Long ago and far away, there was a girl named Julie Anne. She felt like she was an outsider for so long, that people didn’t truly understand her (Whether or not it was because she was afraid to show as much of herself to people around her, even to her closest friends and family.), so she chose to go through life, letting people think she was aloof or anti-social. For a while, she thought she was okay with that, but was just another lie.
So, she went through the motions of a daily life, and a normal job, and hobbies to give her a sense of purpose, wandering from place to place, looking for somewhere where she wouldn’t feel like an outcast.
In her dreams, she’s pouring out her heart, and confessing her feelings to someone, truly wishing “…I could find a place where I feel I’m at home.”
And then, in that dream, the person she’s talking to looks her in the eyes, and says, with all the sincerity in the world, “Julie…. You are home.”
… And then Julie Anne cried such deep, cleaning tears of happiness….
Someday, somewhere, somehow – That dream will become a reality, no matter how long it takes, or how hard the road may be.)
Or, better yet, how about the real story?
First off, I was biologically born male, and still present myself to the world at large as my birth gender. I am a crossdresser, and have been doing so for about 25 years – More or less since the beginning of high school. My family, and quite a few of my friends do not know about this. (I have told a few of my closest friends, as well as some of my friends on Flickr.)
Who is Julie Anne? The simple answer is… She is me. Even when I’m in boy-mode, she is always a part of me, guiding me through my day-to-day life, carrying me through rough times, but always just hiding away in the back of my mind, waiting for her chance to come out.
She has been a part of me for over a quarter of a century, but it was just within the last few years she’s come together, and it was around late last 2009 when she finally had a name.
I started crossdressing back about the time I started high school and puberty, in no particular order. When I started out, I was careless enough to be caught by my mother a few times. She did not approve of this, in part due to her upbringing. She asked me shortly after the first few times whether or not I’d be happy as a girl instead of a boy. Because I was afraid of losing her love, I lied to her and said I would be happy as a boy. I’m coming to terms with the fact now that I regret that decision.
She doesn’t know that I still crossdress, and I’m nowhere near ready to tell her. I’ve slipped up a couple of times, but it hasn’t been mentioned. I don’t know if she still suspects anything. If a quarter-century has taught me anything, it’s how to better “pick up after myself,” in order to avoid any further embarrassment.
At this time in my life, I do not wish to undergo sexual reassignment surgery. I am well past the age where hormone treatments would significantly affect me, plus I have quite a few health problems that would probably make it very risky for me, not to mention the fact that I have friends, a family, and a job to eventually come out to. For now, there are advantages to being a “non-op”, or “part-time” girl, but that could very well change as time goes on…
Still, the urges and desire are still there. For a very long time, I thought they were something to be ashamed of. However, over the last 15 years since I’ve been “officially” on the internet, through countless nights of surfing through various online resources, seeing other LiveJournals, a considerably broad spectrum of “tgirls/tgurls” on Flickr, and other resources on the web, I’ve come to realize that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, that it’s just a part of the spectrum of gender. I’ve come to realize, also, that I’m not alone.
I do remember a brief moment from my childhood, specifically one of the times my friends and I would play in the garage, usually finding what was stashed along the walls, or stuck away in bags and suitcases. I seem to remember one evening, for some reason, I was wearing a dress over my regular clothes. I remember Mom noticing, and mentioned that I was “eccentric”, and I made up a little song.
(Later in my life, after age 14, and of course, around a few of the times I got caught, my younger sister (Who I seem to resemble after I’m dressed up, sporting my wig and fully made-up ^_^;) used to give me grief about it, remembering me singing the “I’m A Funny Guy” song from The Electric Company public TV show.)
Going forward, curiosity got the better of me somewhere around end of junior high and the beginning of high school, and I did what most boys in my situation would do – I rummaged through my mother’s underwear. I started out wearing some of the smaller, stretchier undergarments. I had a favorite bra and panty pair, and I remember being somewhat upset after a year or two when puberty kicked in and I grew and developed, reaching my current height (5’9″ – “Supermodel height” ^_^;) somewhere near the end of high school. I think I was more or less saddened that I couldn’t fit in some of the smaller items.
Of course, disappointment number two was the realization that my body was developing along the lines of the DNA encoding from my father. Mom had quite a varied selection of shoes and boots, which piqued my interest, but sadly, couldn’t wear. (She’s a size 7, though she can’t really wear heels anymore. I’m somewhere around a size 11-12 womens’ shoe size, depending on the brand and style. It’s a bit difficult, but not impossible to find decent footwear in my size. ^_^;)
I do have hope, however, that there is still a door open to me. On my boy-mode Flickr, there is a picture of me around the beginning of senior year. I am going to work hard to get down to my weight around then. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, but I will try to stay motivated, and I’m not saying that because of the beginning of the year. I’ve been faithfully attending Weight Watchers for the last two years, though I can always stand refocusing and making a stronger effort to count and track what I eat, and of course, get back into a regular exercise routine.
Another part of the story – Just over a decade ago, I slowly began collecting my own wardrobe, and am still at it. I have not purged, and have absolutely no intention of doing so. The only changes I’ll be making are when I finally drop down out of the plus size range and into more conventional sizes. I’m still working on gaining the confidence to make purchases as needed, and not fall prone to panic.
Why do I do this? When exactly were the seeds planted? Sometimes I feel it’s a desire that maybe I should have been born a girl. Maybe it’s a feeling that I’ve failed at what was expected of me as a man. In any case, I’m doing what I can, given the hand that was dealt me. I’m trying to find my place, and find my voice, and find what is comfortable for me at this time and point in my life.
This side of me continues to this day, though I’m still effectively in the closet. It wasn’t even until the last couple years that this other side of me finally had a name — Julie Anne. (The name my parents chose for me if I had been born a girl, so I felt I had the right to claim the name.)
To prospective employers who happened to find this site: You won’t find any dirt on me here. I’m laying all my cards out on the table. Who I am outside of work should have no bearing on how well I can do the job. I am fully aware that gender discrimination, at least in the state of California, is illegal. If I’m capable of doing my job to the best of my abilities and experience, does it really matter who I am on the inside or outside? Think about it.
To anyone who even thinks about using this site as an example of making yourself feel better at the expense of ridiculing people like me — Seriously, go away, go find something constructive to do, go play in traffic, even. Your irrational hatred and lack of understanding will only serve to focus me on achieving my dreams of achieving the life I was born to live. Since you obviously don’t give a damn about me, the feeling’s most likely mutual. Have a nice day, go back to 4chan, ok?