Ukulele Ike said:
I know you have, you beast.
Actually, not really, no. Unless you know of a therapist in the Chicagoland area. I need a new gatekeeper now that I’ve moved. I don’t make it a habit to seek out other transgenders, and, no, I never had a clue despite some intriguing emails you sent me last year.
Of course, there’s the Boards’ other closeted transsexual, whom I did spot relatively early on, but she’s not out yet, as far as I know. Then again, I don’t generally read MPSIMS unless someone (like Cajun Man) points me at a thread, so for all I know she’s been out for the past six months and nobody told me. 
I could recommend mine. In Niles (or is that Morton Grove?) and everything. While I wasn’t as, shall we say, potentially interesting as you, she’s a good person with some good ideas. Email me for details.
Eve: I was so relieved when I read the content of your OP. I was afraid that you were going to announce that you had some sort of rare tropical disease or something! Imagine my relief to discover it was something mildly interesting, but definitely nothing to worry about!
Glad to see you back on the boards. We’ve missed you!
Um, I don’t need, or want, a general therapist. What I need is a gatekeeper: a psychiatrist (must be an M.D.) with the special qualifications in gender dysphoria required by the Standards Of Care so I can get my “ok to cut” letter for the surgeon. I have no particular need or desire for a therapist in the “traditional” sense. I also need someone who can oversee my hormones, but that can be just about any competent endocrinologist. (At the moment, this is being handled by my general practictioner, but he is only willing to maintain my present dosage.)
So unless your therapist is an M.D. with specific experience in treating gender dysphoria, I have to say thanks, but no thanks.
Eve, I’m nobody in particular, but I must chime in to say how happy I am to have you back. I’ve been enjoying your Being A Lady Role Model suit immensely the whole time I’ve frequented the SDMB. I’m sure any more Role Model accessories will be charming additions to the ensemble.
As for gossip, well, peasants are always gossiping about royalty. It keeps their minds off the poor potato crop.
I had braces when I was 12…
Seriously, it’s good to have you back. I was glad you see you around the JREF forums (that is you, right?) during the outage.
You keep posting 'em, and I’ll keep reading them, deal?
I can see that. I’ll also add that Gene Hackman looked an awful lot like Bea Arthur at the end of “The Birdcage.” :eek:
Esprix
Miss Creant;
Good Christ, you’re right! All three of you are the most hideous of hags. Even though I erect, I mean shudder at the thought, I am willing to invite all three of you to my apartment for a week or two. My bed is small,so we all would have to sleep in a sort of writhing ball of limbs and torsos, but I am willing to do this while consoling you for your ungodly horridness. You undoubtedly need a man’s shoulder or genitals to cry on and I don’t mind getting mine wet in the name of closer doperdom.
Let me know when you will arrive. I’m eager for the consolin’ to begin.
(Mmm, writhing limbs and torsos…)
Not earth-shattering in its implications, but how tall are you? I mean, do you have difficulty finding clothing, especially such clothing as befits a classy lady such as you. You seem taller than Miss C and Persephone in the photos, but everyone knows both of these chicks are midgets, standing about four and a half feet tall put together.
I only ask because I know (from personal experience, believe it or not!) that good-looking women’s shoes might be hard to find if you wear a size 13 or something.
Also, you didn’t answer my question about whether you have a low, sultry voice. Even if the answer is no, say yes.
And one final question. When did they give you your cooties? Before or after the operation?
I know from researching Veterans Benefits, that a transgendered person once (at least) got survivor benefits because that person had her birth certificate legally changed in court from male to female, and in Texas (yes, Texas, not the first state you would think of for allowing this) that is all that counts.
