The Numbers Game

When I first started this journey out of the cage, I spent a lot of time thinking about the big emotional milestones: coming out, my first endocrinologist appointment, and putting on that very first estradiol patch.

​What I didn’t anticipate was just how much paperwork and mathematics would be involved in officially becoming Serenity.

​Let’s start with the wardrobe puzzle. Here is a little secret: I didn't just discover the chaotic world of women’s clothing sizes. I’ve actually known about it my entire life.

​For 41 years, I was supposed to be existing in the men’s section, where sizing is straightforward and a 30-inch waist is just a 30. But the truth is, my brain was always doing the secret math of the women’s section. Even while I was hiding, I knew exactly how to translate my measurements. I knew that I had to add 1.5 to a men's shoe size to find my real size. I knew to subtract roughly 21 from a men's waist size to find my women's pant size. I spent decades carrying around this secret code, looking at clothes I wasn't allowed to wear, dreaming of the day I could actually use it.

​Now, I finally get to shop out in the open. But putting that math into practice as a 6-foot-tall woman? That is an adventure of its own! Because knowing the math doesn't protect you from the reality of "vanity sizing," where a size 8 in one store is a size 12 in another, and figuring out where "mid-rise" versus "low-rise" sits on your hips requires pure guesswork.

​It is frustrating, hilarious, and sometimes a little chaotic. But the moment you slip into an outfit that actually fits, a top that flatters your shoulders, or a pair of jeans that makes you feel genuinely beautiful, the euphoria is indescribable. Getting to openly use the sizing knowledge I kept hidden for so long is a victory every single time I get dressed.

​But aligning my outside with my inside doesn't stop at the closet. It extends to the courtroom.

​Lately, I’ve been deep-diving into the legal requirements for a name and gender marker change here in Missouri. If women’s clothing sizes are a puzzle, the legal system is a labyrinth.

​In Missouri, the process has gotten stricter. It requires filing a formal petition with the court, navigating the federal push-and-pull with Social Security, and standing before a judge to legally declare who I am. At first glance, the paperwork is daunting. But honestly? I feel incredibly empowered taking it on.

​For decades, my legal documents tied me to a ghost. Filling out these petitions isn't just bureaucratic red tape to me; it is the final structural dismantling of the cage. It is me formally standing up and telling the state of Missouri that my name is Serenity, and I am a woman.

​I know the legal road ahead will take some time, patience, and a lot of forms. But just like finding that perfect, elusive dress size, I know exactly how sweet the payoff will be.

​To my trans siblings out there navigating the wild world of vanity sizing and legal statutes: keep going. Claim your space in the clothing aisles, and claim your space in the courtroom. We are worth the work.

🩵🤍🩷