Sunday, December 8
For those of you keeping up with this stuff, today is the second Sunday in Advent. I bring that up because, well, part of my `thing' now is that I'm actually attending church and Sunday school and youth group and all that stuff, and they get REALLY busy during this time of year with decorations and little kids having Christmas pageants and stuff like that, so I now find that I've been drafted into ushering for the kids pageant which is NEXT Sunday evening, the THIRD Sunday in Advent. For those of you playing the Christy game at home, December 24 will be the FOURTH Sunday in Advent. Got it? But I'm getting w-a-a-a-a-a-ay ahead of myself.
So anyway, no dress rehearsal on Monday. Mr. Mac decided to give us all the day off to decompress and then we'd have a final rehearsal on Tuesday. The play ran Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday at 7pm. Now, I'm not still in the closet about my transition, but I'm also not walking around with a big scarlet "T" on my bodice, either. If I TRIED to be a boy, I'd be a pretty darned effeminate one, so I think I pass pretty well and haven't been `clocked' yet.
Then again, most everyone -- but not EVERY everyone -- in my school, and particularly among my friends, know I'm trans. Worst case scenario, I'm a girl, with boy plumbing, playing a girl, in a part written for a man, by a 16th century playwright. I could visualize rioting in the aisles, chairs thrown, and me being hauled out at the end of pitch forks and torches. Yeah, probably not that bad, but this is the shit that goes thru my mind when I'm laying in bed, hugging my pillow and trying, unsuccessfully, to imagine fucking Carlos.
Fun fact -- in Shakespeare's time, women couldn't perform on stage, so any female characters were played by men or boys in drag. That's right.
Juliet was played by a boy. Anyway, without belaboring the point, I had exactly 18 lines in the play, which had started with 8 lines but Mr. Mac beefed up my part after it was obvious I could handle it and some of the other bit-players couldn't
Like all good Shakespearian comedies, the bad guys got their come-uppance (including my boss in the play, the actual Merchant in Merchant of Venice) and the lovely couple coupled. I couldn't have written a better play myself.
No rioting. Beau coups applause. Hugs and kisses. Mom brought me flowers on opening night. Carlos kissed me backstage. I suggested to Mom that maybe I should major in theater in college. She just frowned.
Wednesday was our new day for me to see Ms. Hargrave. It was same-old-same-old. I talked about the anal play, and told her how much I really, really, REALLY enjoyed that. She just nodded. It was like I was talking to a cat. After a bit, she said, "Christy, are you aware of the stimulation of a male prostate?"
"No. I never really thought about it."
"Well, anal play can be very enjoyable, although some people over do it, and most of what you see in porn is completely staged for the camera.
You have to plan ahead, and an enema or two right before hand is a good idea, but use soap and water not saline in the enema or you'll dry out your anus. Use plenty, plenty, PLENTY of lubrication, and clean up both you and your partner afterwards. Women can enjoy anal play even without the prostate massage, but men -- or even trans-women with a prostate -- can actually orgasm from the experience."
I was just nodded, and barely keeping up. "You're talking about anal sex, right?"
"I'm talking about any kind of anal play. Your partner's finger. A toy. Or yes, his penis. However, If you're going to go there, I'd suggest practice first with an anal massager or a butt plug or even a vibrating dildo. Do you have any of those?"
I reminded her about the penis I used for oral practice, and she said, "Well, if you use that on yourself, be sure to wash it with hot soap and water before using it anywhere else. Despite what some porno videos might show you about what's called `ass-to-mouth', that's not safe."
I just nodded more.
"Try yourself out next time you get a chance. See if you like it. It may be a way to expand your horizons and your self care routine."
Ms. Hargrave had given me some absolutely wonderful, erotic ideas.
I had promised Carlos I'd come over to his house for dinner on Saturday. His Mom and Dad knew he and I were kinda regular and such, and I asked him if she knew I was trans. He just shook his head, and I asked, "How will we handle it if your parents clock me?"
I had to explain to him what `clocked' meant. He's such a sweetheart, but utterly not up on the trans lingo. I explained, and he said that there was no way that would happen. Sigh... OK. "So, what's the dress code?"
"We're very informal on Saturday night. Just jeans and a sweater or something like that. Mom's seen you in the play, so she knows what you look like."
Grrr.... OK. "My mom will bring me by at... what... 5? 6?"
"Make it 5. Dinner's at 6. Your mom can pick you up whenever."
