Myra Breckinridge

Gore Vidal passed away this week.  He was a giant in the literary world and a fascinating man who knew a lot of fascinating people.  I don't read a lot of novels, but I did read Myra Breckinridge many years ago, and it spawned a family mystery that I have never solved.

Sometime back in the 1970s I was staying with relatives for the summer.  At the time I thought I was a young crossdresser (terms like "transgender" and "autogynephilia" hadn't been coined yet) and took every opportunity to dress in old clothes that I might find, read anything on the subject that might be in print (there was very little legit info in print back then), and hypnotically watch anything on television dealing with the subject (which was normally relegated to rare news stories about transexuals).  Yes, for the enlightenment of the younger ready, forty years ago mankind was basically an ignorant brute as evidenced by the polyster fashion of the day, but I digress....  I was staying with relatives for the summer and had the run of the house and the small town where we lived.

One afternoon I happened to go nosing through a closet full of old clothes and lots of "junk".  None of the clothes really caught my eye, but I found some old magazines and books that appeared interesting.  Once I had dug down into the middle of the stack, I discovered that sandwiched between reams of general family-targeted magazines were a couple of girlie magazines and a paperback copy of Myra Breckinridge.

I examined the girlie magazines first as I was most familiar with those.  They had the usual centerfolds and layouts of gorgeous nude women, but one item that both copies had in common was that they both had layouts of some hermaphrodites as well.  I was puzzled by this coincidence and mesmerized by these naked bodies that were both male and female.  I had never seen anything like that before.

Then I turned my attention to the book and began reading it.  To the best of my knowledge, I had never heard anything about this book or about the author, yet something drove me to read it.  The two magazines had been major important finds for me and a hunch told me this book was right up my alley as well.  Over the course of a week I sneaked reading chapters and stuck with the book to the very end (I didn't cheat and read the end first) where I was rewarded with the literary fulfillment of a major personal erotic fantasy -- Myra had been Myron, a male.  The thought of being able to overcome my problem of being male and becoming a beautiful woman like Myra (who would tell you herself that she was beautiful) made a huge impact on me.

Some time later, a question popped into my little brain.  Who was the owner of these books and magazines?  The owner was obviously a relative, yet they had been hidden away in a manner where only the owner would have access to them.  This owner might have been like me, wishing they had been born a woman.  Years later, I also realized that this person might have been a bit more lewd, being what is often termed a "tranny chaser".  Whatever the reason for this relative owning this material, I would have liked to have talked with them about it.  There are studies that suggest transgenderism is an inherited phenomenon.  Learning of this person's motives and passions would have been a treasure trove of info.

Unfortunately, this person was probably raised like I was to be ashamed and be silent of any deviation from the "norm".  If there is nothing wrong or sinful about the deviation, why be ashamed and silent?  I can fully understand why people might think my actions are odd (they are sometimes odd to me also), but odd does not equal wrong or sinful, and I've learned being ashamed and silent (for no good reason) not only hurts myself, but others who feel the same.

Kelli

Vacation Time!

Merciful heavens!  Due to other people's vacations, I am in dire need of a vacation!  I feel bad for not updating my little blog in over a month, but it seems everyone at my place of employment decided to vacation in June.  That left little ol' me to fill-in and cover for all my fellow employees, working my fingers to the bone, all under the compassionate gaze of my slaver-driver boss.  I ended up with only bony fingers to show for my dedication, good work ethic, and honesty.  A pay raise is what I would have preferred, but in my line of work they don't give out pay raises for being a good employee.  On a side note, bright red nail polish seems to make your fingers look even bonier.


Now that we are in July and the middle of summer vacation season here in the states, I can't imagine a repeat of June, but you never know.  I'm almost afraid to ask for a week of vacation because of the possibility of denial of request.  I mean, the only reason they could deny my request is because they are expecting a repeat of June.  That would crush my spirit.  Did everyone get an extra week of vacation and I missed the memo?


I shouldn't complain too much about my job, referred to affectionately as "the salt mine".  Gender dysphoria has permeated all aspects of my life to one degree or so, and sometimes dreams and fantasy are mistakenly compared to reality.  Lots of people would say I have a very nice job, and when the facts are considered, they are correct.  But in my dreams, I would much rather be a runway model for the house of Chanel, and that job trumps most any male job imaginable.


