Thursday, December 8, 2011

I guess I'm in a lesbian relationship. I guess that's the way to put it. I mean I accept that I'm a girl and I date a girl, so I must be in a lesbian relationship.
It's strange not to know what to label my relationship. It's strange for anything to have no label when you get right down to it. If something doesn't have a name it's only a pile of explanations, giving that pile a name stacks it neatly and allows people to view it easier and with more comfortability. Saying you are gay or lesbian or transsexual or whatever, is a way people can recognize what you mean and when they recognize something they are far more comfortable with it. People base how they feel about something by the label it's known by. People who hate Homosexuals do not hate the people themselves, they hate "Gay" the word and what that word represents. The Label gives these people the ability to hate a group of people they don't know because of their understanding of that label, which in most cases is the understanding that gay people are a list of other labels such as Depraved, Sick, Disgusting, Unnatural.
On the other hand someone who has no issue with Homosexuals may be the exact opposite when it comes to the label. I have heard plenty of girls say "I love Gay guys" which is once again using the label to allow someone to not have to know people on a personal level but to define them as a group.
What needs to be understood is that a label can only give the most basic information about a person. Despite that label we must know someone personally before allowing ourselves to from an opinion. It's the same if someone describes a person to you as an Asshole, they might be correct, but if you do not know that person you wouldn't go around calling them an asshole. You might meet that person and find that you like them and that you find them to be anything but an asshole.



This photo is sexy. I have always thought that way about images like this. In fact I find this Photo to be sexually arousing, but I also find it to be artistically beautiful and emotionally beautiful. To me this is not just two random girls having fun. I have to put a backstory to this picture. I have to understand how both girls got to this point and why they wanted to get to this point. Perhaps they are a couple in their first apartment on their first night, finally alone and they decided to play in the kitchen. One is clearly dominant here, but is she always, will the submissive girl take charge later on? Are they thinking about their sexual feelings or how much they love one another or maybe thinking about both?

I could easily label this photo as sexy or hot, but that only let's you know what you can see clearly see for yourself. Because I told you why I think this is sexy and other reasons why I like it beyond arousal, I have given it personality. Maybe you like it for the reasons I like it, maybe you like it for other reasons or maybe you hate it, or find it unappealing, but you must judge it beyond whether it is sexy. You have to judge it on Each girl, The artistic side, The black and white, etc....

I guess I can say I'm in a lesbian relationship, but the word that should be most prevelant should be relationship. Saying Lesbian only gives the information that both me and my partner are female, but relationship is a word that allows you to know that I can commit, that I can love. It's a much more descriptive label.
So, I mine as well say lesbian to describe that minute part of things but to describe who I am and how I feel about the person I'm with the label Happy, Loving Relationship.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

"Ranting&Raving"

I am slowly becoming a feminist. I don't mean I'm going to stop shaving my legs or start burning bras before I can even fill them, I'm saying that as I learn more about the girl I am inside, the more I get offended by what society says a girl is supposed to be.
When I started this blog I still hadn't developed who I was, let alone my interests, hobbies or what it means to be female. I posted pics of pop singers, big breasted bimbos and even reduced my loving relationship to nothing more than a shared interest in shoes. I became bored with trying to write captions and my boredom only grew as I began doing more important and more reality based things that reality based girls do. I stopped trying to help people jerk off and decided to talk honestly as if this blog were my diary.
My girlfriend is the one responsible for pointing out that what I was doing on here wasn't anything like me. She made it clear to me that I was not doing what I had set out to do. I wanted to chronicle my feelings and the changes I experienced on my new path towards becoming a woman and above all else accepting who I am.
It's almost fitting that the first few posts I have on here are either sexualized or, for lack of a better term, "Overly Girly". Those posts show where my mind was at the time and the way I thought I had to behave to present myself as a girl.
I admit that I have my soft spot for some of the Chart Topping Hits on the pop radio stations. I admit that I might drool over a cute pair of heels. And yes, I certainly have sex fantasies of being slutty, whorish, even forced into dirty possibly perverted acts, but these are and were always fantasies.
The truth is I am not the girliest girl or the glam fashion queen that I thought I was. Truth is I don't want to be that girl anymore because the girl I am becoming is deeper, smarter, funnier and she is a real person.


