mail-order magic companies to deliver my goods, I now know where to go locally to get my tricks. The shop is divided into two parts, a retail store and a theater with movie theater-style seating. The theater's weekly schedule includes magic shows, lectures, and lessons performed by professional magicians, many not from this area. My son and I watched a children's magic show with magician Joshua Messado. We both loved it and I felt young again. It was the best $20 I've ever spent! After the magic show, we went to Atomic City Comics to look at comic books and South Street Souvlaki for a platter of delicious moussaka and stewed vegetables.

The Broken Power of a SEPTA TransPass

The SEPTA Pass Perks program is designed to reward SEPTA TransPass customers with discounts to a wide variety of establishments throughout Greater Philadelphia. In order to redeem a Perk, all you need is to show your pass at the time of the transaction. One such perk is 10% off the price of a Please Touch Museum ticket. When I showed my TransPass to the ticket girl, she had no clue about the discount. I was very disappointed. On the flip side, my son had lots of fun at the museum and the TransPass seems to save me money in bus rides because all I have to do is run my pass through the bus' pass reader and both my son and I get to ride with one fare. So, while I lost $3 in one place, I gained $4 in another. Children over four are supposed to pay full fare, but I follow what other mothers successfully do on the bus, which is to never pay for their children when they use a TransPass. There's a human element involved, too, because I've seen poor people ride the bus without paying or paying less than their actual fare because they don't have enough money.

Please Touch Museum

Kids love the Please Touch Museum. I remember when the museum was just two blocks away from where I live. Now located in the historic, restored Memorial Hall, Please Touch Museum offers children an opportunity to let their imagination run wild in a number of full-size playsets including a construction zone, SEPTA bus, auto repair shop, hospital, supermarket, water park, and a replica of Alice's Wonderland complete with themed rooms, such as the Hall of Mirrors, and a hedge maze. Signs hanging over the exhibits encourage sharing and cooperation. My son spent a long time in the water park, so I found some time to catch up on my reading. Two black girls who stood close by were talking about me. One of them said something I couldn't quite make out. The other said, "So what? She looks good for her age." I never thought the day would come that I'd start getting old lady compliments! "What was your favorite part of the museum?" I asked my son. "I like everything!" he responded. We went to Ocean City restaurant in Chinatown for dinner where we shared a Jumbo Shrimp with Walnuts in Cream Sauce dish. Service was unfriendly as usual, but the food was very high quality. Their dim sum is the best in the city and makes Imperial Inn seem like a dump. However, it was also the first Chinese restaurant where the servers and hosts gave me strange looks. I thought it was just me, but they gave a Caucasian family and a big Chinese family the same strange looks. One of the hosts looks like he's about to have a nervous breakdown. He finally smiled and waved after I paid my bill with gratuity. Weird.

Bed Head

A lot of my tgirl friends talk about wishing they could roll out of bed and look like a girl, but the reality is we were all born with masculine features that can give us away if we don't hide them with makeup or cosmetic surgery. I don't know how I can get away with wearing so little makeup and doing so little with my hair on certain days. It's strange because on days that I do hardly anything, I appear more attractive to people than on days in which I make a concerted effort to do things to make myself look better. Maybe I look more approachable when I'm disheveled, I don't know. I'm not making this up. It's just a weird phenomenon that I've noticed lately and I kind of like it.

Greg

I spent my happy hour at Devon Seafood Grill talking to some nice people. I met an older couple from South Philly who were perplexed by their iPhone. To them, I was like a goddess because I had so many apps on mine. They wanted the free calamari through FourSquare and I tried to help them download it, but they forgot their Apple ID password, so I recommended they talk to the folks at the Apple Store to help them reset it. I met Debby, a charming, older lady who is the marketing director for Maggiano's, a place where I'm attending a business lunch next week. We mostly talked about our love of sports. She's a big basketball and football fan. She ordered the calamari after seeing the huge portion I got. We both raved over Devon's $12 lobster special. Debby and I connected on some level and she said she'd invite me to her box seats at an upcoming Sixers game if her friend couldn't make it. I almost left at 8pm, but then I met Greg, a regional sales director for an electronics manufacturer. As he was perusing the menu, I looked over at him. "So what do you recommend?" he asked me. "I like the calamari, but the cioppino is excellent," I said. "I'm not into shellfish and mussels, so how's the ahi tuna?" he asked. "It's awesome. My ex-boyfriend used to order that all the time," I said. He trusted me and ordered that along with a plate or clams and bowl of gumbo. He asked me if I wanted a drink, but I declined and said that I had two drinks already and wanted to sip water for a while. He asked me where I was born and I told him New York. "What part?" he asked. "Brooklyn," I replied. "Brooklyn? You threw me a curveball there. I took you for a Manhattan socialite," he said. "Haha! No, I'm not snobby like that. I'm down to earth and real," I said. "You're an attractive woman," he said, and I thanked him. He never asked me how old I was, but somewhere in our conversations I revealed I was 44. "You certainly don't look it," he said. He was in good shape for his age, which I guessed was somewhere around mine. We talked a lot about sports just like my conversations with Debby. The Sixers were playing and we were checking the score every now and again. Greg played baseball in high school and was accepted to Divison I colleges on a baseball scholarship. He was a Nets fan, which made sense because he was born in Northern New Jersey, but he was also a Dallas Cowboys fan, which made no sense to me. "When I was little, I wrote a book report on the Dallas Cowboys and my favorite player was Roger Staubach and I just followed the team ever since. I loved the star on the helmets. I loved how they rose to fame with Aikman, Smith, and Irvin. I just love them," he said. I did accepted his second drink offer. I told him I like Reislings, so he ordered a glass for each of us. We talked about our marriage woes. He was married with three kids, but he and his wife had lots of issues with each other. "She doesn't work, so I'd get slammed if I divorced her," he said. He was fascinated that I was married to a woman and had kids. He was even more fascinated that I suddenly changed over to an attraction towards men. "So what kind of person are you looking for?" he asked. "I don't care if the person is a man, a woman, or an alien," I said, "so long as he or she treats me right and with respect, I'm cool." I told him I wish he wasn't married. He liked that. He asked me many questions and I answered all of them. I never made him aware of my trans status. I believe he thought I was a natal female because we talked for more than three hours and he was completely comfortable with me. We talked about everything. It was awesome. What could've been another quiet, early night turned out to be fun. If I didn't meet Greg, I would've geeked out at Barnes & Noble. "I feel very comfortable talking to you. You're a great person and I'm so glad I met you," he said in the end, and we kissed each other on the cheek. It's so nice to be around real people who talk about real things. Whenever I'm around trannies, even some who are full-time, they always talk about their hair, nails, shopping, legs and shoes, and "dating men" which is usually limited to a secret rendezvous in a hotel room, probably because every experience is so new and thrilling to them. They think it's all girltalk, but I see it as trannytalk. Sometimes I want to tell them, "Shut up! The me from ten years ago would've been interested in what you have to say. The me now doesn't care for trannytalk." I just want to live my life like a normal woman, as normal as I can be, not like a kooky part-timer or full-timer who is chasing after lost youth.

Changes

One of the professors in my department stopped by for help with his new laptop. "I just wanted to say... you look so different now... you look incredible. I saw you at Moshulu at our holiday party and you looked... whew!!!... amazing!" he exclaimed. I thanked him in person and followed up with an email the next day that said, "Thank you so much for your kind words yesterday. It really made my day! :-)" He responded, "Clare, that's so nice of you. When I went home last night, I was telling my wife that I can't imagine how challenging some or all of this must be for you. Hang in there and you do look great! All the best, Jeff." It was nice that a faculty member noticed me at the holiday party. Apparently, more people noticed how nice I looked than I realized from the feedback I've gotten from various people in my department. Words like beautiful, gorgeous, amazing, and incredible make me feel as if my transition is successful and make me feel good about myself. I've always thought that by being pretty I can change people's minds about how they see transwomen and now I know that I've been right all along about that belief. Most people see transwomen as freaks, but when they're presented with a stellar example of someone who can change their perceptions about transwomen, they will hopefully see that we're not all freaks. The most awesome change of all in recent days? 132.6. I lost a pound from the previous day and the incredible thing is, for the past few days, I've been eating kettle-cooked potato chips and drinking wine coolers, basically junk, about an hour before I go to bed. One night I shared appetizers of mussels in white wine sauce, jumbo lump crab fries, buffalo wings, beef nachos, and a crabcake sandwich and I still weighed 132.6 the next day. Yeah, baby!

Helping Others

My Saturday morning was preoccupied by a makeup consultation for a new client, a man who wanted to see how good he could look as a woman. Since I've never worked on African-American faces before, I told him I'd be willing to work with him for a reduced fee since he'd be my first African-American makeover client. He was quite happy with that arrangement. My friend Aki, a transsexual, called me at noon to see if I was available to help her shop for a dress for an upcoming wedding reception. I never refuse a friend, so I agreed to help her. We went to Ross, since she was on a budget, and I helped her find several styles that might suit her. In the fitting room, I helped Aki with the back zippers since she couldn't reach them. In between Aki's dress changes, a portly genetic woman poked her head out of another fitting room. "Could you help me? Does this look right to you?" she asked, opening the door to reveal a lime green jacket she wore. I gave her my honest opinion. "The color of the jacket matches your skirt nicely, but I think it's a little too big right here in the shoulders. I think a smaller size might work better. You can get something like this altered, but it's best to just find the right size if possible," I said. "Yes, I totally agree. Thank you!" she said, nodding and smiling. I could tell that she really liked that I took the time to help her. I helped three good souls today. They all desired to look better and I felt it was my duty to help them achieve their goals. God blessed me with the passability privilege, so I've chosen to use this power to help people in need.

