Hit'n Those Notes Ch. 02

"Oh my God, she's the absolute best friend I have. She's so strong and independent without being in your face. Well, unless you're her daughter, I know I will always get a straight answer from her, regardless of what I ask her. I'm very lucky."

"Did she influence your decision to transition?"

"No, it was my decision. I sprung it on her; she just supported me like any good parent should."

"Do you think she wanted a daughter," Leza asked with a questioning look on her face.

Whoa... No! I could feel my face flushing. Would the cameras pick that up?

"No, I'm pretty sure she just wanted a happy, healthy, and well-adjusted kid. I think I delivered on that. I never really gave her much angst growing up; there were no drugs, arrests, or teen pregnancies to worry about. Do I think she likes having a daughter now rather than a son? I'm not sure she cares to tell you the truth. We were close before I transitioned. I've never asked her. I would guess she had suspicions that I was struggling before I came out."

"Struggling? Like how," she asked.

"I don't know, not wanting to play sports, no girl friends, that kind of thing..."

I hoped that was good enough, though the real answer was certainly more complex. She had to know that...

"I understand you're a college graduate," she stated. "How would you describe the acceptance you received from," she looked at a note card, "The University of San Diego and the student body?"

She was shifting gears, and I wondered how this interview was going to get edited into something people were going to find interesting and hold their attention. Maybe the other contestants had colorful stories. So far, my life in transition has sounded very vanilla.

"I certainly had my moments with a few ignorant types, but for the most part, the university and everyone just let me be me - no special treatment or considerations were laid out for me. I appreciate that. Not really much else to tell - I did my time, studied my ass off, and graduated with a BS in Marketing a semester early."

"Did you date while you were in college?"

"Yes." That came out as tentative. Did I want to keep that to myself? No, I wasn't ashamed of trying to date.

"How did you approach that?"

"I was up front about who I was, and the guys either ran and forever looked at or treated me differently or were curious enough to see what I was all about. Nothing lasted more than a couple weeks, probably less than that. It wasn't like I had a packed social calendar - pretty much school, work, and living with my mom made up my life back then. Tough to make that kind of existence look sexy," I chuckled slightly; it didn't register on Leza.

"Any heartbreak?"

"Sure, we all want to be accepted, wanted, and loved... I've had my fair share of rejection and heartbreak." I felt my shoulders droop and sat up straight to maintain the look of confidence I had before her question. "After college, I tried a few online dating sites, but they were more trouble than they were worth."

"Like how?"

"The men responding either didn't read my profile or see the 'Transgender Woman' designation or were fetish junkies. In three months, I went out with two guys, and like I said, they were short-lived experiences. The number of messages I received over that time were easily a thousand or more..."

"What do you think kept them from wanting to get to know you," she asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"One didn't catch the 'Trans' profile, and the other, after our second date, said he couldn't see me anymore because he didn't know how to tell his parents."

"Why would he need to tell his parents?"

"Yeah, my question exactly... I mean, we weren't about to get married any time soon, so what was the big deal? I present myself as who I am; was he worried I couldn't pass? I have no idea... I kind of liked him." My voice trailed off.

"I'm sorry, Breanna...," Leza paused as if considering the next question: "What do you look for in a man? Let's get some positive mojo going here," she said with some energy.

Ah, I'd be happy if they didn't look at me and think I was a freak when they found out I was Trans! I wasn't about to say that, but I certainly thought it.

"I'm attracted to guys with a good sense of humor and who aren't full of themselves...," I quickly added, "And they have to be alright with a smartass; I tend to be snarky."

"Good to know. Physical features that get your attention?"

"A nice smile, I guess. Is there such a thing as caring eyes?"

"I'm not sure, but I've gotten lost in some sexy eyes before," Leza replied. "How about kissing?"

"Oh God... Yes, be a good kisser."

"Like...," she drug the word out to annunciate it.

"Don't be robotic; slow the tongue-age down; don't be afraid to pull me in closer, tighter..." I felt my face flush. I wasn't sure how I got that answer out, or why I'd said any of that.

"Oooo, girl, now you're cooking...," she said with a smile. "How long have you been on HRT, and have you had any work done? I obviously have..."

"It's been almost four years now since I started HRT. As a college graduation present, my mom gave me the choice of having my nose tweaked and a little FFS or getting breast implants. I chose the nose job, tracheal shave, and, I'm embarrassed to say, having my ears pinned back a little. I'm happy with the results, and it really helped with the dysphoria - not a cure by any means, but I feel good about my appearance."

