She struck me by surprise. She did not seem very therapist-like to me. Rather, she reminded me of a crossover between a young secretary (picture young, blond, sitting on desk instead of behind it) and Estelle Leonard from Friends. If you don´t know who Estelle Leonard is (was), go watch Friends now!
The thing is, therapists usually all kind of wear the same thing. My dad, a university teacher, used to wear tweed jackets with leather patches. Yes, really. Therapists and shrinks are equally predictable. When they graduate from university, they like to wear a formal attire, that is stylish yet casual. Sober type of clothes.
My new therapist was wearing a white attire with gold jewelry, brown stockings and shiny white pumps. Her face was heavily decorated with mascara, she owned a handbag and her phone was wrapped in furry panther print sleeve. She introduced herself and then spent ten minutes on the phone with someone. I walked out for a bit.
When I came back she was done. I was mildly annoyed, but kept it in check. After we had gone through a plethora of background questions about me, I read a letter that I had prepared for her. It described how I had tried conventional gender therapy before and always ended up clashing and then breaking with those therapists.
She said that she understood, which was reassuring, and also that she would not stick her nose in any business that did not concern her, which was also nice. She told me to tell her when I felt she crossed a line, and that it was no problem to renegotiate any question she had, as long as I felt respected and emotionally stable.
While she was nothing like I expected, and challenged my every idea about therapy – including her use of vulgar language – this might actually be a good thing. I liked her no nonsense, down to earth attitude. With a little bit of luck this is the last gender therapist I´ll ever see.