Once More Unto the Breach

Today's the day...

As I mentioned in my last post, I've been medically disqualified from doing my job since early last month. Under the circumstances, I think I've managed to hold it together pretty well.

After almost 2 months, I have a shot at redemption. I have another DOT physical scheduled for today, in just over 2 hours. Honestly, I'm nervous.

This time, I believe I have my blood pressure under control.

There's a hitch

You see, I'm diabetic. Have been for years.

Diabetes is a condition which complicates professional driving. The US Department of Transportation (DOT) has decreed that diabetic truck drivers must keep their condition under tight control or lose their medical certification.

I've wavered between decent and lousy control of my diabetes over the years.

I've managed to avoid decertification by being a sneaky SOB.

I've lied to the DOT examiners for years. I've told them I'm not diabetic.

Of course, they have ways to determine whether or not that's true.

Part of the DOT physical involves collecting a urine sample, and testing it for the presence of protein and sugar, among other things. If protein or sugar are present in the urine, it indicates elevated blood glucose, which triggers a blood glucose test. If the reading is out of the normal range, BOOM! No certificate for you.

Over the years, I've devised a method to ensure that my urine is free of protein and sugar. I combine a strict 800-calorie diet, low in carbs and sugar, for a week before the exam, with drinking an insane amount of water the day of the exam, to dilute my urine.

So far, it has worked like a charm.

So why am I nervous?

I've been through a lot over the past several weeks. It's been a roller coaster, and not the fun Disneyland type. More like a slow, hellish jaunt through emotional highs and lows, with no end in sight.

To say the least, it has made me gunshy.

Plus, medical environments always put me on edge. Especially when I know I'm lying to the doctors and nurses, and could be found out at any moment.

That's the kicker -- stress causes elevated blood pressure, as does high blood glucose.

I'm still in an uphill battle. Still unsure. Still scared that I'll fail, as I did last month.

There is so much at stake today.

I can't say that failure today would equate to catastrophe. I've been away from my job for almost 2 months, and have managed to keep my head above water. Driving for Uber / Lyft / Instacart and working in the company warehouse has kept the bills paid.

I've stuck to my diet for the past week (with no small quantity of help and encouragement from my lovely fiancee), and I'm drinking lots of water.

I'm ready.

Ready for my date with destiny.

A Quick Update

Wow. It's been almost a year since I updated this blog!

How it started:

In my last post, I detailed my brave trip to the clinic, wearing a skirt and tights. Everything went very well, and I was emboldened.

Virtually every day since, I've worn a skirt and some sort of feminine hosiery at work, all day. There have been no negative repurcussions, so I'm pretty happy with that decision.

How it's going:

3 weeks ago, I had to undergo my yearly torture, the DOT physical exam.

To put it bluntly, I failed, due to extremely high blood pressure. For those who can interpret the numbers, my blood pressure was 220 / 88.

This is bad. VERY bad.

The practical upshot is that I'm unable to work as a truck driver until I get 2 different doctors to sign off that I have my blood pressure under control.

Like I said, it's VERY bad.

Fortunately, I'm very resourceful.

I signed up as an Instacart shopper, so I could shop and deliver groceries to people willing to pay for such a service.

However, Instacart shopping doesn't come anyhere near making up for the earnings I'm losing from my job. It's not even close.

So I got back into Uber / Lyft driving.

The combination comes pretty close to earning the same kind of money I'm used to earning at my job.

Yeah, and?

So, I'm driving my new 2019 Nissan Murano for Instacart, Uber and Lyft. That's the hustle I'm committed to, to pay the bills.

While I'm doing so, I'm wearing my skirts and nylons.

Walking through grocery stores in a skirt and nylons.

Walking through parking lots in a skirt and nylons.

Walking into restaurants to pick up food orders, in a skirt and nylons.

The only comment I've received so far was from a lady in a grocery store, who asked if I was wearing Dansko clogs (which I was - black patent leather, and do every day). We had a brief but enjoyable conversation on Danskos, how comfortable they are, etc.

Once again, I was emboldened.

Where it's going:

Being emboldened again, my mind is swimming with the possibilities of what may come.

