~~~ Review of 2005 ~~~

At this time of year it seems that writing lists is The Thing To Do. I like them; they're psychologically healthy as they promote "closure" on subjects, allowing you to move on to the next thing. Sometimes, we need to feel all the loose ends have been cleared away, or at least catalogued, which is the next best thing. They also allow you to see progress, which is reassuring and uplifting. And it bores people in a whole new way. So here are my closing thoughts on 2005, in the middle of the mad whirlwind that is this year's Christmas and the New Year.

On Transgenderism:

• Have I reached the "gah! stop thinking it over!" stage yet? Probably not!
  
• I like my current theory. Humans are programmed to align their behaviour with social groups. Gender isn't binary, but has two vectors, male and female, which vary in strength (but interfere with each other). TGs have a strong other-sex vector, causing the group behaviour to kick in and e.g. pretty dresses to be worn as an expression of that drive to conform to the group.
  
• so, it's a drive, not a fetish (though it can be made fetishy - furs, heels, etc)
  
• the drive has different levels of intensity, maybe leading to the CD/TV/TS divides.
  
• some TG's add a cognitive layer of complexity to things, obsessing about dressing. See a therapist!
  
• TG are very social, but only really in a TG context. Who else understands? Ghetto mentality.
  
• CDs and TVs can be very promiscuous - but more so than other social groups e.g. the gay community? Not sure.
  
• Is it a perversion? Should we repress it for the betterment of society? Trannying can be very destructive to ourselves and our relationships with others. Tentative conclusion is that it is a perversion, but only because society has wrong values - we're fighting the same battle as the gay community did in the last half century. Change the world, not your dress sense!
  

On Blogging:

• everyone loves their 15 minutes of fame. We get to stand up and tell the world what we're thinking, and nobody yawns (that we can see).
  
• it's therapeutic.
  
• doing it in an entertaining manner is hard.
  
• keeping up with everyone else's blogs can be very time consuming.
  

On personal change:

• New Year's day 2005 I was a boy.
  
• Februrary saw Gemma first appear. "Ugly" doesn't begin to describe it.
  
• April saw Gemma's first footsteps into the outside world, and her first experience was: getting chatted up outside a pub. Also first outing to Transmission. Also first falling down stairs in heels.
  
• July I started getting IPL treatments for unwanted body and facial hair.
  
• August saw the first Purge, with a six-week "crap tranny" phase bought on by illness. Also the start of this blog.
  
• September was the start of a new career (counselling). Only 3.5 more years to go!
  
• November was an epiphany: the emotional acceptance of who I had become, after my first major solo flight from home (Transpocalypse). Also the first suggestion that I might be TS.
  
• December I started being "me" for days on end: four days at the start of December, then (hopefully) 9 days in the Christmas week.
  
• New Year's Day 2006, I'll be a girl. Or at least, a tranny in a pretty dress - even better!
  

On (maybe) being TS:

• I need to apologise more about banging on about this. But you'll understand - personal issues don't really get any bigger than this. It needs a lot of banging. Fnarr Fnarr.
  
• My subconcious isn't raising any screams of alarm over the subject
  
• But neither is it saying "yes, this is right".
  
• No fantasies either about being morphically female, but there are ones about being full-time Femme.
  
• Conclusion: not TS. Yet. Just a fun concept to play with. Are there in-between states, e.g. permanently pre-op TS?
  

But thinking about this: how many other TGs are in the same situation as me? Where the conviction isn't strong enough to go for gender-reassignment surgury, but is enough to boot you out of the masculine rut into ... ah, that's the problem, isn't it? Into what?

On the Tranny Fashionista thing:

• Women's fashions are fun!
  
• Any excuse to buy more clothes :D
  
• This isn't a normally seen aspect of trannying. Am I weird?
  
• It's a positive thing: it encourages greater appearance awareness and so to being a better tranny.
  

Resolutions:

• to write fewer e-mails. It takes *ages* to keep up!
  
• to wear other eyeshadow colours than brown and golds! (but: an RG friend says she doesn't do other shades either)
  
• to buy and wear more dresses
  
• to investigate social cohesion in other subgroups
  
• to read up much, much more on the whole TG world
  
• to be a tranny fashionista
  

So, I wave goodbye with fondness to 2005, one packed with fun, interesting and good memories. But - hello, 2006, here we come!

~~~ Pulling a Fast One ~~~

A man walked into a bar and started chatting up a cheetah. I said to him "You're pulling a fast one".

