Some Women Love Us, Some Don't

TransGriot Note:  This is a guest post from author Pamela Hayes.  It comes from her undisclosed location somewhere in the USA    

Pam is one of those transwomen that are happily married, gainfully employed transsistahs like her who are living their lives and you don't or won't know about her trans status because it's NOYB.

I hope to have her here at TransGriot on a regular basis


And without further delay, here's Pamela!

Some Women Love Us, Some Don't 
by Pamela Hayes


This afternoon, my cousin Judy dropped by for lunch. Judy is a few years older than I am. But she doesn’t look her age. I have always found her to be fun and a complete source of joy.

We have gone shopping together. Out to lunch. Today, I made lunch for us. I prepared a roasted chicken, Brussels sprouts, which I adore. I love the recipe I use. I sauté the veggies with shallots, add some sage leaves and chicken broth and simmer the sprouts for about twenty minutes. They are flavorful, yummy and nutritious.

I wasn’t sure if Judy was crazy about Brussels sprouts, so I also made zucchini and baby carrots. Just stir-fry the veggies in some olive oil and garlic. They’re terrific.

I also made homemade Rice-A-Roni. So yummy. And simple to make. I break a handful of vermicelli noodles, which I sauté in butter, add converted rice, chicken broth and fresh marjoram, a teaspoon of sea salt and a generous dash of freshly ground pepper and simmer until all the liquid is absorbed. I don’t like using regular rice for this dish because it’s lumpy and gummy and doesn’t look attractive on the plate.

For dessert, which we didn’t have, she bought over hand-packed eggnog and black walnut ice cream from Baskin-Robbins.

Judy and I talked and laughed and listened to the Temptations. Last night, I exchanged emails with a new Face book chum and when discussing music, he mentioned that he was crazy about the Temps, putting me in the mood for them, so I unearthed that CD. Like the title of that Maya Angelou book, Judy and I were singin’ and swingin’ and makin’ merry like Christmas.

We laughed and danced in the living room. I so enjoy spending time with Miss Judy. As a trans woman, I find it difficult to be friends with SOME natal women. Some of them are great, but some are insecure, but they want a girlfriend in their life and they are willing to befriend a trans woman. Because they are less threatened by us. They don’t see us as competition. Or so they say. Everything is marvelous, terrific, magnificent until she discovers that a trans girl can attract men. They get bent when guys request our phone numbers, check us out, flirt with us. “I resent it” is written on their foreheads.

I’ve been friends with women who were wonderful to me. We had lengthy phone chats. Went shopping. I watched their kids. When I sold Mary Kay, they bought some from me. They knew I had a husband and they were okay with that. I think because he is married to me, some natal women considered him a weirdo, an oddball.

Some wondered, what does a handsome, gainfully employed man want with a transsexual. Also, sometimes, if we have men, some women think we’re buying him or he’s a closet gay guy. Or we’ve got some young, impressionable guy under a spell. They find it hard to believe that there are men who care about us, love us, are fascinated by us and take us seriously.

Women have asked my husband and past boyfriends if they knew about me. They assumed that I had pulled the wool over his unsuspecting eyes.

Eons ago, my husband accompanied me to a doctor’s visit. While going over some paperwork with my husband, the doctor’s nurse referred to me as he and him. “Why are you referring to her as he?” my husband asked her. He disclosed this conversation to me, btw.

“Um, well, she had one of those operations,” she said, in a low tone that suggested that she was revealing a secret. “It just slipped out.”

“I bet.. You assumed I didn't know about her,” my husband said. “You’re just jealous because she looks better than you do.” Florence Nightingale was tall, thin, and dorky, so he called her an ugly bitch and a scarecrow. She got seriously pissed and her face got as red as a basket of strawberries. She threw her pen down on the desk, barking, “I don’t have to put up with this.”

I reported her to the Department of Health Professions and HIPPA. The doctor sent me a letter by certified mail discharging me as a patient.

So what? There are other physicians who will gladly accept my co-payment and treat me with respect.

So no, it’s not easy being friends with some women. Some are magnificent, however.