Oh God, how much longer until Tim gets special treatment from charities meant for people who survived cancer or other devastating afflictions and injuries, or said charities are forced by the government, to start forking over wigs made from real, donated hair?
Please update this tragedy as applicable. This seems like the high point of a spiral.
There's some kind of spiral alright, apparently there was a petition to save that person's cats from a urine shower.
These men are so weak, I spent every day of my teen years arguing with my mom over my outfits. Here’s the bow link if anyone is curious: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BN12DBPY/ref=syn_sd_onsite_desktop_0?ie=UTF8&pd_rd_plhdr=t&th=1 I was expecting a JoJo Siwa type bow.
Christ. My little niece would refuse to wear something like that. She'd say it was for babies too.
It gets better when you realize how horrible these actually are. They're more like "haha coding amirite" than anything else. For instance, hardcoding a user path even in a personal script is a fucking retarded thing to do under any circumstance, considering both Windows and Linux provide trivially accessible means of retrieving the path to the currently logged in user.
I feel like I've seen this troon before, they "suffer" from DID and is a system.
How do you do this in Britbongistan and not end up with a copper's knee in your back? Is the troon protection circle really that strong? If a normal person did something like this I guarantee His Majesty's finest would be at their door within hours.
After mulling through a number of jobs and relationships I moved to UK, mostly for career reasons, but also to try to connect with my father again, who by now was living in London. The four years I spent in the UK was pretty lonely for me and for the first couple of years I really struggled. I did find Ann Summers though! Living on my own was a bonus as I was able to dress however I pleased at homeLet me start, if I may, by introducing myself. I am a 40 years old. I was born in Zimbabwe, whilst it was still Rhodesia, and grew up there till I was 20 years old. I then lived in the UK (London), where I sold and installed accounting software. I left the UK to return to sunnier climes in 1994 (which was also the year my mum passed away) and came to South Africa, where I have been living ever since. I am married (divorced once) and have two sons (8 & 10) from a first marriage and one (4 years old tomorrow!) from my second. My second wife (whom I met in Aug 2005), Jacqui, has a daughter (10) who’s father passed on when she was two and to whom I am now de-facto dad. Jacqui and I are both Pagan, from a spiritual perspective, although I wouldn’t describe us as religious, although we do honour the major Pagan festivals. So, that’s a little about me!Writing this blog I guess has a dual purpose. I feel I really need to get my story out of my head and onto the page, a cathartic process of sorts, and also because I would like to connect with people with similar challenge, as I have so many unanswered questions, which they may be able to help me resolve.
My story starts with my earliest recollections of myself. I remember when I was about 3 or 4 being dressed up by my two older sisters as a girl. Could this be where my challenge started? Everything I have read links Gender Identity Dysphoria to both physiological and emotion causes, so perhaps on a certain level this could have triggered things. Zimbabwe was in a state of war at this time, the war only ending in 1980, when I was 10. In ’75, when I was 5, I was struck with a double whammy… first my father left, not just the home, but the country, and moved to South Africa. Second, my mother didn’t handle this very well and packed us all off to a co-Ed boarding school in the middle of the Zimbabwean farming districts, exactly where the war was at its worst!
I still cannot believe my parents did that, and have told my father (77, who now lives in London) he must have had a brain-freeze to think that was a good idea.
