Virginia comes to California
Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2008 5:04 pm
Well! She did! Virginia came into Sacramento on Friday in order to be the ‘best person’ and stand-in father of the bride at her training partner’s wedding in Yosemite National Park.
So I went up late Saturday afternoon in the Silver Ghost, my sturdy little Toyota. It’s got over 300,000 miles and still zipping along, (although it’s more the gray ghost now). My van was ailing, so it didn’t get to make the trip, but ordinarily it goes on the longer journeys like that. It took about an hour and a half to get up to Sacto, and it was a pleasant day on the freeway. It got noticeably hotter as I got closer. The Bay area gets winds and fog off the bay, keeping the temps down. I went from 78 in Oakland to 94 in Sacramento.
But Virginia had the A/C roaring in her room, and it was no problem. Of course, I met Virginia’s alter-ego, and she met “Mr. Anita.” There was no reason at all to get made up just to drive in the car for 80 miles. Doing beardcover and makeup is a lot less drudgery when there’s company, anyway.
So V and I sat down and started gabbing away, and I’m not thinking at all about the fact that she’s on an East coast time clock, and dinner time is already here for her! It’s 4:30 in the afternoon, Pacific time.
We finally started to get ready, and Virginia generously gave me the lighted mirror in the bathroom, while she hunched over the dresser mirror out in the main room. She was quicker than I was, and again, I wasn’t thinking about the time difference. I was in there getting everything just so, adjusting the bobbie pins 2 millimeters at a time. It is troublesome to have to deal with a wig again. I had my over-the-shoulder hair cut for a photo session, and since then it’s been wigs for every occasion. This particular wig was giving me trouble, and I spent lots of time fussing with it.
Finally we had the transformation completed. Virginia is a very striking gal in person—she works hard on her presentation. She had on a white long-sleeved blouse, short black skirt, and some 4” black heels. My feet ached just to see her in those, but she was very assured about walking in them. I was in my favorite dress, a red cotton one that has a separate top. I didn’t use the top, but took along a silver long-sleeved shirt for the AC in the restaurant. I had on some 2” open-toed white heels that I like.
Just before we left, Virginia called Silver Lady, and I got to talk to SL for a moment. I assured her that I would keep Virginia from following any cravings for a quick trip to Reno to gamble away the family fortune.
SL said she wanted some pictures of us. We said sure, we’d do that, and it turned out to be an empty promise.
We drove around a bit, looking at what restaurants were available in the immediate area. The Olive Garden we’d been aiming for had a line, so we turned it around and went back to a Chinese restaurant that V had seen earlier in the day. It was a pleasant one, with live plants and good lighting. There were some families there when we arrived, and I deliberately didn’t pay attention to them as we walked by. I think we did attract some attention; gals in heels don’t walk in just any night of the week. The staff were very good; it was a family restaurant, and both the mother and the daughter waited on us.
It was 9pm when we got back to the room, and we just sat and talked. I learned all about Powerlifting, and instantly memorized 30 different organization’s initials, weight classes, requirements for protein milkshakes, and regulations for bodywear. (Yeah, right!) I learned that a fighter pilot sometimes checks her instruments, looks out at the black windshield in front of her, and thinks, “I wonder if the carrier’s really out there.” We talked of putting in hardwood floors, and how playing sweaty little bars for gas money does not appeal to a 57-year-old T-girl very much; she prefers conventions and Indian casino showrooms.
And then we got into heart of what it is to be a TG woman, and that was a roller coaster we got on for quite a while. Some familiar themes, that many of you would recognize from on here—those are the touchstones that anchor the discussion. Then there were the cutting-edge topics that come up out of what we’re feeling right there and now. That’s one of the reasons for getting together in person and seeing what kind of sparks fly from the encounter.
As much as I enjoy the support group I go to each week, it can only do so much. Most of its members are fulltime, and their lives are different from mine in that respect. If I’m living in two genders, I have some issues that they don’t deal with any more. Plus, things are always changing, and my two-gender life is going to be different from a gal that transitioned five years ago, say. Virginia and I are on a similar place on the TG “spectrum,” so we had notes to compare.
It was definitely hard for me to say good-bye, and I hope that I can begin traveling more again. I knew that I had a lot that needed to be done on Sunday, and so I took off for the Bay at 12:30. Virginia was standing in the window when I got in the car, so I waved and then headed for the Interstate.
