Je ne regrette rien

What a load of rubbish that is. I regret everything about my former life. Why didn't I just accept what I was? Why wasn't I myself? Why did I try to hide it all? No more regrets. Go out and be yourself Tricia; you need to be brave, but you are. you need to risk loads but you can. You can do it, girl.
So I walked round Manchester for over an hour, fully made up with wig, short blue denim skirt (god I love my legs), yellow top, green jacket. Blue and green not fit to be seen except upon a fairy queen (so that's fair enough) and I get no response. I must be able to pass? Isn't that brilliant., until at the end a few schoolgirls start whistling at me and making comments. I have prepared for this however, and hod my head up high and keep on walking. I have been out dressed, I have survived, there was a rush and excitement, but somehow I feel strangely empty. So to night time and I am the dancing queen. Gave my red dress an airing and tried going bra-less using patches. It works well with my tit tape. Wonderful night and up arm-in-arm with a man called Tony. I try and I try and I try to get him to cum; his cock must have been in my mouth for hours, but he's too drunk. Gives me a hard spanking for failing to make him cum but I can see he is not too bothered, and kisses my backside afterwards. We exchange numbers, this could go somewhere.
Well it didn't. Two weeks later I'm back in Manchester to meet him. But his phone is off the hook, I couldn't get in touch. No regrets Tricia, out you go girl around Manchester, show everyone what you are. And I did again, but this time it was different. People were too busy to be interested in little me. It was quite strange. I was doing what I wanted to do but not getting anything from it. Was it what I wanted to do?
Then I went back to Canal Street where the gays and trannies go, and was in my element, I got comments and whistles, posed for photos and it was great fun. I was so obviously a tranny - but so what, it felt great. Dancing Queen again that night, another guy back to the hotel, and this time my first taste of cum, yummy!

Alter Ego

If the previous post was hard, this is well nigh impossible. I wasn't sure whether to include it at all but after chatting to Gina last night (thanks hon and get out there girl, or you'll never know and will regret) realised its importance. Part of the purpose of this blog is to help trannies everywhere and this will I hope explain why I am a transvestite. I am not transsexual or a cross dresser. So a deep breath and I'm just going to type away and see where it goes ....... ouch!

I am very proud of my other self who is called Iain. He is caring, kind, honest, trustworthy, open, considerate and principled. I suspect he is a somewhat nicer person than myself. He works hard with little reward and adores his family. I suppose I should say that for letting me into the world, but I do believe it. In some respects we are as different as chalk and cheese. He is a deep thinker who worries and churns things over in his mind for days, whereas I act on the spur of the moment. He is very quite and shy whereas I am much more open and up front. I am struggling to properly express this at the moment having been locked in Iain's psyche for so long but I know that over time this will change. He couldn't care a jot about what he looks like (hardly surprising as he wants to look like me) whereas I am obsessed with it. I love reading the fashion magazines and websites, he prefers serious newspapers and novels. I suppose he is complex and I am flippant. He cares too much about the world; I know I care too much about my appearance.

We do get on very well but I have noticed that the more Iain allows me into his life, the more our qualities merge and I think this is a good thing, it makes us both more flexible. Most of the time it is correct to ponder before making decisions but sometimes you have to just do it, you have to immediately choose which way to go; I come into my own then. I also notice that sometimes at work Iain will send cheeky emails (sshh actually its me!) that are a bit risky or I will come out and make a cheeky or camp comment in the most surprising circumstances. I need to be careful though, I don't want to harm him. We do have our little battles, and for the time being Iain is winning most of the the important ones, at least from a moral perspective. For example, I would like Iain's picture on this post, because I want to be open and honest. Iain has forbidden me however because he wishes to protect his children and his job. I guess that makes him a bit more of a realist. I am well aware that my head is sometimes in the clouds. I think this may change and it will be interesting to see if it does. If Iain's picture ever does appear here you will know that I have totally taken control.

I suppose you are wondering why Iain has let me into his life, especially since I am so proud of him. Well I'm afraid he had no choice. For years and years he thought he did but ultimately he did not. You see sexually, as a male, he is completely inadequate. He cannot perform on top at all, and even when he's underneath he needs me to help him out (the poor darling). I contain more than enough sexuality for the both of us though. I have been a bit naughty and started sleeping with men, (I really enjoy it) and he seems to have accepted it, another example of how we work well together as a team. So I suppose you could say that sexually I am completely in the ascendancy, and I always will be.

So there you have it, my other side, my better side?, my Iain, I love him to bits and don't want to hurt him or his close circle of family and friends,

I'll let him get on with his work now,

Inevitability

Then the Internet reached me and I realised I wasn't alone. I couldn't believe it. Thousands and thousands of people who were similar to me, desperate to be what they were but equally desperate to hide it. So I started to talk, and I started to learn, and I couldn't resist any longer. Later that year, it
was 1995 (I know because of the operating system (geek!) my Father died. This totally destabilised me and I was at a loss at what to do. I haven't yet mentioned my parents, but they were so lovely, they brought me up perfectly, and my feelings were nothing to do with them. I still love them both dearly. My Mother knows what I am but never wants to see me as Tricia, after all I am her only son. But...... she is old and I don't, desperately don't, want to scare her.

