Category Archives: Hormone Replacement Therapy

The camper was never meant to be anyones home, but the 120-acre spread it sits on is the closest thing to a home the tenant has ever known. More importantly, it marks the place where one way of life ends, andanother begins. In most cases, a name doesnt matter.

For this story, its critical.

Start with Mark.

For the first 20 years of his life, he was a tattooed, muscled roughneck who worked oil rigs, collected muscle cars and raced mud bog trucks; a real self-described Wyoming redneck. When Mark was 21, he legally changed his name to Misty. And for the first time in his life, Mark felt he was who he is supposed to be a woman. Mark, now Misty, puts on eye shadow, wears frilly shirts and dons tennis shoes with pink laces when she climbs under the car to change the oil.

Misty is very much a mans man. In this regard, her gender identity is still at odds with her sex in that shes still very much a guy when it comes to her interests, including her preference for dating women. Ironically, the more comfortable she feels in her female body with breast implants and hormone therapy, the more ostracized she becomes in the community.

Life would be easier if Misty left Wyoming.

But just as her personal interests havent changed, she loves everything shes always loved about living out West. She doesnt expect people to understand, nor does she blame anyone for their reaction, particularly given where they live. Wyoming isnt exactly open-minded when it comes to homosexuals and transgenders. The Code of the West is pretty straightforward when it comes to gender: guys are guys.

Despite all masculine traits to the contrary, she identifies female, which she realizes is hard to explain to someone who was born with the correct body.

I dont think its an issue of want. You have to, she says, biting a corner of her blunt thumbnail. Essentially, you have the base knowledge that somethings not right. Eventually, it eats away at you like a cancer. But its not eating away at your body, its eating away at your soul.

The reverberation in her Pops garage is squint-worthy. A lit Marlboro dangling from one corner of her mouth and mirror Raybans pushed back on the top of her head, Misty smiles through the windshield of her vintage Camero and gives it another rev.

Its an original SS, she screams over the roar, rattling off a list of bits and pieces that apparently make it faster and louder. Under the white-striped ebony hood, the engine screams.

She jumps out to show off some of the original components underneath the hood, struggling with one hand to release the latch. The other hand rests idly at her side like an inflated surgical glove, swollen with a staph infection that wont seem to go away, despite the daily trips to Casper for antibiotics.

She slammed her hand under the hood of her truck last week.

This is where Misty and Mark begin to diverge. Despite the long hair and frosty pink eye shadow, her hands still belong to Mark. Thick-knuckled with half moons of grease under the nails, these are hands used to doing dirty work.

This has always been her passion. Shes a certified mechanic and, as Mark, had worked for years in the trade, even owning her own shop.

Now, as Misty, its much harder to find work. People arent exactly clamoring to hire a former man who now identifies as a female. The trouble is that though her genders changed, her skills havent.

Doors dont exactly open to a man wearing make up and pink shoelaces and introducing herself with a girls name. Usually, the employer says that she doesnt fit their company image or says there are no openings. Sometimes shes just met with abject stares and smirks.

Its funny people will hire ex-cons no problem, Misty says, flicking an ash on the ground after a deep inhale, but forget about hiring a transgender.

Unfortunately for Misty, she falls into both categories. Worse, she bears the label of a registered sex offender given that she went to jail after a lusty night of heavy petting with a 14 year old an encounter that landed her two years in prison and another year of probation. Shes been out for less than 10 months.

Misty is stoic when it comes to defending that charge. She screwed up, plain and simple. The girl lied about her age, Misty says, and she didnt think to check her ID.

Thats completely on me and Ive served my time.

Misty shrugs. Shit happens.

I may have a shitty reputation as a person, she says, squinting as she tightens a bolt, but Im a damned good mechanic.

Smart, too, she adds, not afraid to admit she has an IQ of 142. She loves working on cars and would prefer spending her days in a garage away from people. Cars make sense to her, people dont.

That includes herself.

All her life she felt that something wasnt quite right but it took her years to realize that it was her gender.

Shed always felt more comfortable as a female, beginning with her earliest memory of her sister and cousin dressing her up in their clothing, but how, as a boy, do you admit that out loud? Especially when its clear your parents disapprove. Misty remembers being confused when her father beat the hell out of her after finding Mark wearing a dress, berating his sisters for trying to turn him into some kind of sissy.

Clothing plays a big part in Marks gender identity, both as a haven and a form of torture. She prefers feminine clothing and always has. Mistys worst childhood memories revolve around holidays and being forced to wear suits and ties. She had no idea why it made her miserable.

Her confusion, too, was compounded as a teenager, when she went to see the doctor about a bladder infection, and according to Misty, found out she also had a uterus and was therefore considered innersex, the term for a person born with the sexual or reproductive anatomy of both a female and male. Oddly, innersex births are more common that one might think. According to the Intersex Society of North America, it occurs in nearly one in every 2,000 births.