"No interest in implants then," Leza asked.

The question sounded like she wasn't certain she should have asked, "Certainly I'd like to have more, but I don't want future back problems either." That was my attempt to make light of a situation that really did bother me, but I just had to live with it right now. "My doctor told me my A-and-a-half cups were pretty much all I was going to develop this late in transition for my age. I now settle for buying the right bras to accentuate what I've got. That helps me look more like I want," I paused, "It's a dysphoria trigger, but not as much as other things."

"Tell me about the dysphoria you feel; is it often?"

Jesus... I only get thirty minutes here, Leza; this could take hours to explain! How do I condense this?

"I'm sure at some point you yourself felt adrift, not sure of your identity after you began your transition. There's been a lot of depression, questioning of myself, and anxiety - especially when you first come out to family and friends. I had lots of fear those first couple months of college living as myself. Until GRC / SRS, there will always be a daily pang of gender dysphoria - at least for me. You're living your life as who you know you are, and every time you speak, you're worried about not sounding as you appear. When you shower and go to the bathroom, try to pick out clothes to wear that don't reveal that last bit of you from a different life, your male appendage."

Leza interrupted my ramble. "You can say penis; I'm pretty sure they won't bleep that word on PBS," she said, smiling.

"Yes... Until you've completed GRC / SRS, your penis is one powerful reminder that you aren't really who you are projecting with every ounce of being in your soul. It can really screw with your mind - at least it does mine."

"Yeah, but you know that even after GRC / SRS, there are times when you're going to be visited by that dysphoria gorilla..."

"I've talked to women about that; the depths to which it wants to pull you down aren't nearly as crushing as before GRC / SRS," I replied.

"I would agree with that. Is GRC / SRS something you are considering?"

"When I can afford it. I've got a college loan and a host of other things burning up my paychecks."

"Your pronouns?"

"She / her..."

Wasn't that obvious with my college dating answers?

"Ever experiment with another woman, any interest?"

"No, no experience. I think it would depend on the woman. Geez, I'm not sure why that thought got me a little flustered. Let's just leave it at that..."

Whoa, left field question! I wasn't sure I felt comfortable answering that one. Was it warm in here? I'm sure the camera could see my embarrassment. Oh well...

"Fair enough... Did you really have your ears pinned," she asked while picking up a photo I had supplied of my pre-transition self. She held it up for one of the cameras to get a good look at it. "Your ears in this picture are darn cute, Breanna," she said, looking at it again and smiling at me before setting the picture back on the table.

"Augh... Thanks, Leza..." Was all I could muster as a reply.

"Do you have any words you live by, a mantra?"

"I've always liked: Being who you are is freedom; loving yourself for who you are is happiness."

"Beautiful... I like that."

There was movement off stage, and Gale Spence was waving at us and then speaking to the camera operators. Had thirty minutes really passed? Leza was getting up from her chair, and I stood also.

Tuesday, March 27th, 9:51 a.m.

"I enjoyed interviewing you, Breanna, you're quite the woman," she said, smiling.

"Thank you. I've always admired your work for the Transgender community. If you are ever in San Diego and want a tour of the town, please give me a call." I fished a business card for the dealership out of my wallet and handed it to her.

"I'll do that, Thank you."

"Breanna, that was a perfect interview. I really enjoyed that. Nice job, Leza." Gale looked around the room and said, "Kip, let's get Breanna to the front desk; you can get to your room from there, right?"

"Yes...," I said, confident I knew my way around once out of the conference room area of the hotel.

"Excellent... One favor, don't discuss the interview process with the other contestants still needing to get filmed; I would appreciate that."

"Oh, absolutely..." I agreed, but honestly, I didn't think I would run into anyone from the other groups before dinner tonight.

"Perfect, you have your schedule; I think your group is free until noon, any last questions?"

Leza had stepped off the stage and was talking to a woman I had not noticed earlier in the makeshift studio. I had wanted any opportunity to talk more with her, but it sounded like I was being ushered out to get the next person, Wyatt, in and interviewed. I wondered how long it was going to take for them to compile this documentary and asked. Gale said it would be at least six months, and we'd all be notified via email when it was going to air. We shook hands, and her production assistant, Kip - the person whose name I had forgotten - escorted me to the front desk. How could I forget a name like Kip?

Tuesday, March 27th, 10:02 a.m.