On top of this, it was school aimed specifically at the surrounding farming district, and consequently the kids were all hardened farming folk. The school had a very traditional ethos, where boys were boys, bullying was accepted as part of the tradition (“It’ll toughen you up son”) and there was no tolerance for “softies”. Being a “townie” (i.e. from Harare and not a farm) put me at an immediate disadvantage. Reading about GID I can see that this was the “perfect storm” scenario. I was isolated from my family (it was frowned upon for the boys and girls to mix, hence I didn’t see my sisters much), placed in a barracks type dormitory with all these toughies in a community strong on discipline and extremely short on love. As the war peaked in the late eighties we actually had troops garrisoned at the school to keep us safe, but if anything I guess it was more disconcerting than anything else. It was during these early years at the school that I first became conscious of the desire to be a girl. I have always reasoned that it was brought on by the situations I have already mentioned, but I think accentuated by the fact that the girls’ side of the school seemed to me to be more “peaceful” and certainly less overtly aggressive. I was bullied a lot, for reasons already mentioned, and because I was less confrontational and aggressive myself, feeling unassertive due to the over-whelming feeling of isolation. My weight issues also started then. A parallel issue all my life, I have come to realize that this too was linked to the psycho-schematic need to protect myself, creating a cyclical crisis as I gained weight to protect myself which lead to me being bullied for being fat (“fat-crap” they called me), which lead to me gaining more weight. I have done all the weigh-loss techniques in the world but have never managed to crack this, leading me to believe its “all in my head”. As an aside, I have read that 8 out 10 of the genes that govern weight are linked to mental/emotional elements and only 2 are link to physiology. I definitely believe there is a link between these parallel issues.So it was then, when I was about 8, that, during school holidays I would dress in my sisters’ clothes and underwear. I loved the softness and it made me feel something deeply emotional inside, like this is how I was meant to be. The trauma really got worse and worse and I can recall impeaching God to set this wrong, right. Things became abundantly worse in 1980 when my immediately older sister, Caroline, left the school for high school. This, too, was something of a double whammy for me as, not only was I now left all alone in this isolated hell-hole, but my sisters were now day-scholars living at home. This strongly re-enforced my desire to be a girl as, if I was, I would then be able to live in the girls’ hostel, and when I left the school I could also live at home. My sisters contend however that “home” was no picnic either as our mother was gradually unravelling as a result of my father leaving and had become an alcoholic. She became more and more self-absorbed and emotionally distant. I remember not being sure what was worse, being at the love-less hell-hole of a school, or being at home watching my mother drink herself into a stupor. Caroline, who is 2 years older than me, also struggles to this day with the emotional trauma caused collectively by our parents.
Due to my mother’s unravelling, I guess my parents, in their wisdom, felt it would be best if I was sent to boarding school for high school. This was very traumatic for me, although as I said, my sisters hold the view that I was the lucky one. Well, this “luck” saw me sent to a boys-only school 650kms away from home, again in the middle of the bush-veld. The nearest town, Bulawayo (Zimbabwe’s 2nd city) was 72kms away, but access to the town was considered unnecessary. Again, this was a barrack style, “military” type school where “boys were turned into men” through a traditional regime of sanctioned bullying, unsanctioned bullying, beatings for anything from a creased bed, to unaligned clothes in the cupboard, to watermarks on the windows (we had to polish the dormitory every Sunday).
It took me till I was at least 30 years old to actually enjoy Sundays and not have a perpetual feeling of foreboding.
The school was also aimed at the children of the farming community and, again, great emphasis was placed on manly activities like rugby, bush-sports and athletics. I don’t think I have ever felt suicidal, which surprises me in a way given the circumstances I found myself. Certainly I felt isolated, and always very different to the other boys. I have though wished at times that I could cut my penis off, and don’t like the bulge between my legs. I find it unsightly, awkward, and always in the way. I never really felt, nor ever have, like I was a homosexual. I have had periods where I have fantasized about a homosexual relationship, but have never had the desire to follow this through in reality. I never wanted to have homosexual sex, but strongly desired to have sex with a man, as a woman. In a way I find this more traumatic as homosexuality is obviously an easier route than a sex-change! We were allowed to come home once a term, for four days, and had three main holidays a year. These holidays were split between my mother and my father, who was in South Africa, in Johannesburg. This made forming relationships of any kind very difficult as, (1) most of the other kids were farming folk, and (2) because of the split of time between my folks it was never possible to connect easily with other “townie” kids. Consequently I spent most of this time alone out of school alone, and most of it “closeted” (excuse the expression) at home in drag. The time with my father was no better as he was also extremely self-absorbed and emotionally disconnected, so my time at his house was spent much the same way. This created a number of issues though, as while I believe my mother and sisters were aware of my issue, we never discussed it and they kind of tolerated it. My step-mother however was less charitable, although she had great clothes and underwear! I see now that it was entirely reasonable of her to be irritated, and in a way she was probably the most honest of us all.In 1985 my mother agreed to let me go and live with my father in Johannesburg. I was put into a day-scholar school and felt that this was a new beginning for me, and my relationship with my father. Sadly though, he failed to meet the challenge, and seemed happy with his selfish, self-absorbed life with my step-mother, and didn’t really have time for me. He continued to play golf three times a week, work late and spend what little time was left with my step-mother. I tried to engage him by taking up squash and golf, hoping he’d coach me, but he just signed me up with the country club and school coaching staff. The one sport I did love, for myself, was ice-hockey, however this too was a problem for my father as he believed only “scummy” kids hung out at the ice-rink.
