Monday, 19 October 2015


I took an Autumn break to visit some friends, thankfully it was a warm week where I was finally able to open the store of summer clothes before they get packed away again. Sauntering along without a care in the world, with warm air playing on your legs beneath a floaty skirt is all it takes to remind you who you finally now are and everything it took was absolutely worth while.

Some people I know might have wondered if all that effort was worth it for someone who still lives a quiet life away from the hustle and bustle of a city life. Someone who is not out to enjoy all the possibilities available with that new life. The "sex" in transsexual is really all that people seem to latch on to! My change had nothing to do with sexual desires, it was all about finally giving up a life of pretence at being something I had know to be wrong for as long as I can remember. Just to be "me" was all I ever hoped for.

An online friend has a new profile picture with a beaming smile. Several months ago she changed from content with life to searching for a significant other. I am many years out of date with statistics but they used to show that more than sixty percent of us never get to use those cunningly crafted new parts to their fullest extent. We are warned that we may loose any desires we once had for sex, or not have enough sensitivity to make it enjoyable. Just finding a partner does not seem to be a problem for those who choose to use the internet. As with natal women the real problem seems to be when the desire is for a more complete relationship. The very world which now considers sex to be a game is stopping many from ever giving up the chance for yet another quick encounter... Even so it would seem that some of us can finally have it all as my friend has found.

In many ways I am delighted that I am not driven by desires to find such a partner as my friend, nearly all my natal women friends who are not in marriages or other relationships say that they too do "not want a man rummaging in their knickers" so I do not feel myself to be at all unusual in my contentment. It is some irritation that so much on film and television is obsessed with sex, and mostly casual sex at that, is an irritation, even finding a decent book to read is hard! Because I knew exactly who I was from an early age I assumed from the start that it was unlikely that sex would be playing a part in my life, of course we were never told that some people just do it for fun and have no concern for marriage, this was the late fifties after all! I shall never know if I conditioned myself to not expect to experience sex and therefore subdued my libido or if it was just extremely low naturally. It is still some surprise to me that I have actually experienced sex since I never went looking for it and would never even so much as have crossed a road to seek it. As it turned out women do not seem to like having to woo a male partner, the males are supposed to be masterful and get on with it. Darn it, I wanted hours of foreplay! I could go on but you probably have the picture by now, sorry not a pretty one.

I have had several months now wondering if my friends new life would stir up any envy or jealousy. All I feel is happiness for her and a little anxiousness that it will last for her.

Now if only my desire for cheese was as low as my libido...

Monday, 31 August 2015


Well, all that expectation for summer came to nothing! I still have not unpacked my summer clothes and there are distinct signs of autumn in the air. I thought that I was having a rare nightmare with a thundering machine noise on an early Sunday morning, you would think that a country girl would be used to the sounds of a combine harvester in a field a hundred yards from her bedroom. A cold wet summer has caused weeds to grow like fury and many things to fail to grow. On the bright side hedgerow blackberries are easy picking this year so I am not having any problems with my regularity...

When the phone rang recently it was a friend telling me that there was a "LGBTAI Pride March" being reported on the evening TV news. I can understand why he might have thought that I would be interested, there was a trans element present but not in a way that I am happy with. The G element was the usual wild carnival the public have come to expect and no doubt even makes many homosexual men cringe like I do about the T presentation.

The ever growing acronym for unrelated oppressed was once a handy shelter which now feels like the roof has blown off. Outrageous behaviour both amuses and horrifies the general public and does nothing to help educate or increase our acceptance in society. The bias is towards a different sexuality and behaviour but transsexuals have very little to do with that sex word which gets so many riled up and excited. Until we can be seen as separate from the wild excesses of Pride I feel our cause is now being held back. All the other letters, the Bs, Is As and Ls are probably all feeling the same, just nobody can come up with a new idea or even dare suggest it.

My friend now knows what I think of parades, now I have to try and convince him that I do not need to know about every incidence of the ever increasing reports of the stream of celebrity transitions. I am glad that the rest of the world sees them and soon will be bored into normality...

