Coming Out is a Hard Thing to Do!

Hey ladies and gents, and any variations thereof!

It's been a long, long time since I've posted, but I hope to make amends for that. As I'm sure most of you know, earlier this month was Coming Out Day, which applies to all of us in the wide LBGT spectrum. For many, this year was more significant because of marriage legalization.

Several months ago, I sent a letter to my parents. I spilled my soul onto paper for over a week; writing and rewriting until I could no longer move my fingers. I would have to stop from time to time because tears would soak the notebook I was writing in to the point of smudging the pen ink. When I finally sent the letter, I waited for days to get a response. Days turned into weeks and then into months before I heard anything about it from either of them. I still spoke to them on the phone a few times a month, but not once did they acknowledge my letter.

 The thing nobody ever mentions about "coming out" is that it is never a singular event. Telling my parents the truth about my life was by and large the most difficult, terrifying thing I have ever done in my life. The first time I was open about my innermost desires was nearly 5 years ago. I made the decision to dress up for Halloween that year and I put together an impromptu school girl outfit- Britney Spears-esque you could say. My room mate and I met with some other friends and went to a big bar party. One friend in particular was positively ecstatic and she helped me with makeup and offered to let me borrow her shoes, which were sadly too small. She gave me the moniker Marcy that night, and it has stuck with me ever since. About a month later, I told her that I really enjoyed dressing up on Halloween and that I kinda wanted to do it more often. She took me shopping and helped me do my hair and that was my first experience coming out.

I came out to my best friends shortly afterward, and they were both really awesome and understanding. One of them was said room mate and he had stumbled upon my footlocker full of dresses and stuff months before so he already knew. The other, who is also my brother-in-law, gave me gel pads for my high heels for Christmas. I came out to my female coworkers one morning when they were speculating on if boobs increased tips. I came out to several former classmates, teachers, my siblings, and then finally, my parents.

Be prepared for questions, I got many of them. Some are innocuous and some are entirely inappropriate. Don't be shocked and don't be offended by what they ask you. I have been asked if I was gay so many times that I questioned it myself for a while. I have been asked about surgery and hormones and everything else even remotely related. The reason I say that you shouldn't be offended is that most of it comes from ignorance and genuine curiosity. There will also be the outright rude and cruel people, but I have been extremely lucky in that regard and have not met many.

When marriage legalization came about, my Facebook feed was inundated with bold proclamations from both sides of the fence. Some of the people in my family posted and shared hateful videos and memes in opposition of the Supreme Court's decision. I felt hurt by some of the things, not just for myself, but for my lesbian aunts who have been together longer than my mom has been alive, and my uncle, who died when I was a toddler. I wrote a long post on Facebook about how I myself belonged to the LGBT community and why attacks on people you think are strangers often impact people you care about too.

Someone logged into my profile some time later and deleted the entire post. I'll discuss that more in anther post.

 Being transgender has been a mostly uphill journey, but I regret none of it. I met my true bestest friend and love of my life because I was open about myself. Through her, I got the big family and children I always wanted. I have forged many great friendships, both local and abroad. Most importantly, I finally am beginning to feel like myself- a feat I didn't know was possible. Every struggle makes the good and happy moments sweeter.

I am blessed to be me because of the people I have chosen to love.

Secure Your Boobs!!!

Many times, girls have told me that they are envious of my removable boobs. If mine get too hot, or start making my back sore from their weight (which has totally happened) I can just pop them out and be on my way. Also, my boobs are always exactly as big as I wish, and always symmetrical. I've done boob size comparisons with coworkers (over the shirt of course, this was work, after all) and beat all the girls in the store because I chose to have a large set of knockers that day. I never go out in comically large boobs because they look ludicrous on my frame. The biggest I tend to go is the C-cup. but I usually stick to the B range since it looks the most natural on me.

So far I've made having fakies sound pretty great, right? Well, it really is more of a double edged sword.

