Blood, Part III

I took my first blood test here in San Francisco. For a girl who doesn’t have a car, the location could not be more convenient — there is a LabCorp literally on my block. I don’t even have to cross the street.

Can we talk about LabCorp, though? I needed a blood test, I don’t have a car, and this place was on my block. So I tried it… despite the fact that it gets… oh boy, two-and-a-half stars on Yelp.

Here’s how San Francisco Yelp ratings work.

Great places get four-and-a-half stars.
Nearly every other place gets four stars.
Terrible places get three-and-a-half stars.

That’s it.

The clowns — er, medical professionals — who work here… were something. Two folx, probably late 20s, maybe early 30s. He looked like he had thrown a lab coat over the outfit he partied then passed out in last night. She looked like a slutty nurse on Halloween.

Somehow they did take my blood… and, fingers crossed, shipped it off-site to get tested.

Surprising, good news.

Testosterone is 79 ng/dL.

Estradiol is 96.1 pg/mL

…and estradiol is in the lead! My estrogen levels are now, apparently, appropriate for a premenopausal adult female. My testosterone levels are below the threshold for an adult male. This change… it is happening. Right now — it is happening.

+++++

I threw out my male clothing. Well, I gave it away, actually. Either way, I no longer own male clothing. I can put an outfit together that makes me look male, but it will be constructed out of androgynous-looking female clothing. There are no male clothing items left to wear.

(What makes clothing male or female? You can’t use the penis test.)

(OK, there are ways. Certain elements differ: women’s shirts button right-over-left. Women’s clothes have small pockets or no pockets at all. Women’s clothes are softer and more comfortable. Now that I have a mini cell phone to fit inside my tiny pocket, I definitely prefer women’s.)

When I go into a tutoring session these days — as the founder, the logo, the figurehead of my business — I wear a button-down shirt… over leggings, or a skirt, or a dress.

Sometimes, I wear one of the old Oxfords I wore when I was a boy. Mostly, though, I wear a women’s Oxford that buttons right-over-left. I wonder if anybody will notice. I wonder if I’m trying, in the vaguest way, to show my true self.

So far, as far as I can tell, no one has noticed.

Actually… one has.

It wasn’t the clothing, though. It was the makeup.

Quick story before that story: I was about to get married. I was feeling super stressed. My face broke out with deep pimples.

Of course, I didn’t want a minefield on my face in the wedding photos, so I decided to get some makeup—the beginning of a beautiful journey, lol. At my coworkers suggestion I went to BareEssentials. I asked a question or two. Soon, they had me in the chair getting a full cover on my face. Apparently the ingredients were all organic? Or organic minerals? I can’t remember. It wasn’t the makeup for me.

I wound up back at the office with a new paint job. Remember, this was when I was living as a man. Two students came in that day for a “Diagnostic Evaluation” session. That’s when I meet the students, review their performance. understand their learning styles, and make a recommendation.

These two students were identical twin girls.

One was wearing a full face of makeup.

The other wore no makeup at all.

I’m not sure I even would have noticed had I not just gotten a full face of makeup myself. These diagnostic sessions are the world’s softest sales pitch. The client is already interested in our services. I know what the f*** I’m doing. I share my knowledge and insight. They sign up for tutoring.

Except this time.

This was the only time—I’m not exaggerating—in the history of the business that a student came for a Diagnostic Evaluation and did not become a client.

Anyway, back to the present. I’ve been wearing foundation and concealer… at some of my sessions. Not at all of them. Oh, and once or twice I had some residual eyeliner on, and maybe I knew it was there but thought it was probably subtle enough to sneak past the client.

(Honestly… what was I thinking? Like, what am I trying to accomplish with this… plan?)

One day, I decided to add lips. I’ve been using lip stain—yes, stain—and a little puffer/gloss that swells my lips and adds gloss.

I went through that routine, oh, five minutes before a tutoring session. I asked my trans bff Demi if she could tell over Zoom that I was wearing makeup. Her response: “Yes.”

I decided to wipe off the gloss, but the stain? Well, it’s called stain for a reason. I could not get it off if I tried.

Did I try?

Not really.

My student hopped onto the screen. She noticed. Took a second and a half, maybe? She then very slowly and ceremoniously grabbed a tube of lipstick and stared me in the eye as she put it on.

She’s a cool kid. I knew my audience. I don’t know what she’ll do with the information that her tutor wears lipstick. What does it mean, and what does it matter?

The better question is for me. I obviously want to share the real me. So when the fuck am I going to come out in my professional life?