I'll try to do better at blogging.  FYI I also enjoy Tweeting now and frequently retweet interesting items that can be found in the right-hand column of my blog.  I normally tweet or retweet several times a day, so if you see something interesting, please check back often.  I put a lot of time and effort into selecting the proper heels for Tweeting, so I take it pretty seriously.


Kelli

Smart Women are Great

I've probably mentioned once or twice in this blog [tongue in cheek here] that I envy women, but I've been remiss in only discussing the physical aspects of my envy. When I see a woman, I often find myself admiring her hair, makeup, or figure, and find myself wishing I could copy that aspect of her being for myself. A full head of luxurious, cascading tresses sounds much more fun than my short male $15 haircut.

Truth be told, there are many inner qualities that I admire as well, and I was reminded of that by a news story I heard today. According to press reports, a survey of UK women found the majority would be willing to lower their IQ if it meant they could have larger breasts. That's a crying shame as I find intelligent women to be very attractive.

I immediately thought of some TG fiction I had read long ago where men were transformed into busty bimbos. Is this a fantasy some women also have? This seems like a strange desire that is shared by both a segment of the female population and a segment of the crossdressing population. Is there some sort of correlation between the two groups that has not yet been studied and documented? This inquiring mind wants to know.

Most of the women I have dated through the years have been of at least average intelligence if not smarter. If they were actually smarter than they seemed and played dumb around me, I was too dumb to notice it. I remember a girlfriend's roommate that I liked a lot. She was a pretty girl-next-door type from Chicago. We were just friends. One evening she brought over a date for us to meet. He was a good guy and we all got along well. A few minutes after their arrival, the roommate began saying some really strange things that had me wondering What in the world is she thinking? She's not using her common sense. In fact, the first couple of times she said these things I laughed, thinking she was pulling my leg. She then turned doe-eyed to her date and asked him why I was being so mean to her. After they left, my girlfriend explained that the roommate really liked the guy and was playing dumb to keep him. I was amazed that the guy never realized the truth.

I consider myself to be of average intelligence. Therefore, any woman who wants to be around me and is smarter than me (or is it myself) can only enhance my self worth.

A pretty woman may catch my attention, but a smart woman is going to hold my attention. Besides, grey matter is a lousy substance for breast augmentation. Silicon is much better.

Also, in case any genetic females are reading this, I am single and available. Anyone? Hello?

Kelli

A Slap of Reality

I willingly admit that there is a certain fantasy element to most cross dressing. If what I find on the internet passes as the norm for many cross dressers, then it is safe to assume that we all have an ideal vision of what a woman should look like and what we wish we could look like. There's nothing wrong with that, it's just the nature of our transgenderism.

I have a strong ideal of what I wish to look like. I'm constantly comparing women's hair, makeup, clothing, shoes, etc. to my list of what I like, what I could achieve, and what I can only dream about.

With my new year's diet and exercise program, I thought I was securely planted in reality. I was overweight by both my standards and the standards of the health care industry. I began loosing weight and could scientifically document my progress using a scale, tape measure, and the new belt I had to buy last week. However, this morning I got a bruising reality check.

I had time for a full hour of exercise this morning and began with great eagerness. I use some standard exercise videos found on YouTube. They all feature the aerobics/fitness instructor leading the exercises, surrounded by several women comprising various levels of physical fitness. As the exercises became easier (due to practice), I found myself paying more attention to the women in the background. The instructor is toned, fit, and looks great, but some of the women in the background had better curves. I found their workout clothes to be cute and found myself comparing hairstyles and physiques. After a few weeks, I found myself wishing I had a figure like the woman in the teal outfit on the right side of the screen, or had a pretty smile like the woman at the very back in the black and pink outfit. Eventually, I even found myself using these women as a goal, as in "that's what I want my body to look like".

This morning, I added something new to the routine. I've been concentrating very hard on doing the exercises in a correct manner. I bought a full mirror at the store and set it up next to my computer screen so I could see myself while exercising, and compare my moves to those of the instructor. Yuck!!! That slapped me back to reality faster than a wet towel in a locker room. I realized I'm light years away from looking like the cute gal in the teal outfit, and on a practical level, I will never look like her.