He once refused to fetch me from the rink as I had missed the last bus, and forced me to walk home, which involved a leisurely stroll through the Johannesburg CBD, Joubert Park (which is like Hampstead Heath after dark!) and Hillbrow (think Brixton, but 100 times worse!).
I was struggling to make friends, other than two great guys who I skated with, who my father naturally disapproved of. My cross-dressing got worse as I would steal my friends’ sisters underwear and step-mother’s. My step-mother tried to deal with this by locking her dressing room, which I got around by stealing and copying a key. It was not going well.
1985 was also when I had my first and only sojourn in public in drag. I went downstairs to collect the post (we lived in a flat). A messenger got in the lift and looked at me quizzically and then asked if I was really a girl! I almost died!
Rather than engage me, my father waited till I was on holiday with my mother and phoned to say that when I returned he would be sending me to an all-boys boarding school in South Africa, also about 500kms from home, in the bush, etc, etc. Faced with this possibility I elected to return to the Zimbabwean boarding school I had been at. I started dating girls at this stage, and had a regular number of girlfriends, despite the geographic challenges. We had a sister-school in Bulawayo, and from 16 years old we were allowed to attend school dances, where the girls were bussed in. You can imagine the pandemonium! I got on well with the girls and enjoyed this time with them, and developed a number of friendly relationships with these girls, especially the teenage daughters of one of the school masters. Entirely platonic, these friendships gave me a degree of sanity, and I also formed close bonds with my friends’ girlfriends, many of which I have to this day.
I never bonded well with other guys although at school I did have a couple of guys I was very close to, bonding mainly around smoking and other rebellious activities! We’re still in touch today, although the Diaspora of Zimbabweans in my age group has sent us to different corners of the world.
Despite the seeming normality of my life; good friends, I was enjoying school and school holidays by now, girl-friends, parties and all things adolescent, I just could never shake or get beyond this yearning to be a girl. I was so jealous, not resentful though (ok, maybe sometimes!) of the way girls were able to dress. I loved the idea of being able to wear make-up, mini-skirts, long hair, soft underwear, bras, camisoles and nighties. It drove me crazy. It was when I was about 16 that I started to by my own girls clothes. I remember the rush of going into a Woolworths (our equivalent of Marks & Spencers) and buying my first camisole, bra, panties and garter belt. For the rest I borrowed from my sisters and being a little overweight helped me fill the bra a bit and my spare-tire functioned as a great pair of hips. Caroline caught me once and, bless her, tried really hard to talk to me about it, but I just couldn’t. It drove me crazy. I didn’t want to be a man in girl’s clothes… I wanted to BE a girl. It was round about then that my father tried the “father-son” talk, and a bought me a book, “What every boy should know”. Clearly not a good communicator himself! On the back was an advert for “What every girl should know”, with a picture of a 15 year old girl, and I so desperately wanted to be her!I survived school and lived with my mother in Harare. I had about 3 jobs in 3 months, trying desperately to figure out what I wanted to do. I had sex for the first time when I was 19. She was a beautiful girl with a great figure, really sweet and nice. I enjoyed, and still enjoy, hetero-sex, but realized from the outset that I always wished to be on the other side. Oh, to be able to wear sexy negligees, panties, all those toys and to be able to multiple orgasm! Its just not fair damn it
