I used to be pretty. I spent the entirety of my youth until my early forties completely unaware of this information, which really could have been useful in my younger years. Three years ago I discovered that I was pretty when I began non-monogamy and began to receive a lot of positive attention. A friend took a pile of photos of me and as I looked at myself through his (camera) eye I saw myself in a way I never had before. I was really pretty.
The photo below is the photo that flipped the switch for me. The natural smile and ease of unguarded expression felt like it revealed a me that had been hidden from my view previously.
It is also a photo from a time of excitement and promise, of so many new and interesting experiences on the horizon. I had no idea what I and my partner Flick were in for. No idea about how many incredible adventures we were going to have. No idea that we'd both fall in love with other people while remaining just as in love with one another as ever. No idea that there would be so much pain and heartbreak.
I'm no longer pretty.
I'm attractive and cool and badass and occasionally beautiful but pretty doesn't apply anymore. I've shed so many of the pieces of my femme persona and when I see myself in the mirror I'm sometimes really sad to feel the loss of those elements. I only got to hold onto the confident knowledge of being pretty for such a short time and feel the waste of all those years when I could have enjoyed it. My pretty fled with the innocence that was present in the pretty times.
Much of the time I don't know if I even feel like a woman anymore, let alone a femme woman. I've changed up my pronouns to they/them and have been exploring if genderqueer or non-binary feel more right to me now. It's not an experience I ever imagined I'd have in my mid 40s but we rarely get to choose when change comes upon us.
There are people who are attracted to me now who may not have been previously but I sometimes feel as if the change in my look went along with the deterioration of a long term relationship. That I was putting on the tough shell of shaved head, 'men's' clothes, facial piercing as armour to help me through the loss I could feel was coming.
We're taught that softness is no way to deal with pain or crisis. We must be hard and only that hardness will allow us to fight through those issues. I've been creating external barriers to match the internal ones that I've spent a lot of time and energy constructing to stop feeling so much.
I'm working my way to deconstruct some of those internal barricades since I know that beyond a temporary feeling of safety, they aren't serving me long term. You can hide under some stuff to protect yourself from a storm--that is an essential survival tactic much of the time--but you can't live there. To do so is to stop living.
I know that all this can be a lot to read into a change in my look and gender identity. Sometimes transformation is essential to move forward into something new. I want to look back at the person I was in those photos and remember it with fondness and not loss. I want to look at the relationships and experiences I've had since then and see them for the incredible experiences they were and not just focus on the loss of what I'd hoped they might become.
The pretty person in the early photo is not gone as long as I don't kill them off in my head. If I integrate that unguarded joy and hope into a me that can be vulnerable as well as strong. To use the knowledge I've gained over the last 3 years about what I need in relationships to move forward with new experiences and also know that pain and heartbreak doesn't have to break me.
"To yield and not break; That is incredible strength." - Hannah Gadsby, Nanette.
