You Don’t Need to Figure Out Your Gender All at Once
I shut off the ignition and took a deep breath. What was there to be afraid of? Nothing. The shop clerks probably wouldn’t say much at all other than “Need help finding anything?” But I still felt exposed, especially because I still looked like the man I had lived as for 35 years. All I wanted was a wig and some lingerie, to find out how I felt.
There wasn’t anyone to hold my hand through this. Most of my friends didn’t know I’m transgender, and my romantic partners lived hours away by plane. I had to do this for myself. And maybe that’s the way it should have been. As much as I wanted support, I really needed to know if the feeling I’d been holding onto was right or if I was spinning out in disarray after my marriage shattered.
I tried to move briskly through the racks of panties and corsets. I didn’t need to be fuckable. I just needed something that fit — a bit of a challenge with a 38 band size to start with. I was in luck. I found a bra that would be serviceable with a couple rolled-up socks stuck inside, panties that wouldn’t cut off the blood supply to my legs, and a shoulder length brown wig that looked like something I might actually be able to style someday. I wasn’t questioned or hassled. If anything, the salesclerk was kind and we talked science for a minute as she rang everything up. But I didn’t want to spend any…
