Gender Dysphoria: How it Feels to Live a Lie

Many thanks go out to Chrysler, Jaye Jaye, and Jaye Jaye\'s friend for reviewing. Definitely means alot that a transgendered person gave this story their stamp of approval.

transie: a term used by some transgender women to describe other transgender women.
T-Girl: a transgendered female. There are mixed feelings regarding the use of this term.
shemale: a sexualized term popularized in pornography for a transgendered woman who has not had surgery
passing privilege: the belief that those who \"pass\" enjoy greater acceptance in society.
non-op: someone who lives as female but does not plan to have vaginoplasty.
fish: 1. a very derogatory term used by some to refer to non-trans women.
(I think thats all vocabulary for this chapter)

Chapter V

2 weeks later….


“Hi, honey.” Savannah said cheerfully on the phone one afternoon. I had just gotten home from my short stint at work and had showered and relaxed myself infront of my tv.

“Hey.” I said, down in the dumps.

“Oh, sweets, what’s the matter? Why so down? Is it still about the whole money thing?”

I nodded my head, though she couldn’t see it. “Pretty much.” Even though my father hung up on me when I called home two weeks ago, apparently Felicia got word to Mama and she sent me some money via Western Union. It was $200 –all she could spare—but I was certainly grateful. But bills, food, keeping up a female wardrobe, and meds ate that up and more soon after. “I’ve got half of you money I owe you. I’ll get to you sooner or later.”

“Gwenie, you don’t need to….”

“Yes, I do, Savannah. I promised I’d pay you back.” Savannah also loaned me a couple dollars to help me out and I promised to pay her back. She seems to think I never discussed paying her back, but I remember perfectly. It definitely adds on to things I’m already trying to save up money for, but I like to keep my promises.

She sighed, defeated. “Well, what are you doing today? You wanna hang out? Head to the Vegas strip and go window shopping? Watch Golden Girls? It’s supposed to be coming on in a few minutes. I’ve got chocolate ice-cream.”

“Na. Not really in the mood.” I ran my fingers through my hair. It’s now grown past my shoulders, down my back. Before my money supply started to get low, I had my hair permed to get rid of my waves, and instead got long layers cut into my dark hair.

Savannah gasped rather foolishly. “Not even in the mood for Golden Girls and chocolate? Hon, should I take your temperature?” There was rustling coming from her end. “Let me find my rectal thermometer.”

I chuckled. “No, you’d better not. I’m not sick. Not to be rude or anything, but I just feel like being alone right now.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Well, okay. You know where I am if you need me.”

“Yeah. Bye, Savannah.” I hung up the phone. Savannah only lives across the hall but I haven’t seen her in days. Aside from him picking me up from work everyday, I haven’t hung out with Carlos in forever. I’m just never in the mood for anything anymore. My life and dreams are smashed to the ground and I have no way of making it better. Lately I’ve been fatigued, uninterested in everything, and I’ve just started binge eating. Am I depressed? Is this what depression feels like?

I checked the digital clock over my tv. Five o’clock. Time to take my meds. I got up and walked to my bathroom. Opening the cabinet, I grabbed my small, black case and opened it. Only three vials left. I’ve never gotten this low on meds since I started my transition. The last thing I want to do is run out of my meds. Who knows how long or what will happen if I have to go under a detransition stage. This whole money situation is fucking up everything. Could my life be getting any worse?

I opened a syringe and stuck it into one of the spongy tops of my remaining estrogen vials. Pulling out the desired amount I needed, I pushed my pants down and stuck the needle in. I used to hate needles as a child. Couldn’t stand them. Now I crave one.

Once I was finished, I tossed the syringe and vial in the trash. When I looked back up, I stared at myself in the mirror. Holding my hair back from my face, I turned my head from left to right, trying to get a good look at myself. What did I see…. I saw arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, manicured nails, heart shaped face, smooth skin, long lashes….I saw Gwen. But I also saw my father’s eyes and my mother’s mouth and nose….all the family genes George was given…..not Gwen. It’s funny really, at times, I find myself jealous of my own self. George had a mother. George had a father. George had siblings. George had a childhood. A pretty crappy childhood, but a childhood nonetheless. George had a home to go to. George had roots. George had a past. Gwen doesn’t have a damn thing. Gwen lives alone. Gwen has no family to relate to. Gwen has a half ass job and no money. Gwen has no support system. Gwen is on her own. I’m jealous.

Now, no longer in the mood to sit around the apartment and mope all day, I decided to get some fresh air. Changing into a white linen sundress and sandals, and tying my hair back into a messy bun, I caught a taxi to Vegas.

It was a warm sunny day, so I just walked the strip for a while, trying to get my mind off troubles. After a few minutes of window shopping, browsing, and eating a hotdog, I came up on a small building. I’ve been living here for a while now and was shocked I’d never seen the place before. Then again, this little street doesn’t look very inviting, so I probably noticed it, but didn’t notice it, know what I mean?

Anyway, the building wasn’t very big, maybe the size of a convenience store. The cinderblocks were painted a dark blue. The tiny parking lot had a few cars and motorcycles parked, so the place must’ve been open. On top of the building was a big sign saying, “Zelda’s”. Curious and not having anything else better to do, I walked inside.

The place was filled with people, but it wasn’t crowded. With the dark brown walls, tranquil lighting, and leather arm chairs, the place had a calm feel to it. I knew nothing about this place, but I could immediately tell that that one detail was something that drew these people in. A bar was set up in the far corner. Behind it was a tall woman who after spotting me, finished passing the beer bottle to a customer and waved me over.

“Hello.” I said with a polite smile.

“Hi there.” I was taken aback by her voice. She was a red-head. Had breasts, shapely figure, and nails. She looked like a woman, but her voice was undoubtedly male. “Do you know where you are, girly?”

