These days I tend to live for the moment. I get on with my job and then enjoy the time I have left to indulge in my hobbies and be with my friends. I try not to worry about the future or politics or other issues going on in the world. I think I said this somewhere else already. Anyhow!

Today is the first anniversary of the death of my father and so I decided to take the day off work to spend time with Mum. A small group of family went to the graveside and we placed a wreath and stood silently for a minute or so.

A couple of days ago, I received news about the death of one of my support and social groups members. I didn’t know her very well but I did speak to her on several occasions and she was a nice person. She had gone through her own trials and tribulations to get where she was, out and proud, full time and so on. She was not as old as me, probably twenty years younger. I was stunned and saddened at her passing. I don’t, at this time know why she died. I may never know and it started me thinking.

What about the people at my group who are closeteers (closet-ears)? Still completely secret from their familes; if no one in their family and friends circles know about them, how will we get word of their demise? They will just disappear and we at the group will know nothing. We won’t be able to mourn or attend any service for them. It’s so sad. I knew about most of the sacrifices and compromises, pain and humiliations that I would endure when I came out. For me it was a price worth paying. The end of life thing? No, I had not really considered it. I know that some of my friends are part timers for lots of reasons; some of them are happy enough with their arrangements and some are not. At least they have someone who knows, a partner or friend, and we at the group would get to hear the news.

Then I went further.

What happens to me when I get to an age when I can’t look after myself? Will I be stuck in an old folks home. Will somebody take the time to put my wig on and pull the odd whisker out my chin? (No luvvies, the hair is not mine. I wish it was.) Will I be left sitting looking like a dishevelled freak for the fun of others?

Perhaps I will go out with a bang and not have to worry about the gradual falling to pieces.

At my funeral service, will the family honour my wishes and remember me by the name that I have now or will they insist on using the name I was born with? Will anyone even bother to attend? I suppose I will be past caring by then.

Oh what a dreadful topic. I’m going to put my head back in the sandpit.

These days I take a perverse delight in people noticing me. Gone are the days when I used to shrink from scrutiny and avoid eye contact or just walk with my gaze fixed on the ground in front of me. I often travel as a passenger on a train to my depot, depending upon the shift times, and when I walk through a carriage (I’m looking for the buffet car) nearly everyone looks up at me. I wonder, sometimes, what is going through their minds at the moment they see me. Is it the uniform? Are they thinking “Oh crap, where’s my ticket?” in the belief that, because I’m in a uniform,I must be the conductor. Are they thinking “What the f….?”? Or is it “Mmm, she’s nice!”?

I will never know and I don’t care.

Sometimes when I walk into a room or an establishment, the Western Movie Syndrome occurs. You all know what I mean; maybe someone out there has a better title for it.

The gun slinger (me) walks into the saloon through the swinging doors. The piano player stops playing and looks up at the gunslinger and his cigarette falls from his gaping mouth. The gamblers look up from their card games and their expressionless poker faces turn to looks of astonishment. The bartender places his hand on the shotgun under the bar. Every one stops what their doing to look and the room becomes silent for a moment.

What happens next?

Everybody goes back to their business!

I’ve not had the room clear or people dive for cover, or shots fired. Have you? I think I would pee myself from laughing if it did.

People look at people. Because your a tea lady you suddenly become more self concious and more aware of people looking at you. Don’t be! Relax, stay calm and enjoy the freedom. The more uptight you are, the more people will latch on to that agitation and you will make the situation worse. If you feel that you have been ‘made’ or ‘outed’, whichever term you use, don’t worry about it. Be yourself!

Some of our kind strive for the ultimate goal of being able to transition and be accepted as a natural woman, their past is gone and nobody notices. The younger you are, the easier it probably is to do that. Sadly, for most of us, that is not going to be the way it works. My body has got some mileage on it and, despite the restoration work and modifications, some people are gonna notice the filler and respray.

I am a woman, the software installed defines me. I got the wrong hardware at birth. Maybe it’s the other way around. At this time, medical science cannot do anything about the software; but it can go a long way to altering the hardware. Do I need ovaries and a womb? I don’t think so; after all, there are natural born women in the world without such pieces of equipment. Usually, after an illness or something, they have to be removed.

All I want is to be treated with dignity and respect and be refered to as female, with the proper pronouns and so on. Why is that so hard for some people?