Raising eyebrows

For some time now I've been engaged in a rather odd bit of behavior that I really don't understand: being bound and determined to keep my situation a secret at work, at least until I have another job lined up, yet at the same time intentionally 'outing' myself in numerous small ways.

My job is just okay. It's in my field, but not a particularly creative or lucrative part of it. It doesn't pay well at all, and the pressure is pretty high at times.

Nonetheless, I need to keep this job. It took me forever to get it, and I have a great fear of being jobless again without any savings to fall back on. The one positive is that I have decent insurance, and with a few ongoing medical problems, keeping my insurance is just as important as keeping the job itself.

It's a small company, perhaps 12 employees, and is owned and run by two brothers. All decisions of hiring and firing are theirs, and they aren't exactly liberal in their outlook. Even if they were, there's another complicating factor: while we don't deal with the general public, I occasionally (once or twice a month) meet big clients, discussing their projects or demonstrating what we can do for them. If I were my employer, I would have reservations about placing a transitioning TS in that position. If one client takes offense, a lot of money goes away.

I don't know how they will react when the time comes, but I can't take any chances. Until I can line up a better position, one in which I can be myself, I need to do everything possible to hold on to this one. And yet...

I find myself doing things that make no sense at all. I haven't cut my hair in over a year, and it's starting to get close to my shoulders. Last summer I got my ears pierced; okay that's no big deal, lots of guys have pierced ears. And I had to do it eventually (have you tried to find decent clip-on earrings?), so that's excusable. Around the same time, though, my big multi-dial watch with the metal bracelet disappeared, replaced by a simple Timex ladies' watch on a leather band; it looks like something a nurse would wear. I also began wearing a silver puzzle ring, and a St. Christopher medal (well, everyone thinks it's a St. Christopher; if you look really closely, you can see that it's actually a souvenir of the Alamo).

I then managed to lose 40 pounds; not a problem in itself, but it does mean buying new clothes. Well, I simply could not bring myself to buy men's clothes. It felt like flushing money down the toilet. Solution: women's slacks & jeans & tops that look enough like men's styles that I can get away with it ...more or less. And shoes; I found a pair of black women's Dansneakers that I can live with, and a nice pair of flat loafers.

Now along comes the biggie: hormones. When I started in December, I expected that it would be a full year before I would change enough for it to be noticeable. Unfortunately (not really!), my body was unaware of my schedule, and now 4 months later I am a full A-cup, pushing B. My waist has narrowed, my hips and rear are developing, and my shape is noticeably more feminine. I've gotten away with it thus far by always wearing 2 tops, a tee of some sort under a bulky loose-fitting shirt. This is not going to be a reasonable solution when summer arrives in earnest, with 90 degree temperatures and 90 percent humidity!

Oh, I didn't mention my nails... acrylics, each extending a good 1/4 inch beyond the fingertip. I paint them each Friday when I get home from work, and remove the polish every Sunday night. These have definitely gotten a few odd looks from co-workers.

The one thing that's really not an issue is the laser hair removal; I guess no one really notices the lack of a 5 o'clock shadow on a guy, although they certainly notice its presence on a girl.

So here I am, going to my job where it's really important that I pass as a guy, and I've got breasts, no beard, and long nails, and I'm wearing women's clothing. Am I nuts? Am I trying to get 'caught'? Is some part of me trying to bring on a confrontation, to force me to come out now so I don't have to pretend any more?

I don't know. I jokingly tell my friends, "Well, I just figure that if I come out slowly enough, maybe no one will notice!" All I know for sure is that I'm incapable of going backwards; every tiny little step is symbolic of making progress in my transition. And when you feel that you're trapped in an untenable situation, every little victory is important.

It keeps you sane.