Iroquois

Mark di Suvero's Iroquois, 1983-1999 is an abstract expressionist sculpture overlooking the Benjamin Franklin Parkway at Eakins Oval. The massive 42'L x 40' H x 31'8"W steel construction weighs 35,000 pounds and invites curious viewers to enjoy it from multiple angles. The more foolhardy adventurers will try to walk or climb up one of its girders only to inevitably slide down. A pendulous arm on one side rocks back and forth from the wind. I picked this sculpture to photograph for my Still Life class because I'm fascinated by it and because I wanted to finish a personal project of mine. Back in the spring of 2009, I took a Large Format Photography class with the same professor and we were asked to pair up with and assist a classmate to photograph a sculpture of our choice using a 4x5 view camera. My sculture was Statue of Atmosphere and Environment XII, 1974 by Louise Nevelson. I created a phenomenal image that superimposed the details of Nevelson's work with the details of another statue off in the distance. My classmate Nate chose Iroquois. He asked me for ideas and I remember looking at the bright orange structure thinking, "What the hell is all this?" As I walked around the structure more and more, I began to see familiar shapes, the letters of the alphabet!

Clare Din, My Life, 2012

"Take pictures of letters!" I told Nate. "Huh? What? Where?" he said. "Don't you see them? The letters of the alphabet? See, here's A and here's X and..." I said. "No, no, forget that. I'm going to take my own pictures," he said. He thought I was crazy. I swore that I'd one day give my little idea the time it deserved, so today I was at Eakins Oval for two hours taking pictures of all of the letters of the alphabet, carefully positioning my Nikon camera, judiciously using flash, and going by the premise that "So what if this is a crazy idea? Nobody's ever done it before!" Art is all about enabling your viewers to see what you see. I admit I see a lot of kooky stuff every day. I notice things that nobody else does. I see faces on the back of cars in the form of headlights and grills. I can make out animals by looking at clouds or the granular patterns on walls. When I see something, I wonder why nobody else can see it. It took about five hours to review, collage, and color correct all of the images that comprise my version of Iroquois that I call Alphabet Soup. I sent Mark di Suvero my pictures. I hope he likes them. The second part of my Still Life assignment asks us to take a sculptural object and intervene it in a setting. Seeing that nobody in my class had tackled the use of nudes in their still life projects, I decided to go for it. I crafted a very poignant, introspective photograph of my life as a transsexual parent. It speaks of inner peace, solitude, and caring for and supporting my family even if they do not fully accept me. On another level, it speaks of a transsexual longing for a family, wishing to be normal, and facing the harsh realities that her life is not an easy one.

Men Who Don't Tip

Against my better judgement, I talk to every guy at my parties. Unfortunately, my friendly demeanor sometimes gives certain guys the impression that they have a chance with me when in reality they don't. Just because a guy likes me and I agree to talk to him doesn't mean I like him. When you buy me a drink, you pay the establishment. When you tip a bartender, you give a little something to him or her for preparing your drink for you. It's an easy concept to grasp, but some people fail to understand it. It eludes them and yet they continue to chase after girls who would rather be with guys who know how to treat their servers well. Why don't some people know how to tip? If you can't afford to tip, you should stay home! If you can't afford to tip, you don't deserve a nice girl, especially the hostess of a party. Why would I want to be with a guy who is hated and shunned by servers everywhere he goes? Such is the case with Tracy, the chef/cook/whatever who chatted with me last night. He ordered five drinks from the bar and never tipped the bartender once!

Surgery, Part Three

Most of you who've known me for the last couple of years know that I will be going under the knife once again for my final surgery some time in the near future. Now that my health insurance covers transgender surgeries, it's time to get all of my letters in order. I've been living full-time as a woman quite successfully for about two years. I've been on HRT for over nine years. In fact, April 2003 is the month I started HRT. Since I first started going out in public in 1991, people have tried to project their version of who I am onto me. Nobody ever asked me how I really felt about myself. Underneath the bold, confident exterior was someone who was never quite comfortable with her sexuality. Too many people projected their own feelings of inadequacy and insecurity onto me. I'm a woman and I like men. It's a simple concept, but some people don't understand it. I am attracted to certain women, too, particularly those who exhibit masculine qualities. This is why I tend to like female athletes and tough girls like Leah Remini. All throughout my life, it was not enough for me to "blend" and be invisible. I always wanted to be beautiful and complete and that irks a lot of people. People will say things about you for all kinds of reasons. People will despise you for the simple fact that you may be prettier than them, smarter than them, more personable than them, or all of the above. Rather than joust with the haters, I continued making myself better in mind, body, and soul and avoid people who don't have the same values that I do. I never do anything half-assed. I always give everything my all. Some of you may remember my conversations from years ago about how I vowed to never get surgery, but these were said in order to keep my marriage with my wife alive. Many of you have no idea what it takes to keep a spouse and family together, so I don't expect you to understand the emotional rollercoasters I went through.

Las Bugambilias

Jake asked me where I wanted to go to dinner and I suggested Las Bugambilias because every meal I've had there was always super fresh and delicious. The prices are very reasonable and you get a lot for your money. I love the Langostinos and jumbo shrimp dishes. I love the Carne Tampiqueña, a skirt steak wrapped around a jalapeño pepper filled with chihuahua cheese covered with coriander sauce and served with a chicken mole enchilada, rice, beans, and guacamole. We stayed until closing. We went to Xochitl for drinks afterwards. The bartender clued us in that the best margarita on the drink menu is actually the cheapest and most basic one. "I've been working here for nine years, so I know how to make a great margarita," he said. That was indeed true. Jake talked about his long hours each week to build up his chiropractic business. He felt kind of down because he was working so much. "Come here," I whispered, motioning him to move in closer. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips onto his slowly, deliberately. "This is what you have to look forward to each week," I said. "I like that," he said, smiling. I like Jake for the simple fact that he's good for me. He's levelheaded, easygoing, and unpretentious. He's willing to try new foods and he likes comic books. He has a daughter whom he's helping his ex-wife raise so he knows responsibility. These are all things that work in his favor. Jake and I talked and talked and stayed until closing again. Not wanting the night to end, Jake suggested we check out Dark Horse Pub, an Irish pub housed in the Old Plough Tavern off of South Street. We had another drink and did some peoplewatching. Hopefully, we'll go out again soon.

Chewy's

A gourmet burger from a truck? Chewy's delivers quite admirably on that promise. I ordered the two-slider special with fries for $7, expensive for truck food, but well worth the price. My Diablo slider had toppings of pico de gallo, avocado, lettuce, cheddar cheese, and chipotle sauce. My Blue Burger slider came with caramelized onions, mushrooms, lettuce, tomato, and blue cheese. Chewy's uses potato rolls for their burger buns. All of the ingredients are fresh. They open and pit avocados and slice fresh tomatoes right in front of you. I upgraded my fries to truffle, parmesan, and parsley fries for $1 more. I could've ordered this same meal from a steakhouse and there'd be no difference in quality. I'm thoroughly impressed.

Uno Chicago Grill

Yes, it's a chain restaurant, but their deep dish pizzas are fabulous and a favorite of mine since I first had the pleasure of eating one in 1986. In the mid-90s, Uno went from a pizza place to a full-service restaurant with many dinner options. My friend Chris and I tried the sautéed shrimp and white beans with spinach, tomatoes, and white wine sauce and the spicy queso dip for appetizers and shared a Numero Uno pizza. The portions were huge. I found myself full after just the appetizers alone, but I forged onward determining to bust my belly. Having weighed 136.6 that morning, I should've been more mindful of the mass quantities of food I was devouring recently, but good food is good food and I must have it. I ended up losing three pounds and weighing 133.6 the next morning. How the hell do I do it? Cynics keep telling me, "It'll all catch up to you someday," but I think if it hasn't caught up to me at my age of 44, it's probably not going to catch up to me at any point in my life. Some people were meant to look a certain way. I was meant to be a 400 pound person in a 129 pound body.

Jenna

Jenna Talackova is a beautiful woman and we can all learn a lot from her. I see her as a taller, more exotic-looking version of Lisa Kudrow in her prime. Yes, Jenna's had lots of plastic surgery work done, but look at other pageant contestants she has competed against and you will clearly see lots of work done on them, too. She gives hope to many of us who want to look good in society and project a positive image for transsexual women everywhere. There is something about height that punishes the overall look of any transsexual woman, but, in Jenna's case, it works to her advantage. At six-foot-one, she can be easily seen and she has a lot to look at and be proud of. She became an instant celebrity and advocate when she was initially denied the right to compete in the Miss Universe pageant. She has support from her family and boyfriend, too. The incredible thing is she's only 23 years old! In many respects, she is living the life many of us wish we had. In 1985, at 17, I was planning how I could afford to live my life as a woman. I knew I needed to finish my education to get a great job and pay for many things. I would not have had my parents support back then. Somehow I got bogged down with the details of trying to be "normal" and fitting into society, so I did everything my parents, friends, and everyone else expected of me. It made me happy that I was so good at pleasing everyone because I grew up in a household with a very demanding mother who was never pleased at anything I did. That kind of craziness can make you very unhappy inside and for many adolescent and adult years, I was very unhappy and it showed. I would do many crazy things in private because it was my way of dealing with my unhappiness. I'm glad I took the steps toward transition (HRT and hair removal) in my mid-thirties rather than wait until my forties or fifties or even sixties. I see many of my older friends frantically trying to make up for lost time by cramming everything I did ten years ago into their daily lives. If I had to do it all over again, I probably would've started transitioning at around 25 after graduate school and a couple of years of saving up from working a full-time job. The world was different when I was 25 and I'm glad the modern world is better for all of us.

Old and Gray

I used to pluck a gray hair every time I saw one, but now I have a different attitude. I figure I need every hair I have, even the gray ones, because if I pull out too many, they might not grow back. I color and highlight my hair nowadays. My natural hair color is a beautiful dark chestnut with reddish highlights, but I wanted it to look better. Change is a good thing and a part of a person's growth process. Sometimes you don't know how good change is until after you've made a change. It wouldn't make sense if I stuck to a single look for the rest of my life, so I'm fluid in my look. I enhance my hair and change its style every day. I change from tees and jeans to tops and skirts to full-length dresses every day. I want to be the best woman I can be every single day. I want people to see me and say, "Whoa! Now that is one pretty woman!" just like the response one of my professors had of me a few days ago. I like those of you who try to incorporate my advice into your daily lives. It shows me and the world that you care about being the best woman that you can be, too.

