Once a month, I go out. On a day in the week that I won’t be working. A day just for me. Me time. I need that day. It’s therapy. Therapy for my dysphoria.
Last Wednesday was such a day, and I was lucky, because the weather was very nice. My outfit: a striped women’s shirt, a mid-length green A-line skirt, and white sneakers. For fun I also wore a necklace and earrings. The first appointment was at the hospital, for a voice examination. After all, I want to work on my voice. If I look like a woman, I also want to sound like a woman. For myself, but also when I’m in conversation with others. I don’t want to give it away.
I noticed myself that I was more at ease that day. The mouth mask we all have to wear probably helped. Often we condemn it, but now it was convenient for me. I didn’t feel watched, I was enjoying my outing, very consciously. I knew I was savoring it. I realized that I had made progress compared to the first time. I felt like a woman in the world. Katrien, the speech therapist, was her cheerful self again, and couldn’t imagine what I would look like as a non-woman. The doctor who would check my vocal cords asked for “Mrs. Loverix” in the waiting room. Gender euphoria.
Then I went to a domain with a nature reserve nearby. Just by myself. With no specific purpose. I had brought some sandwiches and a book. At first I felt some anxiety again. Nobody wore a mouth mask, so I didn’t either, and there were many families with children. For the first few minutes, I again had the feeling that everyone was watching me. Fortunately, that feeling faded. I walked a bit. I sat down on a bench to eat or read. Then I walked again. Enjoying the idleness. I met two older gentlemen and they asked me whether the road I came from was a dead end or not. Tension. I had to speak. In my I-do-my-best voice, I told them where they would end up. “Thank you, ma’am.” Gender euphoria.
After the walk, I hesitated. Would I do it? Would I go to town? The town where I come so often (in boy-mode)? The town where I often run into people I know? What would I do there? Go to a museum? No, another hassle, because one had to register in advance. But I went, just to walk around again. With no purpose. Or, maybe, with this purpose: to consciously enjoy being in the world as a woman. Looking at the feminine shadow on the sidewalk. And at the reflection of a woman in the windows. Feeling my skirt caressing my legs. Walking nice and straight. Elbows against the body. Looking at the clothes behind the display windows. Occasionally I would step into a store. Again, a little exciting, because to enter the store I had to register. “Can you write down your name and phone number here, ma’am?” Gender euphoria.
I wrote down “Louise Loverix,” and my number. “Enjoy your shopping, ma’am.” “Thank you,” it sounded in my sweetest voice. I didn’t buy anything. I just enjoyed being “ma’am”-ed. So I went into a few more stores. Maybe to buy something, but only if I was 100% convinced. In the end, I didn’t buy anything. More clothes will not make me happy. Being “ma’am”-ed does.
2 thoughts on “One fine day”
Lovely write up Louise! I recognize your sentiments about the profound necessity of being able to be yourself so very well. I see my regular outings as a form of maintenance too and a bare necessity to keep myself sane. It’s so good to see that you also seem to have found your way to this side of yourself and can embrace it with all the love and attention that it deserves. Proud of you sis! 😊🙏🏻
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Thanks, Sophie, for these encouraging words.