   I know it's a free country and I'm not saying that we need to ban mindless, sex driven, pop stars,
but take a look around at the message being sent and the people getting that message. Of course horny guys get the message and even some older ladies do out dated dances like "The Bump" when ever a Kesha or Katy Perry song plays at a wedding. I have heard that both of these girls are big in the gay scene and with 20 something girls who hit the clubs, but these aren't the main or biggest audiences. Kesha has a song called "Tik-Tok". It's a catchy song, it's ubeat and it's something even I liked when I first heard it. Then, I stopped turning up the radio when it played and began turning the station. I kept hearing it, it was everywhere. Recently I realized why it was so overplayed. The song wasn't just on the radio, it was on T.V. and in movies. It was popping up in every form of entertainment and it was entertainment for kids and teenagers. It blew my mind when,a Kesha song that is so clearly about drinking, partying and fighting a hangover to keep the party going was the theme music for the movie "Diary of a wimpy Kid". The kids in that movie are no older than 11 or 12.
I noticed a lot of this going on. Marketing sex, drug use, etc..., to kids is a big money maker. To kids, especially teenagers, rebellion is an all time best seller. And don't get me wrong, I'm a firm believer in rebellion and my teenage years are one big blur of "Damn The Man", "Fight The Power" moments and mischief, but It was based on more. Rebelling was about politics, good v.s. evil, morality and the fear of seeing the world, for the first time, as it truly is....a confusing and scary place full of people just as confused and scared as yourself. Of course getting drunk or stoned was part of it and of course teenagers are a bit more naive, but it's part of growing up. I think it's so sad that the kids who rebel today tend to be devoid of any sort of message. I think it's sad that girls want to be slutty, drunks because it's cool.
I'm not saying all kids are like this and I'm not saying Kesha or Katy Perry are the cause. I am saying that marketing a movie for kids, or marketing this type of image to kids in any way, is sickening.

I'm a Lady GaGa fan and proud of it. Sure, she sells sex, but it's sexual freedom....liberation. She also proved she has a voice, song writing talent and she uses these things as a platform to speak her mind. That's an artist, not someone who can loop a beat on garage band and then sing lyrics that have no soul or meaning over and over again.




Saturday, November 12, 2011

"The Armor"