The fact that she had a uterus didnt exactly make the situation any better.

How do you approach a person with that statement, Misty laughs, bitterly. She didnt have anyone to talk to about this when she was younger, so she just tried to live with it and do her best to fit in.

Trying to do anything outside of the social norm as a teenager is hard enough, she says. It doesnt matter what it is. Its not met well.

This grin-and-bear-it strategy didnt work, however, and after two suicide attempts in her early twenties, she realized she only had one choice: Become a woman or die.

Theres no way to explain how it feels to be born with the wrong body. You either get it or you dont. What Misty can tell you, however, is that the day she buried Mark and became Misty was the moment she realized what it felt like to breathe.

First the name change, then came breast implants, hormone replacement therapy, make up and female clothing.

Its hard to explain, Misty says, but when you start to transform physically, the mental follows. These thoughts and feelings have always been inside her but up until now shes worked hard to hide it. With every step toward transition, she feels a weight being lifted.

Its kinda like being on deadline, Misty pauses. Like theres so much stress and pressure trying to get the work done, but the second that you meet that deadline, you instantly feel a sense of relief.

There are a lot of people who dont get what it means to be transgender, she adds. People think its some kind of fetish, guys who like to put on make up and dresses and pretend to be a girl.

For Misty, it means living in a body where she feels she finally belongs. Its real. The make up and clothing reinforce her sense of femininity. Shes not doing this for attention.

Believe her. Theres nothing fun about being stared at or having obscenities yelled at you or otherwise being treated like some kind of freak, especially here.

Look around you, she shrugs. Lets face it, Wyoming hasnt exactly evolved a lot. If you want to experience the old West, just go outside.

Regardless of geography, Misty chooses to live as a woman with the goal of saving enough money to have gender reassignment surgery, a procedure that involves turning her penis into a vagina. The hefty price tag$22,000 just for the surgery alonekeeps it a faraway dream, but shes determined to make it happen. Shes met the criteria, talked to several doctors and has done the research. Now, its just a matter of when.

Im not going to cave, Misty says, slamming the hood as she reaches into her back pocket for another smoke. Its not in my nature. Id be more afraid of meeting my maker and telling him why I didnt have the courage to do what I needed to do.

Theres an official process involved when it comes to switching genders. In order to officially become a woman, surgically speaking, Misty had to first prove she has lived in a female role for over a year and had to do so many months of hormone therapy replacement treatment. She also had to have a psychological evaluation that validated, that yes, she identified as a female.

That part, logistically speaking, was easy.

The harder part comes now as she leaves Marks world behind in order to become Misty. One doesnt ever get to easily dispose of a body, even if just in name only.

First there are a few demons to exorcise, starting with teenage Mark, a tough guy with a chip on his shoulder.

I wasnt a very nice person back then, Misty says, shrugging.

And those who knew him in high school, like Maria Bromley, would agree. Though Maria hated Mark in high school, shes since fallen in love with Misty, who shes learned to see in an entirely new light.

He was pretty much a total a**hole, Maria says, cuddling now against Mistys shoulder.

Its fair to say I wasnt a very nice person, Misty says with a tight-lipped grin. As Misty, shes still trying to get used to pubic affection and other social niceties like smiling.

You think? Maria jokes. Mark pretty much told you exactly what he thought.

Back then Mark was pumped up with muscles and enjoyed going to school drunk and doing everything he could to mess with teachers.

He was also pretty violent. A lot of this anger stemmed from hating his life and his circumstances.

Its hard to be happy when you feel like every part of your life is a lie, Misty says, staring through the kitchen window. Outside, the finger-like branches of a maple tree bend in the gusty wind as if clenching together in a fist.

Marks also left behind some causalities, including three daughters from two different women from relationships in his late teens. Misty doesnt have too many good things to say about one of the moms, Katie, who cleared out his checking account one day while he was at work and refuses to let her see her girls, despite the fact they have joint custody.

Mistys youngest girl was given up for adoption when Misty was working out of the country on a drilling rig. Misty didnt know the daughter was hers until a year after she returned.

Nonetheless, its a sore spot.

My children mean everything to me, Misty says defiantly, when pressed to remember the last time shes seen or talked to any of them.

Shes vague about their lives. Misty repeats how much she loves them. Marks oldest daughter picked her new name Misty, she quietly recalls.

She has no idea when shell see them again.

This is a common refrain in Mistys life: people who have wronged her or dislike her leaving unseen emotional scars.

Nonetheless, Misty makes it clear that she doesnt put up with anyones crap or abuse.