Young At Heart

I look and dress young. I wear a lot of clothes made for juniors rather than misses because I feel young at heart and I've got a pretty nice body, so why not wear flattering things? My son and I walked around town in warm weather clothes. I wore a lilac tank with lace trim, a white Guess? hoodie, jean shorts, and sandals. I straightened my hair and it looked amazing. We stopped at the bank, the post office, took the subway to Chinatown to eat at Dim Sum Garden, shopped at Ross for clothes with my son pushing the shopping cart, ate cookies at Cookie Confidential. We walked over to Starr Garden playground where I pushed my son on the swing for what seemed like half an hour. I must've caught the attention of some teenage boys because they walked over to the swing area and one of them sat on the swing next to us. "Hi..." he said, smiling. I said hi back and smiled. He continued watching me and I couldn't help but think that these four teens were up to no good, so I kept a watchful eye on my purse and Ross shopping bag just in case. Seeing that I was ignoring him, he continued talking to his friends and made use of the swing. Pretty soon more teens started moving to the swing area. It started feeling like a flash mob and my son and I had a weird feeling, so he slowed down to get off the swing and said he wanted to go to a different area. He walked over to the jungle gym next to the swing area. I sat on a bench adjacent to both areas and pretty soon the swing area was filled with twelve or thirteen teens, mostly boys, many of whom were dressed like punk rebels with strange hair and clothes. Many of the teens were checking me out and I wondered just what they were thinking. Were they making plans to distract me and run away with my purse? Would they pulverize me if they knew I was trans? Or did they see me as a girl who merited a glance or two? Other parents also kept a watchful eye on the teens as their children played in the surrounding areas. My son played for another twenty minutes or so and then he announced he was hungry, so we went to Blackbird Pizzeria for vegan pizza and cheesesteaks. My son loved his pizza. It was the first time I'd eaten a cheesesteak there and it was an okay experience. Unlike the awesome chicken cheesesteaks at Govinda's, there was very little seitan meat in a Blackbird cheesesteak. It was mostly onions, green peppers, and mushrooms with seitan as an afterthought. Still, the flavors were incredible. It really did have the essence of a cheesesteak, moreso than the Govinda's sandwich. We walked up the city streets to our bus stop and along the way we saw a Mummers' band serenading a well-dressed family with "When the Saints Go Marching In." Lots of people gathered around to watch them. We went to Rite-Aid to buy some things and then went home to play board games. It was a fantastic Saturday with my son. I changed my nail color from SensatioNail's Sugar Plum, the previous two week's shade, to OPI's Thrill of Brazil, a fire engine red shade. Sunday night was beautiful and a hint of what we'll expect to see in the summer. I spent the night at Rouge with a friend where we had snacks and drinks and caught up on our lives. The next day promises to be even warmer, so you can expect me to look like a hot tamale.

A Revelation

Many transsexuals try to differentiate themselves from crossdressers by creating a class system. They claim that they are women with transsexual histories while crossdressers are simply men who dress as women. This is a valid argument, but fraught with problems. Strangers who aren't familiar with all of the jargon we use in our everyday vocabulary do not know what the hell the difference between a full-time transsexual and a part-time crossdresser is. If the goal is to try to prove to a stranger that you are different from a part-timer because you were born with a medical condition that needs to be corrected with hormones and surgery, then the sympathy you are looking for may still be nonexistent because how a stranger perceives you is dependent on so many factors that may be important to you but not to him or her. He or she might see you as some freak of nature, especially if you look very masculine and need a lot of work done. He or she might be thinking, "Oh, great, someone like you just upped my insurance premium when my wife was denied coverage on her pre-existing medical condition." It is impossible to know how people think, but I will bet that many people think this way. The only people who will truly side with your views on everything transsexual are people in your own community, which includes your friendly neighborhood crossdressers. Don't turn your back on the few people in your life who have always been in your corner. If you do, you will find that the world is a harsh place for a great many of you, especially those of you who don't pass very well, have limited intelligence, have no personality, and can't hold a job. You will end up in a growing group of disenchanted souls who have deluded themselves into thinking that transition solves all of their problems. Nobody really gives a damn about your transition except you and your close friends.

Little Kids

Every time one of my friends tells me a story about how some kid read them and told their mommies, I always smile and say to myself, "Too bad for you," because this has never happened to me. There's a weird myth that's been propagated for over two decades that little kids have this extrasensory ability to tell that we weren't born women. Sure, if you look like a man dressed in women's clothes, you will be read. If you're big, act gruff, and sound like a truck driver, then you will be read without a doubt. In other words, if you look like someone wearing a costume, you will be read. I also think that if you've never been a parent with several years of 24/7 experience raising children, you won't know how to act around kids and that will surely get you read. At worst, you will scare both children and parents alike. Children's reactions are probably a good way to gauge whether or not you'd make a good transition. Seriously consider children's reactions towards you as an accurate measure of how well you would fare as a woman in the real world. You might not like their honesty, but what they give you is the truth.

Zen Passability

When you think enough about the subject of passability, you will probably come to the same conclusion I have, that passability is basically about being comfortable in your own skin. I have seen some fairly odd-looking people in my life, many of whom are not trans, walking around town with their unusual looking hair and faces and dressed like they came out of clown school and yet they are all very comfortable being who they are and showing the world that it's okay to be different. That's truly admirable. To them, it would make no sense to "transition" to look like everyone else because they are comfortable in their own skin. I see many parallels among trans women. So what if you are six feet tall, built big, and walk and talk like a man? If you are comfortable being you, it shows in the way you walk, talk, and interact with people. Not everyone will accept you for being different, but the problem might be them moreso than you. I think if you keep this knowledge in the back of your mind, you will be able to get over any fears you may have with going out in public and interacting with people.

Young and Old

A young Asian college student gave up his seat for me on the bus. Maybe he liked me or he was trying to be a gentleman or he thought I looked old and feeble. Hee hee! Over the past week, five twenty-something women complimented me on my new Ice Watch, which is basically the new Swatch. Want to know what the difference between people older than me and people younger than me is? People younger than me know the trends. People older than me choose to ignore the trends. This is probably why people in the two groups seldom make good relationships. I've noticed this time and again with older guys trying to chase after younger girls. It seldom works. A generation in age means vast differences in style and music choices. There will come a time when my petite self and youthful looks will no longer look good wearing big plastic toy watches, but until that day comes, I'm going to love every minute of my life.

Steve and Rich

I visited my usual weekly straight bar to satisfy my lobster fix and it was the second time I saw Steve and Rich, a pair of older men whom I thought were gay at first, but I was wrong. They were just good friends. I asked them how they knew each other. "We did work together once. I was in the construction business and I made Rich an offer he couldn't refuse," Steve said. The two of them have known each other for over twenty years. That was really cool. Each of them bought me a drink and we enjoyed each other's company. Steve kissed me on the cheek before he left. He left his jacket behind and came back later to reclaim it. I wonder if this was some trick to come back to see me. I'll never know because I gave the jacket to the bartender. When Steve came back for his jacket, I saw him and walked him from the front of the restaurant to the bartender whom I gave his jacket to. He thanked me and gave me another kiss on the cheek. During our conversations, I slipped and said something I shouldn't have. I told him that I have a female friend who is very agile and was once a male cheerleader. "What was she... a transvestite?" he asked, to which I nodded. I thought that that would've fazed him, but it didn't. If Rich and Steve knew that I was trans, they certainly didn't let on. I didn't want to correct him by saying the word was "transsexual" and not "transvestite" because then he would suspect that I'm a transsexual. I wonder if not telling someone about your gender status is truly lying to them if you didn't want to be born the way you were in the first place. If the man in your life never plans on having kids with you, does it really matter if you were born male or female? As I pondered over this, my lobster arrived and I finished it quickly to the delight and amusement of my new friends. "I love watching you eat. You're really an expert lobster eater," Rich said. I thanked him. I went to Barnes & Noble afterwards. I met one of my friends after Steve and Rich left and he waited for me outside the bookstore and drove me home.

Just Friends

When a man really likes you, he gives you flowers and it's especially nice to get them as a total surprise without any warnings. I've received dozens of bouquets over the years and I believe quite strongly that you're not truly a woman until you experience what it's like to receive flowers from a man (or lesbian) who is really into you. I love flowers. Always have. I get giddy when I get flowers from a guy I'm serious about (please read Why Men Should Give Women Flowers if you don't understand what I'm saying). However, sometimes you don't really want a relationship to go that way and instead you just want to be friends. My front desk receptionist really liked the bouquet I received. Indeed, it was the best bouquet I received in a long time. All I could say is wow, but I explained my dilemma to my receptionist and she told me, "They're beautiful! Just enjoy them!" She's right. So now I have these flowers in my vase at home that I get to see every day and that brings a smile to my face. The man has left me a couple of voicemails about wanting to "kiss my soft lips," but I texted him a reply saying, "How about just kissing on the cheek? I really just want us to be friends." He never took me out to dinner. He just drove me home three times. I told him he was a gentleman for doing so, but that shouldn't have given him any ideas about kissing me.

Fake Friends

I've come to learn that transsexuals really can't be friends with one another because many of you are jaded, envious, and jealous of someone else for somehow moving ahead of you. This is a journey, not a race. Why can't you be happy for someone? Just because your life is miserable doesn't mean others should suffer, too. I also know many self-centered transsexuals who think they are better than others just because they have a vagina. Getting a vagina and not being passable does not make you a complete person. Getting fired or not having a job "because you are trans," as many of you claim, definitely does not make you a complete person. No wonder why so many passable transsexuals leave the LGBT community and go stealth after they transition. They don't need jaded people riding on their coattails! Why not strive to be the best that you can be and be satisfied with your place in society?