 I bought a ticket on a bullet train. A high speed, one track, transport that I can't control. The train makes no stops and although we've slowed from time to time, we always speed back up and continue on our way. I can see colorful blurs outside my window. Every so often I'm able to identify a tree or a town or city in the distance, but mostly the train moves too fast for me to make sense of the world out there. My luggage is piled in the row of seats behind me and I eventually realize it's the only entertainment I have. I begin to dig through my things, finding a few old treasures, sentimental ornaments, but I'm confused by the majority of it. These things are hideous, mishapen and though they ring the faintest of bells in the back of my memory banks, they aren't mine. I toss these things aside and repack my bags with everything I know to be my own, then I use the space I cleared and add some new things that I find on the train. It's all up for grabs, left here in plain site all along. I never noticed how many things littered the seats and cars of this train. I take only what fits in the empty spaces of my bags, grab a few things to stuff in my pockets, but I don't overpack. The train continues on.
I know facts about the destination, but I don't know the route or rail we're following. When I was in the train station, waiting for my number to arrive, vendors were all around me peddling maps and brochures about where I was heading, but each map was different, each brochure contradicted the other. I tried piecing together the puzzle, but for each piece that fit, another went missing. The one thing that was for sure was that wherever I was going was considered by many to be a paradise.I thought I'd find it to be just that and more, but  in the mix of information I was flipping through, I began reading about a place of sadness and regret. Both sides of the argument had several words of wisdom from seasoned explorers who had gone to this place. Maybe they were both right. It seemed that the only way to find out was to board the train, whenever it arrived. I hoped for the best and I felt in my heart that knowing was better than staying here.
This train station, this city, this life I had built. I looked at my life closely, and realized I couldn't build worth shit. I was a bum, living on handouts from kind people who passed me by. The people who loved me kept me warm at night, kept my belly full. I recieved a lot of generosity and love from a lot of people and how did I repay them? I gave them no answer to the one thing they wanted to know. The one thing they all asked and asked on several occassions. They wanted to know why I wasted my life so far, why I seemed content to just sit back and wait to die. I gave them bullshit answers, but nothing solid, nothing worth the pain they felt seeing me slip away slowly into nothingness.
I began locking myself away. I began hiding from them. I couldn't let them be my lifeline any longer, working to save me and giving all they could give.
There's only one way to stop being rescued from drowning, you swim to the bottom, dig your limbs into the ocean floor and fill your lungs up with sea water. I plunged head first into Hell. I tore myself down, ripped away any thoughts of a happy life and just as I was about to dissapear, I found a reason to stick around.
There is nothing like Love to make someone ignore the easy way out. I couldn't run from her, I couldn't lie either. I started tossing bits and pieces of myself at her. She never flinched, so I gave it all up. I told her who I was. I told her why there was nothing worth living for, because I wasn't alive. I could breathe, I could talk and walk and think, but that's not living. Life is being aware, awake and a force of change in the world. All I was, day in and day out was a tower guard, keeping watch over a person I knew well, but no one else thought exsisted. There was nothing evil about this prisoner. In fact I was the one who succombed to evil acts to keep this innocent locked up, acts that have weighed upon my chest ever since. I thought I knew better. I thought if This inmate was freed, vigalante justice would ensue upon such an unaccepted and misunderstood person, but I looked into the cell one day and saw death as a welcome escape for someone so very alone.
I got the keys and opened the decaying cell door. I was too quick and didn't think about how eagerly anticaipated this moment was for a person locked away for years upon years. A blur passed by me and the chase began. I was too far behind, I was yelling. I just wanted to help, to explain things, to protect and teach, but why believe the person who held you captive, If the roles were reversed, I'd keep running.
It was clear I'd never catch up, but Love came through again. My Love, my girl, waiting to embrace and comfort the former inmate.
Love was angry, confused and worried. I don't blame her. She saw what I had done all these years. She knew I had to make this right. She knew I could be strong and she knew I wasn't evil, just confused, but I could only protect, I could never teach the prisoner, after all, I'm nothing more than armor.
I watched from a distance at first, as Love began her lessons. She was an excellent teacher. She had her hands full, but I think she liked that because she never walked away in frustration, instead she pushed the prisoner to understand what it meant to look inside, to allow a person to develop, to be human and to be female. The prisoner became a person and that person was a perfectly happy girl.
I grew closer to both of them, but I knew I was only armor, only this young girl's strength and perserverance. I knew I wasn't always going to be around, my job ended after this train ride. I'd protect both women, I'd do the fighting if it came down to it, but once the journey was over, I wouldn't exsist, but my traits would live within this girl, my evil deed would be a debt payed and Love would have a person in her life that brought her happiness, that would protect her.
The train keeps going. The world outside is no more than static and flashes of color. I focused on the fight ahead, preparing myself for the one thing that was worth living for.
The young girl enters the train car from the back. She shoots me a smile and she knows I'm on her side now. She starts leafing through the clutter all around and finds the pile of hazy memories I tossed out. She gathers them up and sits down in the seat next to me. I'm overjoyed about the fight now. I can't wait for the first person who doesn't have the decency to hold his toungue.
She picks through the things I tossed away and she giggles and laughs at the items she once owned. She tries to make a joke about having bad taste as she remembers these items clear as day. The joke gets cut out by laughter. I look at her, she's dressed well, looks cute, pretty, beautiful.
I wonder how she is so normal and lovely after all those years locked up. I figure it out there and then. I was the armor, but the strength and the perserverance was hers all along.

Friday, November 11, 2011

"Sex, Drugs and Rock Bottom"