Wheeeee! !Whoosh! through the dark and scary cave of Purging, and back out into daylight. In fact, rocketing very high indeed, I was chuckling to myself all round Tescos: really digging being a tranny; planning buying a pair of really sexy black leather boots and loving every second of it; admiring various girlies in nice clothes. I even stopped to complement a Goth Girl on how good she looked; we talked about "A Nightmare Before Christmas" and so on. I don't know if it was the effect of throwing out those boy clothes, but it's certainly knocked me out of those depressive thought patterns.

And before you think to yourself "Oh, that's nice, Gemma's back to normal", think again. I've been reading up about depression today. This sort of wild mood swing is not normal, and is a feature of depression. Or at least, it's bipolar (manic/depression). Which got me thinking: is the purge just a tranny form of depression? Which means it's treatable with certain cognitive techniques. Please, if anyone out there starts suffering a purge, fancy being a guinea pig? We'll see if we can beat it using some thought pattern restructuring.

And something good came of it too. I was looking to see if there were any therapists who dealt with depression and gender-related issues who used cognitive therapy. "No" was the resounding answer. Looks like I've found another area of specialisation then; trannying and depression go together like Dolce and Gabana.

~~~ The Tranny Rollercoaster ~~~

Back to basics. This blog was supposed to give the casual reader an insight into the tranny world but recently has descended into parody and humour. Well, we're back with a vengeance, because I'm just entering that wonderful downturn on the rollercoaster of tranny life known as the "purge" cycle.

For the non-TG reader, this is a staple part of tranny existance, where social conformity pressures gain the upper hand resulting in self-loathing, depression, guilt, anxiety and a throwing-away of all things femme - clothing, makeup, the lot. I don't know what it correlates with: whether secretive married dressers experience the purge in a more severe fashion, etc (I'm neither). I'm fairly sure that the purge is an externalisation process, where the act of discarding material possessions is symbolic of getting rid of the internal pressures, guilt, loathing etc. Of course it doesn't work: that sort of behaviour is more properly known as "sympathetic magic". Anyway: the desire to cross-dress always returns, leading to new purchases of clothes and makeup. And so the great cycle continues, and shopkeepers rub their hands with glee.

It's an odd phenomena, and I don't think it's associated with things like Bulemia Nervosa (binge eating). A tranny might only have a couple of attacks in her life, so I think it's more like earthquakes: pressure builds up, then is released in a destructive few moments. There may be lesser quakes; I seem to suffer from the self-doubt variety (when I can be heard muttering to myself "I'm such a crap tranny"). This time seems to be up to 5 on the tranny Richter scale.

I thought I might as well blog it; mostly trannies won't because it's so painful. Right now, I'm in a particularly self-destructive mood, so what the heck (remember: self-loathing). Perhaps you'll see a bit closer into the tranny world. Maybe you're a tranny and will remember this when you get into your own purge cycle, and it will lessen the pain somewhat (and that is homeopathic magic). Definitely don't throw away your dresses. Give them to another deserving tranny; let's try to minimise the earthquakes, shall we? Causes of today's little shock? It started off with that sudden twinge of loneliness the day before yesterday, but a double-whammy sent me over the edge.

Firstly, one of my two vanilla friendhips (only two? How sad) came over for the first time in months, but things were strained. She accused me of being "bland" (a tranny? BLAND?), and felt we'd gone in different directions. In a sense she's right: I've become a lot less pig-headed and opinionated over the past few months. And becoming Gemma has been a pretty major life changing event. She can talk; she's had her head buried up her arse while working every hour God sends, and that drains the personality. Well, I can't and won't go back to the old me just because she's scared of change, so it looks like one old friendship is about to die.

Then, my other set of vanilla friends told me that after careful thought, they felt really uncomfortable about me being Gemma and would prefer it if I kept it seperate. Now, I can understand this. It's still rejecting, because they were the one set of people I was sure wouldn't have an issue with it because of things in their own life. We both realise that this uneasiness is going to diminish our friendship. We're both very social, except I'm social as Gemma. I wanted to make them a part of this life, and it looks like this isn't to be. So there won't be that many opportunities going forward when I'll be in boy mode and able to see them.

I feel like I've just lost the only friends I have in the vanilla world. One good tranny friend is off abroad. Another two aren't answering mails, no doubt in their own purge/depression cycles. All seems black, doom and gloom, etc. Gentle reader, if you were ever wondering why the NHS insists on psychological assessment of TS's, it's because in this state you get a wild sort of recklessness about you. Post-op? Why not, it's not as if the male genitalia are of any particular use except for peeing standing up. Maybe I'll have a happier existance as a girl; hell, a lot of people seem to want to be my friend when I'm Gemma, judging by the trans-dating sites. You might also be able to tell: I've had quite a lot of people saying that I'm obviously TS, and they expect me to transition in the next three years. Well, f*ck it, maybe I just will.

It's at times like this that I feel grateful for some core personality traits: honesty and bloody-mindedness. I know that high follows low (which is why it's a cycle) so it's all about waiting this burst of depression out. Throwing clothes away won't help, unless it's to improve the quality of my wardrobe. I know I'm not TS (yet), so shall treat the pre-op comments as a sort of praise or affirmation that, yes, I do have a very feminine side that is expressed so well as myself (Gemma). Friends come and go; it's painful, but inevitable. Can't stop change, so just live with it, love those who need to move on, and welcome new opportunites. Carry on being who I feel I really am. Doing a "Calvin's Dad" on myself here, this is all "character-building" (though I feel that trannies have more than enough character, thank you very much).

So please excuse me. I'm now off to purge my wardrobe. Not of lovely girly clothes but (being bloody-minded) of crap boy-mode clothing from M&S etc. As Gemma I'm a nicer person (honesty coming out here), so I should spend more time as her even if my friends can't cope. I get the psychological release of throwing things away, of making a positive change in my life. And it will free up some space to buy some more frilly dresses.

