Queen

Jacob, the good-looking and smart transman who works for ESPA, quickly understood who I was.

A wise and powerful queen, thank you very much.

Jacob understands the power of women, the beauty, the insight, the poetry, the knowledge. He gets it. It’s in his expectations, the same expectations as PowerFemme Nora, who thought I looked great, especially since the last time I saw her I had five months of beard. We femmebabbled for a while, easy and fast.

My mother, well, she got it a bit too.

“You look nice!” she said when I came through the door.

“Did you expect me not to look nice?”

“Well, I didn’t know,” she said.

My father, when he heard my voice, peered out from the kitchen.

He was freaked. He’s not really talking to me today. That’s hard for me.

My sister helped with comments. Apparently I don’t have to wear the jacket; my shoulders look better than one of her staff, who has had three babies. That was good.

I talked to TBB, who was heading to a Halloween salsa party, but passed on her four costumes; schoolgirl, french maid, cheerleader and leopard. Just the leopard ears and gloves over black pants and top.

Three reasons.

First, she wanted to have dinner with her teen son and didn’t want to freak him out. (His quote from this week when TBB showed at his track meet where his mother & boyfriend were: “Dad, next time you come, can you wear a bra?”

Second, the leopard outfit required constraints, corset & girdle and such, that would just impede good sweaty dancing. TBB was hoping there would be a tall guy who wanted to dance, that she could just move freely without all those hidden attempts to conceal parts of her.

Third, though, as a tranny, Halloween has stopped being fun. We think we are dressing as a punk rocker or cool witch, but others think we are dressing as a woman.

Wrong.

We are just showing the powerful queen we know ourselves to be.