Growing up Trans - New Home, New Name

Growing up Trans - New Home, New Name

Growing Up Trans Chapters:
Preschool - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238402.html
Elementary School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238626.html
The Nightmare of Fifth Grade (NSFW, and a bit TMI) - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238939.html
Middle School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239155.html
High school - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html
High school - Year 3 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2240215.html
High school - Year 4 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2241302.html
Opening up to a Whole New World - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2242118.html
Intermission #1 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2245139.html
The Boulton and Park Society - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2243005.html
The Birth of Jenn Dolari - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2243105.html
Life with Geri - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2244596.html
False Starts - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2244834.html

The Plan, as it stood now, the winter of 1997:

1) Move out by 1992. Completed 1996 Recompleted 1997
2) Six months of therapy for hormones Self-destructed 1993
3) Two years of living as a woman by 1994 EVENTUALLY!
4) Surgery by 1999 ...soon? Maybe?

The move to Pennsylvania had three major pluses going for it. One - I was now living with my love, Michael, an F2M transsexual. Two - I was now unfettered by my mother in getting on with my now very late transition.

There were two minuses, however. One - after a phone call where I said I was still going through with my transition (and the usual "this ISN'T a phase" argument), I didn't speak with my parents for a very long time. Two - Between Geri's death, my abrupt move, JD's move to a new house with phone number, I lost touch with JD and have never talked to her again. I miss her terribly, so if you happen to know a ravishing redhead from San Antonio who looks a lot like Carrie and used to go by the name JD, tell her Jenn says Hi, and Thanks.

We lived in a small town in rural PA at first, but we quickly moved to the much more liberal climate of Penn State, where I could safely start my transition. I quickly found work thanks to a quirk from when I fist came up to visit: I put in a resume with a local computer company, and they got back to me just a few weeks after the move to Penn State.

And they paid me a lot of money (well, a lot to me at the time) to work for them. Housing? Non-fettered transition time? Job? surgery Money? Only one more thing could make it more awesome...

...one of my coworkers was also trans.

I wasn't out at work, and I still had my old name, so I kept it down, and tried to be friendly with the coworker. She was not receptive, which kind of hurt. Looking back, I understand her reluctance. "New kid is over enthusastic about meeting me and only me? AWKWARD."

Also, some of my quirks understandably annoyed her a bit more than they would annoy anyone else. I'm a very playful person, and while I understand authority and take it seriously, I'm not really not all that dead serious about it. Often when given a suggestion to try, I'd do a quick salute and say "Yes, sir!" No matter what the gender of the person I'm talking to is.

She was a senior tech there, and it only took one suggestion and one salute to make sure that we were probably not going to be friends. A great learning experience blasted by a quick off-the-cuff reply.

I now usually answer suggestions and orders from supervisiors with "You bet." Learned my lesson. Sorry, Bethany, totally my bad.

I spent the next seven months working there, where my hair grew longer and longer, finally. It was still a bit of a rat's nest since I didn't know how to work it, but it wasn't totally horrible. The hair came to the attention of my coworkers, though, who, because of my hair and the fact that I was the only Mexican in the state, began calling me "chief."

I kinda liked that. Even if I was more of a squaw....but I digress.

Things quickly collapsed, though. Just before I was hired, a larger computer company bought us, and began moving our operations to Massachusetts. It wasn't long before a 60 day notice of a layoff happened. I'd saved up quite a bit of cash for my surgery at this point, and because I didn't move to Massachusettes, I was given quite a large bonus to stay on until the last day (my last day at work, we were answering phone calls in a huddle on the floor as our desks and computers were taken away).

Between the savings, the bonus, and a cashed out 401k, I had (after the 401k taxes) about $2000. A good savings towards surgery. If I could find work, I'd be golden.

But, with only a few spotty temp jobs here and there, I could not find a job to save my life, and spent the next two years unemplyed. State college was a great little town, but being so alone and so isolated, and only "thriving" for six month out of the year when Penn State was in session meant jobs were scarce.

My savings quickly extinguished themselves, and we had about a year where we had no idea how we'd make bills some weeks.

But Michael, despite being overworked to cover both of us and his workload, was upbeat. He continued to help me in my quest to be a woman as much as he could, and we were very much in love. We joked that we were straight, but not really, and that as both an M2F and F2M, we were like matter and antimatter. WE COULD DESTROY THE WORLD WITH OUR GENDER POWERS. If we wanted to. Which was often.

For a few short weeks, I took a job, that would foreshadow a growing problem I'd have after my transition: The Fury of a Woman Who Will Teach You Men a Lesson.