~~~ Maudlin self-pity ~~~

Maybe it's the time of year. Maybe I've been doing too much counselling, supporting other people. Maybe I've been listening to too many other people. Or perhaps it's the half bottle of Chardonnay. But all of a sudden I've been overwhelmed with loneliness. Oh, I have friends. Lots of very good friends, who I love dearly. But this is different: this is that primeval longing for a soulmate, someone to share life's ups and downs with, someone to snuggle up to and just be close.

I *had* thought that marriage had burnt it out of me, but obviously not; there's a stubborn ember still flickering. Good for it, and I'll fan it this evening even though it will be painful. We shouldn't ever let our fires go out.

~~~ The Pros and Cons of Tranny-Partnering ~~~

It's been done before, but I'd like to do it again. Genetic Girl partners of trannies have some odd advantages and disadvantages.

pro:She can use your makeup whenever she needs to.
con:You will use hers.

pro:She'll always have someone to go shopping with
con:You're spending as much as she does on clothes, so there's less to go round

pro:She'll have someone to diet with
con:You can shed pounds faster than she can

pro:You'll understand when she has to bitch to you about something
con:She has to listen to you bitching about a whole lot more

pro:You'll never complain about how long it takes her to get ready
con:You take twice as long to get ready as she does

pro:She always has someone to go clubbing with
con:Your legs look a lot better in a mini than hers do

pro:You won't ask her to sit through Star Wars episode 17
con:You will ask her to sit through Casablanca. For the 17th time.

... more when I can think of them! Any suggestions?

~~~ The Narcotic Of Choice ~~~

May I say, no tranny was harmed in the making of this blog. No illegal substances were ingested. No crimes committed. This is all completely, totally hypothetical, for educational purposes only. Of course.

First off, Trannying surely should count as a drug ("T"). It's expensive, it messes with your mind, it takes you to an altered state of existence. In many places it's illegal. And you get dodgy vendors selling you extremely unreliable product (not that I'm pointing the finger at Transformations or anything).

But on a recent trip to Manchester, the subject of narcotics came up. Manchester is a city that demands narcotics, I feel. But which ones? We discussed the matter, and came to a conclusion of sorts, albeit at early hours of the morning when judgement should be suspended for the common good.

Alcohol is, of course, the beginner's choice. Freely available and with no social stigma (unless you order a pint of Heavy in a tranny bar). But consider: alcohol is not a tranny's friend. For a start, she's almost certainly on heels. Alcohol ruins the balance, leading to that Naomi Campbell falling feeling. It makes her slur, and trannies are talkative. It makes her talk nonsense, and heavens knows a tranny is not the most intellectual of creatures to start with. No, I really feel that we must move on from Alcohol; trannies just shouldn't do it.

There are, of course, the hard drugs. Crack, Cocaine, Heroin, Angel Dust, PDP, and all the others. Addictive and with a tendency to destroy your earning capability. As such, a tranny should go nowhere near them; she can't afford not to buy this season's latest fashion.

What about the softer drugs? Well, there's good old Hash. It makes you go very mellow and lethargic. Now: most trannies I see spend a goodly time on the dance floor, so this isn't a good choice. Or are social butterflies, again needing their energy and wits about them.

Then there's acid. Speak for yourself, but I find trannying to be enough of a weird trip without further distorting reality. And you tend to end up in a corner of a room gibbering to yourself. Not the sort of thing a lady wishes to be seen doing.