I've had my boobs tumble out of my bra and down the front of my shirt. Luckily, my shirt was tucked in so they made it look like I had a lumpy gut. No one was there for that one, much to my relief. During our honeymoon, a pair of my sticky boobs got so hot in the car that they fused together permanently. Another were constantly carried off by our cat, who liked to chew and claw the hell out of them. Eventually, they were completely unusable and caused my skin to break out since I am allergic to cats and they were covered in his saliva. Oh yeah, and there's also the dreaded uni-boob, where your two fakes sink to the center of your top and you end up with a single, football shaped boob in the center of your chest.

Perhaps my worst experience with meandering breasts was last year when I went swimming with the wife and kids. Yes, I go swimming in girl mode quite often. I wore a purple tankini that did a great job keeping my inserts in place. We were having a great time in the water on that hot summer day. Then I got a bit too brazen and started diving and flipping into the pool. After about the tenth time I had done this, I came up feeling a little flat in the chest. My boobs were gone!

I spotted one almost immediately and snatched it, but I couldn't spot the other one. Noticing the concern on my face, my wife swam over and asked me what was wrong. I informed her of my situation and we began scouring the pool. The boob was clear, and its buoyancy made it float, not quite on the surface but instead a few inches below it.  We enlisted the kids and even some kids who weren't ours (this was a public pool) in the hunt. Half an hour later, and there was still no sign of my prodigal breast. When we were about to give up hope, one of the boys took one last look in the pool filter. Lo and behold, there it was! I was so relieved to find it, and he was rewarded for his efforts with a candy bar.

The moral of the story is: always make sure your boobs are safely secured before any major physical exertion or you may end up with a very embarrassing situation on your hands.

If you have a ridiculous boob story you would like to share, please feel free to post it here in the comments!

Hi, I'm a Genderfluid Lesbian!

So my name is Marcy Annabelle Carrian and I'm a gender fluid lesbian. When I say lesbian, what I really mean is that no matter what I look like, my preference is always women. You can ask my wife if you don't believe me. I've been dual gendered since, well, I guess when I was born. People have been mistaking me for a girl longer than I can remember. I hated that fact because as much as I had wanted to fulfill my more feminine needs, I was endlessly mocked for being soft. It's hard to embrace something perpetually used as a weapon against you. If they treated me so poorly as a boy, what would they do if I tried to embrace my other half? The possibilities scared me into suppressing Marcy as deeply as possible.

College was the first time I got the opportunity to dip my toes into the deep, ever moving sea that is gender identity. I started as many with my particular hobby do- by swiping a pair of panties left in the dryer at the laundromat. Soon came the pantyhose and a skirt, followed by a dress and shoes. I had bras and panties I legitimately purchased. I spent many nights literally in the closet, wearing my pretty crap and praying to God that my room mate wouldn't randomly barge in looking for something as he often did. My closet was the only place I felt safe, which I wouldn't realize the humor of until I started writing this.  (Side note: "In the closet" is typically a euphemism for homosexuality, and though I'm not gay, it seems like an appropriate usage insofar as I felt the need to keep my girl side deeply hidden.)

 I fall into a special category in the trans umbrella insofar as I never felt that I was born in the wrong body. Or at least not all the time, but I'm pretty sure every guy has wanted his own set of boobs at one point or another. I've never resented my genitalia, nor do I ever plan to take hormones or make surgical changes to my body.

After a couple of years, sitting in my room late at night was no longer satisfactory and I started dressing in the middle of the day. I then started talking to other girls from all over the globe who were in similar situations. Many of whom were too afraid to step out into the bright and shiny world, just like I was until recently. Because of them, I learned to embrace my girly nature and experiment with makeup and nail polish.  I even began to go shopping from time to time in girl mode and came out to my local friends, who were nothing but kind, albeit curious.

A year later, I met the love of my life who met me as Marcy before she knew my boy side. We are now married and I spend more time en femme than I do as a dude. Before I knew it, going out as a girl became as natural as breathing. I couldn't have done it without the love and support of all my friends and family. I started this blog to help inspire other girls (and dudes) to have the confidence to embrace themselves for who they are and step into that bright and shiny sun.

Though I will warn you, shit gets crazy sometimes...