She tells a story about an elderly woman who lived in a trailer park near her years ago and how this woman would always complain about Mistys truck being too loud. So Misty checked the local noise ordinance and set her engine to two decibels below the max. When she worked on her truck, it sounded like a drag strip. The woman called the police who came out to test the decibel levels, which were always within the legal range. The woman finally sold her trailer and moved, Misty says, smiling.

The lesson is clear: hurt me, and Ill hurt you. Leave me alone, and Ill be cool to you.

Shes still dealing with a lot of anger, Misty confesses. Its going to take some time.

Maria needs a cigarette.

Theyre in my purse, babe, Misty says, twisting in her chair to grab a small glittery bag off the floor near Marias feet.

The door shuts behind Maria and soon a cloud of smoke fills the window behind Mistys head.

They are in her grandfather Gale Lane, or Pops, kitchen, the one home where Mistys always been welcome. For the past decade, Pops has been slowly declining with Alzheimers and at present has little recollection of his earlier life.

Pops and Bonnie, Marks step-grandmother, have been the only people in her life who have half-way understood, or at least accepted Misty, no matter what. For that, she loves them deeply.

Theres a lot of pain in Mistys past, starting with Marks relationship with his dad, which deteriorated even more when he began dressing in his sisters clothes.

Picture a six-foot something mans man, Misty describes her father. The fact that Misty mainly takes after her motherwho left the family when Mark was 9was another sore point for her father. Basically, my dad had a lot of reasons for beating the shit out of me.

That was just the start of Marks problems, which culminated in him getting into lots of trouble at school, and, finally, for reasons Misty refuses to disclose, eventually landed Mark in a juvenile facility at age 13.

After shuffling throughout several facilities throughout the state, he ended up in a group home in Douglas, which left some good memories. The woman who ran the place was kind, Misty says. Life there wasnt too bad.

Eventually, Mark graduated from high school, enrolled in college, then headed to the oil field. Misty got a commercial drivers license and went to mechanic school.

The door opens and Maria is back. She wants to clear the air about Marks violent past. Mark was dealing with a lot of anger because he couldnt be the person he needed to become, she insists.

Maria likens it to being in an abusive relationship. Her voice gets soft as she describes how that life becomes your reality and when youre stuck in the middle of it, you know that anything you do can never be right because youll never be able to please that person. You become somebody youre not.

Thats how Misty felt, she says. She couldnt find any glimmer of happiness in herself, so how on earth could she find happiness anywhere else?

The waitress at the Village Inn does a double take when Misty, in a male voice, orders a double cheeseburger and a Coke with fries. Up until that point, Misty and Maria had been just two more attractive blonde women in a morning when she already seen plenty. Now, the waitress takes a closer look at the woman with the male voice.

Sometimes, Misty softens her voice to blend in, but only when she wants to.

A couple of middle-aged cowboys at a nearby table swivel in their seats to eyeball Misty with prolonged stares. Blondes always turn a few heads, but theres something about her face that doesnt quite fit. Much like a face can either look 20 or 50, gender too is revealed in the bones. The men smirk.

This is typical of the range of reactions Misty gets in public: stares, smirks, double takes, name calling, or, conversely, the conscious effort to pretend that shes not transgender.

The waitress immediately falls into the latter, overdoing the pronouns with too many self-conscious references to ladies and girls, even joking with Maria about Mistys ability to eat like a man without putting on weight.

Shes a skinny bitch, Maria laughs, playfully slapping Misty.

Right? the waitress answers, joking at how just looking at Mistys lunch makes her fat.

Misty smiles indulgently before lifting her burger in both hands and taking a big bite. She cant control the way people react to her, nor does she care. She doesnt expect people to understand.

And though people in Wyoming are less open to diversity, they tend to be pretty laid back when it comes to minding their own business. And while in the urban circles of the hyper-politically correct, transgenders are fighting for pronoun equalitypreferring to be referred to in the third-person as them and they in effort to embrace both sides of their sexMisty isnt carrying any flags.

That said, shes less sympathetic to the name-calling and blatant attempts to pick a fight. She willand hasfought back.

I always tell them that I may look silly but theyre going to look even sillier when they get their ass kicked by a tranny.

Misty, unlike Mark, stays out of the bars. That helps avoid fights, though not entirely.

Misty doesnt exactly mince words. Social skills in general can be a problem for her, she concedes. She blames her Aspergers Syndrome for being too blunt. She sees things as strictly black or white, very little gray; success or failure, nothing in-between.

Misty drops a pen on the table, then lifts it in the air. You either have the ability to pick up or not, she says.

Maria covers her face and shakes her head. Trying means nothing?

Nope.

Maria gives up.

Misty rubs her thumb over a clump of mascara thats fallen under Marias left eye. She holds her chin and rubs gently.

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Transitioning: Controversy, corrections and new-found peace, Misty Lane is finally finding happiness with herself – Douglas Budget