…but I’m still hung up on the mental picture of George Clooney in a dress…a silk evening gown…from behind…I think it has more to do with HOW you move, and if he had that swing, well…
No, it doesn’t. In Texas, once born a man, that person is forevermore a man. A few years ago, a judge in Texas dissolved a marriage (posthumously) for the sole reason that one of the parties was a transsexual. This was done in the context of a wrongful death lawsuit filed by the transsexual widow of a man who died due to medical malpractice; the doctor’s insurance company sought to dismiss on the grounds that his widow lacked capacity to sue because she was not truly married to the deceased.
Kansas just issued essentially the same ruling; Oregon issued a similiar one some years ago.
I have a great uncle that lost his hand in a work accident. Before he died, he constantly talked about how he could still feel his hand, even though he could plainly see it was no longer there.
Do you experience that same phenomenon (or is it phenomena)?
Not even close. Sorry for misunderstanding your needs.
I thought about her more after logging out and realized she makes ME look urbane, sophisticated, and worldly (maybe that’s why I felt good after leaving her office! 
, so she’d probably be a lousy choice even if you DID need a traditional one.
Yippee! A new photo for the shrine!
How tall did you say you were? Shoe size? Alma mater? Favorite color? Birthdate? Address? Phone number? Air velocity of a coconut laden swallow?
Suffice it to say that if a partridge flew through the tearoom, I wouldn’t expect any of you ladies to point.
I’m thinking we should consider parsing out our praises, not only to prevent overload and (excessive cranial swelling), but also to prolong the tribute. Maybe we could compile them into a paean-a-day calendar. Otherwise, we run the risk of a certain sensitive lass succumbing to the vapors from the attention.
Purd—“What is the title of or the name of the photographer of the woman doing a graceful dive from a tall building?”
It doesn’t have a title; it’s a Life magazine photo of Evelyn McHale, who jumped from the Empire State Building in 1947. You might be able to find a copy online if you Google her. I did find the original Life issue, and have the photo up at my desk, much to the concernation of my coworkers.
Zyada—“Or Patrick Swayze. BTW, is it just me or did Patrick Swayze look like Eve Arden?”
—I thought he was a dead ringer for Judith Ivey . . .
KellyM—I do sympathize, and sorry to say I know no one in Chicago. I had to deal with some snarky idiots at Johns Hopkins in B’more who had less psychiatric training than I did, but held The Power of Life or Death over me. Jerks.
If you ever DO need any sort of advice or bucking-up, please get in touch. And best of luck to whomever our still-closeted Doper sister may be!
Ageless—You’re on! How’s next weekend? MissCreant? Perse?
Dave—I’m about 5"5". I am VERY lucky to have come from a teeny-tiny little family. But my voice isn’t all THAT sultry—When it started to change when I was a teenager, I stayed in the alto/soprano section of the school choir, to keep my upper registers open. “Plan ahead!”
Oh, yes, I was issued cooties at the hospital. I still have them, in an old footlocker in the hall closet.
Jesus—“I have a great uncle that lost his hand in a work accident. Before he died, he constantly talked about how he could still feel his hand, even though he could plainly see it was no longer there. Do you experience that same phenomenon (or is it phenomena)?”
—It’s true. I can indeed feel your great uncle’s hand. Would you please ask him to get it off my knee?
Dinsdale—I fully intend to print this whoooole thread out and reread it every time I’m feeling down . . .
I think I see your problem. Instead of feeling low, you are supposed to get felt up!
(Or is that not the type of crudites that goes best with tea?)*
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Oh my, oh my, oh my, my first flirt and it’s my inscrutable dahling, Eve. I am vindicated! (Also, pretty damned smug).
Well, peons, that is to say all you little people without whom this would have taken slightly longer, no other flirters need apply. Aside from Miss Creant and Persephone, of course. (Sorry, Redboss.)
I must locate my feather duster and begin to polish my domicile in anticipation of this monumental event. Must also begin tongue exercises. Did I say that?
La, la la la la la…How gentle is the rain…something, something…
"I must . . . polish my domicile . . . "
—Hmmm, I’ve never heard it called THAT before!