The good news is that my diet and exercise will help me loose weight and improve my health. I just need to remind myself of that more often. And every little pound and inch I loose will also help me achieve a more feminine look. I just have to keep my expectations grounded in reality and know I will never be hired to be a model for Victoria's Secret.

Kelli

Still Dreaming

I definitely remembered this dream from last night.

In the dream, I had a girlfriend. These days, the only girlfriend I can get seems to be in my dreams. Anyway, in an unknown manner, she is slowly transforming me into a Japanese school girl. When I realize what she is doing, I protest, and she playfully tells me that if I can catch her, I can stop her.

I begin searching and chasing her all over Honolulu. Why the heck I am in Hawaii is never explained. All the while I slowly change into a Japanese school girl, becoming a young woman and having my clothes slowly morph into a school uniform. It's very bizarre.

I finally catch up to my girlfriend. She is on her motor scooter and is stopped at a busy intersection. I run into the street to confront her and demand that she change me back into a man. The only problem is that I now find my speech has been effected, and I can only speak English with a very pronounced Japanese accent.

Japanese is different from American English in that in English, foreign words usually retain the same pronunciation as practiced in their native tongue. In Japanese, foreign words are frequently modified in their pronunciation. Therefore when a Japanese speaker tries to use lots of English words, but pronounces them as they are written in Japanese, it is often confusing and useless to English speakers and listeners. That is how I find myself speaking in the dream. I know English, but must pronounce the words as if I have never spoken conversational English.

A group of young women pass by us and overhear the conversation. They call out helpful corrections to my speech as they pass by. I turn, bow, and thank them. Don't know if that is proper Japanese etiquette, but I did it in the dream. The girls laugh and continue on. Their behavior strikes me as odd, but when I turn to face my girlfriend again, she is gone.

I return home alone and enter my bedroom to find it has been decorated in typical high school girl fashion.

That's when I awoke. As I have written before, I think some dreams do have deep psychological meaning and are good for analysis. Then again, some dreams are just good entertainment, and I was thoroughly entertained by this one.

Kelli

On Being Lara Croft

Time for a quick strange dream update....


I have an iGoogle homepage that I enjoy very much. I've got some fashion news gadgets, weather and e-mail gadgets, and some cute artwork gadgets to keep me informed and entertained. It has a calendar and a calculator (which is never used), and a love thought for the day. I don't change the gadgets very often, but the iGoogle page is customizable with various themes, and I like to change the theme from time to time.


My current theme is a Lara Croft theme. Lara is a character from the Tomb Raider video game series. I have never played any of the Tomb Raider games (a fact many younger readers find hard to believe), but I have seen many pictures of Lara. She is a knock-out of a woman who likes action and adventure and could easily kick my tail if I were to meet her in person. Beautiful, a state often identified as feminine, and tough, a state often identified as male, when combined in one person is certain to attract my eye every time.


Lately, I have not been sleeping well, and was extra tired when I went to bed last night. I dreamed last night that I was Lara Croft. Not being familiar with the various Tomb Raider storylines, the dream was mostly various action adventure scenes in which I, as Lara Croft, found myself racing cars, diving off boats, hang gliding, and such. I had a blast in the dream and awoke somewhat out of breath.


Some folks have criticized the Lara Croft character as being an imaginary character whose looks are unattainable for the average woman. The average woman is unable to attain Lara's beauty. The average woman is unable to have shapely legs like Lara. The average woman would find it difficult to daily manage life with a figure like Lara's body dimensions. I feel I can now safely say that I just spent a night as Lara Croft, and had no problem with my breasts getting in my way.


Kelli

Fact Is Stranger Than Science Fiction

I've written before on being a casual fan of science fiction. What I find truly interesting and downright amazing is all the things that were labeled "science fiction" when I was a kid that have become science fact of today. For example, when I was younger (than what I am today), there was a television cartoon called The Jetsons about a futuristic family that had computers in their houses, robots, tv wrist watches, and flying cars. Today we have three out of four of those items, and that's not half bad. My poor old vehicle lies at the other end of the technology spectrum, closer to the Flintmobile as found on The Flintstones, but we can discuss autos on another forum....

