About Me!

Talking about ourselves is not something that a lot of us do well; especially transgendered people. It is said that we know things about keeping secrets that the FBI, the CIA and the NSB will not know for another 50 to 150 years!

But, one cannot hide forever. Nor should one try to. Hiding is so bad for a person, and causing harm to anyone, including oneself, is the worst thing that a person can do.

Remember, though; a set of dry statistics never can tell the whole story about a person. Or, as the old saying has it: "you never get to know a person until you live with them for awhile."

Born: June 21, 1962

Age: 36 years old

Place of Birth: Fort Ord, California

I don't know what else to put there that would be of any interest to anyone.

I have been a quiet, shy person all of my life. It seems like I took a lot of abuse when I was in school; though I doubt that it was more than anyone else did. The normal things, being called names and general fun being made of me. It was enough to make me shy, and more introverted.

When I started Kindergarten, I saw this girl wearing a really pretty dress to school one day. I couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to be dressed like that. About that same time, someone my mother brought it to my attention that people only used about 3% of their brains. Naturally, being five years old, I wanted to know what the rest of it did. Those two events have so defined the rest of my life, that I cannot imagine what I would be like without them.

The feeling of wearing girl's clothes was one that I found out about a couple of years later. I got hold of one of my Mother's dresses, and tried it on. It wasn't anything special, or especially pretty, but I had done it! I loved it, though I don't care to think about what I must have looked like. I went and showed my Mother; bad idea! She freaked, told me what people who did that were called (I have not managed to remember that particular epithet). Another scar to cause me to be shy and quiet. People should really think about what they do to children with their words, and actions. I was seven years old when this happened.

I went on through school uneventfully for the next three years. Then one day, I was called home from the fourth grade. My Mother gathered my Sister and I into her arms, and told us that Dad was not going to be coming home ever again. He had been killed in a car accident. Later, I found out that someone had been driving for 24 hours, and drinking beer. This fellow went to sleep at the wheel, crossed the center divider and ran head-on into my Father's Volkswagen bug. It was foggy that morning; my Father never knew what hit him. I was ten years old.

My Grandfather drove from his new home in Missouri to Soledad California in 36 hours. He knew that my Mother would have no idea what to do without my Father. We had to move to Missouri to be with him. My Mother never really did recover from my Father's death. She had her Mother come home with us all one night to sleep over. The next morning we found her in bed, dead, with a shotgun. That is, I found her; I cannot forget the look frozen on her face. I was 12 years old.

My Sister and I went to live with my Grandparents. I never learned anything about the opposite sex from them; I think that they forgot. I remember hearing one of them say that "he is too old to teach anything." At 12 years old, I was too old for them to teach anything! My Sister was four years younger; I have to say that I think that my Grandparents were better at raising female children than male. At least, I used to think that; on reconsideration, I have to feel that it was wrong to leave my Mother without the knowledge that she needed to survive without a husband. It may have made all the difference in my life as well.

When I was fourteen years old, I got a ten-speed bicycle for Christmas. That was all that I needed; I started riding it to town, six miles away. I rode everywhere; fishing, swimming, being with friends. I even rode it to school for a long time. Because of all that rigorous exercise, I came to be the best runner in my class.

After I finished High School, I went to college in the nearby "big city" of Springfield Missouri. That's what we thought it was, back then. The town I lived nearest to had a population of less than 500 people. I left home and struck out on my own. I ended up only going for a semester. I ran out of money, and found that I did not have what it took for college, at the time. So I went into the Air Force.

To make things quicker, I'll list where I was stationed and for how long, and what I did there.

After Basic Training and Tech School, was at Bitburg, Germany for two years. I worked on the flightline, putting missiles on F-15 aircraft.

Then I was stationed on Okinawa for a year and a half. There, I worked in an Armament Shop, repairing the F-15 launchers that I used to put missiles on.

The next assignment was at Minot, North Dakota ("why not, Minot? Freezin's the reason.") It got down to 110 degrees F the winter before I got there. It did not get that cold while I was there, though, thank the gods! There, I put missiles on F-15's like I did in Germany. I shocked everyone by not getting frostbite there during the year that I spent there.

Then, I was sent to Korea for a year, there to work on the A-10 aircraft.

My last assignment was in the Philippines for two years, on the flightline again, with F-4's. The job was a bummer, but the place was great.

I discovered Tri-ess while I was in Okinawa. That is when I realized that I was not alone, and that the crossdressing feelings were rather common. It was then that I began to do some soul-searching, asking myself if I wanted to be a woman. I had known that I was always different from everyone else, but the answers I gave myself were no, I did not.

Even while I still held those conclusions, that changed. During that last year in the service, I started planning how I was going to return to the states, and live as a woman. Somehow, it did not happen. I did get a little electrolysis, but that is all. Then I got into the job world. The different jobs were:

Tire and hot-rod parts salesman.

Auto Mechanic.

And finally, a mixer of Automotive paints, which I am still doing today.

Today, my gender-related feelings are getting much stronger. Once, I went to Oklahoma City with a friend and spent the weekend dressed as a woman. It was wonderful! When I returned to home, and went back to work, something inside me was grief-stricken. I had crying jags for no apparent reason. That was when I decided that I needed to start seeing the therapist. That is one of the best choices that I ever made. With her help, I have re-examined my entire life; I wrote a whole megabyte of files describing my feelings on a day-by-day basis. I don't know what she thought of all that paper work. After all, I had written her a book!

The conclusion? Is it possible that I really am a woman? I cannot really be a man, I am not like them at all. They play rough, and treat women in a way that I have never understood. In truth, I find male behavior far more confusing than female. Does this mean that I must have sex-change surgery? I don't know.

It is said that a person's gender is a spectrum, and there is no such thing as black and white. I see it as part of a person's flexibility, a necessary part of a person's HEALTH to be able to express both genders when the feelings come to them. That is my own belief in the matter; it cannot be made to work for everyone. There is no one path that can work for ALL people, because we are all not alike. This I have learned, first hand.

Aircraft Pictures Graciously Supplied by MzCyberprincess through ICQ!