I'd started working for the Penn State Women's Study Center doing data entry. It was a three week job of typing in addresses into a Word document and making mail merges. That was all I did - sat in the back and typetypetyped. Didn't talk to anyone, didn't do anything with the students who came in.

But one student didn't like that man being in the Women's study center. I wish I could have told her I wasn't a man, but I was still hiding that part to the professional world. In the end, from dealing with folks like that, it wouldn't have mattered anyways (Becky's line in closetspace of "Being a woman is not a club you can buy your way into" comes from a line someone told me directly). She repeatedly pestered the folks running the center that they should have hired a woman for the job, and even offered herself to get me out of there, and keep the Women's Center for Women.

The faculty was on my side during all this, and I was a temp anyways so I wouldn't be there long, but she kept coming in and pestering and arguing and pushing and crusading. Eventually, they put me in a back room, she stopped coming in, and I finished the project a week early.

That was just a taste of things to come once I finally did transition.

While I was still working for the computer company, I began searching around for a therapist who would help me start my transition. It took a few weeks of referrals, calling around and jumping through hoops, but I found a doctor who specialized in gender issues, and began five years of therapy with her.

These were the most eyeopening amazing therapy sessions ever.

Six months in, I'd qualified for my hormones. Problem was, she didn't dispense them herself. I needed to call around to find an endocrinologist who would...but in rural Pennsylvania, I couldn't find a single one who would treat a TS (even with her papers). We decided that "when it came time for hormones, you'd get them...let's move on to starting up your real life test."

I took a promising job at the beginning of 1999. I would be installing and configuring network cards for cable modems. Tech support - I could do this! I had one day of training before they told me "Um, you can lay cable, can't you?" And suddenly they were wanting to put me in utility baskets 40 feet in the air to check cable rigging.

This wasn't what I's signed up for at all. I also have a fear of heights after a nasty fall when I was younger. so, yeah, not doing that. I walked out the next day, got paid $500 for few days of work, and looked for more jobs.

But wait. $500 is a bit of money. I wonder....

A few calls around, and I found out that a name change in Pennsylvania was only $120.

LET'S DO THIS THING.

The real question was, what name? It's wierd...this was an awesome responsibility. I had the chance to change my name to a female one. This would be the name I would be stuck with for the rest of my life, or until I had another $120. My primary identification.

I knew what I was going to start with: Jennifer. I'd been going by this since high school.
Middle name: Christine. This is going to sound wierd, but while Steph thought I'd look like She Hulk as a woman, I always thought I'd look like Christine McGlade of You Can't Do that on Television.
Last name: ...

Now there was the clinker.

By now, Jenn Dolari had become pretty popular online, and I was already planning on branching out into webcomics (the first "coming soon" for Closetspace was posted in 97). Michael met me as Dolari, and often called me that. It was a part of my identity I'd assumed since I started this whole crazy journey.

But then there was my family's last name of Toppenmiddlebottom (of the Vermont Toppenmiddlebottoms). That was the nameI was born with, and the name of my family. And through all our troubles, they were still my folks, and I still loved them.

What to do, what to do.

A day before I was to put in my request for a name change, my mother called after a long long time of not speaking with her. We had a good talk, and she said that no matter what, I'd be welcome if I called or came back.

I chose Toppenmiddlebottom. Well, I chose the family name. Toppenmiddlebottom is a silly name.

With a $120 in hand, and an application for my new name, Jennifer Christine von Cheesbiscuit (of the New Hampshire von Cheesebiscuits), I ran off to the prothonitory's office for my name change. I walked out with the same name I walked in with, but a pile of paperwork, minus $120.

Turns out changing your name is a a slighly complicated ordeal. And this was before 9/11, and I can only imagine it's gotten worse since. I needed to get fingerprinted, I had to have a tax lien scan run, I had to publish a notice of name change in two different newspapers, and gather proofs that all three were taken and passed. I took some cash, and some poking of the Centre Daily Times to get all pushed through, but six weeks after my original application, I was back in the courthouse, ready for my name change.

I walked out with the same name I walked in with, but this time a date in front of the judge just a week later. Small town justice moves "quickly."

I was cool the day before the name change. Cool as a cucumber. Cool like fonzie. I got this. It'll be AWESOME. woke up the next day in sheer panic. WHAT AM I DOING?! THIS IS FOREVER!! AAUUGGHH!!

I got dressed to the nines in my nicest women's outfit, and I distinctly remember putting a run in my hose from trembling so much. I made the trip to the courthouse, in silence, still trembling.

The county seat sits in a valley surrounded by large rolling mountains. All the roads are super steep, and I had a pickup with a bad emergency brake. I parked next to the courthouse, put the truck in gear, got out, and then had to chase the truck down as the gear popped from the parking angle and proceeded to roll down Main Street. Running in fashionable skimmer shoes? Not fun.