Sunday, 17 May 2015

First signs of warmth triggers memories.

How many decades did I live for the winter? We get long  dark winters and it costs a fortune to even try to stay warm but in many ways I was more content living with the gloom that matched how I felt.

The approach of warmer sunnier days held something of a dread for me as I knew a heart crushing feeling was just a short time away. As certain as flowers would start to bloom on the roadside verges and the fresh flush of green would soften the stark skeletons of the winter trees I knew that girls would be peeling back the layers in casual enjoyment of the warm suns rays. They would be exposing arms and legs to a fresh breeze and feeling the joy of a swish of a skirt.

If you had an M on your birth certificate until recent years even wearing shorts was frowned upon here, hard to imagine when so many  now take it for granted, dull clothes in dull colours was the norm. Girls on the other hand were free to enjoy the whole spectrum of colour and fabric choice, a freedom I longed for...

The sunny days are here at last and between the chill winds I have been out enjoying watching the year come back to life, at last I really feel alive. Being finally set free to enjoy so many small pleasures after a lifetime trapped playing an uncomfortable and unnatural roles hard to get those who have not ever had to question their own selves to understand.

I have a small patch I call a garden. The years of misery did not encourage me to do more than let it get overgrown, bouts of lethargy and depression hardly helped. Now I want something closer to a real garden with light and colour, perhaps not a show garden like those soon to be on show at events round the country, just something where I can sit and soak up the rays surrounded by some floral fragrances.

If you are yet to set out on the path to change I can highly recommend doing any heavy garden jobs before the testosterone fades away, everything seems to double in weight after transition!

Sunday, 12 April 2015

Praise for bloggers.

I have to admire those who are able to keep writing their blog posts, it is a lot harder even than I imagined. I often felt guilty being a reader and not a writer, not that I had much that I could have written about and could never be encouraged to write much at school so was not going to be making social observations like Jane Austin...

How times have changed. I am up with a grey dawn listening to the rain pattering on the skylight, frustrated that I am not able to get out and potter about in my small garden catching the enthusiastic weeds which are trying to pop up everywhere. A few years ago I was more likely to have been watching the dawn break while still reading freshly posted west coast blogs or occasionally chatting to the many brief online contacts that I made over the years.

If anything distinguishes my transition time from now it would be the nocturnal life then and the sleep deprivation! Thank goodness for all those bloggers able and willing to share their lives and experiences to help those countless lonely souls out there trying to sort out their own lives. Would I have made the leap without them showing the way and teaching me about the various systems I would have to navigate? I very much doubt it. I would probably still be lying awake at night head swirling with mixed thoughts. The various plans to end this life should it become absolutely intolerable and it seemed to be ever gradually heading that way, it was always a comfort to know that the emergency exit was prepared and waiting, this constrained and compromised life could be over and the turmoil ended…

As it is the blossoming internet presence  showed me that I was not alone, I had long suspected that there must be some others like me but surely few in number considering how little was ever written about us in print! What a surprise to find that there were so many and these were only the ones who felt confident enough to blog or comment, how many like me mostly keep in the shadows still dreaming of the person they know they should be, dreaming that one day someone would see them for who they were, perhaps love them for who they were and share some bodily warmth. Then somewhere there would be a mirror, my home was almost devoid of such horrors, and s scary reality would hit! A long lifetime of testosterone had surely permanently moulded those horrible masculine features onto my poor body, I could see all that behind the facial hair I hid behind. Some brave souls posted a visual history of their transformations that were a revelation. I could never have done it but here were gorgeous looking women who like me had lived out lives looking not too different from me! Soon video versions were appearing showing that it was not just a visual change but with the new look would come a new voice and freedom of mannerisms long held in check.

Slowly I made changes and cannot emphasise enough how much something like starting to remove facial hair can do to confidence that all is not lost. It is a long process and especially if you have lived long enough to have your hairs start to turn grey it can be a very long and expensive process which you will not be wanting to be doing if you finally take the plunge to step out into the world as your real self. Many women have a good few hairs on the chin but few have stubble! Once my face was revealed and framed by long hair a not so gradual change of clothing soon followed. The sky did not fall, cars did not skid and crash when drivers saw me crossing the road, OK some small children in supermarkets would look a bit confused at seeing  woman who was so all and not going to win a beauty contest, but lets face it that is young kids job to try and make sense of the world and catagorise everything!