I know how this girl feels. I guess a lot of people out there know how she feels.
I saw this picture and it reminded me of who I use to be and why I used to drink large quantities of alcohol, even though I'd end up sleeping next to the toilet or should I say next  to "A" toilet, depending on where I had chosen to get intoxicated.
Drinking was a huge escape for me and honestly one of the major reasons I was able to realize that I was transsexual was having to quit alcohol. I wasn't an alcoholic, but I was on my way.
I drank to socialize. It was very hard to be sober and go out in public. If I was drunk, I was friendly, outgoing and I could easily pretend to be a guy. It's funny that I never let anything about being trans slip out when I was drunk. It was almost as if when I was sober it hurt to pretend to be manly, but when I was drunk I was numb to the pain. It's tough to explain, because while I was comfortable projecting my fake personality, inside I was thinking all the same feminine thoughts I had at all times, but I was also numb to the pain of thinking about what the girls at the party were wearing, or what they were talking about.
So basically I thought I was happy. I drank and when I did get drunk it didn't make me go out in a dress and heels without inhibition and it didn't make me sad about faking my social attitude, I just had no feelings about them either way. I knew I had to be safe and not let my secret slip, other than that I had no worries.
I have said before that once I accepted myself I began remembering childhood memories of wanting to be a girl and the same is true for my drunken nights. The funny thing is that I had no emotion about my sexuality and gender when I was drunk, but now it makes me sad to remember the things I was thinking of at those times and places.
The girl above is a perfect example. She could have easily been a friend of mine at one of those parties or even a girl I had never met who had come to the party with someone else. I hated when girls got way too drunk. I wasn't sad because I couldn't sleep with them. I wasn't laughing at them as some of the other guys did and I certainly wasn't excited that I could take advantage of her like I'm positive some guys around me were thinking. I hated when they were that drunk because I put myself in her position everytime. I understood the embaressment she felt the next morning. I hated that if I tried to console her it would be considered as a plot to be sleazy and grope her. I hated that if I was her I wouldn't have been that drunk, or at least I don't think I would have been that drunk.
What I'm trying to say with all this is that when my memories flood back from those intoxicated times in my life, it's never a memory of talking about a girl's tits with other guys or what I could have done to score with one of those girls. What I remember is the mumbles of the other males fading into the background, every so often listening to key words in their sentences to make sure I could stay in the conversation, but the clear images that come to mind are what the girls were wearing and what items of clothing I liked, things about their outfits I hated, jealous thoughts about a girl who had a pair of shoes I would have killed for. As these images pop up more memories pour into my mind. I remember the girls I thought were cool, the girls I wanted to be like, I remember looking at groups of girls and wanting more than anything to be one of them.
I had sexual feelings towards them, but not like the other guys. They all talked about harsh, rough sex acts. They wanted to "Ruin", "Plow", "Fuck" these girls. I never thought like that. I wanted to talk to them, get to know them and I wanted to kiss, touch, and passionately have sex with these girls, but I couldn't. I was afraid to even try, because I couldn't even consider doing some of the things that my guy friends talked about. I assumed these girls would never want to be with a boy who wanted to be a girl and feel like a girl in bed.
So I became friendly with these girls and I made sure to be the funny guy. I had a dirty sense of humor and it was amplified when drunk, so it was easy to seem like I wanted to "Fuck" and at the same time be too pushy and sexually course about sex that most girls would always, eventually turn me down.


The bar scene was harder. At least at house parties I was surrounded by friends, but the bar was a place full of strangers. Overcoming this fear came in the form of what people call "Pre-Gaming". I would start by drinking whatever alcohol I could come across at home, but a lot of the time the bar wasn't stocked, so to speak. This meant finding another means of getting myself chemically courageous. Smoking pot would have made me paranoid and I can't say Marijuana has ever made me all that social or outgoing, so I started experimenting with my parents madications. Sometimes vicatin, sometimes another opiate would suffice. I'd pop a few pills, drink whatever booze I had, if any; and go to the bar feeling very loose and very talkative. I guess I should have been a little stronger and just waited until I was out and about at a bar and just had a few drinks until I loosened up, but I made a big mistake and it wasn't until I was taking anywhere from 4 to 7 pills before going out and drinking 7 to 10 glasses of alcohol that I noticed I had a problem. In fact it got so bad that if I didn't have pills or alcohol in my system I would choose to stay in and hide in my bedroom watching t.v.. Then some nights I would take a handful of pills and still make the choice to stay hidden away.
I hated going out. It was always the same thing. I would get obliterated at the bar, envy the girls, be annoyed by the same conversations that arose every time men get drunk. They talked about pussy, they talked about sports, about cars about fighting. I tried talking to the girls, I tried breaking into the girl talk, the drunken party girl good times. I tried to be one of them, but I couldn't. I didn't know how to talk to them. I couldn't talk about girl stuff, that would be un-manly and the guys might hear me. So, I would pass the time getting more and more messed up until the night ended.
The ride home was either a race to the toilet, where I would puke and pass out or if I had been to broke to afford enough to make me vomit I was immediately online.
The internet was a bad place for me when I was drunk. No inhibitions and the ability to chat can be dangerous. I'd log into a Tranny or Crossdresser or Sissy chat room, I'd start by telling the room I was drunk, looking to chat and I would label myself whatever was most popular in the room. I'd get responses in seconds. Men and other T-girls, it didn't matter who. I just wanted to talk about being a girl, a tranny, a sissy....whatever they wanted me to be as long as it was some form of release. I'd make plans to meet people, I'd send out my picture, I'd have deep conversations about being Trans and I'd have dirty, filthy sometimes perverse cyber sessions.
I never met any men that I made plans with when I was drunk. I never could go through with it when I sobered up. I'd realize that I hadn't set up a safe meeting or that the person I was to meet was a little too odd for an actual meetup.
 I have met men online and I will post about that soon, but when I was at this point in my life, when I was drunken and doped up, the one good thing that came out of it was that I never did meet anyone or do anything I would have regreted.