It seems obvious that many transgendered people are also fans of science fiction. Lots of tv fiction found on the internet makes use of science fiction ideas and plot lines. I use to frequent sites like Fiction Mania where there were hundreds if not thousands of stories just in the sci-fi department. In these stories you could become a woman via a transporter malfunction, radioactive waste, a mad scientist's experiment, or falling through a rabbit hole into an alternate reality. I've got the legs for those Star Trek uniforms if I do say so myself.

Some major medical news was released this week that was immediately posted on several TG forums. The news sounded so incredible that for a moment I thought surely someone must have sent me a TG science fiction plot by mistake, but here is one of many news outlets reporting the story. In short, scientists have discovered that the reason we stay genetically male or female throughout life is because of a gene (duh!), but this gene can be turned on and off, and turning it off causes a body to begin developing as the opposite sex. Tests have only been conducted on mice, so the full effect of the changes is not yet known.

Having read lots of TG fiction, I'm hoping that through a little gene manipulation I can one day walk into a hospital looking like a guy and come out looking more like Marilyn Monroe. The reverse is also possible for women, although I don't think any woman who looks like Marilyn Monroe would walk into a hospital and come out looking like me. I have an ex-girlfriend who says that doctor would be sued for malpractice!

This is a fantastic blessing from the Good Lord and a great hope to all transgenders. I know from experience that even if this new technology can only effect minor changes, the results can be overwhelmingly positive for many. I'll be following this story closely.

Kelli

Happy Anniversary... To Me...

Came across this picture sometime during my internet surfing adventures, and thanks to my little ol' autogynephiliac brain, I immediately knew what was happening. Once again, some poor guy has been involved in a terrible accident, knocked unconscious, taken to the hospital, mistakenly given a sex change operation, and has awaken to find he is now a gorgeous, curvaceous, sexaceous (probably not a real word) gal. At least in the world of TG fiction, one man's tragedy can be another man's unfulfilled dreams.

Given the number of times this scenario plays out everyday in real life (approximately 0 times a day), it seems a bit odd this would be such a popular storyline. However, I'm not a critic, just a fan of non-pornographic TG fiction, and I probably enjoy dreaming about such stories as much if not more than the next TG person.

This humble little blog celebrates its first anniversary today (Yay!). In retrospect, I haven't accomplished all I wanted to do in the first year, yet at the same time, I was fully prepared to have no "followers" much less passing readers during the first year. I just wanted a little spot on the www to tell people I was a conservative Christian transgendered person and to let others who consider themselves the same that they were not alone. Praise the Lord, I've done that, I've met others like me, and they in turn have met others. I know how encouraging it can be to a person to find out that they are not alone, yet I am available to fill the role of a lone voice crying in the wilderness anytime that is needed.

It seems that the first year anniversary is the paper anniversary, so it is also a bit odd that the internet has done much to eliminate the need for paper and traditional printed communication. Over twenty years ago, I received the Grace and Lace newsletter in the mail. It was a simple, mostly typewritten little paper, carefully photocopied and mailed out in a plain white envelope. The publication schedule was a bit random, but the publisher, Lee Frances Heller, had a love for the Lord and for His people that shone through the pages of that newsletter. I never knew Ms. Heller personally, but I like to think that in addition to passing on the Lord's love to others, I'm continuing her type of ministry in a small way.

Returning to the picture and storyline mentioned at the start of this post, I myself am a bit of a wuss when it comes to pain and would probably not like to find myself literally in the same situation. However, I am totally open-minded to the possibility of sci-fi transporter device malfunctions, male-female body switches, landlady forcing me to dress like a girl, and prescription drug mishaps that cause my estrogen to spike and my body to feminize. We shall see what the next year brings.

Kelli

In The Future, It's Already Been Invented

Matter is to anti-matter as The Flintstones are to The Jetsons. I've been looking to the past and present for what needs to be invented, however today is tomorrow's yesterday and I think we are on the verge of some great breakthroughs.

I saw this gag only once on The Jetsons, but it stuck with me. They had an automatic closet that would dress you for the day ahead. You can probably guess what happened. George Jetson, the father, stepped into the automatic closet. The machine was not working properly, and George ended up dressed in his wife's outfit. He didn't look very pretty, but with a little bit of tweaking in the machinery, I think it has promise for our select group.