Hair Care

After three months of hair growth and my roots showing, it was time for a hair appointment. Liz, my hair stylist, does a great job with hair color, but she really gets experimental with hair styles. She really poofed it out and the result was very Farrah Fawcett, but I said, "No, that's not me," so we tamed it some. "I don't want to show so much forehead," I told her. I really wanted to keep the length, but she recommended taking off some because it was just "dead hair." Dead hair can make you look old. Many women look older than they are because they have a lot of dead hair. I guess I can blame my flat iron experiences on that. I told Liz that I'm using a thermal protection spray now and she nodded and replied, "Good!" I found some tips on the Internet about reviving dead hair.

• Don't wash your hair more than once every two days. It removes important substances from your hair and makes it look dead. On the other hand, don't let your hair get all gross and greasy.
• Change to a shampoo for oil repair or protein care. It repairs your hair and makes it look more lively.
• Condition your hair to avoid tangles. Try using a leave-in conditioner.
• When your hair is wet, it's better to use a comb than a brush. Avoid using brushes as they damage your hair.
• Give your hair a special treatment. Try washing your hair with olive oil. Warm up some olive oil in a microwave, then apply it on your hair. Leave it on for 15 minutes and then shampoo your hair.
• Keep trims regular. Trims remove split ends and keep hair from splitting.
• Try hair serum to make your look better. It eases frizz in your hair.
• Deep conditioning balms, the conditioner-type product that usually comes in a round tub, can work wonders for dead hair. Work half a handful through your hair after washing, while it's still wet, and leave to dry.
• Avoid using a hairdryer after washing your hair. Simply wrap it in a towel and leave to dry.
• Rinsing your hair through with cold water after washing can help add shine to dull, dead hair.

Maybe it's just me, but I have to wash my hair every day, otherwise I feel icky. I can't skip a day of showering or bathing. That's just not me. I wonder if my bottle of CHI Silk Infusion is simply just olive oil. It sure looks and feels like it. I can't comb my hair until I brush it first. I have a lot of hair that tangles easily. Some of my hair loops and knots itself. My hair is naturally wavy, which is both a blessing and a curse. I agree with all the conditioning tips. Condition, condition, condition! Somehow, you can never have too much conditioner in your hair. It's like hair food.

The Next Challenge

I love photography and I really learned a lot from my fifteen photography, art history, and music courses at Penn. I love the professors and students I've met through the program, but one thing that has disappointed me about the school is I can't obtain a Master of Fine Arts (M.F.A.) degree as a Penn employee. I've taken every course the school offers in photography and earned a 3.94 GPA (that's fucking phenomenal, by the way), but they won't count towards the M.F.A. because I'm not a full-time student. Other classmates who are also Penn employees hope that someday the school will admit students on a part-time basis, but, for me, my courses were more about personal enrichment than achieving a degree. I think it's time to turn to other areas of study. I love helping people achieve their goals, so one option is to enroll in one of the Master of Science in Education (M.S.Ed) degree programs and take courses that will allow me to teach English to foreign students or provide therapy or counseling for adults. That I can do on a part-time basis.

Art Show Opening

My art school held an art show at the Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts to display the works of two installation-based artists. Over 100 people were in attendance and I was hired as one of two bartenders for the event. I served wine to everyone from young adults to older patrons. I even received tips for my service... cool! Three twenty-something girls loved my Ice Watch. Two of my former classmates, who were among the twelve girls in my trip to India, loved my nails and said I looked "so pretty." Yay!

Desi Chaat House

I had to go into work on a Saturday in order to revive my servers after a planned power outage. That's the life of a sysadmin, giving up a weekend day here and there. All of my servers came up fine and I had some time to kill, so I drove deeper in West Philly to find a little Indian takeout restaurant I was curious about, a place called Desi Chaat House, which is reputed to serve authentic Indian fast food and a dish that few Indian restaurants seem to offer: pav bhaji. Pav bhaji is a Marathi fast food dish that consists of bhaji, a thick potato-based curry garnished with coriander, chopped onion, and a dash of lemon, and baked pav. The pav is usually buttered on all sides. Service was painfully slow at Desi Chaat. There was only one person behind the counter and he took his time taking and preparing the orders. All the spices were stored in big candy jars and sauces were in convenient squeeze bottles. Unfortunately, a lot of the food was pre-prepared and refrigerated. Pav bhaji is best enjoyed fresh off the grill. Still, Desi Chaat's rendition of pav bhaji gets a thumbs up from me. It's chunky and spicy with lots of tomatoes, carrots, peas, cauliflower, bell peppers, and onions. Think of a good, warm, absolutely delicious veggie salsa that you eat with butter toasted White Castle burger buns. The other five customers in line were all Indian, which is a great sign. The menu is completely Indian, unlike some ethnic places that try include fried chicken on their menus to cater to the locals. "How spicy?" the server behind the counter asked. "Spicy," I replied. I had been to India and had the real deal, so I expected it here. The price was right at $5.99. Most every dish was $5.99 or less. I tried the sev dahi puri on my second visit and was equally impressed by the quality of the food. The only negative about the sev dahi puri is you get the puffed shells and ingredients separately, so you have to assemble them yourself.

Trader Joe's Awesome Guarantee

Trader Joe's is really awesome. Those of you who've shopped at these "grocery convenience stores" know that they have an iron-clad money-back guarantee on any item you don't like. You're supposed to bring back the empty box or bag for a refund, but I discovered that you don't even need to do that. So long as you look honest, the manager will refund you your money. I brought my groceries up to a cashier to be rung up and asked him if there was a time limit for refunds. He said no, there wasn't, and rang three bells for the manager to come over. "But, wait, I don't have the empty package!" I said. "That's okay, do you know what the item was?" the manager asked when he arrived. "Yes, it was the Sundried Tomato and Basil Chicken Tenders," I said. "Okay, that's a by-the-pound item, so I'll just grab one off the shelf," he said. "It was like five-something," I said, trying to remember the price. He returned with one that was six-something, a higher price. That amount was deducted from my total. "Wow!" I said, amazed. "We don't want our customers to be dissatisfied with our products. It's better for business if you come back," the cashier said. "That's really awesome," I said. I heart Trader Joe's!

My Babies

My ex was down with the flu on Sunday, so I drove my kids down to my place to spend the day. We had a lot of fun bonding. My two year old likes to be chased, pinned to the ground, and tickled. He also has a lot of different interests, but can't keep his focus on any one for more than ten seconds. My seven year old needs a lot of encouragement in math. He gets frustrated easily and shuts down when he sees something that he perceives as insurmountable. "You're as smart as any of the kids in your school. Probably smarter. The at-home tests I made you do have 100 questions. You can do them as fast as your class tests that have only 60," I told him. My son's eyes widened. "Really? Only 60?" he said. I nodded. "If you wanted, you could be better at math than everyone in your class. You have a very smart daddy," I said. Even though my ex and I are no longer together, we're still a family. She was an outstanding athlete and I was an extraordinary math and science whiz back in the day, so together we should be able to help our sons overcome many of their difficulties in school. My seven year old had tested our patience earlier this week, so I had to take away and pack up one of his favorite Lego sets. He noticed and asked what happened to it. "I'm shipping it to my other son, the little black kid in the picture with me. I called him and said, 'Daddy is sending you a new Lego set'," I told my son. "You're not his daddy! You're a girl! And also... he's black and you're not!" my son retorted. Very perceptive. I played ball with my two year old and at one point I hid the ball from him. He was looking for it behind me and in my hands. He couldn't figure out where it was. The next thing I know, he grabs my boob, which ironically is as big as the ball we were playing with. "Hey, it's not there!" I said, laughing. My mother-in-law laughed, too. My nail color of the week is OPI's Funky Dunky, a violet shade. Both of my sons picked the color for me.

Five Evils

For my final project in Still Life class, I created a series of images depicting the Five Evils, the precursor to Christianity's Seven Deadly Sins, using tin foil. Tin foil is malleable with a character unlike any other surface or product in the world. You can create almost any shape with it and, best of all, the shape doesn't have to be solid. For a few hours on a weekend, I created all of the people and objects I wanted to exist in my "tin foil world," the challenge being to piece together scenes that represent the concepts of lust, rage, greed, attachment, and ego. How do I represent a concept that is intertwined in another concept? The solution, of course, is to reuse objects without making it look too obvious. How do I make each scene conform to the requirements, or lack thereof, of a still life image? Would my viewers understand my imagery? What I learned this semester is that a lot of images can be considering still life images so long as the objects in the image convey some sort of meaning to the viewer. The objects must be carefully positioned in the scene to enable the viewer to see and feel the creator's intent... so there I was on a Saturday night carefully positioning my tin foil dolls, tabletop stage, and lighting equipment to create some bizarre scenes. It was eleven hours from concept to finish. You would think that someone like me would be out every weekend partying and meeting guys, but I've become more of a homebody these days. I'm a staunch believer in education and self-enrichment in order to be a more complete person.

Fuji Mountain

My friend Chris W and I went to Fuji Mountain, one of my favorite sushi spots in Philadelphia, for dinner. We ordered a number of a la carte sushi items, including shrimp heads, spicy scallops, sea urchin, and white tuna as well as the salmon carpaccio and one of their specialty rolls that included spicy salmon. We shared a bottle of organic sake that we both enjoyed. One of our servers was a lovely Caucasian woman who wore a kimono. I wish they had presented the spicy salmon roll after our sushi because shrimp heads are best enjoyed when our taste buds aren't affected by spices.

