As a male to female transvestite for many years, the power of photos has been fully understood, yet the written (aka typed) word eluded my femme side, partially as I enjoy being photographed when in full femme mode and never saw the need to write - other than for communicating directly with others.
Perhaps a little explanation of terms I use might help, given that I've slipped into one above...
- Drab - the time that I spend outside of femme clothing, which is most of the time. This should not imply that I have a drab life, but recognises the difference between male clothing (mostly drab) and female clothing, which has such variety and is rarely drab.
- Transvestite - in my case someone who gets pleasure out of wearing clothes of the opposite "sex" (herein lies a potential for offence as some people will never recognise the word "sex" as a synonym of gender, hence if you choose to take offence, that is on you, it is never intended by me)
- Tranny - in Britain, this is an abbreviation of the word transvestite and I enjoy being called a tranny. I realise that some of my American cousins tell me this is an abbreviation of "transmission" - which we Brits called "gearbox" - hence they find it offensive. Once again, none intended, simply a difference of culture.
That list may be added to for clarification later, however let me highlight how I started.
When I was around four years old, way back in the 60s, my aunt (mum's sister) visited regularly and on one of those occasions, my elder sister, who was a similar size to me, was fussed over whenever she wore her party dress, so I put it on and got fussed over. On a subconscious level, I believe this is at least partly the reason that I continue to dress.
The recognition that the clothes "maketh the man" meant that I was more deserving of being fussed over when wearing a gorgeous party dress. This happened a few more times, sometimes when my sister was out, yet as I grew it was made clear to me that this was not something that boys did.
Needless to say I dressed in secret and as puberty hit, the need to wash my sister's clothes happened on more than one occasion.
The recognition that the clothes "maketh the man" meant that I was more deserving of being fussed over when wearing a gorgeous party dress. This happened a few more times, sometimes when my sister was out, yet as I grew it was made clear to me that this was not something that boys did.
Needless to say I dressed in secret and as puberty hit, the need to wash my sister's clothes happened on more than one occasion.
Sadly no pictures appear of either my sister or I wearing the party dress, hence you will have to imagine how cute I looked. Certainly I felt cute and loved the enjoyment my aunt and mum got out of me mincing around and twirling in the dress.
As you might imagine dear reader, this is a bit of catharsis already, hence I'll continue this at a future date - and I'm not promising when. If you enjoy it, I'd love your feedback. If you didn't, I'd still love your feedback, although would appreciate some empowering feedback, as opposed to the bigoted comments that I occasionally received on Facebook.
As you might imagine dear reader, this is a bit of catharsis already, hence I'll continue this at a future date - and I'm not promising when. If you enjoy it, I'd love your feedback. If you didn't, I'd still love your feedback, although would appreciate some empowering feedback, as opposed to the bigoted comments that I occasionally received on Facebook.
Thank you for reading this far.
Hugs and swishes.
Sally