I don't drink anymore. Sometimes I'll have one drink if I am at a special event or party, but I don't like being out of control like I used to. I don't demonize alcohol, I know that I abused it, I know that I made the mistake to drink so much, to take pills and I know I did it to stop feeling the constant and awkward pain I felt everytime I met someone. Anytime I had to pretend I was someone else for an extended period of time. Anytime I was with anyone else whether they were friend, family or a complete stranger. Eventually I couldn't be around myself when I was sober.
I got lucky in a weird way. I had an acid reflux issue and was told I absolutely had to quit drinking. Somehow I did. I started my sobriety poorly, as I found several excuses to drink, but in time I found myself alone in my room, without the chance to drink and I started remembering who I was. I met my girlfriend around this time and I honestly don't know if I would have been able to deal with the truth about my gender and my life if it wasn't for the need I had to come clean about crossdressing and the eventual need, the urge, the desire to tell her that I couldn't pretend to be a guy that I was never supposed to be in the first place. She was weary at first and I don't blame her. All she knew about my gender identity issues was the part of it I had shown her and that was a sex filled world of fetishes. Eventually as I became comfortable with my issues, so did she. I became less interested, less obsessed with sexualizing my feminine self and she began to see that I was not just a guy who wanted to wear dresses and have boobs because it made me horny. She began to see that the girl I was inside was the real me. I was happier, nicer, kinder, more romantic, more loving, more emotional. She saw the real me and she was the first person whoever knew the real me. I may have had some reason down the line in my life that forced me to face myself, but without my Beautiful and more than loving girlfriend, I would be alone in my room analyzing myself for years to come or worse I could have neded up a prostitute or settled for a life as a boy or life as a lonely fuck doll for dirty old men.
It was my need to tell her, to be honest with the one person I loved more than anything in this world that gave me the strength to Know I'm a girl, See myself as a girl and to finally Love the Girl that I am.


Friday, October 28, 2011

"I Sincerely Apologize"


A picture is certainly worth a thousand words and this picture uses those words to speak on behalf of the strength of women.
It reminds us that, in the darkest of times, women have fought, sacrificed and done their part.
The so called "weaker sex" can roll up their sleeves and do what it takes to survive.
This picture also reminds us that strength does not erase one's femininity.
This hard working woman, who is rolling up her sleeves and showing her strength,
is also still a woman.
Her lips are red, her brows are tweezed, she still shows herself to be a woman.
Her makeup maybe a superficial aspect, but once again I must remind you of the thousand words a picture seems to speak.
Weakness was not an option, but just because a woman may have to fight or perform the tasks that are thought to be associated with man's work, it does not mean they are no longer a woman or feminine.
They roll up their sleeves and show the strength that lives within every woman and every transsexual woman.

Some girls find no interest in being a rough and tumble hero of the old west.
and that is fine. No one should be forced to be anything they don't want to be, but sadly, in this world, sometimes you are not given that choice.
But, if the world forces you to be something you are not, you have two options.
You can accept what the world wants you to be or you can fight back, and I'm happily noticing that, even though I may not want to fight every day, and push my strength and courage to new limits, the struggle is better than the force of third party opinions and actions.

These days women are not the damsel in distress princess types they were once considered.
Even in the once male dominated world of comic books, female super heros have become richly developed characters. They don't need protection from the forces of evil, they don't wait around for a man to come save them.
They stand and fight.
They defend themselves and others without ever backing down.
But not just in fantasy, do female creatures have this strength.
Mother's have found it in themselves to lift cars off their children, female animals defend their young to the death if they must.
Women face the pain of child birth if they so choose and it is a pain that few men will ever come close to understanding.

Women work in the business world and are still forced to make a smaller wage. Face sexual harrassment and sexual discrimination. Women have been more victimized and degraded more than any other minority group in the world.
Imagine trying to pay someone less money based upon their skin color, their religion, their sexual appeal.
Women still continue to fight for their rights and have still come so far in this world, only to have to fight harder as television and pop culture and magazines and movies tell them they are only sex objects and as sex objects they have no value unless they are as pretty as a photoshopped picture that is a flawless mockery of a female.
I started this blog with the idea that I was transsexual because I liked pop music and girly stuff and pink soft things, but that's not why I am transsexual. My hobbies do not define me, my sexuality does not define me. Only my actions and my beliefs define me. I am a woman and always have been and will be, but I regret that my confusion was an idolization of what real women strive to fight against. In some ways it was an insult. and I'm so very sorry to all women whether genetic females or transsexual women who are considered freaks and perverts because they are piled in with a completely non-related sexual aspect.