The last 20 years have really been a repeat of this cycle. I returned to Zimbabwe in ’94 when my mother got ill. After she passed I moved to Johannesburg, tried to live a “normal” life, while always carrying this burning with me. I got married, settled down, had two kids. My first marriage broke up for pretty much normal reasons, if there is such a thing. My ex-wife is devoutly Catholic and through my searching to understand myself, and life, I have become Pagan, and those two just don’t mix! She is also a very hard woman, not feminine at all, a verbal bully, and ultimately I needed to be with someone more empathetic, soft and feminine. I had a number of functional, loving and successful relationships before I met Jacqui. We actually met online, at Match.com. We clicked (excuse the pun!) right from the beginning. She is a 3rd Degree Wiccan Priestess, having done her Degrees in the UK. I didn’t really define myself as Pagan when we met, but since understanding my spiritual path from her perspective, I can now see that this has always been my path. All Pagans, whilst being polytheist, have one central deity that they most identify with. Mine is the Goddess Morgana, mainly known for her role in the Arthurain legends. It is so fascinating to me that all my life the feminine style I have always coveted is the long flowing black, or white, lace with tight bodice and flowing long hair. If you’re not aware of her, Google Morgana and you’ll see what I mean! Think also Evanescence. I also love the flowing gowns of the medieval times, damsels in distress and knights of honour. When I was younger I would fantasize about being a princess getting rescued and then ravaged (nicely!) by a strong knight.
I struggle with relationships with men, and South African men are the most pig-headed, chauvinistic of them all. It’s like they’re all still living in the ’50s. It’s all about rugby, braais (barbeques), beer and who’s got the flashiest car, all a substitute really for the question which seems to bother them most… who’s got the biggest dick?
So, I now find myself at something of a cross-roads in my life. I have been very successful as a man, well externally anyway. I have three sons and a step-daughter, and a wife who loves the “man” I present on the outside. But what about the “me” on the inside? I call her “Julieanne”. What do I do with Julieanne? We have been together for 40 years now. She’s clearly not going away. I’ve tried ignoring her. I’ve tried allowing her a little outlet now and then. It’s just not enough any more. The outside of me just isn’t in sync with the inside of me. My wife has made it clear to me that she needs a “MAN”. Hairy chest, hairy arms, short stubby finger nails. Of course, she would not be happy if I was a beer-swilling chauvinist, and loves the fact that I am empathetic and feminine in my approach to life. But cut those nails, don’t grow your hair, or shave your legs.
I don’t have the answer right now. What I have is the question. That’s a start. We’ll see where it goes from there! One thing is certain though, the next 40 years will be a lot different to the last!
I do believe strongly that the increased incidence of GID is linked to a broader spiritual awakening, which I believe is necessary to save mankind from his (gender used intentionally) own destruction. I believe the dominion of masculine energy, as typified by the Catholic church and preponderance of male politicians, is drawing to a close and that feminine energy is in the ascendancy. Hopefully this will culminate in fewer destructive conflicts and war, and a greater respect for Mother Earth. I have just finished reading a book by David Icke (“I am me, I am free”) which was first published in 1997. He talks about much of this, and was definitely ahead of the curve on this thinking. He’s had a lot of bad press, but if you separate the “message” from the “messenger” (which he advocates anyway), he expresses a very enlightening message. His message was 10 years too early, and perhaps people like me are the harbingers of change also.
Someone asked me an interesting question… “Does Jacqui know?” A short question, but not a short answer! To answer that question I need to take you back to about August 2009. This “thing” (let’s just call it that for now LOL) had been weighing heavily on mind. I had a really bad year in 2009. The business I had started had failed, and I was deep in debt. I reviewing where I was, why I had got to that point, and where should I go next. To me, being “trans-gendered” still seemed to me to be something that was “wrong”. I acknowledged to myself that it was “fear” that was keeping me from doing the things in my life that I wanted to do. It was fear that had kept me in a career I didn’t enjoy (working in Financial Services) and it was that same fear, the fear of rejection and isolation, that was keeping me from exploring what these feelings meant to me. As I said before, my only previous of experience of transsexuals was that they were “weird”, “odd” and seemed to live on the periphery of society. This “spoke” directly to my fear.