It all seems so long ago now. With increasing media acceptance of transsexuals as not being alien horrors to be pointed at and stoned, I had been drawn back to the net to see what had happened to some of those I had encountered along the way. They used to say that once on the net, always on the net, but from what I have found many have been able to vanish without a trace. Many names I have to admit I have been unable to even remember since so much was wiped from my old computer and my dislike of facebook caused me to delete my account. I often wonder how they got on, are they like me finally comfortable in their own skin and able to finally function in the world, did they find love and happiness or just find that like most of us that mostly exists in romantic fiction. A good circle of friends can be more liberating than one exclusive and restrictive relationship. I have at least answered one of those nagging questions from the sleepless nights, nobody has fallen head over heels in love with this old lady except myself and with that I am more than content...

Sunday, 22 March 2015

Thoughts of Spring...

Thank goodness we have passed the equinox and the hope of spring weather lies ahead of us. All that bulky clothing to survive the winter can be soon be put away and lighter, looser and finer clothes can see the light of day again.

There has been a small avalanche of clothing catalogues through through the letter box recently. Perhaps there is murmuring out there along the lines of "she should be out enjoying the freedom to shop wherever she likes now" but like many of us, there is not always a lot to choose from in shops in larger sizes. You have to envy women in general and those of us who are of smaller stature, your choices for expressing you personality through your choice of clothing is almost limitless and styles available often more flattering than for those of us of larger stature. This does make real life shopping less of a joy and more of a frustration. Perhaps we once dreamed of being able to dress in something particularly feminine and flattering only to find that for many of us it remains still just a dream.

At least we have an easier access to some larger sizes, no matter where we live, by using the catalogues and online sites. I had always imagined that online sites would be better than a cheap catalogue through the door but have yet to find a single site which is not several times worse in presentation of garments. Where are the multiple views and embedded videos of the garments being worn by normal sized models? Where is the inspiration to part with my cash?

At this point I shall confess to have not spent anything on clothes for over a year now. Shocking I know. There are several reasons that many of the catalogues never even got a single glance before being recycled. Some companies had shown a change of direction away from a broader customer base, that was not a size reference really, the larger customers are often shunned even by companies which had constantly had to reply that my chosen styles had already sold out! The custom is there, they just do not really want to cater for us... Thankfully I do already have plenty of spring to autumn wear stored ready for use and what a lot of space it takes up compared to a few pairs of trousers and a small stack of tee shirts. Much of that clothing is for someone just slightly smaller than I am at the moment. If there is one thing I would like others to learn is that a change of body chemistry with HRT and the subsequent loss of muscle mass will have an effect on your metabolism. If you are not careful a weight gain will sneak up on you in a very short time, I am convinced that weight can be gained just by reading the calorie content printed on the packaging of some foods!

I am close to returning to the weight at which I am comfortable and I hope that the memory of how difficult it is to loose some weight compared to the extreme ease with which it can be gained will help me to maintain my most comfortable weight.

Perhaps I shall find something special to buy as a treat and reward in the near future. My real problem with clothes now is that I am no longer satisfied with reasonable clothes which fit, my tastes have sadly extended to classier clothes just beyond those which I can really afford. The future is for quality rather than quantity. I come from an age where clothes are worn until they are worn out and would never be consigned to a charity shop because they had not been worn for a year as is often suggested in magazines. My older clothes are just resting, awaiting their next outing.

My only piece of fashion advice would be to shun anything with a degree of elasticated waist, you will miss any warning signs of weight gain and curse the apparent comfort for a long time...

My only regret is leaving my transition too long and finding myself less able to indulge my desire for clothes as I once could have done...

Sunday, 22 February 2015

Too much sex...

To look back and wonder how life might have worked out if things had been a little different must be something we all do from time to time.

