There I Am!

There I am!

 

Brought wonderfully to life by my best friend in the world, Lisa Twining Taylor.

When Lisa set this to me, I was overcome. Several minutes after spotting it for the first time, I broke down in tears.

“That’s the real me.”

Can you even conceive of how amazing it is to see an image of yourself as a child for the first time in your life (at age 66, no less!) that reflects who you really were back then?

I reckon it’s normal for cisgender folks.

For me, it’s not normal.

For me, childhood photos are tinged with sadness.

There’s a little girl in them. Dressed like a girl (when not dressed like an Eskimo at the beach).

The camera captured my image but not my essence.

This one captures my essence.

I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, so trees are my native environment.

So are jeans and striped shirts.

Boys shirts.

A boy’s haircut.

How I wanted a boy’s haircut.

I have one now.

I get to choose my hair dresser these day. She’s a Korean barber.

Although I grew up wearing jeans and western garb, there are no images of me in them. No one took pictures of me in them.

Pictures were only taken when I was “in costume”–at school.

Girls weren’t allowed to wear pants or jeans to school back then. We had to wear skirts or dresses.

I hated them.  I shot out of them the second I got home and slipped into my jeans or shorts and my long-sleeve boys’ shirts.

I grew up on a ranch. No one thought twice about it. That’s what girls did on a ranch–dressed like guys.

But there are no pictures of me dressed that way.

Lisa had to concoct one. But it’s the way I really dressed when I had a choice as a kid.

And I always had a choice as a kid unless I was going to school, or church, or out and about.

Maybe that’s why I decided to stay home so much, why I became such a habitual recluse. I wasn’t into pretending to be who I wasn’t: a girl.

So, there I am!

That’s me.

Isn’t he grand?