A pretty gal I use to date was a major "Trekkie" and would drag me to all the Star Trek movies. In one movie, the crew of the spaceship Enterprise boldly traveled back in time to present day earth. The doctor found himself in one of our "antiquated" hospitals where he gave a sick woman a pill to take and she grew a new pair of kidneys. I found myself wondering if they made pills that helped you grow other things....

It seems that in the future cyborg bodies (part human, part machine) are very popular. Your Ghost In The Shell could find it's shell as curvy and feminine as you've ever dreamed it could be. Brain transplants are also possible, but many of the surgeons are a bit mad and could really stand some brain work themselves. I do not recommend this course of action in the future.

More freedom and acceptance of individual dress habits, perfection of human interaction with virtual environments, elimination of ignorance and hate, and the electrification of the rural south I believe are just a few of the things we should look towards in the future. Be patient, my friends and sisters, the future will be here eventually.

Kelli

Can't Wait Until It's Invented!

I remember many years ago, as a child, watching The Flintstones on television. It was a cartoon about a prehistoric family that lived a surprisingly modern life. For example, they had a garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. The gag was that it was actually a wart hog that lived under the sink that ate the garbage. Hey, it's a living.

Another gag they frequently used was someone needing something that had not yet been invented, and that person saying they were looking forward to someone inventing it. I told a group of kids once that when I was a kid, you would often find us on a hot summer day sitting on the porch, bored silly, because video games had not yet been invented, and we couldn't wait for someone to invent them. My sense of humor was never recognized by those kids.

However, I have recognized the possibilities of deciding what future items need to be invented, and offer some TG specific ideas:

We'll start with undergarments. I was shocked the first time I saw an advertisement for Hanes Her Way or Jockey For Her. Every guy knew these brand names, but certainly never associated them with female underwear. The product seems to be very popular, and no one these days gives this a second thought. It seems safe to now suggest that someone needs to invent Bali For Him and Playtex His Way. The marketing possibilities are endless. Next door to every Victoria's Secret, we could have a new store called Victor's Secret.

How about some shoes. I personally don't have very much trouble finding women's shoes that fit, but have seen one specific type of shoe that I really want. It's those specially designed sneakers designed to firm and tone the legs and butt. I want my legs and butt (especially the butt) to look more like those of the female models who sell the shoes. I challenge Madison Avenue to hire a male model, have him use those shoes religiously for six months, and show me if they will do what I want them to do. Then, I will happily pay $75 for a pair of sneakers.

It seems using makeup on a super model is like adding a four-barrel carburetor to the rockets on the space shuttle. She already has a natural beauty that most of us guys would kill for. Put one of us in that beautician's chair and slather on the moisturizers, the skin toners, the cleansers. Wax, tweeze, cut, and perm our hair until perfect. Show me a make-up color palette that would put a rainbow to shame. Make-up that could actually improve my face is the make-up I want.

And speaking of make-up, in my early days, I was known to use a little too much of the good stuff. Imagine the laugh I got when I saw an infomercial on television for an air-brush make-up applicator. Sounds like a great idea, but too dainty for the average Joe (or Josie). My designs call for a standard paint-gun sprayer hooked up to a moderately sized air compressor. Tape off the areas where you do not want to apply any makeup, fire-up the compressor, and let it go! [NOTE: Do not try this at home. Let someone who claims to be a trained professional try it first. If they survive, then maybe consider it....]

These are just a few of my ideas. However, I freely put them out there to the general public in case some free-thinking entrepeneur/inventor has the ability to take the ideas from the drawing board to the finished product. I look forward to a future date when I look back in time and think I remember when I wished someone would invent that.

Kelli

"Are You Gay?"

When I came out to my last girlfriend, that was one of (if not the) first questions she asked me: "Are you gay?" I assured her I was not gay, but at the time, I needed reassuring myself. The time was the early 1990s, and although I had studied and read up on terms like crossdressing, transvestism, and transsexualism, it would be several more years before I heard the term "autogynephilia".