There's tobacco, but there are the health consequences, and you end up smelling like the rancid end of a stale kipper. Oh, so femme. So charming. Bleugh. And don't get me started on the Knitting Circle trannies with their pipes. Really - they exist.

Which brings us to Ecstacy, or E. A drug that apparently makes you open to the world, loving everyone. You can get very talkative on it. Or very receptive. Sensations are amplified - always a bonus for wearers of satin and silk lingerie. You can dance for ages. And an erotic experience is much deeper, is so more powerful.

Strange. It hits all the ducks, doesn't it? Almost as if it was invented for trannies. But of course we're good girls, and would never partake of something like that.

~~~ On Coming Out ~~~

Or, seven degrees of connection. I was going to write a "Fear and Loathing ..." style piece. I've just come back from a trip to Manchester, and heavens knows that resembled the book in a number of places:

"We opened the trunk; it was a pervert's wet dream. Twenty-three miniskirts, fourteen pairs of assorted tights (predominantly fishnet), bras, underwear, thongs, slips, corsets and satin nightslips. A whole bag of boots ranging from 1" to an eye-watering 5". We couldn't possibly wear all this in four days, but once you start on a clubbing collection it's hard to stop until you run out of space."

I personally now consider "T" to be a drug as lethal as any other on the market. But the trouble with Fear and Loathing writing is: it's descriptive. It entertains. And I was writing this blog to look at issues from all sides, to consider different perspectives. So here's the deal. Any entry starting with "Fear and Loathing ..." is recounting some episode in my life. I'll try to make it entertaining, but there won't be that many of them as they take a lot of effort and I'm not that motivated over writing that sort of thing.

What did set me off today was talking to some friends. I'd told them last week about me (Gemma). Well, Siobhan and Gillian were doing it, and the time felt right. My friends were pretty cool about it. I even invited them to a party so they could see me, as opposed to my Clarke Kent side. Today, the conversation went like this:

"Can we invite K.? We've told her about you."
"Ummm ... sure." (I like K., but ...).
"Oh, and L. will be coming too. You don't mind her knowing, do you?"
"Errr ... no, not at all. In fact - you better tell Z. too."

I thought I'd better get the last in before they did: a bit of pre-emptive outing. What got to me was: I'd shared this very personal and private part of me, and suddenly it was being disseminated through my social group. Especially L. - she will tell everyone. There now is truly no place to hide. I have to admit to feeling a bit exposed, but on the other hand, it's like being in a nudist camp and having the beachballs taken away: eventually you have to give up being embarrassed and just go for it, without worrying what your friends are going to think. If they're your friends they won't mind - will have fun, in fact. If they're not your friends, then you don't want them around, do you?

The sad fact is: once you start coming out, you may as well go all the way and tell everyone as soon as possible. There are no halfway measures. At least you'll be the one who enjoys the shocked reactions, rather than people coming to you and saying "Really? How nice!".

~~~ Gonzo Dressing ~~~

Becky mentioned Hunter S. Thompson, Lemsip and "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" in a website. I'm a big fan, and shamelessly parodied the opening paragraphs in a response. It was fun. A lot of fun! And I like fun. So I thought, "what would Hunter write about if he was a tranny in Hampshire? Just coming to terms with it all?" ...

~~~~~~

We both agreed, it had to be done. There was a need, there was Black, far too much Black, and we had the colours in our wardrobes. I remember sitting in the bar and checking out the girls as they came in. Black. Black. Nice, but too tranny. I turned to my Fashion Adviser and said "Something needs to be done. And soon."
In the middle of a straw of Coke, my Fashion Adviser stopped to think about it. This is her problem: she thinks. I, personally, don't rate the activity. If a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing to excess especially if it involves the Clarins cosmetics counter. Earlier that week I had withdrawn the better part of my life savings and in a 24-hour shopping spree had completely failed to spend most of it. Black, it seemed, was the In Thing. The Clarins girl agreed. She also agreed that shopping must be done to excess if it was to be done at all, and took the opportunity to sell me some very expensive gold eyeshadow. Gold eyeshadow is a terrible thing. On a model, it glitters, it shines. It sings out to the trannies' heart. Yet give a girl a tube of it herself, and she becomes some trashy egyptian slut, fit only to parade about with King Tutenkhamun.

But we weren't in Ancient Egypt, we were in Transmission, checking out the dress sense of the incoming girls. Of course, we ignored the good-looking ones. They didn't count. Never look up, it just holds you back. We were interested in climbing up the backs of the poor, downtrodden masses, the huddled trannies in the sacklike garments. Maybe cruel. Maybe harsh. But we weren't interested in the milk of human kindness at that moment, though in the morning maybe we would be interested in milk of magnesia. And what to wear that wasn't black, and wasn't shapeless, and showed us to be the goddesses that we were.

Then my Fashion Adviser clutched my arm. "Oh My God, I'm having a seizure. Tell me I'm having a seizure. Tell me I'm not seeing a 6'6" walking talking Barbie Doll on Amphetamines". Looking up from my handbag, I looked upon Michaela Marbella, the embodiment of what is Good and Right and Noble in the tranny world: the right of every girl to dress to excess, this evening in a particularly extrovert "Princess of Romance" fluffy number. A sight like that is hard for a girl to cope with, especially on only one glass of Chardonnay. Pulling my Fashion Adviser up by her arm, I muttered to her "Come on, let's go to the bar. This demands a drink, and you're buying".

Struggling through the seething trannies, we discussed what we should do. "Follow the tranny dream. Be bold. Be beautiful. But above all, be noticed." We both agreed: being noticed was important. And attending the right parties. Goddammit, weren't we gorgeous? We HAD to be at those parties. The girls needed us. And maybe my gold eyeshadow too. This was getting more serious, we were going to have to talk to people, mix with people, find out where the parties were. And buy more dresses. As the Chardonnay took hold, I remember stressing the importance of a dress. And a high hemline. My Fashion Adviser disagreed. "Don't be a fool. Ethnic is in. Cheongsams. Sarees. Russian chic." My Fashion Adviser is ethnic, and is prone to talking like this. She has the skin tone to carry off loud colours, but I feel she fails to notice the finer points of subtlety and blending. So we agreed: we would sit down and plan, we would party, we would dress so well that we would set a shining example to trannies everywhere. And maybe we would wear Sarees. Trannytown wouldn't know what had hit it.