I shook my head. “N-no.”

“This place is for MTF’s and FTM’s only.” She saw the confusion on my face. “Males to Females and Females to Males. Fish aren’t allowed in here.”

Comprehension finally fell in. “Oh. But I’m not a fish. I’m transgendered.”

The woman looked at me astonished, the leaned in over the counter to get a good look. “You’re shittin’ me.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Well then. I guess you don’t have any problems getting passing privileges in society, huh?”

I shrugged. “I don’t guess I do.”

The woman made a ‘humph’ noise. “Of course you don’t, cause you fooled me and I normally have a perfect eye for picking out fellow transies. What’s your name?”

“Gwendolyn Pillman.”

The tall woman extended her hand and I shook it. “Well hello, Gwendolyn Pillman. I’m Zelda Freedman. I own this place. Have a seat. Wanna drink?”

“Sure. Um, iced-t if you have it.” I sat down on the stool, careful of my dress.

“Of course I do. Hold on a minute.” Zelda walked off and came back a few seconds later with a tall glass of tea, complete with ice and lemon.

“Thanks.” I took a sip. “So what kind of place is this? A type of hang out?”

Zelda shrugged. “You could say that. I wanted to start a business that transgendered men and women, both passable and impassable, could get together and just relax without having to deal with other people pointing and whispering, you know? People get tired of that shit. We’re not animals or paintings on display fish can glare at examine. We have lives too and every once in a while, we’d like to go out and buy a drink without having to worry about someone calling you a ‘chick with a dick’ and all that other stuff behind your back. Know what I’m saying?”

I nodded. “I agree with that.”

“So tell me, Gwen. When you walked in here, you looked awfully down. Is life kicking your ass?”

I placed my drink down. “How’d you know that?”

She tapped her forehead with a single red nailed finger. “I told you I have a 6th sense about these things. I can spot things about people as soon as I see them. Your face said you were worn down about something. Let me just throw out a few things and see if I’m right. Problems with the family….” I nodded. “Not exactly pleased with the choice you made for your life….” I nodded. “Problems with money….” I nodded. “Don’t have enough for your SRS…..”

I nodded. “SRS and other things.”

“All I can say is, join the club.” Zelda stretched her arms outward. “Look around you, Gwen. We are all in the same boat here.”

“You haven’t had your SRS yet, either?”

“No. But I’m fine with that. I like keeping my toolbox in tact. It makes me different. I’m what you’d call a non-op girl.” I nodded in understanding. “Well, I gotta get back to work. Have a seat in one of those arm chairs and relax yourself.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I carefully got off the stool and walked to a vacant brown leather arm chair with a table and sat down. However, I wasn’t alone long.

“Hi.” A male voice said from infront of me. I lifted my eyes and came face to face with a man in a suit. He was around his mid to late thirties, short black hair, strong shoulders, and a rugged face. He was currently smiling at me.

“Hello.”

“Come here alone?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then you wouldn’t mind if I sit down across from you, do you?” I shook my head and watched as the man sat down in the leather chair next to mine. He extended his large hand. “I’m Tony Jensen. You are….”

“Gwendolyn Pillman. Nice to meet you.”

He smiled again, but this time I caught him eyeing my body. “Likewise. First time here?” I nodded. “It’s a nice place to hang at. Calming. I’ve been coming here for a few years now.”

“I thought they don’t allow non-TS people in here.”

Tony chuckled. “They don’t. But I’m good friends with Zelda so she’ll let a fish like me in. I don’t mean to seem like I was eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but overhear you tell her you’re having some money problems.”

“More than ‘some’.”

“You know, I could help you with that.”

That’s when I chuckled. “Oh really? How? You’ve got a couple thousand dollars lying around?” I started sipping my tea again.

“No. But I know something you could do that could get you paid over $500 every week.”

Slowly, I moved the glass away from my lips and set it on the table. “Every week?”

“Every week.”

“What is it?”

“Let me just show you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. He handed it to me. It was a flyer.

Pasted in the background was the picture of two woman posed side by side. One was strapped up in a leather skirt and bodice, a whip in her hand, the other wore a school girl outfit. The title said:

Tony’s Ponies

Come and enjoy the services of shemales who’ll fulfill every fantasy
your heart desires!


“You’re saying, I could whore myself?” I asked, stunned.

“No. No. You’re not whoring yourself. The men you entertain are under your terms. You don’t feel comfortable with them, they’re gone, simple as that. The way it works is, you live your life as you normally do. With a portfolio of all the ladies pictures in a book in my office, the customers pick the one they’d like, I’ll call you, you come to the hotel I own at a designated time, and…..do the job. They pay you your desired amount, nights over.”

“And how do you get paid in all this?”

“When they pay for one of the rooms. It’s my hotel you’ll be working from after all. Although, for those customers, they’ll pay a little more considering what’s going to be going on.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you do, Gwen. You need money, right? Family wont give it to you. Everybody knows greenbacks are the way of life.” He leaned in close to me. “Do you know how popular this profession is? Do you know how many men and women’s biggest secret fantasy is to see what it’s like to be with a t-girl? I’ll tell you right now, you wont have to worry about thinking if the customers will like you or not. You’re gorgeous and that’s what makes you just the bit more unique from all the others. Looking at you face to face, you’d never think you had a penis.”

I should’ve been uncomfortable. Why wasn’t I uncomfortable? Why didn’t I toss my drink in his face, and stomp out of that building, never to return again? I was desperate. I wanted my surgery. I wanted my new life. I craved it. The more he talked, the more it seemed like what he was telling me to do wasn’t a horrible thing. Suddenly, in my eyes, it became just another part of the natural progression I needed to complete my transition. That, and I had nothing to lose.

“Okay.”