I hated mirrors. I never liked what I
saw when I looked. I never saw me when I
looked. I knew it was. I knew it had to be. I
moved and the reflection moved, so of course it
was my face that was there. But it wasn't right.
It wasn't me.
Same with photographs. I go through photo
albums seeing family pictures with me and now I
recognise the expression on my face. Discomfort.
Unease. I believed that I never looked good in
photographs. Something in my face was always
amiss.
I never felt like I fit my skin but I
couldn't work out why. The clothes were a side
issue. I generally wore pants as a kid. I didn't
resist dresses but never felt quite right in a
garment that didn't have a crotch seam. But I
tried to be a girl. That's what my body
suggested I was. That's the way I looked. That's
the way I was treated. But I was an awkward
girl.
I used mirrors because I had to. To check
that the skin was clean and blemish free. To
check the hair was sitting right. To assess all
the parts of the face, but I never saw them all
together. Even examining the 'overall effect' I
could never put myself into the reflection. I
never saw myself in the mirror. It never showed
me me.
Last year I started changing. With some very
significant encouragement which I will always
value, I started allowing out the masculinity
that lurked inside. I stopped trying to be a
girl, and started working on bringing forth the
man in me. I went to a barber for the first
time. I shifted my style and attitude. I worked
out what I needed to feel comfortable in my
skin.
I know now that I had dissociated from the
reflection in the mirror. Like the words 'girl'
and 'woman,' I couldn't look and make what I saw
mean me. I knew that the image the camera
recorded would not be me either, no
matter how I angled my face or smiled.
This was a little breakthrough for me in my
transition. I can look in the mirror now. I can
see a young man starting to emerge and its
me. There are times I still find myself
dissociating, mostly when I am bare below the
neck. There are times this bothers me more than
others. I am still young in this - a
prepubescent nearly 32 year old!
I would love to show you two pictures. Me as
attendant at two weddings, twelve years apart.
The first, my best friend's wedding in 1990. A
vision of purple taffeta, puffy sleeves and
carefully set long blonde wavy hair. Even in the
photo my mother took when I was not realising, I
can still see that discomfort lurking behind my
eyes, even though everyone thinks that was the
best photo of me. I remember the whole
experience as doing my best to be something I
didn't feel I was, but doing my best anyway
because it was my best friend and her wedding
day. I had even chosen the colour and style of
the dress!
Jumping forward twelve years to my sister's
wedding a couple of months ago. I wore a suit!
Same style as the groomsmen, but with a
waistcoat in the same material as the other
bride's attendants' tops. I knew I looked good,
handsome, cutting a fine figure, and boy did I
feel comfortable. Every picture I have seen so
far nearly screams this at me. And it seems this
was evident to the wedding guests too, because I
had so many comments on how good I looked. I
felt GREAT, and I could enjoy my sister's day
because I felt right.
Reflections are everywhere. Every shiny
surface, every pane of mirrored glass. It's good
to be able to look through the looking glass and
be there rather than seeing a stranger looking
back.
One small step in my transition.