As I've mentioned before, my fiancee is dead set against me wearing skirts or dresses (or nylons or heels) in public, short of going to a gay club or other such "safe space" (defined as a place where nobody she knows will ever see me).

My ideal future involves doing just that. Wearing what I want, when I want, regardless of who might see or what they'll think of it.

Dare to dream...

Today Was The Day

As is well documented on this blog, I've been wearing skirts at work since September. To be 100% truthful, I've been wearing skirts most of the time on the days I choose to wear one. That is, I would take care to conceal my skirt in front of certain co-workers -- people who have been working for this company for as long as I have (or longer), and whose opinions ostensibly matter to me slightly more than the average Joe (which is to say, their opinions matter to me very, very slightly, as the average Joe's opinion means nothing to me).

Whew! That was verbose!

Anyway...

Today, our operations manager, Amanda, called me en route to deliver my "backhaul" (the load I bring back up from Illinois before finishing my day). Amanda told me to bring my backhaul to the yard, then to come see her.

A little backstory seems appropriate here...

At my last job, they had a ridiculous method of dispatch -- you had to call a phone number after a certain hour and listen to a recorded message, telling you what your work assignment would be for the next day. When they intended to terminate a driver, the message would direct him to report to the warehouse at 8:00 the next morning. That's the last dispatch recording I ever listened to at that company, back in November of 2005.

Back to the story...

From what I'm told, federal law requires a certain percentage of a trucking company's drivers to be randomly drug tested every month. Furthermore, the company is legally prohibited from telling the driver that they're being drug tested until the moment they hand the driver the form and give him/her exactly 1 hour to get to the clinic and fill the cup.

When Amanda wouldn't tell me why she wanted me to come see her, I thought back immediately to my previous job, and my mind started racing. What had I done? Who had I pissed off?

Fast forward to the yard...

Thinking maybe someone had mentioned my skirts to management, I decided to "pants up" before walking into the building to see Amanda.

After learning why she wanted to see me, I became angry with myself. Why am I putting on pants? What's wrong with wearing a skirt? Why am I hiding who I am from these people?

I went back to my truck, took my pants off (what a relief!) and decided that TODAY is the day I stop caring about what any of my co-workers think. TODAY is the day I step boldly into the world, skirt, tights and all, regardless of who is present.

Those guys whose opinions mattered to me ever so slightly? As of TODAY, those opinions are wholly and permanently invalid to me.

I will never again rush to conceal my skirt, and I don't give a damn who notices or what they think.

I'm damned sick and tired of hiding my authentic self to protect the delicate sensibilities of people who, when all is said and done, don't matter to me.

To hammer the point home, I wore my skirt to the clinic for my drug test, knowing there would likely be other drivers from my company there. Not only were there co-workers at the clinic, there were 4 of them in the waiting room, with whom I enjoyed some very pleasant conversation, none of which was about my attire. Oh, I caught one of the guys checking out my legs, but that's to be expected.

It was a good day. Tomorrow will be even better.

I'm FREE.

Winter Tights

Following up on my "skirts and nylons at work" activities...

Last weekend, I decided that, living in Wisconsin, in the winter, walking around in normal pantyhose with a skirt would be somewhat ill-advised. So I took to Amazon in search of some thicker hosiery to wear with my skirts at work. In order to keep attention off my attire (until I'm really and fully "out" at work), I needed to find tights in skintone shades.

I found 2 different brands, and ordered 2 pair of each

Silky Toes Microfiber Tights

Manzi 70 Den Control Top Tights

One of the packages arrived yesterday, so I naturally tore it open and tried on the tights (the Sikly Toes microfiber tights), and all I have to say is...

Hallelujah!

They're incredibly soft, stretchy and oh so comfortable! I really can't say enough positive things about them.

I haven't tried the Manzi tights yet, but they'll be delivered tomorrow, so I'll definitely be trying them on. I don't expect them to be better than the microfiber tights, being plain opaque tights, but I'm keeping an open mind.

Random Thoughts

I'm writing this post on my phone. Please forgive me if it looks like dog shit.

