I'm so Jealous

Have you ever seen the advertisement where they show a progressive scene where each person wishes they had what the next person has? There are a few variants, but the one I remember most is the one that starts with the guy driving the Lamborghini as each one that follows wishes they had what the one before does until the last panel where the kid in the wheelchair wishes he could walk like the one before him wishes he had a bike.

I kind of feel that way this week. I wish I had, and at the same time, I reflected and appreciated what I do have. Not just in my life but also in the world of crossdressing. I’m jealous of many things in this crazy lifestyle that I find myself locked into. Yes, I am more than just a CD, teetering on the gender spectrum. That isn’t my message today. We all have (in the CD universe) things to be thankful for and jealous of. I so admire those CD’s, women, and even men who find themselves comfortable in their skins. I’m not one of them—in any capacity.

I look at the photos posted with amazement of everyone who attended the Keystone event, silent jealousy at wishing I could have been one of them. For me, it isn’t about worrying that I won’t fit in or stick out, it’s that being comfortable with who I am. Something that I haven’t quite gotten to. That’s jealousy number one. The other things include seeing the trim physique of so many girls, their smaller feet (can wear all those beautiful shoes while I’m stuck searching for anything that fits a size 13), their youthfulness (why didn’t I accept this when I was 20 instead of 60), their makeup skills, their outgoingness (I’m an introvert that has to find a reason to go out and sometimes dragged to), their comfort level at being able to be a part of the outside world. Is it just plain fear topped with all the responsibilities and excuses that prevent me from attending? Maybe… probably… not entirely.

It only takes 100 plus photos to find 10-15 that I consider acceptable to post. I’m ok with makeup but wish I could do it better, comfortable with my clothing and how it looks on me after years of trial and error, and satisfied that other than looking like a tall, much older, women’s basketball player in heels, I could decently fit in. Today, what you see me post is what/who I am. I don’t use the technology available to correct or better me than what I am. I try to use angles and lighting to my advantage instead. It’s kind of that jealousy thing. I’m already in awe of beautiful women, beautiful transgender women, and beautiful crossdressers. I’m also aware that I am also an inspiration to others, and I want that to be real. I know what it feels like to be envious of another’s attributes, so I don’t want to embellish what I am either. I’m 20 pounds overweight to what I want to be and it’s getting harder by the year to keep it off.

It is easy for me to rattle off all the things that are insufficient in my appearance and just as easy to rave about the qualities I see in others. I have thin lips… hate that and envy those who have full lips. Wide open eyes rather than my slits, did I mention my feet… I’ve been able to find some decent shoes in my size and even some great pairs, but to have a size 10 foot or smaller, heck to even be five inches shorter and fit into a size 10 dress would be great… never going to happen. Half of you are smiling because you already can, and half of you wish they could fit into my size 14 and have 30 pairs of heels, wigs, and accessories galore, and more clothes and whatnot than most women.

And… I’m jealous because I want instead of being grateful for what I have. It doesn’t take a psychologist to know that it mostly stems from the conflicting feelings of not yet being who I should be. Thankfully, I don’t have all the obstacles (other than age and lack of funding) to stop me from pursuing it that so many others must deal with. The It being who I might finally become that feels settled in who they are. I have struggled with this my entire life, not fitting into my own expectations, let alone those imposed on me by the ex-wife and life’s responsibilities as a father, man, trans, or even human. Or being a Crossdresser…

Stepping back, looking at what’s in front of me, I can see a path that is less strewn with overgrowth and unpassable (a pun intended…) As an older CD, I have less dark hair on my face and features that are slowly blending to be either male or female as it is with older individuals. However, I still think of myself as the 40ish Business lady and not the sexy grandma. Many a cis woman would kill to have our legs and hips, and many envy our ability to look forty instead of sixty. While we fight broad shoulders and stomach, they try to hide thighs, double chins, wrinkles, and age spots along with a host of other things. And yet, we are (I am) jealous of their ability to walk peacefully among others in whatever attire they choose, comfortable in their being. I think that is what I’m the most envious of, to just be, something I’ve never done, ever.

That’s my issue, my undoing of all the things that I see others partaking in. Someday, I tell myself. I still believe that. Every year I mark on my calendar the events that I’d like to go to. Responsibility to my father currently prevents it, my fears in the past stopped it from happening, but I feel the burdens dissolving away. So maybe sooner than later you’ll get to meet me at one of the events… I really hope so because I’d like to personally say hi to so many of you. Until then, just know that I’m proud that you can, amazed by your stunning pictures, and glad to help you share your stories with others.

Sometimes jealousy and fear coincide, feeding each other, and causing us to withdraw rather than move bravely forward. Fear wears many coats; one such is the fear of being caught. I’ve moved past that, but it is a big one. Jealousy also has many layers and can stop us from finding our personal happiness. I don’t have to look perfect, no one can. Learning to accept the moment and what it means is key. This is my point today. With everything that is pushing in against us the brief moment when the dress flutters against our thighs or the feel of nylons on freshly shaved legs, the application of makeup, perfume, and press-on nails, to the earrings being clipped on, the wig gently swishing on the back of our neck as we happily strut in our 4 inch heels, we are in our moment. This is what I should be most envious of, not having enough moments, because each one of them balances me, makes me better, happier, and more forgiving, kinder. I am not merely a crossdresser, I am, Brina. She is a special, she is needed.

Until next time… Let the moments last and the fears abate. You are only being you and that is perfectly okay.