Looking Great

George is one of the technical directors in my department. He comes to me for answers to all of his computing problems each week. I sat down next to him in his office trying to troubleshoot an iPad mail problem. "Wow, your nails look great!" he exclaimed. "Thanks! I let my sons pick my color each week," I said. He found that amusing. Michelle is a pretty Italian girl with big brown eyes. I hadn't seen her since her son and mine were born on the same day in Lankenau Hospital. She used to work in my department and we used to talk extensively every day. She's married to Chris, an administrative assistant in my department and a guy friend I go to lunch with every now and again. "Oh, my God! I didn't recognize you. You look great!" Michelle said, hugging me. "I miss you! I would've kept walking by you if you didn't say hi," she said. "I miss you, too," I said. She promised she'd bring her kids into work someday so I could meet them. I already mentioned Jeff, one of the professors in my department, who admitted I looked great. I've been very modest about revealing all of the nice things people say to me every day. Sometimes I think people are patronizing me, but they have no reason to because they could just as easily ignore me if they choose to. Everyone in recent memory has been really supportive and encouraging. Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve to be blessed like this. I must've been a fabulous person in a former life or maybe I'm a fabulous person in this life and God likes what I'm doing for others. I attribute my success to the natural look I've developed over the years. Most transsexual women, and genetic women, can't pull off a natural look, but I've done fairly well given my limitations.

Softball Cutie

I'm 44 years old and I've never played softball in my life, so why, you may ask, am I starting now by joining my department's intramural softball team? Do I have something to prove? Am I chasing after lost youth? Do I have nothing better to do on a Wednesday night? Am I crazy? Maybe some or all of the above. I feel I'm someone who should've been a reasonably good athlete with the proper training and encouragement. Unfortunately, my parents totally discouraged me from playing any kind of organized sport when I was growing up, so I was forced into being a bookworm. Apparently, my department has had a summer intramural softball team for many years and only recently have I heard about it. The Penn Chem Isotopes, or "Topes" for short, won the league one year and made the finals the next. The team was mostly boys with a few girls. The team captain assured me that I didn't have to be good at softball and it was "all about fun." They ordered me a jersey. I picked number 30. They're kelly green with white trim, like the old Philadelphia Eagles colors. We had our first practice today after work from 5:45pm to 7:30pm. "Did you buy a glove yet?" my ex asked. She's a jock who's played softball extensively. "Glove? What glove?" I asked. "Oy! Your daddy thinks he's so smart... but he's really not," my ex said to my kids. I did a quick Google search and found that softball requires a different glove depending on your position: infield, outfield, and pitcher. "Bah! You're not playing professionally!" my ex retorted. Luckily, the team captain brought extra gloves for people who didn't have one. "Usually we get three or four newbies," one of my teammates told me. I was the only newbie there that night. My first attempt at catching a ball during ball tossing practice resulted in tragedy. The ball ricocheted off my glove and hit my jaw pretty hard. My teammate who threw the ball even felt it, but I shook off the pain and will probably suffer a big bump on my face tomorrow. On successive catches, I actually caught the ball a number of times. It was almost luck how I caught the ball the first time. I did a fist pump after I caught it and my teammate smiled and said, "Good job!" That gave me the confidence I needed to catch more balls. I missed most of them, but the ones I did catch were almost like they magically floated into my glove. Somehow I have to find a way to harness that magic with every catch attempt. I had no problem throwing the ball as I have reasonably good arm strength. I guess I'll feel the arm and chest pain tomorrow. What was especially surprising to me was I managed to hit the ball every time and only struck out once. I actually had some good hits and my teammates were very encouraging. I used a weighted bat, which probably helped. The last time I swung a bat, I got a beating from my mother for playing with the neighborhood kids, so you can see why I had an aversion to sports for a long time. I was 14 at the time. I can run like a bat out of hell, but for some reason my legs were much faster than my upper body on grass. I felt really awkward running in jeans, so I'll have to buy a pair of fitness pants or shorts. I ran my second baserun in my entire life, the first being in the sixth grade while playing handball in gym class. I wore my hair in a ponytail during practice today. Playing softball with long nails is tough. I'll have to file them shorter.

Tsuki Sushi

I initially passed over Tsuki Sushi as "just another sushi place," but I decided to give it a try and it's pretty good. There's nothing mind-blowing or unique on the menu. Just standard sushi items like tuna, salmon, yellowtail, striped bass, etc. The most exotic thing is sea urchin. I'm used to my sushi having a bit of kick in each piece, but Tsuki makes each piece bland and places the wasabi is placed on the side. That's fine because the fish itself is very fresh and tastes a lot better than similar hole-in-the-wall places like Mizu and Vic Sushi. My Sushi Deluxe dinner included miso soup, nine pieces of sushi, and a tuna roll. I normally don't like tuna rolls because the tuna to rice ratio makes me wonder "Where's the fish?", but these tuna rolls had three parts tuna to one part rice! The rice is really good, almost sticky rice quality. The sushi in my entrée was basic stuff - two tuna, two salmon, two yellowtail, one white tuna, one red snapper, and one shrimp - but it was so good! I swear the fish must be marinated to taste so soft. This is, quite possibly, the best hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurant in Philadelphia. If you're looking for no-frills, great-tasting sushi, this is the place to get it.

A Tough Lesson

Unless you have a disturbing look about you, nobody gives a flying fig about your transsexual history. If you're weird, people will avoid you. If you're ugly, people will avoid you. If you're unintelligent, people will avoid you. You can't change the way some people will think about you. That's a tough lesson that some of you who insist on forcing your gender identity onto others will learn over time. If someone thinks you're a man, you'll probably always be a man to them even if you've known them for a while and they sympathize with you and your reasons for being a woman. There will always be this little birdie inside them that reminds them that you were once a man and so the occasional "he" or "him" to refer to you will slip out. That's a fact of life. For people who've never met you before, all of your life experiences as a woman will hopefully convince them that you are the gender you present yourself as. Some will accept you while others may have a difficult time believing you were always female. That's up to you to correct. You won't convince anyone you're a woman by immediately correcting their pronouns to describe you. All you're doing is reinforcing the notion they had in their mind all along that you're a man trying to be a woman and you're having a difficult time with it. The onus is up to you to fix your flaws so there are no doubts about your gender. If you don't fit into society's definitions of gender, you will find it very difficult to cultivate friendships or relationships. When you can walk by judgemental groups of people without causing a stir, you know you're blending. Very few of us will pass 100% of the time. I get weird looks every now and again when I speak a few semitones lower than I should, but I'm confident that my voice will get better over time.

Angels

Even though you and your ex may not see eye to eye, you still have a responsibility to be the best parent you can be to your kids. My kids need extra special attention since they were both born asthmatics. Thank God there are angels like Mary Jane, their neighbor across the street, watching over my family. I called my ex today because my two year old's breathing sounded funny. She called Mary Jane who came over right away to check on my son. Her experience with her own asthmatic son enabled her to diagnose that my son had the same breathing problems and had to go to the emergency room right away. "After what my son went through, the hospital had to rewrite their pediatric asthmatic protocol," she said. "Be sure you insist that a CHOP doctor see him. Don't rely on the regular hospital staff," she warned. My mother-in-law drove my boys and I over to Abington Hospital and there we waited while my two year old was X-rayed and seen by several nurses and doctors. The X-ray tech knew my ex and mother-in-law and still referred to me as "mommy" to my sons. The rest of the hospital staff all thought I was my son's biological mother, but I had to correct them on that. "No, his biological mother isn't here yet," I said. "So who are you?" a nurse asked. I told her I was his biological father and that "it was a long story," but she looked confused. Mother, father, whatever, my goal was to be there for my son and I've come to the realization that it really doesn't matter who accompanies a child so long as he or she knows the child's history. God didn't make me strong enough for this. I cried a lot, which I managed to hide until after I got home. As strong as I'd like to think I am, I've learned over time that the worst condition you can have is a breathing condition. Most of us take our breathing for granted, but the truth is if you can't breathe, you die, plain and simple. To see a baby suffering from breathing problems is cruel.

Van Gogh

Today my son and I saw the Van Gogh Up Close exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I thought it was better than Rembrandt and the Face of Jesus and Frida Kahlo, but it didn't quite wow me like Cezanne and Beyond. We looked at and studied each painting and finished the audio tour in a scant 40 minutes, so it was hardly worth the price of admission, however, listening to senior curator Joe Rishel provide his insights in his low, raspy voice is somewhat amusing on many levels. There were a few really good paintings on display, including Grapes, Lemons, Pears and Apples (1887) and Almond Blossom (1890), so it was worth seeing, however, it is almost stupid not to include the painting, Sunflowers (1889), from their regular collections as part of this exhibit. As with all Philadelphia Museum of Art special exhibits, the viewer ends up in one of the museum stores where she is bombarded with every possible memorabilia book and tchotchke that tangentially relates to the artist commemorated. I bought the gallery book so we could remember the exhibit for years to come. I later discovered that my son had borrowed a library book on Van Gogh so he could learn more about the artist before he saw the exhibit.

The Riehl Deli & Cheeze Shop

You'll immediately forgive the bad spelling when you sample the wonderful farm fresh cheeses from this Reading Terminal Market stand. My son liked the yogurt cheese and I went bonkers over the steakhouse onion cheddar and habañero cheddar. Cheese is sold in pieces by the pound, so each wedge can cost you as little as two dollars.Now that I've outgrown my lactose allergy, I can enjoy cheeses like a normal human being! I introduced my son to the wonders of truffled honey, jams, jellies, and preserve spreads to go with cheese. Through experimentation, I discovered that steakhouse onion cheddar shavings can make a boiled potato or a hot dog taste better.

Grilled Lamb Chops

Sometimes I wish I could have an open flame barbecue grill in my condo, but it's just not possible, so I make do with electric heat. It's fine for most cooking, but sometimes you want that char-grilled taste that you could only get from a flame grill. I tried to cook these really big lamb chops for my son and I, but they weren't my best effort. I think I should bake them first before pan-frying them. I really don't know what to use as a sauce for lamb, since I feel they have a unique flavor that is very different from beef, so I sprinkled black pepper and dried onion flakes on both sides and cooked it in vegetable oil. I liked my chop because it was juicy in its medium-rare state, but my son thought his well-done chop was too tough. I bought the lamb chops at a very reasonable price from a butcher in the Italian Market - it was like $5 for three - so I'm going to give my lamb cooking experiments another try when I go there again.