Fortunately, I told her the truth, even though I was not certain at the time. I had gone through several bad relationships, and one day put 2 and 2 together and figured there was the possibility that I was gay. Let's look at the facts. Fact one -- I enjoyed dressing in women's clothes. Fact two -- I had always dated women and never even considered anything romantic with another man. Fact three -- in many of my fantasies and daydreams, I was often a woman with another woman. Fact four -- in many of my fantasies and daydreams, I was often a woman with a man. Three out of four of those facts screamed "Gay!" at me.

I figured I should consider the possibility that I was gay. After a few talks with some gay friends and a quick perusal of some gay "romance novels", I was quickly convinced that as a man, I did not want, did not desire, did not have the slightest inclination to be romantic with another man. However, I was still confused. Here is what I now knew: in reality, I like women; in fantasy, I liked both.

I knew that in my fantasies I wanted to be a woman. That along with my general feelings on crossdressing led me to believe I might be transsexual. Much literature on the subject written back then suggested that many transsexuals had experienced shifts in their sexual preferences, and I figured that in a worse case scenario, I would be bi-sexual, and hoped that correcting all the "plumbing" would make me a straight woman in search of a good man.

After dating my girlfriend for awhile, I began counselling on my transgenderism. My doctor was very practical in his outlook and very helpful. I asked him one day if he thought I was gay. He asked if I dated men or women, and I replied women. He told me I was straight. I then brought up the subject of my fantasy in which I was a woman with a man. He told me I was straight. I asked how he could be so sure. He replied that I was fantasizing about a man and a woman having sex -- what was gay about that? I answered that it was gay because I was the woman in the fantasy. I then started to see what he was getting at, and realized I still had a lot more work to do in figuring out my fantasies. Even if I did work at deciphering my fantasies, they were still just fantasies. In real life I was physically male and enjoyed dating women. Fantasies would never change that.

Fantasies are not real. Fantasies are not factual. If one of your fantasies were to come true, there is no guarantee that you would like that fantasy as a reality. Fantasies are just a variation on the classic daydream. Ever have a daydream about going skinny-dipping in a mountain spring on a hot day? My real experiences with mountain springs tells me they are usually a bit cold for skinny-dipping.

I'm confident in my sexuality these days, even if the trip to that destination was a bit convoluted.

Kelli

My Fantasy Became Reality...

...And I Lost It When I Introduced My Reality To My Fantasy.

I've been very busy reading other blogs on various TG issues and trying to catch-up on reading about autogynephilia. It's truly amazing the increase in information on autogynephilia that is now appearing on the web. Many years ago, I was basically faced with having to decide whether I was a transvestite or a transsexual. At the time I was confused about which truly described my situation, and that confusion actually gained some unfriendly responses from both groups. Cross dressers pushed me towards transsexualism as I felt there was something more to my whole experience than just wearing female clothes, and transsexuals were annoyed because I really didn't want to have any body parts chopped off (and, yes, I know they don't actually chop off any body parts).

It was back in those days that I had my last dance to the music of love -- I entered into a serious relationship with a woman. After a series of failed relationships, I found myself feeling this was my last chance at marriage and a halfway normal lifestyle. To this day, I believe we were truly in love, but we each had our own agendas.

I realized from past experience that it was futile to purge and deny the existence of Kelli. At the time I began dating this woman, I was actually trying to embrace Kelli and figure out if she was just going to be that pile of lingerie, dresses, and makeup in the hall closet, or if I was going to be Kelli permanently 24/7. This added to my confusion over being CD or TS since I was now in love with a woman.

Now you have to also remember that I was actually an autogynephiliac (hindsight being 20/20) and knew nothing back then about how big a role fantasy played in my outlook. This fantasy was rooted deep in my sub-conscious, and whether I was Kelly or Kelli (male or female), I had the same sub-conscious. This woman was an almost perfect fit in my gender role reversal fantasy of life. She was two or three inches taller than me (I loved it when she wore heels). She outweighed me. She proved on numerous occasions (all innocently on her part) that she was stronger than me. She was far more outgoing and confident and would gently push me to "be the man" in our relationship. We were two steps away from having a complete role-reversal, and whether or not she noticed it, I definitely did not notice it at the time (something about rose-colored glasses and such).