I knew that I was transsexual at an early age even though it would be a long time before I became aware of the actual label. It now seems strange to me that the actual label never really bothered me for many decades until it became something  that I finally had to do something about. All of a sudden there was that three letter word "sex" jumping out of my label!

Even before I reached school age I had decided that I had to keep my head down and never let anyone know what was going on in my head. Clearly the world was divided into two groups, boys and girls. Adults were in charge and seemed to know how things worked and what was going on but they thought I was a boy, something had gone wrong and I must be unique. Best stay quiet and see how things work out.

I was sent to school to learn about the world, sounded like a great idea, I kept being told how much I would enjoy it. They were wrong! From the first day it was as if all the other kids could read my mind and I was rejected by boys and girls. A real shame I had been looking forward to being friends with girls even though I knew that boys were supposed to not like girls and if I followed my own rules I should seem to not like them either. Thankfully I was shunned rather than harassed, that would have been hard to live with. After the birds and bees lessons it was clear that there was something wrong with me and there did not seem to be any place in the boy meets girl, gets married and have children world I was being taught about. My emotions were clamped down tight, I was surely going to have to live alone for the rest of my life.

I had known from early days that there were women who liked other women in a special sort of way. I knew that was what I was supposed to have been but clearly women like that were never going to want to be with someone like me!

For a couple of periods I have spent time with women who did wish to get close so I am not totally without intimate experience as I thought I would be. Sadly though they must have chosen me, because I have never done any seeking, for my less than aggressive masculine self they each soon got bored with my caring nature. People who knew me were surprised that once rejected I was not straight away out looking for someone else.

Do those of us who do not see a place in the world for us clamp down so hard on our desires that they never get to function at anything like the intensity of everyone else. I would love to be loved, to have someone who wanted to hold me close and enjoy touching the body of someone who loved them...

The great irony of my life is that since my transition, several women who I knew before have felt the need to tell me that when I was half pretending to be male they did find me attractive. None ever gave the slightest hint before.

Once I had determined that change was a must for me I was confronted with the only label I could use and it included those three letters, s, e and  x. Most inappropriate for someone who had so little use for that small world or for the human acts it is now used to describe.

Many enter their transition wondering just what orientation they will come out with. I went in having thought I was the world's most undesirable lesbian and have come out the other side with my orientation unchanged. I can now say that I am an old lady set in her ways. Who knows what the future holds? Nobody really knows my innermost desires, I am not going to wear a badge or carry a banner declaring them to the world and still think I have not exactly climbed many rungs up the ladder of desirability for any other with similar leanings out there.

You may be wondering why this sudden confessional post. Over the years the net seemed to carry a number of similarly themed posts at the same time. Now there seem to have been a number about those post operative feeling the urge to test their newly fashioned women's equipment. Once more I am feeling a bit of an outsider. There is nothing I can offer, I have almost no experience of the chaotic rituals leading up to coupling, chances are low that I shall ever need to know. Jealousy is not part of my makeup, then again neither is anything to do with sex. The reduction of interest, from almost nothing to as close to zero as it must be possible to be, makes the constant references keep me further from the web than ever before. The ever increasingly sexualised world is an irritation, I am very glad that I have not been born into the world as it is today, where sex has become a casual craving to be satisfied much like a visit to a fast food joint for a less than gourmet meal, worse is the expectation that everyone should be participants much like Rome at the court of Caligula.

I shall never know if I was responsible for conditioning myself against sexual desire or if it was just the way I was born but at the moment I feel like a non sports fan trapped at something like a cup final / super bowl surrounded by a hoard of wild irrationality. This is cutting more ties to the blog world I have followed for so long.

Wednesday, 11 February 2015

Better gardener?

In my past life a mixture of SAD, seasonal adaptive disorder popular this far north in winter, and my cycles of depression used to make this time of year a regular misery.

Transition cures,well at least I think it cured my depression. being happier gets me out in the little sunshine there is which combats the SAD so I no longer waste the days away watching old movies. Nor do I seem to spend much time online reading a certain kind of blog or as you may have noticed, writing one.