I love girly things, like fairies and I adore pink and absolutely love fashion and my ultimate vice is my love of shoes. I am not ashamed or apologetic for these things. I will never be apologetic for the things I like or love in this world, but they are not everything that I am. They are not all there is to me and the person I am inside. These things are specks in a vast universe that is the person I am. I also love Westerns and the Rolling Stones and so many things that are much more considered male, I have interests that have no gender label attached to them. I am woman because I am, I just know it. I feel it in my soul and in my heart. My brain has always thought a woman's thoughts. I don't know why I feel this,
 I just do.

I am not against any sexual fetish that happens between consenting adults, as long as it is safe. I don't think people should mutilate themselves for sexual pleasure, but your body is your body and I hope that you will respect it's limits. I am not trying to demonize anyone for any sexual reasons, I certainly have my own kinks and fetishes, but please know that sex is sex. You must not be ruled by that one aspect of yourself. I did allow myself to desire a purely sexual lifestyle and I now see that it was due to my self loathing and depression. Life is now so much better. My girlfriend showed me that. When we first met I was a purely sexualized shell of a person, I wanted her as a Goddess who would use me as her sissy slave, but I look back and realize that's not what I wanted. I just wanted to be a girl so badly that I'd have given anything to be one, even if it meant losing my freedom and even losing who I was forever. Luckily she forced me to confront myself and to find the courage to admit what I really wanted and needed. I now have come into my own as a female on the inside. I still have work to do, but I go about my more female hobbies, like clothes and shoes, etc....
without the sex and arousal involved at every turn and I'm alive again. I see my beauty and I see the beauty and love within her. I feel for her, love her and want to know how she feels, soothe her if she is sad and join her when she laughs. I am no longer a self loathing, self centered shell, I am a confident, happy, unique person and a proud woman. I haven't come out and though I am still doing the work I need to do on myself inside and emotionally I have officially broken through the wall of denial that had so often stopped me and beaten me down. There was no courage or strength in the man I was because he didn't exsist. My courage comes from the girl I was and the woman I have become. I urge all women to love themselves and believe in themselves and I urge any transgendered person to let go of the facade and embrace the person you are, because only then will you see that life is so much easier as yourself, as the real you. I always read stories where transitioned transsexuals had one regret and it was that they had not made the change sooner. I wish I had listened, because they were right. The only thing wrong with you when you are in the closet is the closet itself. Being transsexual is a cakewalk compared to being a lie.

Monday, October 24, 2011

"Don't be a fetish, Be yourself"

We all desire to be her
The girl with the perfect hair,
perfect face, breasts, butt, tummy,legs.
Dressed pretty in our high heels every day, but
that isn't being a girl.
We all assume that we should be weak,
helpless, useless beyond the task
of caring for our man or master.
I was at that point. completely sexualizing my emotional need to be female
and I came out on the other side of the whole sissy thing
with a desire to be a strong independent woman.
A real person, beyond what turns me on.

My fantasy when I was young was that a group of pretty girls
would transform me, but the fantasy quickly went from being forced into femininity
and became a new fantasy where I pleaded with them to help me,
to change me,
to save me from the hell I lived in.
But I still only had a sexual outlet.
My emotions were kept in the center of my chest,
in the depths of my stomach and
in the subconcious of my mind.

Of course I had become depressed.
Of course I contemplated suicide,
but would I be a girl in Heaven?
Was there a Heaven?
Was there a God somewhere who heard my prayers as a child,
but remained helpless to save me?
I was in hell,
So I was sure there was a heaven.
It turns out that I had to gain the courage to face my feelings
and face myself to finally find comfort and freedom.
I still feel the pressures of the hell I lived for so long,
but now I can see the Heavens and I am on the path to reach them.
No matter how dark and scary it all seems.

I have no issues with the Sissy fetish, but to be transgender or transsexual I think it goes beyond sex. We can't really want to be owned or abused forever and I think that if you want that lifestyle you have issues deep down that you haven't dealt with. I hated myself when sexuality and perversions ruled my life. If you want to be a sissy in a sexual situation then by all means do what you will as long as you and another consenting adult agree, but please don't make it a sure fire part of transsexualism. We have to start thinking beyond sex so that the world sees us as something more than a fetish, especially the kids who deal with gender issues who look online and only find sex and fetish related sites, when trying to find acceptance and a normal world in which they can discover their true gender. I want to be a hero to those kids and a role model. I am transitioning in a time where Transsexuals are more accepted than ever, but we still have a long way to go. There is a burden left upon me and all other Transgendered individuals to fight for what is right and to gain our place in the world so that those that come after us simply have a place to go and to become who they are inside. Sex is something amazing and beautiful, no matter what gets you turned on, but it is not what defines us as people or as a group.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