Then I told my partner, there was no other way, I had to - it was really getting to me. She was at first supportive and we went to get a wig fitting and went to Manchester, with me dressed yippee!, on a couple of occasions. Ultimately though neither of us could cope. My tranny ways were coming home, and would roost, and she simply could not accept me as the person I was when we met. We have, and are still, together for the children but ultimately we lead separate lives. We both wanted our freedom but still love the children though and would hate any real harm to come to them. I think we are working together to ensure all is OK.

As for me, I got some excellent advice and started getting a wardrobe together. Its not bad and is growing almost daily. I wear panties all the time, have grown my nails and have taken to wearing nail varnish and wear perfume, but only on my wrists when in male mode. I do like to smell the perfume during the day. I am basically on the limit of male acceptance.

Hugs all, I feel quite emotional over that.

Supression

Oh just look at my muscles - what a hunk! Bet you frightened of me!

So I left university, started a job in computing and threw myself into sport, particularly cricket, and beer. I was trying to cover up what was inside, trying to be macho (ha ha) and to some extent it succeeded. Men would treat me as one of them but as soon as I met a woman, she read that there was something different about me. I have more of an idea why now. I didn't think, kiss or act as any other man she had met before (not surprising). I was in no way the predator she was used to and was desperate for her to take control. It was extremely difficult for me to get past a first date - and as for sex? Not with me anyway.


I did get one or two chances to dress up, at themed parties - but the ache I felt when I took off my clothes and make-up hardly made it worthwhile, added to that I looked awful. So I suppose in my mind at the time I was succeeding but I had no clothes of my own and wasn't particularly happy. I moved into a flat with a mate, a wonderful guy who knew nothing then but does now and is so scared, so the opportunities became less and less. Under the bedclothes however things were getting quite a bit more fun. I couldn't resist the tranny phone lines which were available at the time and love to read about tranny's in newspapers but couldn't bring myself to buy a tranny magazine. I was learning about my submissive side.


Then I met the girl of my dreams, trying desperately to forget the fact that I was the girl of my dreams. We knew each other as friends earlier so the transition wasn't too hard. I was very much in love and did think that I had got rid of the biggest burden of my life. Inside me I was determined to make it work. Sex was so difficult though, as soon as I got on top there was nothing there. We managed, thanks to her determination, and eventually produced twin girls to go with her other daughter. So I had a ready made family and I was WAS going to be a Father to them. I still love them to bits. Sexually things went downhill after the twins were born, though I wouldn't describe it as a particularly steep decline. I did play the dutiful Father and feel my femininity helped in bringing them up. I was and still am much closer to them than most men manage. So I was stuck in a rut. No dressing, no clothes, much love for my children; but many many thoughts deep down which were getting more and more erotic. I'm amazed it hasn't worn away!

It started in the womb

The one thing that's constantly been with me all my life is that I love, no adore, dressing as a member of the opposite sex. It was clearly there before I was born since my earliest recollection of childhood is being told off by my Father for putting on my Mother's stage dress (she was a singer, her stage name was Margaret Dale, hence why I am Tricia Dale). I wonder now how I managed to get it on! I also remember playing silly dress up games when I was desperate to play a girl's part. All my friends would say I couldn't and I would accept it. If only I knew now.... Then, as I got older and reached puberty, I realised that the little thing between my legs was not just for peeing. I can remember the first time I masturbated. The class at school had to go skating (why, goodness only knows, I'd never been skating in my life, I guess it was on TV at the time) and my grandmother had to get me an emergency skating outfit and bring it to school. It arrived in a package and I was only given it when I was in the changing room. I think you know the rest, it was a sparkly emerald green dress (why? but I still love that colour), and had the prettiest, frilliest emerald green panties. I tried to hide in the toilets but was found by the teacher and had to walk onto the ice in front of the whole class, boys and girls, to whistles and catcalls. I suppose my life hasn't changed much since then, at least privately. The trouble is that I was, and am still not, ever worried about being a man. I could do it, I could hack it; I was popular, I was good at sports - especially football and cricket. Under the covers however my dreams got more and more erotic. So I reached 16, 17, 18 whatever and I should have been dating girls. This was a real problem because I'd look at a girl and think how much I wanted to be her, to wear what she wore, to smell how she smelt, just to have the opportunity to be feminine. I did go on some dates but I just wasn't committed enough, although the girls were lovely I had no desire to ravage them, I suppose I just wanted to be them. At this stage in my life I never thought about boys at all or whether I fancied them, however had I allowed myself to dress as I would like, I think I would. I would see a very pretty girl with a guy and just think how wonderful it would be if I were her.

So I went to University. Successful at school and still playing sport to a very good level. Inside me this desire to be feminine, to look and feel like a woman; but externally I would do everything to fight this off. I was seen through at University and had options to develop my feminine side (how I now wish I had taken them). I did have girlfriends but I couldn't make love to them as a man would. Underneath I suppose I still wanted to be underneath. I fought and fought for the one thing I shouldn't have fought for. So I left University with a degree but no acceptance of what I really was, so I carried on fighting. The dreams got more erotic, the masturbation better and better