Our winter has not been very severe but many days have been too slippy underfoot to risk a long walk so I have busied myself organising my clothes. In the past this might have taken me all of half an hour going slowly!

Girls seem to have loads of clothes and they cannot all be thrown into a washing machine together! I come from an age when clothes were relatively more expensive, would be chosen with care and kept for a long time and repaired if necessary. I have not changed. As I have been sorting through my "wardrobe", which long ago expanded out of the once more than adequate wardrobe, I have been freshening some things up ready for the spring and even getting items dry-cleaned! It was long my policy that nothing would be bought which needed dry-cleaning and nothing which needed ironing after washing. These rules have long since been abandonned.

I have been resurecting my mending skills, these more delicate items cannot just be put into the gardening clothes pile even though I now try to look more glamorous when out tidying my patch than I was in the past. Darning a favourite autumn coloured sweater is proving to be a challenge but now that I have a present of some machine knitting needles which I can push through the garment and then drag back a thread without catching others. I should now be getting on with a lot less effort.

It is just as well that I now make this early start because the days are lengthening, many are now mild and sunny and green shoots are testing the air. It is so easy to be late clearing away the old growth and making the job several times longer and harder once you have nowhere to put a foot. The old me got caught out every year without exception being hard to reactivate from the winter blues...

Transition and you will be a glamorous and better gardener!

Wednesday, 14 January 2015

Transsexual archeology...

Writing is tougher than i thought it might be. On the other hand I do wish that I had kept a diary or written a blog which followed my transition from sullen misery to current contentment.

Winter has finally bitten and I am not going to risk a broken leg or neck on slippy pavements. You really start to show your age when snow is seen as a hazard rather than a fun and magical transformation of the world. In the past I would have had my feet in a pair of tough walking boots and been out there to be part of the magic. Now those boots have long gone to be replaced by another ind of boot which will never be subjected to snow and I would risk serious injury walking with a heel and less grip than ice on ice. My boots have transitioned from functional to fashionable...

The old me would have wasted away as much time as possible when the weather turned bad, probably slipped into a depression or latterly spent hours online reading about others moving on with their lives. The new me is getting her life sorted out and while stuck at home i decided to clear out an old under stair storage space.

We are talking about a space which starts a little over head height and immediately tapers down under the stairway for about seven feet and then turns left for another couple of feet. There are four small shelves on the right made of wood and the walls are plastered, slightly cracked with an original dirty yellow distemper finish, ancient linoleum is on the floor. It has been a dark and dingy space to loose things in. It's main use has been as a place to hide a laundry basket to hide clothes waiting for a wash and it has done the job really well! The rest of it has been somewhere to loose something quickly and often forever.

It says something of the miserable soul i once was that things which could so easily have been cleared out occasionally have been allowed to accumulate, then again the upside is that I have just had a brief glance backwards through my transition.

Far at the back were delivery boxes from when I started to panic about my thinning hair and as was only possible back then bought drugs now available on prescription. Those were the days when I thought that i could keep up the performance if only I kept my hair. Thankfully I had been born at a time when a guy could have long hair and only get occasional abuse. seeing the world through a curtain of long hair went a long way to keeping me sane.

In front of those boxes were boxes from various hair removal devices! How crazy, we worry about loosing some hair and are horrified to find it growing in other places! Fingers, hands and wrists, cheeks and bushing eyebrows all caused despair. Depilatories are nasty and smelly to use so I experimented with various self electrolysis and laser machines. I had all the time in the world and would spend hours with a single hair laser machine improving my look, at least it felt like i was making some attempt to show who I really was.

Then the internet became available, decades too late for me I thought so being fairly poor and quite unaware of how to get on the internet or how to even work a computer I resisted even trying. Part of it was fear that I would spend money on something I could not work and part was fear that I would make it work! People use their computers for so many things, mine now sits quietly gathering dust most of the time, it's work is mostly done. I knew exactly what I would do if I got online. years of searching libraries had produced so little information to help me understand my condition, even encyclopaedias proved useless but perhaps the new fangled internet would hold the answers. If I got my hands on a machine that was the one task I had in mind but the cost was high, the connections slow and expensive and already the internet was being infested by an infinite number of nasty things...