First, I'd like to share a photo with you...

Yes, those are my legs, my polished toenails, my laddered hosiery, my favorite heels and my pretty little anklet. If you've followed this blog for awhile, you've seen these things before. What you haven't seen is this funky dress! I'm in love with this dress, and I'm trying to carve out some time to take some full-height photos of myself while wearing it (with makeup, jewelry, etc). Stay tuned for those photos...

I've been dealing with some severe depression over the past couple weeks. I won't go into detail, but to say that I'm extremely displeased with where I am financially, at this point I'm my life. The method I've used to lessen the impact of this depression? Crossdressing, of course! I've worn skirts at work 4 out of 5 days this week, even though the temperatures have been quite cold. I love wearing skirts and (especially) nylons almost as much as I love boldly asserting my gender nonconformity in public, so doing this elevates me emotionally, cancelling out thoughts and feelings of hopelessness and dread.

Why do I so enjoy displaying my gender bending fashion sense to the world? The answer is quite simple -- men should have the same fashion freedoms that women enjoy. Women are free to wear pants and present themselves in masculine attire and appearance, so why shouldn't men be free to wear skirts, dresses, nylons and all manner of pretty, feminine things? I know some macho dudes will argue that dressing this way detracts from a man's "manliness," or somehow makes him less of a man (or the dreaded GAY).

Firstly, there is absolutely nothing shameful about being gay. Secondly, what a man wears is simply that -- what he wears. It isn't an indication of his sexuality any more than a 3-piece suit is (how many gay men wear suits?). It is simply what that particular individual likes to wear. To shame him for the way he presents himself to the world is wildly hypocritical. Nobody would shame a woman for wearing jeans and cowboy boots, would they? Of course not.

I love wearing skirts in public because it proclaims to the world that I like wearing skirts, and I don't give a rip what anyone thinks about it. I earned the money that paid for the skirt, the pantyhose, the makeup, etc. I enjoy presenting myself in a quasi-feminine manner. It's really nobody's business. Also, I find skirts to be exceedingly more comfortable than pants, no matter the day. The fact that I love wearing pantyhose, tights, etc like I love breathing also helps. Hey, I have nice legs. Why not show them off?

I believe that, if all the men who feel as I do would gather up the nerve to just boldly go out into the world in whatever manner of presentation they like, as often as they wish it, the stigma attached to crossdressing would soon be a thing of the past. That's my goal. I would like nothing more than to see men wearing skirts and dresses in public every day, without fanfare and without society's ridiculous judgment. Just do you, brothers.

Before I end this post, here's a quick shot of me in my work attire today...

Nothing over the top (except my untucked shirt...doh!). Just a regular guy who happens to be rocking a skirt.

Kisses,

Janey

Nine Months in the Making

So, I haven't posted anything on this blog in 9 months. My apologies. It's been a wierd and trying year. I'll try to do better going forward.

So what's new?

I'm not even sure where to begin!

First and foremost, I've decided to embrace crossdressing on an entirely new level. Not only do I wear feminine things around the house, but now I wear skirts and nylons at work, too! At first, it was very hush-hush. I'd have pants in the truck with me (I'm a short-haul truck driver), in case any of my fellows (employees of my company) were around. A quick changeroo would keep my secret from the other drivers and support personnel. Out and about in public, I would boldly go about my day in my skirt, giving exactly zero thought to what anyone around me noticed or thought of what they thought they noticed. This worked out fairly well for a time, but it wasn't enough.

Since roughly the start of September, having decided that I have to be who I am, regardless of people's reactions, I have been wearing my skirts (and hosiery) openly, even at work, even in the presence of my coworkers. Want to know a secret? Very few people notice, and of those, nobody has said a word about it. I've caught some questioning glances and have been mistaken for wearing shorts more than once, but not a single soul has commented or asked about the skirts, much to my disappointment. I have responses thought out and ready to fire off to anyone who asks -- "Yeah, it's a skirt. Men can wear skirts. It's comfortable, so why not?" Variations on that theme are what I believe will suffice.