A Pretty Flower

I've had my eye on a particular white orchid on display in a flower shop that I frequently pass by for over a month now, so today was the day I finally decided to bring it home. So there I was walking down the street with the most beautiful flower in the world. It wasn't the easiest thing to transport as it was over three feet long, but some metal wiring and clips reinforced the stem of the delicate flower and I was careful not to expose it to too much sunlight as the instructions stated. Lots of men and women I passed by gave me nice smiles and nice comments on my flower. I felt so privileged to be able to have it in my possession. Orchids are very expensive, but are supposed to be very easy to care for. We'll see. This week I'm wearing a sheer pink shade on my nails called It's a Girl! by OPI. It should work well with the new tan I acquired from my three sessions at my tanning salon.

Making the Most of Your Cards

I've heard genetic women tell me that it's unfair that I look better than they do and I am at once flattered and appalled by their remark because it shows both appreciation and admiration for me and a lack of dignity and confidence on their part. The look I have is made possible because I've managed to make the most of the cards that I was dealt and I know how to work them to my advantage given my experience and acumen. Each day I see plenty of genetic women with very unattractive masculine features successfully exist and interact with others in society because they've made the most of the cards that they were dealt. This is how every transsexual should approach integration. Some of you have been dealt fantastic cards and can blend beautifully in society and be coveted by many suitors. Others are not physically attractive and need all the help they can get with voice and mannerisms to push them up to an acceptable level of presentation. Every day that you are full-time is another day of throw-yourself-into-the-fire practice. You're going to learn your presentation skills the hard way, through trial and error. It's the best way to learn because you won't learn what works until you first learn what doesn't.

Jersey Girl

I got my softball team jersey today and I look pretty cute in it. Unfortunately, softball practice was cancelled due to rain, which is unfortunate because I really needed the practice. The team captain let me try a size 11.5 glove, half a size smaller than the one I wore at practice last week, but it still feels too big. That's the size I'm going to have to go with because I read that your glove has to be big enough to accommodate a softball. I like men, but I also have a penchant for women who have muscular builds, such as Gabrielle Reese and Jennie Finch. Ironically, I'm not into transwomen who are built similarly.

Arcadia

Maybe it's just me, but things really do happen in threes and they're not necessarily all bad. I'll be attending the Gauguin, Cézanne, Matisse: Visions of Arcadia exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art in June. My son is going to a camp with the name Arcadia in it. My photography professor posted information about a gallery at Arcadia University. Whoa, three Arcadias in the same week! What's up with that?

Fucking Beautiful

The most beautiful girl in my photo classes sent me the following: "Just saw your My Life image for Wahl's final project. You look fucking beautiful. Loved your final alphabet image too. You are sexy Clare. :)))) Keep in touch. xo" I replied, "Awww, thanks Tara! You probably know this already, but I think you are totally beautiful. Best of luck in your new school and raising a family. You're going to have gorgeous kids!" She responds "Ohhhhh, why thanks doll. Nah, I'm not one of those who thinks she's pretty, but I love to make those who are know it."

With Great Power...

When you enhance your beauty with surgeries, you shouldn't flaunt it or stick in people's faces because with great power comes great responsibility. Sounds like I'm talking about Spiderman, but it applies to transwomen, too. If you know you are blessed, just kindly acknowledge it by thanking God and your parents. Don't go flaunting your body in every new video or picture of you. I could make sexy videos and pictures with the best of them, but I don't because I've got a whole lot more to be proud of than just my face and body. The younger generation need to understand this.

Zama

Devon Seafood Grill's bar was full so I was determined to find another place to eat a nice, quiet meal. I was going to go to Tsuki, but then I remembered Chef Zama's Facebook announcement about a new fish of the day he had at his restaurant called aka yagara, or red trumpet fish. It's super mild and sweet. Each piece was $7, but you only live once! It tastes a lot like red snapper, my server said, and I agreed. Better things could be had for $7, but I'm glad I tried it. My sushi combination platter included pieces of white tuna, bluefin tuna, kampachi, king yellowtail, yellowtail, Scottish salmon, red snapper, kingfish, and shrimp. The surprise for me was the tenth piece, a rectangular block of egg omelet. The omelet, made of eggs and sugar, is usually eaten at the end of the dinner as a dessert. You also get a simple maki of your choice. My server suggested spicy tuna, but I wanted yellowtail with scallion. I chatted with two businessmen who were sitting at the sushi bar next to me. They ordered the omakase meal, the chef's choice multi-course meal where you trust the chef to prepare dishes that are sometimes not on the menu. The omakase is not listed on the menu, but goes for anywhere from $45 to $120 depending on the number and quality of the dishes. The fresh, made-to-order wasabi makes your meal well worth the price. The three of us shared stories of trendy restaurants we've dined at. It was refreshing to meet people who were foodies, too. It's a shame they were married because the one sitting next to me and talking to me more was trés handsome. I'm glad my life has been filled with lots of men who've taken me to nice restaurants because that just adds another dimension to my experiences as a woman.

500 Degrees

I met my friend Tammy for lunch at 500 Degrees and we shared a truffle burger and fries. I wanted a combo meal, although there technically wasn't a combo meal for the truffle burger because it was a speciality burger. My server, whom I believe is the manager of the restaurant, punched up the truffle burger, fries, and drink. "So there really is no combo for a truffle burger..." I said to him. He paused. "No, there isn't. Is that okay?" he asked. "That's fine. Can you throw in a topping or something?" I asked with a big grin. He deducted the cost of my drink from the bill. "There, that's better," he said. "Cool! Thanks!" I said with glee. He told me he recognized me as a past customer and thanked me for my great review on Yelp. The lines and wait were long, but worth it. Their burgers are really good and much cheaper than Village Whiskey. Apparently, 500 Degrees is a very popular lunch spot because when I arrived at noon, there was a line running out the door. After lunch, I met my friend Vincent at Starbucks. It was my first meeting with him and I had a great time talking to him. "This guy is so together," I thought to myself, "and he likes helping people, too. He has a good heart." I respect and admire that. We might work together on a couple of small projects soon. After Starbucks, I walked down the street and stopped in front of a huge crowd of people watching the filming of Colin Farrell's new film, Dead Man Down. I didn't see Colin, but I did see Dominic Cooper. It was pretty uneventful, but people just kept watching the set. I stopped in Miel Patisserie for pistachio and raspberry macarons.

August Moon

Who says Conshohocken is barren of good restaurants? My friend Chris W and I went to August Moon, a Korean Japanese restaurant where we feasted on wasabi pork shumai, seafood scallion pancake, seafood stone bowl bibimbap, and a platter of sushi and sashimi. The shumai left me teary eyed from the sinus explosion. "Oooh, that's like so good!" I admitted to Chris. The scallion pancake was good, too, but there was very little seafood in it. If you used a magnifying glass, you might find bits of squid and whitefish. I expected more seafood. The helping of seafood in the bibimbap was also quite sparse. It was certainly the best hot bibimbap I've ever had. The vegetables were all fresh and juicy and the rice was excellent in both its steamed form and the stuff stuck to the bottom of the stone bowl giving it a chewy, crispy texture. We liked it a lot more than Miga's version. The sushi and sashimi fish was totally fresh and beautifully prepared. I liked the flowers made of sashimi. The white tuna and salmon were especially good. We had enough leftovers for a small meal that our friend Madeline gladly ate. "Oh, my God, this is really good!" she exclaimed. August Moon also has a list of sakes and specialty drinks. I especially liked my Sen Saketini, a drink resembling something I could get at any posh Asian Fusion eatery in Philadelphia.

Cucina Zapata

I'm not generally a pain in the ass, but sometimes I just want something different than what's being offered on a menu, so I ask a server or a chef if they could make something special for me. I'm willing to pay more for the privilege of eating something that requires a little extra work to make. My coworkers and I went to Cucina Zapata and the choices of chicken katsu (fried chicken cutlet) and vegetable curry over rice were on the menu, so I wanted a combination of the two since I saw it on their Facebook page."That's something that a customer must've posted, but I can certainly make that for you," our server said. Each individual entrée was only $5 so I said, "How much is it? Six? Seven?" "It'll be five. Welcome back!" he said. "Cool!" I exclaimed. I'm glad I got both items because each one was delicious.

Some Random Guy

I was talking to my friend on my cell phone today while walking back to my office building and one of a pair of black guys walking by saw me, stopped in front of me, and said aloud, "Are you cheating on me again?" I stopped talking to my friend, looked up, and said, "Huh?" I had no idea who he was. "I said are you cheating on me again?! There you go talking to your other boyfriend on the phone!" he said. I smiled and he smiled back and waved at me. He must've liked the way I looked in my tunic tank and black tights. I can pull this look off fairly well because I'm thin, tan, and have a reasonable hourglass shape. Yay!

A Coincidence?

Some people love to read too much into things, but when I got this sticker from a box of Botan Rice Candy the other day, I had to comment. I just started playing softball. I was born in the year of the monkey on the Chinese calendar. The monkey has a K on his cap, presumably for Kalina, of course. She is wearing pink sneakers similar to the pink socks I wore as a baby in my baseball outfit. Coincidence? Maybe.

New York City

I took a bus up to my hometown today to visit my brother Dave and my friend Nadya. Dave updated my knowledge of the bus and subway systems. I hadn't been on a New York bus or train in 22 years so a lot has changed. Like DC, New York uses a prepaid fare card system that you load up with electronic money. I was quite impressed with how quickly and cheaply we were able to move about the city. He and I went to Ippudo, a ramen noodle brasserie that has fantastic ramen noodle soup. This is authentic ramen, not the instant noodle crap! How many places do you know have a 40 minute wait for lunch? The place was packed. That's how good it is.

I ordered the Shiromaru Hakata Classic with extra toppings of soft boiled egg and braised pork belly. Double yum!!! After lunch, we went to MOMA to see the Cindy Sherman exhibit. "I have a friend who totally loves Cindy," he said. We saw Cindy in all of her classic pictures from the 70s to the present. She's a chameleon of sorts, able to transform herself into any kind of character she desires, from socialite to clown. We noticed that in many of her works she uses a fake breast prosthesis. We also saw Foreclosed: Rehousing the American Dream, an architectural exhibit with a number of intricately designed miniature model cities. The models were simply incredible!