Grrr.... Thanks to our wonderful state laws, Carlos still had a month to go before he was legal to let me ride in his car without an adult.
Fucking safety rules. Oh well. He'd be legal by my birthday, and I was already cooking up a special birthday present for him in my head.
Saturday evening came along and it was a non-event. I wore a somewhat androgynously loose pair of jeans just so even my little package wouldn't show. I had a subdued burgundy sweater and I toned down the makeup from the over-the-top Emily Blunt detail I wore on stage.
Underneath, I had a well-padded smallish B-cup bra, just to provide the right amount of age-appropriate lift' for my sweater. My watch, a pair of very simple hoop earrings, and a little neck chain with a gold cross was all of the accessorizing I could do for a subdued' dinner with the b/f's parents. (Boyfriend? Was he that now? Was that what we were?"
The dinner went fine. I'm positive none of Carlos' family even remotely clocked me. I showed up at 5 and after the perfunctory introductions, I offered to help his Mom in the kitchen. She seemed pleased I knew my way around the kitchen. She and I made small talk, and she commented that I looked older than 14. I explained that I'd be 15 in a month, and yes, the women in my family are taller than average.
Dinner was much the same. We talked about the play, and Carlos Dad, who apparently fancied himself a Shakespeare buff, commented that my part was actually smaller in the original and written for a male. I said, yes, that Mr. Mac had to work with what he had, and anyway, my part got bigger because apparently I could learn lines pretty well. We all had a nice chuckle at that. I mentioned the part about female parts in Shakespeare's time being played by men, and he nodded and asked if the gender reversal was confusing for me. I said, "not in the slightest. I just played the part like it had been written for a woman, and ignored the gender issue."
His Mom and Dad nodded at that. Finally, his Mom spoke up. "Christy, that's very progressive of you. You know I'm an attorney, and I work mainly in estate issues. Our state law is pretty progressive, but I have a couple of transgendered clients and the estate planning issues are horrendous. You know about transgendered issues, I assume."
Suddenly my Spidey sense was flashing red alerts all over the place.
"Yes, Ma'am, I'm familiar with the subject, although of course I'm not at all as well versed as I guess you are."
"Well," she went on, "I've really come to understand their plight over the past few years. I mean, the emotional and mental facets of gender identification are something the rest of us just don't appreciate. It's more than just the physical characteristics, you know?
Anyway, they should be treated with the same respect and rights as the rest of us."
She paused, and said, "I'm sorry, Christy, I'm preaching. It's a subject that's become dear to my heart."
My Spidey sense started relaxing a bit. "I understand. I think it's cool."
Dinner went on like that, and after dinner, I helped clear the table and made small talk with the rest of Carlos' family. At 8, I could see Mom's car pull up in the driveway, and Carlos offered to walk me outside. On the way to Mom's car, I said, "What happened in there?
Does your Mom..."
"No. She doesn't. She's VERY progressive politically and socially, and gets on these issues all the time. I'm sure she didn't `clock' you, if that's the word, but sometime eventually if we keep dating, she's going to need to know."
"Yeah. I guess. Let's figure out how to do that."
"Ok." Then he gave me a polite kiss, knowing both his parents and my Mom were watching. I said goodbye and hopped in the car with Mom.
Today was a norm. In Church Youth Group, Father Bernie passed around a sign-up sheet for acolytes for the next few months. Everyone was signing up. I asked what this was all about, and he said, "Yeah, kids often start younger, but there's no real formal training for it. You just show up for service a few minutes early and put on a robe and they assign you a role. Younger kids carry the candles and banners, older kids carry the crucifixes. I've got a manual around here somewhere. Anyway, it's like every third or fourth Sunday. On holidays, like Easter, or when the Bishop visits, it's a bigger deal. The head Usher will usually make sure everyone's in line. Just watch in church next Sunday. You'll get it pretty quickly."
So, I signed up for a couple of Sundays coming up, just to dip my toe in the water, and noticed that one Sunday in January was blanked out. I asked Father Bernie, and he said that was the weekend of the ski trip.
So, there's that...
Looking back on it, it's been a hyper stressful week. I've been worried about a lot of stuff that never really happened. The play was fine, and no one rioted in the aisles. Carlos' family thought I was a girl, or at least seemed to think I was a girl. My hair looks rocking.
I've got one more big party coming up, and then ushering at a kids' Christmas pageant, and then Christmas. Maybe I'll get some relaxation between now and Christmas.
Oh. And Friday will be the last day of school before Christmas Yea!!!