Let's not be naive. I know that people will talk. I know they'll whisper and snigger, that they'll make jokes and little innuendos about me, sometimes to my face. I don't care in the least. In the end, I am who I am, I do what I do, and their approval is neither requested nor required.

It's a challenge to follow through with this decision, especially when it comes time to walk into the driver room, under the eyes of anyone who may be there, but I have done it many times now, and I am emboldened by the non-reactions I've experienced. Once, our operations manager (female) walked up behind me, unbeknownst to me, wished me (and another driver who was there) a good weekend, then strode off into the inner workings of the office complex. I was clearly wearing a skirt (a pretty blue and black LulaRoe Cassie), but she didn't seem to notice. If she did notice, she played it off perfectly.

In other news...

I had a couple outings (and when I say "I", I mean Janey) -- one in August and the other in November, which went VERY well -- far better than that train wreck in March. I learned my lesson. Janey needs to stick to Janey-safe places.

I even posed for a few photos. Wanna see?

These are from the August outing. Yes, I know they look awful. That wig was a huge mistake, and will never be seen atop my head again!

I'm much more fond of these photos, partly because the wig is so much better, but also because I wasn't showing off my stocking tops like a cheap trollop...LOL

Now you're in the know

Yeah, that's basically all I have to offer today. I'll try very hard to update this blog more often. If any of you are still reading it, thank you so much!!

Kisses,

Janey

Ugliness and Beauty

A few nights ago, Gail and I attended a CD meetup in Green Bay. It was wonderful, CD's and trans women of very stripe, just enjoying each other's company and visiting. No judgment. No strife. It was peaceful. Serene. Full of beauty and grace.

After the event, as we headed the 40-odd miles back home, we decided that we weren't quite ready for the night to be over. We discussed options and settled on the place where Gail works, a bar in a bowling alley.

While at the meetup, I had my fill of wearing a bra, wig and heels, so I shed all of them as soon as we left. At this point, I still have a full face of makeup on, a ballcap and ballet flats, along with my black lace dress and metallic silver tights.

Upon arriving at the bowling alley, I grabbed a makeup remover wipe from my makeup case and we headed in. I walked into the bar and headed straight to the men's room. Once inside, I took off my cap and glasses, and proceeded to wipe off as much of my makeup as I could. Just then, I heard the door to the bathroom open and a woman's voice saying (shrieking, really), "Oh my God what is that?"

Things deteriorated from there. I was already irritated at the shrieking woman who dared to poke her drunken head into the men's bathroom (if a man had done the same to the women's bathroom, he'd likely be beaten and turned over to the police, but I digress...), so when I left the bathroom to return to Gail, the continued calls of "What is that thing?" put me positively on edge. I paused in front of a woman, presumably the one who had been in the men's room doorway moments before, looked her straight in the eye and simply said, "Yes?"

Of course, the 5-6 drunken idiots in the group said nothing at this point, so I turned and headed toward the end of the bar where I thought Gail would be. Gail wasn't there. She was in the ladies' room, as it turned out. I wasted no time walking out of the bar and back to the safety of my car. I texted Gail to let her know where I was and did my best to calm down.

People can be ugly and judgmental. Most people keep their hateful comments to themselves, but bolstered by alcohol and like-minded idiots, the mob mentality takes root and things spiral out of control. I knew things would get ugly and/or physical if I had stayed, so I'm glad I left when I did. I don't know how many boozed-up bigots it would have taken to kick my ass, but I know how many would be trying, and that's some helpful information to have on hand...

I'm not an overly emotional person under most circumstances. I am not blessed with an abundance of feelings. Once my anger subsided, all I really felt was pity. Statistically, every member of that drunken mob knows at least one crossdresser, whether they know it or not. Given the attitudes I experienced that night, I can understand why the crossdressers they know would rather be skinned alive than admit that they crossdress.

I've been fortunate. Everyone I've told about my crossdressing has been supportive, to one degree or another. I genuinely feel for those poor souls who live in the closet due to the primitive attitudes and boorish behaviors of their friends and family. I also feel for the bigots themselves. Their hearts are cold and dead. They take joy in ridiculing those of us who are different and choose not to hide it. They are small, insecure and ugly.