One evening, while I was “navel gazing”, I went onto Google on my Blackberry and typed in “Why do I feel like I want to be a girl?” I found a link there to an organisation called The Gender Identity Research Society (http://www.gires.org.uk). It was a really interesting site, a site not dedicated to the outer-fringe of transgendered society, but rather a simple, professional collection of information so relevant to my situation. I found a link there to an article published by the Telegraph on a lady called Kate Craig-Wood (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/lifestyl...ky-many-men-would-never-pass-for-a-woman.html). The picture of her changed everything for me.
It was an epiphany. I realized in that moment that transitioning was a possibility, and that it was possible to live a “normal” life post-transition. Kate was such an inspiration. Here was someone who did the same work as me, and was accepted by society. She is a respected business leader, and major contributor to building understanding of trans-gendered issues.
From there I did a search on her name, and found a link to “Transsexual Women’s Successes”. http://ai.eecs.umich.edu/people/conway/TSsuccesses/TSgallery4.html. There were hundreds of women who had transitioned and gone on to live successful lives. From there I found another woman, Donna Rose (www.donnarose.com). She, too, was so successful. Donna and I have become good friends and communicate regularly. Ironically, although I emailed Kate, she never responded! But in a way, she had done enough. She had helped me crack my fear.
I read on one of the websites that a good way to cross-dress in society was to use conventional dress-up opportunities. As Halloween was just around the corner, I decided to go to a party as my ex-wife, the scariest monster I know! I didn’t look great, but then neither does my ex-wife!
My vanity spiked, and I realised that if I was to ultimately transition to a woman, I would need to some serious work on myself, starting with significant weight-loss.
But another thing happened as well. I named my alter-ego, Julieanne, and decided to do meditations, allowing her to surface, accepting her place in my life. I refer to this as letting her “emerge”. I found that the more I let her emerge, the more comfortable I became with myself, and the happier I became. I changed my career direction, getting the fantastic contract that I have with Eskom, and allowing Julieanne more “space” in my life really helped me with the success I am enjoying with them. My job requires so many feminine traits, like negotiation, compromise, and listening. I departed from “swinging-dick” mentality that had led me into so much confrontation and conflict at work. It has been fantastic. With it though comes the different frustration of being “seen” as a man, knowing that inside I feel like a woman. Having despatched the need to swing my dick with the other men though gives me an inner peace that enables me to handle this much better now.
I decided in January, as part of my New Years resolutions, to try to discuss this with Jacqui. Her initial reaction was, predictably, “Oh my god, are you gay!” I tried to explain to her about GID, the physiological aspects as well and psychological, where-upon she then chalked it up to a mid-life crisis. So I backed off the issue, but intended to keep chipping away at it.
In the meantime, I did more research, hooked up with various transgendered communities on-line, and created a FaceBook profile for Julieanne. A place where I could be the woman I wanted to be, and a place where I could connect with other woman without my man-suit getting in the way! I have realised that one of the reasons I always got on so well with my friends’ girl-friends was is that given that the girls were dating my friends, I was able to interact with them on a genuine, emotional level without the added complication of them wondering if I was trying to “get into them”. I loved these interactions, and as I said, many of them are my friends to this day. I really crave that woman to woman interaction. Women connect with each other on an emotional level without it becoming all about sex. Men just can’t do that, with each other, or with other women. With them it all becomes about their swinging dicks. This is probably also why all my male friends, past and present, have been gay. I do get frustrated with the “fairy” type of gay person though. Having never felt the need to strut around the planet affirming my hetero-sexuality, I see no need for people to strut around the world affirming their homo-sexuality. To me the “fairies” also fit into my swinging dick category. They just swing it a different way!