I found a better parking spot, chocked the tires (just in case), and walked right up to the metal detector with my petition. This was it. If I went through, there was no turning back. I was legally changing my name to Jennifer. This was forever. I took a deep breath and walked through the detector without a beep.

I walked into the prothonotory's office with my petition. I walked out with the same name I walked in with. But this time with a room number to go to. I walked through into a giant judicial chamber and took my seat. My hearing was at 10AM, it was 9:50. The judge, from what I could tell since I couldn't hear him over the entirety of my blood rushing through my ears, was negotiating bail for someone in an orange jumpsuit. There was another orange jumpsuited person on the side bench. And me in the back.

If I just remained a small little ball of anxiety back here, maybe no one would see me till I was called. 10:10, and the bailiff escorted me to one of the tables directly before the judges bench.

"This court is now hearing the petition of name change, for..." and then he dropped his glasses and relooked the petition over, then looked at me. "...MaleName Toppenmiddlebottom, to..." and again, looked me over, "Jennifer Christine Toppenmiddlebottom."

I went blanche. I distinctly remember tunnel vision.

"Does the petitioner confirm that the information entered into the record is correct?"

I put on the best female voice I could and said "Yes."

The judges voice boomed loud, "Is there anyone in this court who requests that the petition not be granted?"

No reply.

"The petitioner will approach the bench."

I walked up to the judge, fully expecting him to say "Go away, kid, you're wastin' the courts time." Instead he signed the petition, handed it back to me, "Petition granted." He then gave me the sweetest smile, grin and handshake. Then in the warmest voice I'd heard all morning, "Good luck."

He may be a Republican, but I'll vote for him everytime.

Back into the prothonotory's office, I walked in, got my last signed court orders, and walked out with my new name:

Jennifer Christine Tastykake

Of the Pennsylvania Tastykakes.

(no subject)

I'm $235 overdrawn.

AGAIN.

(no subject)

Argh. One $8 charge caused an NSF charge and then every purchase after that got an NSF charge. Crap.

Growing up Trans - The Real Life Test

Growing up Trans - The Real Life Test

The Real Life Test

With my new name, and a tankful of gas (my first official act as Jennifer Christine McCheetofingers), I came home and bounced off the walls for a few days.

I often say that I transitioned in 1997. Which is true. About 1997 is when I was switching back and forth as I felt comfortable, and I wasn't always comfortable. I remember specifically going to a park my very first time out with Dean in early 97, and being absolutely petrified. Another time I was just fine. I was more often a woman than a man, but I was still flipping back and forth.

I made a decision - after the name change, no more flipping. That next week, despite not having any hormones yet, my therapist and I decided it was time to start the real life test. I needed to spend two years as a woman to qualify for surgery.

The Plan as of 1999:

1) Move out by 1992. Completed 1996. Recompleted 1997.
2) Six months of therapy for hormones by 1993. Self-destructed 1993 completed 1998.
2a) Actually start hormones...eventually.
3) Two years of living as a woman started by 1994. in 1999.
4) Surgery in 1999. 2001.

Everything I'd learned from Steph, Amy, Angie, JD and even Michael boiled down to something half the population does everyday: Be a woman. All day, every day, no ifs ands or buts.

At first it was easy - I just stayed home and looked for work. Michael had been doing really well at his job, and I often spent time there, before my test, helping out. Michael had gotten a better offer at a different printing place. His position was vacant. I'd been helping him so much, that they already knew me there, knew I could do the work. But they knew that Boy-Jenn could do the work. One or two knew about Girl-Jenn.

So I mailed in a resume with my new name, and crossed my fingers.

AND I GOT THE JOB!

...with one caveat.

The management at the store had talked it over. They knew I could do the work, as I'd been helping out for some time. But they weren't sure about this whole transgender thing, now that they knew Jenn was short for Jennifer.

I could have the job, and I could be a woman, but during the probation period, they wanted me working as a male. I could keep my long hair, as long as it was nicely androgynously styled. But the first 90 days, I had to be male.

From what I heard later, they were desperately afraid that I'd sue if I was let go during the probationary period and a woman.

I'm a very compromising and understanding person, probably. I needed work, I needed to rebuild my surgery money, and I talked it over with my therapist. She was okay with it - but did say we'd reset that two year timer from the day they allowed me to work as a woman. I was okay with that - it wasn't like I was planning to change in stops and starts.

So, for 90 days, I toiled away, making brochures, resumes and business cards, waiting and waiting and waiting. On the weekend before my 90 days, I decided I needed to really make a commitment (if I hadn't already) to this real life test. Something that would leave a mark, something I'd never done before, and something educational.