Nadya met up with Dave and I at The Modern where we had drinks and appetizers of salmon tartare and lamb and goat cheese terrine. The terrine was delicious! My time in New York was limited to six hours, but it was quality time with my brother, whom I hadn't seen since January, and Nadya, whom I hadn't seen in four years. I asked Dave if he was freaked out by my transition, but he said no, he always knew there was something about me that was different. "I always thought you acted like a girl anyway," he said. I asked Dave if Jeff was freaked out by my transition. "No, he has transgender friends. He also has gay friends, too," Dave said. "How is mom and dad handling my transition?" I asked. "Dad's back and forth. He's trying to learn more about transsexualism every chance he gets, but mom frequently interferes with his research," he said. "Y'know, when we were growing up, I didn't have anyone to talk to about all of this. If I had someone to talk to, I probably would not have married, not have kids, and would have transitioned much younger, but it didn't happen that way. I have no regrets about having a family. I love my kids," I said. I didn't come from a privileged family that would've supported and paid for my transition. My main goal at 17 was to get out of my parents' house so I could study at a college far, far away and secure a good job after college so I could support myself. Anytime my parents ask if I need money, I always say no because I don't want to feel dependent on them. I have a certain sense of pride and accomplishment that a lot of transgender youths nowadays don't seem to have. I honestly can't picture most of these youths being parents let alone being able to support themselves. If you want your kids to grow up and be responsible adults, you can't keep enabling them!

Dead-Ends, Deadwood, and Thrillseekers

A transwoman is seen as a dead end for many guys because you can't have children with one. The issue of adoption doesn't gel with some guys. They would rather have their own children than adopt someone else's. Older guys who've already had children don't see this as much of an issue, but too much of an age difference can be an issue. A transwoman with no education and no job is seen as deadwood to a lot of guys. Sure, guys will date you if you're pretty, but to expect a long-term relationship or marriage with these guys is questionable at best. Sadly, a lot of guys who want transwomen are just thrillseekers looking for an interesting sexual encounter. Once you have SRS, the thrill is gone because a guy will place you in the same boat as genetic women. What you have to offer a man must be far greater than what the average woman can offer if you hope to attract him. Of course, this assumes that you would be seen as a good prospect by a man. The truth is very few of us actually qualify as being in the same category as genetic women because most transwomen have overly masculine features and mannerisms, so the point is likely moot. Unfortunately, most transwomen ignore these points during their soul-searching introspection stage and end up failing in their integration goals later on. I know crossdressers and transsexuals who love to repeat the same five or six stories about how their friends thought they looked fabulous or how some low-life guy complimented them in a bar. These stories prove that these crossdressers and transsexuals are just thrillseekers in their own way because they look for and feed off of compliments. The compliments, and other positive reactions, should happen almost every single day at any hour of the day if you're doing what you need to be doing to look pretty and passable. Compliments from friends are nice, but they're sometimes fluff-stuffed to make you feel good. The most sincere compliments come from those who don't know you or don't know you all that well.

How to Save $900

You won't save $900 all at once, but if you save $10 on a couple of Nexxus or Biotin products that you'd buy every four months or so at your local CVS, Walgreen's, or other pharmacy, you'd potentially save $900 over the next 30 years. A CVS cashier today told me to buy all of my Nexxus products at Marshall's because the same products are $5 to $10 cheaper there. "I wouldn't have believed it myself, but I work at Marshall's, too, and I noticed the price difference," she said. "Wow, thanks for the tipe!" I said. "Nexxus makes great products, don't they?" she said. "Yes, they do," I replied. My hair does feel very nice after using it the first time in a long time. Let's see what happens with continued use.

Bike Babe

I haven't ridden a bike in over ten years so I decided to take my bike out for a ride on a warm, overcast afternoon. I have a Marin Larkspur, a hybrid bike that looks nice and has a very smooth ride. I was looking rather butch in my olive green spaghetti tank, grey Champion jersey shorts, and black sneakers. My hair tied in a ponytail, I rode my bike twice up and down the Schuykill River Walk. What they say about learning to ride a bike is true, that you never forget how, but there's an adjustment period to regain your old form. I wobbled a lot on the first pass and I'm sure more than one passerby thought to herself, "Who's the awkward bitch with the big tits?" but I got a lot more comfortable and less wobbly on the second pass. I accidentally bought Coke Cherry Zero instead of Cherry Coke today. Oh, no, I'm turning into one of those crazy fitness babes! The Coke Zero sodas are not bad, but nothing beats the real thing.

Smart and Pretty

One reason I like living at my condo is I get to interact with all of the bright, successful people who live there. "I remember you! I talked to you the other day!" an older woman said as she walked up to me. Her name was Marilyn and she's a physical therapist who owns a successful practice and teaches therapy courses at Temple. "I love that necklace you're wearing," she said. She asked me what nationality I was and I told her Chinese. She said that most of her class she is teaching this semester is comprised of Chinese students with language barriers. "What did you say you did again?" she asked. "I'm an IT director... the head computer geek," I replied. "Oh, yes, that's right, I remember now. Well, you're both smart and pretty," she said smiling. "I'm not that pretty and I'm not that smart," I responded to the flattery. "Y'know, I have so many patients who come to me who think they're ugly and losers, but they're not. They're beautiful and you are, too. You're very pretty," she said. I thanked her. "Are you coming to the condo meeting tomorrow?" I asked. "I wasn't going to, but I guess I should," she said. "I'm running for a position on the board," I said. "Well, you've got my vote. You're very pretty," she said again. Although it might sound like a lesbian moment, it really wasn't. She's just a very nice lady and one of the many people I say hello to each week. All of my neighbors get to see my everyday looks, too. Tops and jeans, dresses, workout gear, and more. I've been waiting to wear Sephora by OPI's Shiny Dancer for a while, so that's my shade this week. It's a futuristic gunmetal grey.

Transwomen: A Primer for Homophobes

Describing sex between a man and a transwoman is always an interesting topic of conversation, especially for homophobes. Many people feel that if two people with the same genitalia have sex, then it must be gay sex. It is not enough to say that gender identity is between the ears because these people are fixated on the penis as a sexual object and will never be convinced that a girl with a penis is truly a girl. These homophobes don't realize that if you love someone - if you abso-fucking-lutely beyond a shadow of a doubt love and adore someone - you will do whatever it takes to make that person happy, sometimes even sacrificing a little something, too, because love and happiness results from a give and take, not just give-give-give or take-take-take. Both you and your lover must be happy and that's the point of a relationship. All this talk about genitalia determining your gender has to stop. I posed this question to a friend the other day: What if a transwoman's penis doesn't work anymore? What if she's forced to give a man pleasure the only ways she knows how? Is that still gay sex? What if she is sexually aroused and erect and she or her man wants to do something pleasurable with it? Is that also gay sex? To a homophobe, yes. To someone who's thought about the plight of a transsexual woman - and by that I mean someone who is female full-time, not a crossdresser who lives and is known as a man outside of parties and social gatherings - the answer is unequivocally no. A transsexual woman wants to integrate with society as a woman. She doesn't want to feel like a freak. Having a penis limits her from being able to participate in many social activities a normal genetic woman can do, such as being intimate with any man she attracts, swimming, laying on a beach, going to a gym and using a women's locker room, etc. In other words, pre-op transwomen are socially fucked until they get their surgeries. However, even as a pre-op, I never let my feelings of being a freak stop me from living the same kind of life I would as a genetic woman. Until I get my gender reassignment surgery, I make the most of the cards I was dealt. For example, I attend classes in everything from art, art history, and music to jewelry-making, cooking, and more. I actively participate in each class and make lots of new friends. Some don't know my status while others seem to know but don't seem to care. I go to all kinds of restaurants and bars that are not known to be trans-friendly because I want to go to normal places and feel normal. I still have this attachment towards the LGBT community because I know that if a newbie can learn from me and break out of her shell, she can do what I do, too. I've shopped at and used the women's fitting rooms in dozens of stores, including Ann Taylor, Urban Outfitters, New York & Company, The Gap, LOFT, Victoria's Secret, Jessica McClintock, Forever 21, Macy's, Nordstrom's, Ross, TJ Maxx, mom and pop boutiques, etc. I never had a problem in any of them. What makes me so fortunate? It's because I have this aura about me and I look the way I do, act the way I do, and speak the way I do. It all works together synergistically. I have no idea why. The sum is greater than its parts is the best way to explain it. A crossdresser does not have this aura. Many transwomen do not have this aura. The only way to develop this aura is through experience and a desire for excellence. I never have to worry about getting carded before I use a women's fitting room because I never let it get to that point. What I've done to protect myself is I care about the way I look and if you give a damn about your existence as a woman, you should, too. Regarding the whole men in women's fitting room issue, my stance is if you present as a man in a store, you have no business using a women's fitting room. If you're a transwoman who doesn't pass, you have a right to use a women's fitting room but you're just making things harder for yourself because people do not see you as a woman. In other words, you really haven't integrated yourself in society and getting gender reassignment surgery isn't going to help people perceive you any differently. To put it quite bluntly, you really haven't transitioned if people don't see you as a woman. Is that really what you want? What kinds of things can you do to improve your look? Gender reassignment surgeries now involve using what you have to create what you should have so every transwoman's vagina will look a little different. If a homophobe had sex with a post-op transwomen, would that still be gay sex or is a person's sex or gender all about appearances to him? I argue that the transsexual woman was always a woman even prior to surgery. The surgery enhances her social acceptance as a woman if she has done everything in her power to make herself look like a woman. So go out there, be the best woman that you can be, and never give up trying to improve yourself.