"Life as a shell: Prolougue"

Not being happy with my gender role was something only I knew, and despite the size of my secret, it weighed very little upon my mind around the time I was fifteen years old. The twin towers had fallen, and the world began to change.
The mentality was different in, what I thought was, a country of freedom. We all united in the aftermath of 9/11, but then people got scared. Issues like Gay Marriage were brought up and, being naive, I assumed it would be accepted by the majority. I was sure that type of bigotry had long since passed. It was a new era, how could anyone be evil enough to deny people love and happiness?                         
But, as the debate raged on, it was brutally amazing to see so many defiant people on t.v., or even being in the same room with fellow human beings who dissaproved of gay marriage. It seemed that who I was as a Transgendered person was even more despised and misunderstood.
 I felt my secret get heavier. I feared the reaction of anyone who may find out and soon became obsessed with hiding the girl that I was.
As each day passed, the weight I was carrying grew and grew, so, I stopped crossdressing, threw out any clothes that were remotely female, stopped researching the future I wanted and I stripped away the pounds of my secret one by one. Unaware that I was leaving a trail of my true self, personality, and emotion.
I'd soon realize that the dead weight was all I had left upon my shoulders.


I had only one outlet for the girl in me.
SEX.
There was no way of getting out and having sex in the real world so,
I escaped into a world of chat rooms and online pornography.
Wishing I could be the girls I saw and turning my emotional desire to be female into
an all consuming fetish.




And as my desires remained hidden and sexualized,
I saw others go from crossdressers
to transsexual women.
It seemed the sex industry was my best best.
But the deeper you go and the older you get
denial builds a wall.
Sex became the only reason to feel feminine,
to feel anything at all.

So eventually I was consumed by sissification and the belief that I needed to be degraded,
because I was weak.
But women weren't weak. They were strong and because I wasn't a woman
and certainly I wasn't a man,
I thought I was undeserving of love, happiness
and a life.
Luckily, I am free of that trap, but the road I traveled
is littered with dangerous sexual flings and missed oppotunities.


 

Friday, October 14, 2011

"Lonely, But Not Alone"

When I started coming to terms with my inner gender, I had glimpses of vague memories from my childhood. Moments that seem so cloudy and yet so very vivid.
I recall being four or five years old and being drawn by the sight of my mother's closet. Her dresses and skirts hung above a four tier shoe rack which held pair after pair of high heels.
I remember sneaking into the basement with a stolen item of clothing. I'd try on whatever Item I had in hand and look at myself in the old, dusty mirror that sat unused under the stairs. Shaking unconttrollably, I would then pray to God to make me a girl. A prayer that went unanswered.
As I got a little bit older, I knew of words like "Transsexual" and "Crossdresser", but information on these terms was hard to come by for a child, especially since asking questions was too scary. So I did what I could, even going so far as to find three individual dictionaries and reading the definitions of any words affiliated with gender.
Despite my best efforts I was left with little more than a basic understanding of what I was going through, until fate or maybe dumb luck decided to drop the information in front of me.

My mother and I were visiting my grandmother.
I could hear the two generations of women talking on and on at the kitchen table.
Their topic of conversation was lost on me as I sat downstairs, two inches from the T.V.screen,
manually and mindlessly going channel to channel.
Finally something caught my interest.
I saw this woman's face on the screen and I heard the word,
"Transsexual"
I lowered the volume so that I could barely hear the Narrator over the upstairs conversation.
I placed my finger on the channel button, just in case.
If someone had come down to check on me, they'd have found me entranced by the glowing,
almost silent television set,
Learning that there was hope beyond the prayers I had made.
I wasn't alone.