I had another conversation with Jacqui at the beginning of May. It went about as well as the first one! Then about a month later, she noticed my longer nails, which I had stopped cutting and started grooming. This coincided with me shaving off all my body hair. We had a seriously bad chat that day, and her point of view was that she needs a man, and she is not lesbian, so if I carry on with this, that is end of the marriage. I both understand, but am incredibly frustrated by this. I love her intensely, I wish so deeply that she could see the person within me, and not see only the man-suit. I know it is unreasonable of me to expect her to support me in this, but I know that I need her in my life, and so I know I need to find a way to bring her along this journey with me. I am the eternal optimist, but I’d rather be an optimist and be wrong, than a pessimist and be right!
So that is where I am now! A long answer to a short question LOL.
I do believe strongly that the increased incidence of GID is linked to a broader spiritual awakening, which I believe is necessary to save mankind from his (gender used intentionally) own destruction. I believe the dominion of masculine energy, as typified by the Catholic church and preponderance of male politicians, is drawing to a close and that feminine energy is in the ascendancy. Hopefully this will culminate in fewer destructive conflicts and war, and a greater respect for Mother Earth. I have just finished reading a book by David Icke (“I am me, I am free”) which was first published in 1997. He talks about much of this, and was definitely ahead of the curve on this thinking. He’s had a lot of bad press, but if you separate the “message” from the “messenger” (which he advocates anyway), he expresses a very enlightening message. His message was 10 years too early, and perhaps people like me are the harbingers of change also.
The “nature vs. nuture” debate has raged quite extensively around the homosexuality/transgender topic. I must just say that, subsequent to making the “Part 1 & 2” post on my blogs I have come to realise that my upbringing, despite being challenging, was probably no more or less challenging than the average person’s, just different. I have certainly realised that going to boarding school, whilst not my first choice, was probably the best thing for me given the state of my mother at the time. I think of it somewhat like that of an abused child, that is removed from its parents’ home for its own safety…. yes, the child would still rather be with their parents but it is ultimately in the child’s best interests that it is not. I believe now that boarding school gave me a powerful sense of “consequence for my actions”, which although at school was perhaps overdone, it has caused me to withdraw from situations where I could have got myself into a lot of trouble, had I not had a good sense of the consequences of those particular actions. A good example is that I experimented with drugs, but never went beyond marajuana, simply because I feared the consequences of doing so! I like to think of it as ABS for my life
Given that, I have also concluded that I don’t believe my life was so traumatic as to have caused major psychological issues for me. And especially I don’t believe that transgenderism, specifically in my case, has a psychological root. I have been giving a lot of thought to “cause vs. consequence” lately. One simple example is my weight. Endocrine tests show that I have elevated levels of insulin in my blood. This could be caused by insulin-resistance, which is a type of diabetes. It also well documented that high insulin levels are linked to obesity. What the Drs can’t agree though is whether the obesity causes the high insulin level, or whether the high insulin level causes the obesity! Naturally, the approach to resolving the problem then lies in which of the two options you believe is correct! I’ve approached it from both sides, and neither worked, so now I just eat one, small meal a day, and I am losing weight just fine, for the first time in my life! My thoughts on “cause vs. consequence” have also extended to the the child-abuse/over-bearing father prognosis in homosexuality. Again… does a man become homosexual because his father was overbearing, or does the father become overbearing, perhaps to the extent of abuse, because he senses the difference in his son? I have a strong sense of the sensitivity of my boys, all three of whom are completely different on the sensitivity scale. The eldest, at one extreme is incredibly sensitive, even “feminine”, the youngest is a compete “toughie” type, and the middle one is somewhere in, well, the middle. Now if I was a manly, beer swilling, rough/tough type dad like, say my Uncle, I might take exception to the way my eldest is and feel the need to “toughen” him up. Later, should he turn out to be gay, fingers would point at me for being to overbearing, yet possibly he always was that way. I have thought about this a lot when it comes my cousin (who is gay), and I really wonder whether he is gay because my uncle was an overbearing bully, or my uncle was an overbearing bully because my cousin was gay?
