Earlier today, I ran some errands. I went to the mall and bought three tubes of lipstick. Two shades by Fashion Fair and the other by Color Design Studio.
For Christmas, a patient’s son gave me a gift set by Beyonce. Sometimes, I give her rides and she has had dinner with us, so he showed his appreciation by giving me the fragrance. I was curious to see how much he appreciated me. LOL! So, I checked the price of the gift set. I know it sounds gauche, but hey, I was curious. At least, I’m honest about it.
After leaving the mall, I stopped at my favorite supermarket and got some ground beef, hamburger buns with sesame seeds, a head of iceberg lettuce, a few tomatoes, a jar of hamburger dill chips and a sack of Wavy Lays. Tonight’s dinner will be bacon cheeseburgers and tater chips.
When I left the store and was getting into my car, I saw “Margo,” a trans woman with whom I used to be friends. I hadn’t seen her in years. We made eye contact and she ignored me. Didn’t utter a word to me.
Oh well.
Years ago, we had a disagreement and obviously, she is still carrying a grudge.
Margo was “married” to a man, who treated her beautifully. He worked. Took care of her. Kept money in her purse. She was having electrolysis and I’d give her rides to her appointments and she’d treat me to lunch afterwards. I’d also give her lifts to doctor’s appointments. Margo’s a good looking girl. She’s a white chick, 5’11, slender with a pretty face, a believable voice and mountains of thick blond hair. She had been abused as a child and she shared that sad story with me.
Margo struck me as the kind of person who could roll with the truth. But I found out that she couldn’t. She didn’t like me telling her certain facts so she severed all ties with me.
Here’s her story. Margo is a pre-op trans woman. She and her boyfriend got a marriage license and had a wedding ceremony. None of her family attended. I’m reporting what she told me.
Her boyfriend’s family were unaware of her trans status. I’m sure that it must have struck them as extraordinarily odd that no one from her family came to her wedding considering they lived roughly 139 miles away. It would have taken them two hours, max, to attend her wedding, a significant day in any woman‘s life.
Anyway, after they were “married,“ her new “husband” put her on his insurance at work, making it so she got medical treatments, prescriptions, dental work for a co-payment.
They filed a joint tax return.
After she and I became chummy and I felt comfortable enough to be candid with her, I told her that because she still had a penis, I didn’t believe that the law would recognize her marriage. She flew into a rage and told me in bawdy language that I didn’t know what I was talking about.
I think I do.
She had a penis. So does her husband. Most states would view them as being in a same sex marriage, which is not legal in every state in the Union.
I went on to tell her that if the IRS, her husband’s insurance and dental companies were to ascertain her gender status, that she and her husband could quite possibly be prosecuted for fraud and end up in the penitentiary.
If I can digress for a minute, I did this story in my self-published novel, The Other Women: A Story About Three Transsexuals.
Back to Margo. A marriage between a pre-op transsexual and a man is not valid, in most states.
Years ago, I posted about this somewhere and the trans women angrily posted back: “What about your marriage. Is it legal?”
I guess those huffy asses thought that I consider myself superior to them because I am post-op. Believe me, I don’t.
I am post-op and I believe that my marriage is legally valid. We have insurance policies, his 401K, which has a decent amount of money in it, some property and should my husband predecease me, someone in his family could very well try to challenge my status as his wife. I don’t think they’d do such a thing. But money can bring out a person’s treacherous side.But I think I’m safe. I have kidney issues. I go to dialysis three times a week. And believe me, the treatments are not a bargain. Medicare picks up the tab and they did it halfheartedly.
I’ve been on dialysis for close to six years, starting in February 2005. I applied for Medicare in April of ‘07 and usually they respond in ninety days. When I submitted an application for the benefits, I gave them my birth certificate, a change of legal status, a surgeon’s affidavit, but Medicare dragged their bureaucratic feet responding to my request for benefits.
My husband’s work insurance was paying for my treatments, which they were legally obligated to do for thirty months and after that time, Medicare was supposed to kick in. Which Medicare was in no hurry to do. I was pulling my hair out and losing sleep.
I phoned them.
Wrote letters, telling them that they were discriminating against me.
They simply said my case was “pending.” By this time, it had been pending for well over a year. I contacted an attorney, who said he couldn’t do anything until I received a denial letter.
I was becoming thoroughly distressed. I contacted the congressman for my district and explained my plight, that I was suppose to hear something from Medicare ninety days after applying for the benefits. I had to fill out some paperwork and two weeks later, I got the Medicare coverage.
Medicare’s treatment of me was outrageous, to say the least. And I believe had I been a pre-op, I would not have triumphed. I truly believe they would have used a pre-op girl’s penis as a reason to deny her benefits.
I am a staunch supporter of gay marriage. And pre-op transsexuals would benefit from gay marriage becoming legal universally. Some municipalities and federal agencies view male-to-female trans people as males.
They look at pre-ops as male.
Same for post-ops.
They do not make a distinction. If they did, I would have gotten my Medicare benefits in ninety days.
So if gay marriage becomes legal everywhere. Pre and post-op transsexuals will benefit from it, since some federal agencies and jurisdictions view us as men.
Frankly, I don’t give a damn how they view me as long as they give me what I’m entitled to.
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