I managed somehow to hold our relationship at bay until getting the courage to tell her about Kelli. That changed everything. She asked to see Kelli as soon as possible and made a brave attempt to accept that part of my life, but in the end, she just couldn't do it.

I never should have allowed it to happen, but we took our relationship to the most intimate level. It was then that I discovered that, as far as my thoughts and emotions in bed were concerned, I had to be Kelli. I tried to hide that fact from my lover, but she eventually found out. I knew how important it was for her to be physically with a man. Empathy is one of my strong points and I knew how I would feel if the shoe was on the other foot. Unfortunately, she discovered my secret and really had problems with that. Some people, like myself, don't worry too much about what other people might or might not be thinking. My girlfriend was not one of those people. For me, autogynephilia is about 90% mental and 10% physical. That was not a good ratio for her, and understandably so.

To make matters worse, she decided the best way to help me was to tell other people about Kelli, starting with her friends and family. I am in the closet. That is a personal choice I have made. I know I am free at any time to come out of the closet if I choose, and I choose not to come out of the closet. I am happy with my decision. This caused friction between us which escalated into other things and led to our messy and ugly breakup. It was something I regretted, but in hindsight had to be done.

I often think it would be nice to have a girlfriend. Were the right woman to come my way, I would give it all another try. But this time, I like to think I would have a bit more maturity and wisdom so I can distinguish between the fantasy and reality.

Kelli

Describing My TGism...

Please consider the following picture:

I said in a previous post that I was not planning to post any pictures on my blog. That was before I came across this partial picture of a nude woman (thus making her only partially nude, and keeping my blog relatively family friendly) and realized this presented a great opportunity to describe my transgenderism.

I know from associating with various "normal" guys that if you present them with such a beautiful woman (clothed or not), you will hear responses such as: Whoa! Dang! Check out the [insert favorite body part here] on her! What I wouldn't do to her in bed! Etc., etc. The old notion that guys generally have one thing on their mind when dealing with women seems to be true. Guys generally take great pride in their sex drive.

For a transgendered person such as myself, that is normally not the first thing I think about when I see an attractive woman. If I like the clothes she is wearing, I'll find myself thinking That would look good even on me! or I'd have to work on my waistline before I tried something like that on. I might find myself envying her hair or her figure. I've known women who completely changed their look just by knowing how to use makeup correctly, and I have always been amazed by that. Or I might find myself wishing that I could just be myself (female) and do what she is doing, whether it's walking down the street, having a cup of coffee in a cafe, or working in an office.

Instead of aspiring to manly ambitions, goals, and models, like becoming a great sports hero, scaling Mt. Everest, or having my own private harem, I was born with some "crossed wires" so I would much rather aspire to be pretty, successful, and attractive. Instead of the little boy idolizing his big brother, I'm the little girl idolizing her big sister. Freud said men have penis envy. I've got Venus envy! That's what makes me (transgendered/autogynephiliac) different from guys.

An incredibly strong fantasy life is one of the hallmarks of autogynephilia. These fantasies of mine can leave me physically aching in my desire to be female, yet a sense of relief when I leave that fantasy world and face the real world as a man. Even "leaving" my fantasies for reality is not the end of the story as I personally keep some fantasies with me at all times (more on that later). Autogynephilia is as much if not more so in the mind rather than the body, and those thoughts and desires sometimes seem to take on a life and energy that I just can't seem to stop.

In a world filled with all makes and models of women (sorry for the car terminology), there is no end to the inspiration of my fantasies. For those reading my blog who are transgendered, how many times have you turned on the tv and seen an ad for some amazing body fitness product that used a beautiful model in a bikini. That model spoke on how the fitness device got her into the sexy shape that she now enjoyed and you thought to yourself If only it would work that well on me! I doubt very seriously that "normal" guys have thoughts like that.

When you take a step back and look at a situation like mine, you have to smile a little and possibly even laugh a little. There are people out there with various character quirks and hang-ups that sound ridiculous, but have debilitating results. My "quirk" sounds just as silly as some of theirs -- I like to dress, fantasize, and take on the role of a woman. By the grace and guidance of The Good Lord, I've learned to live with this "quirk" (even embrace it at times) without debilitating results, going out of my mind, or chopping off unnecessary body parts.

Kelli