Hey girls, I?m here today with a special summer edition of my column prepared especially for URNotalone. I?m a psychiatrist and a crossdresser, happy to discuss the many issues that come up in our colorful transgendered lives. Please send ideas for future topics to Alice.Novic@verizon.net, and for more on me, see my smart, sexy memoir, Alice in Genderland.
Dear Alice,
I?ve read your book and figured you?d be the perfect person to ask for a fresh, new idea about where to go when I?m dressed up. Do you go anywhere fun with your wife? How about with your boyfriend?
Dressed Up in Detroit
Dear Dressed Up,
Though I?m still blessed to be a happily married father of two in an open relationship, neither Melissa nor Frank jump at the chance to be out with me in public. So instead, last summer I teamed up with my TS friend Linda and learned to whistle a new tune: ?Take Me Out to the Ball Game.?
When Linda first suggested a trip to Dodger Stadium, I thought she must be out of her mind. I imagined we?d be a pair of six-foot lightning rods, getting read right and left, stared at, taunted, and perhaps even?god forbid?beat up. But my pal assured me, ?I?ve already seen plenty of games in a pigtails; nothing will happen.?
Am I suggesting you t-ladies try this in your own hometown? Yes, I am, but I must admit to a few advantages that Linda and I had up front. First of all, though Linda still works as a man, she has breast implants and has to wear a tight jog bra under her shirt and tie. She also?ooh, I just hate her sometimes?has her own lovely head of blonde hair. Secondly, I am admittedly a little more than your average crossdresser. I?ve been on a light dose of estrogen for years, have little hair left on my face, and have had tasteful touch-ups to my nose and brow.
Though happy for every little edge, I knew none would guarantee my safe passage,
So, I set out to do what every insecure genetic does: look yawningly appropriate and absolutely indistinguishable from any other girl at the game. In a crinkly silk blouse, jeans, and Keds, I jumped into Linda?s convertible, and we sped off to Chavez Ravine.
With time to spare before the first pitch, we hustled over to the main gift shop. There, I discovered all kinds of sweet, cute bleacher ware. The Dodgers, like all the major-league teams, offer pink, white, and powder-blue versions of their shirts and caps, which I eagerly snapped up, along with?can you believe it?a Dodger scrunchie. We stood in line for hot dogs and light beers, applied condiments, and, juggling our trays and shopping bags, found our way to our seats.
Although Linda was convinced we were passing, I noticed how about one in ten people would look at us too long, and I would feel my shoulders hunching up, like the backswept ears of a nervous horse. ?Okay, that was a read, ? I?d tell myself, while easing my shoulders back and smiling, ?But, damn it, let?s make it a good read.? I also noticed that if I put horse blinders on and stopped looking over my shoulder, I could stay oblivious to most of the double-takes. Besides, everyone was super-polite. The Dodger-dog lady had ma?amed both of us and been extra-kindly, like she might have been to two obvious foreigners. And, thank god, no one had seemed to give a darn about us quietly helping ourselves to stalls in the ladies? room.
At our seats, the men, women, and even a couple of children around us were neighborly, though none of the guys were the least bit flirty?further evidence we weren?t fooling anybody. I guess if there were any tranny chasers in our section, they weren?t about to approach us and put their desires on display for their friends. So, by the seventh-inning stretch, the score was no hassles, no hits, and one error. The Latin guy behind me got so excited by a home run that he splashed some of his beer on my back. His embarrassed wife apologized for him immediately and made him mop me up with napkins.
Of course, most of the time, Linda and I simply sat back and watched the ballgame, something I?d be delighted to do after long, hard week whether I was wearing men?s or women?s jeans. And to top it off, Linda used to be a pitcher in high school. So I was finally able to learn the difference between a slider and a sinker, a good thing with my precocious six-year old entering little league and likely to ask me that question any day.
We sauntered out of the stadium in the top of the ninth and, perceiving the dark parking lot to be a bit of a danger zone, proceeded swiftly to our car, as any women might. After such a fun first and five more times like it last summer, I remarked, ?I can?t believe how easy it?s been to go to baseball games.?
?Being accepted by the general public?s no big deal,? my single pal explained with a rueful smile. ?Try winning the acceptance of your coworkers, clients, family, and partner.?
Those are challenges I?m not planning to face anytime soon?if at all. But in the meantime, I?m looking forward to having a lot more fun in public, and I?d encourage each of you to try it to. You?ll be pleasantly surprised.
Alice Novic, M.D.
(Alice in Genderland: A Crossdresser Comes of Age is available at iUniverse.com, Amazon.com, and other fine online bookstores.)