By pure chance just as broadband finally reached our town i had a small inheritance after the death of a favourite uncle. The canny devil had long ago sold his home to an insurance company and lived really well on the proceeds well into his nineties. He was better equipped for this modern age than I was and when he died he left very little except a newish but well dented car, an almost new video camera and the computer he edited his movies on, I had a small electronic pocket organiser... A cheque for just enough to buy my own computer arrived, various bits have been excavated along with the huge box containing the anti virus and firewall programs and the 3 cm thick instruction manuals on how to stay safe!

Clearly things just got pushed further back as more things went in to the store. Clothes scavenged from my partner mostly when she thought they were being thrown out, they did not always fit but they acted like a talisman for my hidden self, a few strange book which I had forgotten I still had about "the third sex" and " my husband betty" type books which I started to find out about once on line. More sophisticated scanning laser machine which was sixty times faster than the original! Nobody could live long enough to become hairless with these surely! Lots of bottles of nail colour including a small Chanel bag with an as yet unopened bottle of 219 black satin which must have cost me a relative fortune. Coloured nails, long before I even imagined transition would be possible, was one of the ways I stayed sane, black was the easiest to get away with since it was just a rock star look!

Towards the front were lots of worn out clothes I had actually been able to buy and wear but coming from not long after the second world war and a time of austerity even old worn clothes have a value. Many will see use when I am back out gardening, I surprised myself and threw some away since modern materials do not even make decent cleaning cloths, some are neatly folded and waiting to go to one of the many charity shops which now line our shopping streets. I never found the scanner lost about ten years ago when it refused to scan my old holiday slides...

I recently rescued a half used can of white paint a neighbour said they were throwing out, I will never loose the need to recycle stamped into me in childhood, the space looks so different now it is nearly all white!

We can go through a lot of stages on our journey to happiness and it is so easy to forget, especially once it is all in the past and the new life sails on without any drama.

Sunday, 4 January 2015

End of year thoughts...

I started an end of year post full of confidence and hope that the world had turned our way.

The media has long found us a cheap and easy target and in consequence the public are regularly told that we are some kind of freaks rather than victims of one of nature's cruel jokes. The year seem to start badly and the British press managed to drive one poor, well loved, school teacher to take her own life. Not their first victim buy a long way but soon after there was a sense that things really were changing.

It must help that now a fair number of celebrities have become involved with transitions themselves, or within their families, which makes the excuse of ignorance harder and harder to use, everyone now knows that we exist and that we can be most successfully treated. It is perhaps only because the system is now so well organised and so many of us after treatment melt back into society unseen that progress is as slow as it is to that eventual day when transition will be no more news worthy than a hip replacement...

A recent short radio series about the work of the gender services at Charring Cross Hospital in London was so matter of fact and unsensational I was not sure at first that I was not dreaming.

Sadly over the christmas period there was a report of an American teenaged child who took their own life because their "christian" family decided that they were not to be allowed to have any kind of treatment because it went against their beliefs! The child was aware that any delay would make a seamless transition impossible and they would have to undergo a sickening puberty with all the associated discomfort and emotional distress. An online farewell note was published with a planned delay and still the parents tried to pretend that they had not killed their own child!

The "christian" excuse seems a little flimsy when I think of one of this season's gatherings here at home and the number of devout christians attending including one preacher and two canons, all very happy to be my friends...

My projected post got deleted and I only decided to try another on the theme when a new story broke about yet another celebrity couple happy to work with the wishes of their transgendered child and under the bright lights of publicity.

I have lost count of the number of transsexual commentators on radio programmes this past year and not always to put over our message, we can be treated just like anyone else and the sky does not fall.

A new year is ahead of us and I do hope that this progress continues to make it easier for the countless sufferers to gain the courage to speak out and get the help they need. Perhaps the days of stigma will pass within my lifetime after all.

The last couple of months slid into winter has taken it's toll on my circle of friends, we are reaching the age where we are the frontline generation facing age and health issues