Personally, I have never, in all my recollection, been a rough tough manly man, and believe it is “nature” and not “nurture” that has made me the way I am. I have just always been this way, and all my gay and TG friends say the same, that “its just always been like that“. So the question then comes down to why are some people created this way? From my research I have come across a number of papers on the Web, where this has been studied as far as it can be, up to this point. The understanding so far seems to be that there is a difference in the Hypothalamus (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypothalamus) between men and women, and that the hypothalamus in gay/TG men more closely resembles a woman’s than an man’s. (http://brain.oxfordjournals.org/cgi/content/full/131/12/3115) Put simply, the hypothalamus is like the central control centre for the brain, controlling the hormonal and endocrine systems. It drives “fight/flight” reflex, adrenalin, insulin (uh huh!!!) and many other “sub-processes” of the human brain. Studies so far link it directly to sexual orientation, and there have even been clear links made between child-hood head trauma and paedophilia for example, the conclusion being drawn that head-trauma can impact the hypothalamus and by consequence the sexual orientation of the person, leading in some cases to paedophilia. Mostly though the research is in its infancy, due to societal constraints on this type of research, but progress is being slowly made.
Taken to its conclusion, if the initial research is correct, and there is a physiological (as opposed to purely psychological) link to homosexuality and transgenderism, and that link is the hypothalamus, then this issue is one of “nature” and not “nurture”. That then lends scientific credence to my theory of the rise of the feminine, as discussed previously (https://tigergirl69.wordpress.com/2010/06/07/my-story-part-2/). I believe that nature has figured out that men are their own worst enemy, and the best way to deal with them is to “tone them down a little“. This is not about turning MEN into WOMEN. I think its more a “meeting half way“. Research also shows an increasing incidence of female-to-male transgenderism as well as lesbianism. So its happening on both sides of the “fence”. The thing is though that females who feel masculine can wear suits, build muscle, ride motor-bikes in a metal studs and leathers, run the barbaque, enjoy watching sports, have disdain for shopping, work on building sites, and so on! As such, they mostly go under the radar. Conversely, men who prefer to wear feminine clothes, become hairdressers, enjoy shopping and have a disdain for watching sports are considered odd and stand out more. Incidentally, the thing which many people may not realise, in the case of “cross-dressing”, is that the impetus can be completely different depending on the person. There those who garner sexual excitement from cross-dressing, but have no desire to change sexes. They enjoy being Men in Womens’ clothing. Then there are those at the other end of the spectrum, like me, who garner no sexual excitement from cross-dressing, just prefer the styling and feel of women’s clothes. 200 hundred years ago men wore skirts, frilly shirts, make-up and tights! Do you ever questionwhy a woman likes a particular skirt, blouse or dress? Or why she may prefer skirts to pants, high-heels to flats or vice versa? Maybe there’s a psychological connection, maybe not, but mostly it is discarded as just a “preference”, or “style”. I personally find plain shirts, pants, men’s shoes, short hair with no style, hair all over my body, etc unattractive, in the same way the average woman would. Why? I don’t know, for the same reason one couldn’t logically explain anybody’s style/body choices. Its just a preference. Its like I have a number of pairs of men’s silk boxers which I enjoy wearing to the same extent I hate wearing cotton briefs. My wife hates wearing standard cotton hi-cuts and loves thongs and silky lacy underwear. Conversely, my ex-wife, loves the cotton hi-cuts and hates thongs, g-strings and lacy underwear. Go figure! My wife likes lace blouses, skirts and high heels, my ex tee-shirts, pants and flat shoes. I do suspect my ex is somewhat orientated to the lesbian side of the fence :-)! The bottom line is though, that in the same way my wife and ex-wife have completely different views about what they like to wear, so do I differ from the average guy. Perhaps if it were socially acceptable for men to wear skirts, frilly blouses and tights, like 200 years ago, TG men would go under the radar in the same way TG women do today. Its just that a man in a dress stands out in society far more than a woman in a pant-suit and tie.
There are no easy answers here. At least I am making progress, and I am also becoming much happier and accepting of myself. I certainly don’t think I am about to head off to surgery for gender reassignment! There is clearly still so much left for me to understand, and I don’t believe for an instant surgery is the solution. I’m not lost, its just that society isn’t in the right place