So I went up late Saturday afternoon in the Silver Ghost, my sturdy little Toyota. It’s got over 300,000 miles and still zipping along, (although it’s more the gray ghost now). My van was ailing, so it didn’t get to make the trip, but ordinarily it goes on the longer journeys like that. It took about an hour and a half to get up to Sacto, and it was a pleasant day on the freeway. It got noticeably hotter as I got closer. The Bay area gets winds and fog off the bay, keeping the temps down. I went from 78 in Oakland to 94 in Sacramento.
But Virginia had the A/C roaring in her room, and it was no problem. Of course, I met Virginia’s alter-ego, and she met “Mr. Anita.” There was no reason at all to get made up just to drive in the car for 80 miles. Doing beardcover and makeup is a lot less drudgery when there’s company, anyway.
So V and I sat down and started gabbing away, and I’m not thinking at all about the fact that she’s on an East coast time clock, and dinner time is already here for her! It’s 4:30 in the afternoon, Pacific time.
We finally started to get ready, and Virginia generously gave me the lighted mirror in the bathroom, while she hunched over the dresser mirror out in the main room. She was quicker than I was, and again, I wasn’t thinking about the time difference. I was in there getting everything just so, adjusting the bobbie pins 2 millimeters at a time. It is troublesome to have to deal with a wig again. I had my over-the-shoulder hair cut for a photo session, and since then it’s been wigs for every occasion. This particular wig was giving me trouble, and I spent lots of time fussing with it.
Finally we had the transformation completed. Virginia is a very striking gal in person—she works hard on her presentation. She had on a white long-sleeved blouse, short black skirt, and some 4” black heels. My feet ached just to see her in those, but she was very assured about walking in them. I was in my favorite dress, a red cotton one that has a separate top. I didn’t use the top, but took along a silver long-sleeved shirt for the AC in the restaurant. I had on some 2” open-toed white heels that I like.
Just before we left, Virginia called Silver Lady, and I got to talk to SL for a moment. I assured her that I would keep Virginia from following any cravings for a quick trip to Reno to gamble away the family fortune.
SL said she wanted some pictures of us. We said sure, we’d do that, and it turned out to be an empty promise.
We drove around a bit, looking at what restaurants were available in the immediate area. The Olive Garden we’d been aiming for had a line, so we turned it around and went back to a Chinese restaurant that V had seen earlier in the day. It was a pleasant one, with live plants and good lighting. There were some families there when we arrived, and I deliberately didn’t pay attention to them as we walked by. I think we did attract some attention; gals in heels don’t walk in just any night of the week. The staff were very good; it was a family restaurant, and both the mother and the daughter waited on us.
It was 9pm when we got back to the room, and we just sat and talked. I learned all about Powerlifting, and instantly memorized 30 different organization’s initials, weight classes, requirements for protein milkshakes, and regulations for bodywear. (Yeah, right!) I learned that a fighter pilot sometimes checks her instruments, looks out at the black windshield in front of her, and thinks, “I wonder if the carrier’s really out there.” We talked of putting in hardwood floors, and how playing sweaty little bars for gas money does not appeal to a 57-year-old T-girl very much; she prefers conventions and Indian casino showrooms.
And then we got into heart of what it is to be a TG woman, and that was a roller coaster we got on for quite a while. Some familiar themes, that many of you would recognize from on here—those are the touchstones that anchor the discussion. Then there were the cutting-edge topics that come up out of what we’re feeling right there and now. That’s one of the reasons for getting together in person and seeing what kind of sparks fly from the encounter.
As much as I enjoy the support group I go to each week, it can only do so much. Most of its members are fulltime, and their lives are different from mine in that respect. If I’m living in two genders, I have some issues that they don’t deal with any more. Plus, things are always changing, and my two-gender life is going to be different from a gal that transitioned five years ago, say. Virginia and I are on a similar place on the TG “spectrum,” so we had notes to compare.
It was definitely hard for me to say good-bye, and I hope that I can begin traveling more again. I knew that I had a lot that needed to be done on Sunday, and so I took off for the Bay at 12:30. Virginia was standing in the window when I got in the car, so I waved and then headed for the Interstate.
but she's there, safe and sound. The "big day" is tomorrow, and I'm sure her male alter-ego will be shedding big, but happy, crocodile tears.