So I went to a hair salon.

My mother had cut my hair all the way up to when I was 22. She kept it very close cropped in my earlier years, and let it grouw up in highschool (but still very close cropped). Once I moved out, I let my hair grow. But it was a fuzze ratty matted nest that would turn into a massive puffball when brushed out.

Working with hair is a feat of engineering marvels. So I went to the one place that seemed to fit that bill: The Hair Construction Company.

It was hard to get to, but with access to a parking lot in case I freaked and needed to flee. When I walked in, they asked me what kind of haircut I wanted. I told the stylist, bluntly, I don't know. I've never done this before. she started pointing out male styles, before I said, "it's a woman's cut I want. I'm going to be a woman tomorrow, and I'd like something nice."

She kind of looked at me funny. "And can you teach me how to keep it nice?" And then she smiled, and started looking at my hair. "It's a mess. But I have an idea."

She earned her gigantic tip that day. Turns out I have absolutely gorgeous hair when I'm told how to work with it. The natural curlyness that caused it to 'fro when it was short, or mat when it got long, would make natural ringlets when combed out correctly. She cut and sliced and trimmed, all the way telling me how to keep this going. "You'll need a single bristled brush, and a comb...after you wash your hair, keep it wet and use the brush until the hair is completely straight. Use the comb to part your bangs out, then run this mousse through your hair. Once it's all in, toss your hair with your fingers and let it air dry." She finished up, dusted me off, and I she finally let me look into the mirror.

I was ADORABLE.

...for that evening.

One lesson in highway engineering does not an engineer make.

I woke up early for my first day of work as Girl-Jenn. I got up, and spent about an hour trying desperately to get my hair to look okay, again. I got the back part. I didn't get the bangs at all, and I ended up looking like I was wearing a flauta on my forehead all day. I had to pick up a coworker, so I didn't have time to keep messing with it, and slathered on some basic makeup.

Everyone at work was polite, and complimented me...but the costumers were a bit more frank. I looked a mess. But it was a start, and with more practice, I got better at looking nice. But I never got the hang of those curled forehead bangs - I wore a flauta on my head for a LONG time, until another hairdresser had different ideas for me, and my sausage roll forehead became a trailing bang that really looked kinda sexy in a Veronica Lake kind of look.

In the end, management told me having me come to work male was a mistake. It led to a lot of confusion with the customers, and even a few complaints. After a few weeks, everything died down, and I was a happy productive woman of society.

Unfortunately, both Michael and I weren't getting paid very well, and we were at the top of our games in State College. My surgery nest-egg was small, and not getting mcuh larger at all. After much soul searching, we decided that a move to Austin, where our fortunes would bring in more fortune, was in store.

After talking with my therapist, she said that as long as I was keeping up my with my test (and pay her back owed payments), she would sign my surgery papers.

I applied for an in-company transfer to a branch in Austin, and that summer, a very different person returned to her home.

Growing Up Trans Chapters:
Preschool - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238402.html
Elementary School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238626.html
The Nightmare of Fifth Grade (NSFW, and a bit TMI) - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238939.html
Middle School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239155.html
High school - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html
High school - Year 3 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2240215.html
High school - Year 4 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2241302.html
Opening up to a Whole New World - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2242118.html
Intermission #1 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2245139.html
The Boulton and Park Society - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2243005.html
The Birth of Jenn Dolari - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2243105.html
Life with Geri - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2244596.html
False Starts - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2244834.html
New Name, New Home - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2245871.html

(no subject)

Growing Up Trans - First Impressions:

So, my first impression of life as a woman? "HOLY CRAP THAT'S A LOT OF WORK."

Growing Up Trans Chapters:
Preschool - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238402.html
Elementary School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238626.html
The Nightmare of Fifth Grade (NSFW, and a bit TMI) - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238939.html
Middle School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239155.html
High school - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html
High school - Year 3 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2240215.html
High school - Year 4 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2241302.html
Opening up to a Whole New World - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2242118.html
Intermission #1 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2245139.html
The Boulton and Park Society - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2243005.html
The Birth of Jenn Dolari - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2243105.html
Life with Geri - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2244596.html
False Starts - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2244834.html
New Name, New Home - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2245871.html
The Real Life Test - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2246452.html

(no subject)

Protip - Should misplace your boobs, try this tip:
1) Put on dry shirt.
2) Walk in rain for 1 minute.
3) Boobs are under the damp spots.

THE MORE YOU KNOW!

(no subject)

Did I mention I think the antidepressants are working? ::type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type-type::

(no subject)

Wow - LOTS of people reading the Growing up Trans. Would love to know who's reading.