My parents were married 18 years. Several of those years my mom was a diehard housewife to the core, even when it meant accepting my father's crossdressing. I was young enough to think it was just a game when my father played 'dress-up'. For those of you who remember the movie, 'Tootsie', http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084805/ which I saw as a kid. That definitely added to my delusion of normalcy for men dressing up as women- it was just for fun, right? Many evenings my dad would sit around the house in frilly stuff and our home life would carry on as casual and usual as the rest of America's.

I didn't know the definition of transvestite http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transvestite until after my parents' divorce- I was about 10. That's when I remember overhearing my mom explaining to her closest friends and family about my dad's 'condition', but she didn't directly talk to me about it until I was an adult. This experience alone taught me that children know way more than they lead on and I'm not forgetting that when raising mine. Also, we have wake-up calls when we are finally old enough to realize a part, or several parts, of our childhood was a lie or not what it seemed. My dad's condition was far more involved than dressing up pretty, but I had no idea for quite a while. Transvestism seemed harmless enough in my mind. I look back now and I realize I wasn't really ok with the crossdressing, but I was ok with the fact that it was a secret, especially between my mom, father and I. Sometimes I even fooled myself into thinking my father didn't continue to dress-up after the divorce, because I never saw him do it after that, but then I remember his locked closet door whenever I visited him as a teen.

My teen years were uncomfortable enough without my father going shopping with me and trying to convince me to dress up more, as in shorter skirts, more make-up, and pink stuff. Yeah, I know what you're thinking 'I wish my father would have bought me those clothes and encouraged wearing make-up'- well it wasn't great. I have never, and still don't, find a need to prove my femininity. I think I am a woman in t-shirt and jeans and casual make-up. Yes, I do dress up, but I don't feel anymore feminine than I do in my bath robe. I realize now that my father couldn't comprehend someone who was comfortable in their own skin. He dressed up to prove something and I didn't have anything to prove. Needless to say, we saw things very differently.

As I grew-up, I learned to fine-tune my very mature adult ability to keep big secrets and sweep them under the rug. I also attained a high tolerance for the socially odd- you won't get much stares from me if you look or act "different" in the majority's opinion. Sorry no shock value here.

I began studying psychology because, if anyone had a right to be curious, it was I who wanted to know what makes people do the things they do- what makes them tick. Also, I wanted to know why my father needed to dress up. There isn't a lot of quality media on the internet concerning transvestites- mostly graphic stuff I could have gone my entire life, and the next, without seeing. My years of immersing myself in psychology, gave me the ability to not quite understand, but instead be forgiving of humankind. Sometimes you don't need to understand to accept. All that psychobabble was easy to practice and believe, but it didn't mean a heap of crap the day I found out my dad had sex reassignment surgery. The only thing I understood was a bottle of tequila.

In 2001, before the big news, my father retired from a well-known and respected position in my hometown. He moved south and that was the last I heard from him for a while. Two years went by and we communicated by email. Late 2003 he explained over an email that he went to Bangkok, Thailand to get sex reassignment surgery. He not only had the genitals done, but breast implants as well. Sadly, I probably would have been ok with the genitals only, but breast implants made it hard to keep secret in my mind and fool myself- too visibly noticeable I guess.

I couldn't explain or psychobable my way out of this one. I finally had to deal with this long, yet comfortable for so many years, secret. It's like it just blew up in my face all in one day. I had to come to terms about growing up with a transvestite and then I had to face my new father, whom I didn't feel I knew anymore. He simply waited to retire to get surgery and all those years I thought his dressing up impulses would resign with age. However, the law doesn't protect transsexuals in the workplace as well as it should and that's why retirement was basically his new opportunity for his new life. I post-poned facing everything until the tequila wore off- I'm not a big drinker either, but I had a better reason to than anyone I could think of at that moment.

My first response to this news, after the purchasing and heavy drinking of tequila, was pure selfishness, 'How could he do this to me'? My future kids (this was before my husband was in the picture), would be without their grandfather. Did this make me more of a woman or less? I couldn't even introduce my future husband to my father. My father also legally changed his full name so what did my last name represent now? I felt orphaned. Would he want me in his life because I was literally a reminder he was a man? Who could I talk to about this? Is it shameful and taboo or somewhat more acceptable nowadays?

It seemed I was the only one who had to deal with this. No one openly talks about this stuff. My mom moved on and found her a real man. I had no siblings or ever knew anyone who went through this. I had joked with all my friends when watching Jerry Springer shows of this subject matter- now it wasn't a joke! I hadn't even seen him in person, what would I do- laugh, cry, run? Where was my daddy who taught me to swim and ride a bike and play cards?

The day I met my new father, was sickening. Your parents are the people you think you know best and when that rug is pulled from underneath you, there are doubts about yourself that inevitably sneak up too. I'm not sure if I said anything, only listened to a new voice and, well, a new person. I tried not to stare, maybe laugh, but only because I exasperatingly hung onto the hope this was all a joke. That was the day I gireved the loss of my father.

I could no longer tell myself anymore lies and secrets so that my life would be easier. You'd think it would be like a weight was lifted from me, but it definitely wasn't. There was no realization of "oh that was why my dad did this or that". Like I said, transvestism isn't the gateway lifestyle to transexualism so I had a right to be shocked. I had no siblings whom I could discuss our childhood with and maybe try to understand how this all went horribly wrong- I just didn't see it coming. If anyone knows, there is a big difference between a transvestite and a transsexual and the majority of transvetites do not decide to become a transsexual. Needless to say, there a was a surprise factor I had toruble dealing with.

It's been 4 years since I have known my dad as a transsexual, as a woman. The hardest part was seeing him/her for the first time and also going out in public together. He still doesn't let me in on why- another secret I suppose. Just knowing him and his past, I have a hard time believing the nature and biological arguement for people who are gay, transgendered, transsexual, and everything else in between. For me, nurture wins over nature on this battle. Personally I don't accept the statements, "I was born this way" or "I've been this way as long as I can remember". How do you know? Do you remember things when you were 1, 2, or 3 years old? All you have is second-hand regurgitated memories and stories told from those in your life during the very early period.

I may have been selfish initially, but it was not my imagination that my father became very selfish after his sex reassignment. He had finally done the ultimate thing for himself and everything since has been the same way. I guess all I was hoping from him was a... 'So what do you think?' or 'how does this make you feel?' or 'I can understand you're troubled and confused' 'Do wantto talk about it'? He had years to get used to himself as a woman, I had a few days, from getting the news to seeing him.

I am the incurable student of life. There is something to be learned from everything- so what did I learn through this experience? I know how it feels to be blindsided, so if I have any major transitions going on in my life, I make sure it's not a surprise to those close to me. For people who are waiting to unveil a big surprise to family and/or friends, don't wait. In fact, you should have never waited. It's best to talk things over before it becomes big news. Waiting only makes it easier for yourself, not those you care about. It's your decision, but take others into account, and accept initial emotions even is it's anger or something unpleasant.