Clothes Maketh The Man — Part 47.

I drove home slowly after it was all done. I’d witnessed something that had shown me how far I had come and how much I had changed.

I caught sight of myself in the reflections of the traffic as I drove home. A face, quite clearly female, reflected in a shop window. Time seemed to almost stand still as I looked at myself. Could this person really be me?

Then, thinking back to the emptiness of my existence before I’d really grasped who I really am I almost caught my breath.

“I know who the face in the reflection is,” I said to myself. “But I don’t know who that other guy was.”

I could see how my life before had been little more than a script acted out, but not with passion. It was a process of pretending I was someone different until I very nearly believed it myself. And all for what? Acceptance in society?

I seemed to feel a euphoric lift realising how lucky I was to be able to so easily slide into this newly birthed person. One who had always been there but had been forced to hide in the shadows of my mind. No wonder I’d always felt such shame around my feminine self. I’d trained myself to feel ashamed, and I’d done so very thoroughly.

As I pulled into he parking area of my building and brought the car to a halt, I stopped and took a moment to breath calmly…