~~~~~~~~

... God, that *was* fun! I like this. I like this a lot, and it could work out. There's a space for interesting, weird reportage of various tranny events. I can't do wild drug abuse, but will persue this for a bit and see how it goes. Stay tuned; there are a few more chapters bubbling in my head!

~~~ Hissy Fit ~~~

This just isn't fair: why me? Why now?

Perhaps some context is needed. I'm visiting some friends in Manchester; 4 days full-on trannying. What shall I wear? I have to think of day-wear and clubbing, each one different. And do I have a suitcase big enough for it all? Don't tell me to bring less; I'm a tranny. I like to dress up. You think I'm missing out on any one of eight different ways to dress? I'm ordering the pack elephants now.

Last night, too, was Transmission, and I was travelling with the delectable Nina (at 2am, she'd racked up 7 chat-up attempts. Way to go, girl!). It was important to look good in that sort of company (flirty floaty red dress, wide leather belt, and a beautiful white shawl). We also had a long chat about how trannies can be irresponsible gadflies, and decided to dedicate our lives to a nobler cause: being supreme fashionistas.

However. In the last two weeks I have spent a lot of time clothes shopping, and I am depressed. "And this season's colours are inspired by nature: namely, the bottom of a pond. Heather is looking oh-so-pondweed in that gorgeous muddy brown skirt and slime green top. Zara's emaciated form is cunningly concealed in that full-length black dress which completely hides any curves or shape that she has: I do think the Burkha could be next season's big thing, don't you, Jilly?"

Well, really. I didn't sign up to be a tranny in order to look like pond scum. Where are the colours? The vibrancy? The frills? Pink, even. There was a moment of happiness with the floaty, chic Boho look, but that has evolved (degenerated?) into this mud-coloured palette. Or just grown mould, you really couldn't tell. Just my luck to start wearing dresses when they become hideously unwearable. And note, dear reader, this is from a girl who likes brown, so it must be bad if I'm stomping a pert foot in a fit of pique.

Sigh: these things are sent to try a tranny's courage. So I'm focussing on the classics, instead. Red and white, nicely festive - especially this, which Jessica pointed out and I fell completely in love with. A lovely silver thing that will be just right for Christmas. (Darkly) if it arrives in time. Despite being ordered ages ago, it doesn't look as if it's been dispatched yet. This isn't good! While I do need a little black number, I don't know if I can bring myself to wear it. And a shameful admission: I'm going to wear the same dress out to a number of events, I can't afford to be a perfect fashionista just yet. Any gorgeous, wealthy admirers who would like to spoil a t-girl and dress her in sumptuous fabrics, please apply here.

~~~ What Not To Wear ~~~

Jessica has suggested we write to What Not To Wear, to persuade Suzie and Trinny to do a Tranny What Not To Wear. This is an idea so good that it has to happen. Please - write now! Perhaps even nominate the worst-dressed tranny you know :D

Failing that - perhaps we should do our own "Floozy and Tranny" WNTW!