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It is an amazingly beautiful sunny day in my home area (NE Illinois – USA). These are the kind of fall days that one waits through the heat and humidity of summer to be blessed with. With my job (en drab) I have the pleasure of being out and about.
Oh my there are so many others out enjoying the day. Obviously that includes women.
As I wait for the light to change on one of the residential streets movements catches my eye. A young mom with her stroller and child is stopped waiting to cross the street. I watch as she gathers her shoulder length hair, being tossled by the slight breeze, to the back of her head. Magically it seems she produces a scrunchie and threads her hair through it to create a pony tail. She works with the resulting gathered hair so that it is “just right” then ever so femininely (IMHO) pulls her hood up over head to guard against the slight chill.
Thus finished, her hands return to the stroller handle, feet together gathered waist on her jacket accentuating her hips waiting for the light to change. A young mom out on a beautiful fall day living her typical day. “How blessed to be her,” I thought.
What strikes me is that I noticed all this, not with typical male lust but with typical (I assume) trans-woman envy. It was nothing about the clothes that draws my attention, though her skinny jeans and booties made me smile; rather it is her distinctly feminine actions, carry, deportment, “mom” duties that attracted my attention and sullened my heart.
I am not, nor will I ever be a female, but this kind of “noticings”, so atypical of a male, re-enforces the growing reality that I am not a “typical” male. No, for better or worse I am a trans woman. To be sure I am not a man wanting to be a woman, rather I am a woman simply wanting to be.
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