After Kip dropped me off at the front desk, I quickly headed for the elevators to get to my room and get this damn makeup off. Inside the elevator, I fished my phone out of my wristlet clutch and made sure the ringer was turn back on. Two people got off on the third floor, and it was just me and another guest going to the sixth floor. I looked at my phone and noticed I had text messages from my mom and Bill, but no missed calls.

Mom, 9:20 AM: "Good luck today! I'll be there tomorrow around noon. I'll call you after I land. I love you; stay safe."

Bill, 9:59 AM: "Just landed... Want off this flying tin can. The kid behind me kicked my seat almost the entire way. You better win this thing or else! Oh, Charles says Hi... We'll look for you when we get to the hotel. Hugz!"

That meant Bill and Charles were at least a half hour away from getting here. I had time to get this makeup off, get my wardrobe arranged - both outfits I had chosen with Kaley's help - and meet up with Bill and Charles. Maybe they could just come to my room? I texted my room number to Bill with the note, "601 - Let's meet in my room when you are settled. I've got an appointment at noon."

Almost immediately, I got a reply.

Bill, 10:05 AM: "Still on this GD plane!"

Me: "I'm sorry. It will get better. Drinks on me tonight?"

Bill, 10:05 AM: "You know it!"

Me: "LOL!"

Bill, 10:06 AM: "I'm serious!"

Me: "I know."

Bill being here was going to make things with the band so much easier. He could speak their language and, if necessary, show them what I needed to be successful in this competition. I doubt the show producers would let Bill play for me, which would really put me in my comfort zone. I was going to ask, even though I knew what their answer would be.

Charles, Bill, Kaley, and I spent an hour arguing about what made the perfect song choice over the weekend. I always felt those singing show singers would bite off too much, trying to duplicate Celine, Mariah, Whitney, or even Beyonce vocally. I always wondered if those singers were nuts? And if that wasn't their first mistake, it was their song choice and arrangement. I needed to avoid those traps.

Between us, it was decided our modified version of Britney Spears' song -- 'Toxic' was my best shot at making it to the second round. Of all the songs we had performed together, everyone thought this one had enough artistic spin and that sultry hook from slowing it down to be relevant. It was tough to argue the logic in choosing that song, but all I could think was that, artistically, the song's arrangement could move me on. I just needed to back it up with flawless vocals.

My second song - the one that I would have to sing my ass off to beat out the other five finalists - took several hours to hammer out. Everyone had their own opinions, and none of them were the same. I wanted to sing 'Careless Whisper' by Wham. We had performed that song with just the piano accompaniment, and it really worked. There were women in the audience crying after we performed our version in the jazz club, so I knew it would resonate. I tried reminding everyone of that, but the running argument was not to do the same type of accompaniment as Toxic. Augh! I had a few other song choices but held onto them as the others argued their favorites.

Kaley wanted me to do 'Just like Heaven' by the Cure. If I thought the band could pull it off, it was a catchy song, but was it enough to highlight my vocals? I love the song, but I just thought it had more of a musical hook than any vocal strength. Bill suggested he could play with the timing; I nixed the idea.

Charles offered up Elton John's 'All the Young Girls Love Alice'. His reasoning was to play to the crowd. There were approving nods at the same time Kaley was refilling wine glasses. I loved the song, and it did play to some that would certainly be in the crowd.

Kaley suggested something by the Goo Goo Dolls, saying, "You kill with any of their songs, Brea..."

I looked at Bill, who seemed to be agreeing. What if, I blurted out, "4 Non Blondes..."

Bill interrupted my thought, "What's Up..."

There were more enthusiastic head nods around the living room. He continued, saying, "You want to get the audience to feel you singing because they'll be singing along with you; that's the song. In the intro, everyone will know what's coming and be primed to join in."

"I love that song... Do it like the original; don't change the arrangement. See how it sounds with the band, and worst case, we just use the original song minus the vocals," I added.

"Yeah, keep it original; it's going to be tough to replicate vocally. Can you hit those notes," he asked.

"William, she can hit those notes," Charles piped up in my defense. When Charles was annoyed with Bill, he would call him William; it was cute.

Bill rolled his eyes. "I wasn't saying she couldn't, but it's not exactly in her lane either, am I right, Brea?"

"I can sing the song, Bill."

And it was decided that 'Toxic' and 'What's Up' were what we were pinning our hopes on for me to win this thing. What came next was a lot of practicing on my part. I smiled, nearing the end of the halfway point, but that disappeared quickly when I sensed someone was behind me...

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I'm trying to grow as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated. Thanks for reading...

Rachel M. Moore