College, Sororities, Co-eds, and Cheerleaders. Oh my!

I was returning home from work this evening and passed by one of the local colleges.  Classes start Monday and all the students were returning to their dormitories and apartments.  The university seemed to be a sea of organized chaos.  There were groups of students and parents taking tours of the campus.  New students were gathered around bus stops trying to decipher the various routes.  Professors were opening their offices and checking their mail at the union.  Oh, and many of the young college ladies were sporting some of the cutest back to school fashions I had ever seen!  I was in autogynephillia heaven.

It's been a few years since I was a college student, but while traveling down one particular street that was lined with fraternity and sorority houses, I recalled some memories that I had never fully considered before.  I actively dated when I was in college.  In hindsight my autogynephilia was probably a bigger factor than I realized at the time.  I now wonder what role it played in the women I dated and even for the reasons I dated them.

Sex was never a big issue with any of the women I dated.  At least it wasn't for me.  Part of that was due to my Christian upbringing, but part of it I later found was due to my gender issues.  The one thing I dislike the most during intimacy is for my partner to remind me that I am the man.  It sounds like I'm making a joke, but when I close my eyes, I'm not fantasizing that my partner is Sofia Vergara -- I'm fantasizing that I am Sofia Vergara (or at least a woman).  No offense to Ms. Vergara whom I am told is a wonderful person, talented actress, and drop-dead gorgeous!

And speaking of fraternities and sororities, I also recalled that during college I was never interested in fraternities.  They actually seemed like a waste of time to me.  My girlfriend's sorority, on the other hand, was very interesting.  I was not interested in the sorority as in a man's interest in the women of the sorority.  I was interested in socializing with them as a person who wanted to be a part of their group.  I thought my girlfriend's sorority sisters were wonderful people while the guys in the fraternities I was eligible to join were neanderthals.

Back in the stone age days when I was in college, I used that opportunity to research my gender issues.  I would find any book I could at the library, find a quiet corner, and read and study, searching for magazine articles, microfilm, anything.  Back then I was given two options -- transvestite or transexual -- and neither option seemed a perfect fit.  Contacting others who had similar interests involved obtaining contact magazines that were generally sold in stores I would rather not frequent.  I found others, discovered it was best to embrace my "hobby", and waited for science to catch up with what I knew and theorized.  I thank the Good Lord for seeing me through all this and also thank Him for how much better current college students have it.

Kids today have the internet, social media, videophones, walkie-talkie wristwatches, and flying cars.  Okay, maybe they don't have access to all that as of yet, but they have access to lots more knowledge, lots more science, and lots more people for support.  It's common now for colleges to even have student crossdressing clubs and organizations.  In a way, it makes me proud of these young people.

If I ever go back to college, I've already picked the perfect gown to wear when I get my sorority pin.  Or maybe I'll just be happy with the way things are today.

Kelli

November Updates

Sorry for not posting much lately. I've been in mourning for my Detroit Tigers.... Only time can heal that loss....

Speaking of baseball (and professional sports in general), I recently became aware of the great inroads women have made in the area of sports apparel. When I was younger, sports apparel was made and marketed towards men. When women wanted to wear a sports jersey, they usually had to buy one made for the guys or borrow one from their boyfriend or husband. Those dark, caveman days have come to a close. I found all sorts of cute and feminine clothes in the professional sports gift shops. To ease my pain over the Tigers, I'm planning to order some Red Wings merchandise to see me through the winter, and no, I will not be ordering the Red Wings bikini.


Point of clarification -- I'm not a big ol' jock. I'm closer in size to the cheerleaders, and quite proud of that fact, thank-you very much.


Yesterday, while doing a little shopping, I saw some television sets displaying an episode of The Doctors. I've never really seriously watched the program although it looks like an interesting show. This particular episode was about the headline some time ago about a man giving birth to a child. The man was a female-to-male transexual. I'm assuming this person was in the process of transitioning when he got pregnant, and then finished transitioning as he looked very manly on the program. The volume was not on, so I could only see the video.
At one point, the cute doctor (don't know her name, but she's an OB/GYN) used a large computer video screen to show the effects of testosterone on the female body. A 3-D female body appeared on the screen, followed by a hypodermic needle that was labeled testosterone. As I said, I couldn't hear what they were saying. The model was injected and the camera zoomed to her face where she began growing whiskers. I'm assuming this is one of the first effects of testosterone. Then there was a cut-away view of the skull and the brain was highlighted. I don't know what testosterone does to the female brain, but I imagine it shrinks it down to the average male size and IQ. It was then that I remembered I wanted to buy a new pair of house slippers and began aimlessly wandering off in that general direction.


Television is not only very education, but it can be very entertaining for my autogynephilia. One of the Hispanic television networks is constantly airing a particular Snickers candy commercial. I don't speak Spanish and don't know very many famous Hispanic television stars, but the commercials are very similar to the ones that air here in the states. In the commercial, a young woman wearing a short orange dress and dark leggings is on a bicycle at a bike/skate park. She yells out to her friends, then pushes off, zooming down to the bottom of the pool where she looses her balance and falls off the bike. She sits on the pavement for a moment complaining about the pain while her two friends stand over her. She stands and is obviously annoyed at their lack of sympathy. One friend hands her a Snickers. She takes a bite, and the next time you see her, it is a guy wearing an orange shirt and dark pants.


It's a cute advertising campaign for the candy company, but if their candy bars could really change you from a woman back into a man, I would seriously consider never eating another one again.


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