Election

My first election since college ended in a loss. I was one of four candidates who spoke in front of a packed community room of almost 70 condo owners on why they should select me to serve on the condo board. I said, "I offer you a fresh set of eyes to review all of the contracts that have passed through the board. I find it quite deplorable that decisions were made on our past repairs by a select group of people rather than all of the condo owners. I've worked on contracts and saved the places I've worked at hundreds of thousands of dollars in unnecessary costs. I trim the fat off of contracts. I've saved a biomedical company over one million dollars in technical infrastructure startup costs. I also offer youth to the board." There was a question and answer session for all of the candidates. "How many bids did you end up getting on our repair work?" I asked our current condo president who was also running for re-election, but he backpedaled by answering that five bids were put out and four didn't come back with bids. "Everyone who has done any contract work knows that you get three bids before you make a selection," I said. Several people nodded in agreement with me. The votes were tallied and I grabbed 26% of the votes, got some thank you's for running and being a voice for our condo community, and someone walked up to me and said, "You're right. We do need youth on the board." The average age of the four current board members is at least 70. They were all stodgy old men. I shook my head to the entire thing. "Cheer up," my biggest advocate in the community room said, "the president and his running mate got 41% and 30% of the votes which means other people seem to agree with these idiots." So I guess being pretty isn't enough to win votes. Just ask Sarah Palin. Okay, bad example.

Why I Like Men... and Women

Men give me the kind of comfort and security that few women could ever give. I want to feel protected by the person I'm with and it's nice when a man who is bigger and stronger than me can do this. I like women, too, but I've always favored athletic or physically larger women than me for the same reasons of comfort, security, and protection. I don't need eye candy on my arm because I am eye candy. I guess there was no easy way to say that without sounding pompous, but what I'm trying to say is I'm not concerned about looks so much as heart, talent, success, intelligence, courage, confidence, and worldliness. If you look nice, that's a bonus, but not a requirement. You have to be awesome in many ways for me to fall for you. Many average guys have hit on me and I just can't see myself with an average guy.

The Fountain of Youth

When people ask me for secrets to a more youthful appearance, I always tell them to surround themselves with young adults. The passion, energy, and enthusiasm that a younger person has is seldom seen in older folks. I know people around my age who look a lot older than their years because they're stuck in the doldrums of a boring everyday life lacking in fun and creativity. Such a life can take a harsh toll on your appearance. Taking an art class is the easiest way to surround yourself with fun, creative folks. Caitlin and Chloe are classmates of mine in last year's Photo Studio Abroad: India course. Chloe invited me to her house for a barbecue party where I met and chatted with her parents and several MFA students. We enjoyed a veritable feast of pulled pork, pulled chicken, beef brisket, tilapia tacos, veggie skewers, and much more. Afterwards, I had some time to get my wheels on my car realigned, so I went to Firestone and the head service manager sat with me to talk about Facebook and other apps on his iPhone while I waited for my car. I got to meet and say hello to all of the mechanics in the place, too. I did a littleshopping at Trader Joe's, dropped off my purchases at home, and drove to the Penn MFA Thesis Exhibit of which Caitlin and Chloe were one of thirteen artists on display. I had heard of the blood, sweat, and tears that went behind the show and it really paid off because it was amazing. I met Gabe, one of my photography professors, and my friend Sam there and they were gracious enough to take pictures of me with my classmates. After the show, I drove to Norristown to meet my friend Chris W for dinner at August Moon. Our server recognized us from last week and gave us a complimentary bowl of miso soup and an additional sashimi item of marinated baby octopus in our sushi and sashimi platter. We also shared an order of shrimp shumai and a specialty maki roll with spicy crabmeat, tuna, and white tuna. After dinner, we went to The Beagle Tavern where I hosted my Sexy Vampire night there. The place was packed with transwomen, gays, and lesbians. It was awesome. We watched the Sixers beat the Bulls to advance to the second round of the playoffs. Truly one of the more fun-filled days I've had lately.

Starr Garden Playground

Starr Garden Playground was having its annual arts and crafts celebration. One side of the playground was lined with tables selling homemade jewelry and hair accessories. A belly dancer and African tribal drum instructor were present and provided entertainment for the park's guests. My son and I played chase in and around the jungle gym. We had fun. Too many bees were attracted to my dress. I couldn't find a nice spot to sit and veg out for a while.

We went to Cookie Confidential for our weekly dose of cookies and peanut brittle. I got the bacon peanut brittle this time, which was awesome. Our day ended with sushi from Tsuki Sushi. My son liked all three maki rolls I ordered. Earlier in the day, we went to the National Train Day celebration at Amtrak 30th Street Station. I got one of the workers to take a picture of my son and I there.

Surprises

Homemade red beans and rice from a food cart made by a young black kid? And for two dollars? It can't be any good, you may say, but this was certainly a surprisingly good version of it. It had elements of cajun rice mixed in so the dish had a hint of spice in it, just enough to make me nod my head in approval. I have no idea what the name of this food cart is on 33rd and Market Streets, but I'll look for it next time. Perhaps I'll get a side of collard greens to go with my rice next time. I tried on a really cute-looking cami top with a built-in bra and I looked like a pregnant cow in it. Quite honestly, I should look like I'm 129, not 229, in whatever I where. No surprise to anyone, really, but I signed up for The Art of Sushi Making Sushi taught by Madame Seito. I love sushi and Madame Seito seems like a lovely little woman, so it's a class I look forward to. Speaking of lovely, I always thought Cindy Crawford looked like a very pretty male-to-female transsexual in her prime and now that she's getting older, she looks a lot more masculine. In a recent infomercial, she showed her bare beauty and that confirmed my belief that she looks like a man underneath all the makeup. She has a pronounced T-zone like most transsexual woman. The T-zone is how most people can tell who was born male or female. Cindy's T-zone is so pronounced because she has a very embossed browbone. I told my brother about a surgery many of my transsexual friends have gotten to smooth out their embossed browbones. "Don't do that," he said, "that would make you look unintelligent."

Misspelled

At an art supply store today, a young cashier girl with an asymmetrical pixie cut and tats covering her arms looked up my information on her checkout computer. I told her my last name, Din, followed by my first, Clare, as she requested. "Hmm... Din... Clarence. Looks like they misspelled it," she said. Someone had supposedly corrected my name in the computer on my last visit to this store, but it looks like it reverted back to my old name. I never understood what people meant when they tell me I'm brave for transitioning because, to me, these words of admiration are almost mocking. "Why am I brave? Don't I look like I should've been born a woman?" I would think to myself. The word "brave" should be reserved for those who don't pass and are trying to fit into society. Perhaps I'm brave because I have to endure correcting each and every store account that has my old name. Some girls would just skip town so they don't have to deal with this, but I chose a more difficult path by staying and, as always, I welcome the challenge.

Negating Negativity

I sometimes wonder what cisgender people think of us transwomen as a group. Do they think we're all freaks? Is there some way to fix that? I get odd looks every now and again, but not any more than when I lived as a man. I think it's because I'm rather tall for an Asian (I'm six feet tall if I ever decide to wear five-inch heels) or I'm eye-catching in some way. I know that not every stranger I meet will believe I was born a woman, but, other than the once-in-a-blue-moon idiot, those who do know don't create any trouble with their newfound discovery. Why? I often ponder that and I think it's because I fall within the acceptable range for what a natal female is supposed to look like. Women come in all shapes and sizes and, truth be told, most women my age don't look like me, but that's fine because I don't want to look like them, either. When I see a dumpy-looking 44 year old woman, I say to myself, "Why did this person waste God's gift of being born a woman?" I always walk everywhere with my head held high because I have a lot to be happy about. I may not be the wealthiest, prettiest, smartest, most personable woman in the world, but I'm doing pretty darn well in most every conceivable aspect of my life and that proves I'm not a one-trick pony, the kind of transwoman who thinks that surgery will solve all of her problems. I've walked into my transition with my divorce as my one and only downfall. I've conquered my depression and I've been moving forward ever since. I'm always nice to everyone I meet and I smile at and say hi to everyone who looks at, smiles, and says hi to me. That puts people at ease because people are supposed to be cordial to one another. I've discovered that most transwomen, both part-timers and even full-timers, are actually very scared to step out of their comfort zones. They don't say hi to strangers. They prefer to be in their own little worlds. I've always taken chances to prove that I can be a woman full-time and my experiences have enabled me to fit comfortably in society.

Anthropologie

When your store is frequented by lots of women with money to spend on a Wednesday night, you know you're doing something right. For whatever reason, most of the transwomen I know don't spend a lot on their clothes. They bargain shop in outlets and discount sections of stores and wear stupid stuff to hide their bodies. Their thriftiness even extends to their accessories as they have no clue that a woman's purse tells people a lot about them. In other words, these transwomen think and act like men when it comes to clothes. I'm here to tell you that if my experiences at Anthropologie and Ann Taylor are any indication, there are women who have $200 to spend on a dress and these stores don't even represent the high end! It was refreshing to see these yuppie women dress in colors other than black, red, and white and not parade around in short skirts, five-inch heels, and heavy makeup. There are plenty of mirrors in Anthropologie and it was nice to look in the reflections and see that I compared quite favorably to everyone else in the store.

For Richer, For Poorer

A man came back to see me recently and told me why he had disappeared for several months. "I can't afford $200 dinners. You're out of my league," he said, and yet he still tried to talk to me that night. I really wanted to tell him, "Dude, kissing me doesn't involve trying to stick your tongue down my throat since we don't know each other that well." Alas, I'm always cordial with him, as I am with any man who has the confidence to approach me, but if you want to be with me - if you truly want to be with me - then you must understand that I am a foodie. I grew up eating all different kinds of food and a girl with all of the qualities that I have does not stick to $40 dinners in Chinese restaurants. That's just one end of my food spectrum. Hell, I even enjoy a good hot dog every now and again, but there must also come times when a gentleman takes me to really nice places. There's a difference between a gentleman and a guy. A guy is just a guy and goes for a girl rather than a lady. A gentleman goes for a lady. I've met many fine gentleman over the years who've really raised the bar on my expectations, so I prefer gentlemen. I've truly been spoiled by many of them, but I feel I deserve to be spoiled because I always strive to be the best in everything I do. If a man is not prepared to spend money to make a woman happy, how can he expect to be with the best?