I grew older and the internet was dialing up in every home, and alothough my family was one of the last to connect to the world wide web, when we finally did, I was beyond happy.
I weasled my way out of a family function by faking sick and waited for the house to empty out.
When the house did fall silent, butterflies filled my stomach.
I ran around the house, locking the doors and closing the blinds. The computer sat in the living room, which had made any research on any sexual subject impossible until now.
I knew I'd come across people who could help, people who were just like me. I started by reading some poorly written posts, but at the time I didn't care. I was too starved for information, anything was absolute girlish gold. I read article after article until I collected enough  knowledge to explain what I felt, what I didn't feel and I wanted to explain all these things, but I couldn't tell anyone. I could never let my secret out to anyone in my family, so I did what I thought was best.
I saw the list of chat rooms when I first signed on and sure enough there was a "Tranny" room mixed in with all the rest. Once I was in I froze afraid to type anything. I said hello as people welcomed me, but I didn't know what else to do or say, then out of nowhere a window popped up and I began my first private chat. Afraid that I would be drawn into the filthy and overwhleming sexual conversations in the main room I began with "Hi, I'm very new and I'm looking for someone who can answer a few questions about all this stuff." Once again it was either fate or dumb luck and I was talking to a 20 something Genetic Girl who dated a crossdresser. She said she had figured I was new and young and that this wasn't the best place for info, but she answered my questions and gave me a few articles to look up. I was beyond grateful and after our long chat we said goodbye and with very little time left alone I rushed to print each one.
It took forever and I wasted almost 20 sheets of paper, but by the time my family returned every door was unlocked, every window was uncovered and those sheets of paper were under my bed waiting for me.


I continued going online for years to come and it began getting easier to get privacy.
I had access to the internet and was in my teenage years.
I started highschool and like I've said before I hated it,
but when I came home I had 3 or 4 hours of free time which I spent weaving through the web.
Sometimes, I would use these solitary moments to delve into my ever growing sexual fantasies,
but we will talk about that a little later and I will cover that topic in full in an upcoming post.
For now, I want to talk about the above photo because the blonde with the pretty smile, was a huge inspiration to me.
Her name is Gabrielle Scahffer and if you have ever heard of another Trans woman named Lynn Conway,
you may have seen a webpage called "Transsexual Women's Success"
Lynn Conway has a few webpages and she is someone who bravely transitioned before the internet and the information and acceptance that came with it. If you think it's hard to be Transgendered in this day and age, which in a lot of ways it is still a brutal test of a person's inner strength, imagine doing it when you couldn't reach out to another person who knows what you are going through. Like the title of this post, we can be lonely because we have no one near to confide in or who understands, but you know there are others and you can go online and talk to them, learn about them and possibly find a way to meet other Transgendered girls in person which could even be at a Planned party held in a hotel ballroom, but women like Lynn were alone. I am amazed she had the will to do it.
Now, back to the photo.
When I saw this photo it was the first time I stopped and thought,
"I could really do it. I could be a girl. A woman."
I don't know why. Maybe because she was pretty and passable,
but I think it's because she didn't look too old, maybe mid twenties
and she didn't look fake like many of the other girls who had plastic surgeries upon plastic surgeries.
She just look like a girl, a woman.
I wanted to be like that. A woman.
I didn't want to look like someone trying to be a woman.
I felt like nothing could stop me at this point,
but I was entering my teenage years and hadn't seen the full potential of cruelty
that the world can sometimes dish out.






Monday, October 10, 2011

"Then and Now"

Highschool was hell and no other night capped off my inner sorrow better than Prom Night.
I didn't go.
In fact, by the time prom came around I was already a highschool dropout.
I spent the night with friends who were a year younger than me.
We talked about how stupid the prom must have been and how great it was to be hanging out in the city.
That night with my friends I smiled, laughed and showed my best happy face,
but deep down in my stomach my real emotions were tying to break free.
 As if I could see my feminine self in my beautiful,
brand new dress and the perfect shoes,
as my tears poured mascara down my cheeks.
I hated Prom Night.
I hated Highschool.
I hated my life.


These days I am still in the closet and still miss some wonderful social events due to that fact,
but I have grown and now that I know who I am I choose to let my emotions through,
rather than holding them in, which is only a distraction on my journey to become female.
Tissues dry tears, emotions help you to be in touch with who you are
and there is no shame in being yourself.


I can now look in a mirror and see the girl I am.
Sometimes I still catch a glimpse of my male body when I step out of the shower and it makes me a little sad,
but in time my body will change and so will my thoughts about my body.
My girlfriend tells me how skinny I am all the time and even though I know that I am not fat,
I still see myself as needing to be just a bit more thin, but that's because my body is still male.
When I see my waist it seems fat in a way, and my tummy could be flatter, but It's becaue I want a female shape,
not because I'm overweight. I have learned to love my inner female self and now need to learn to love my body and outer appearence. I won't be happy until I have a much more female form, but patience is a vitrue.


I'm sure even when I get my body to look as girly as it's going to get, I still won't be as happy as I could be,
but I guess I'm a lot like a lot of other girl's.
Let's face it, women have a high rate of body image issues and that is a dangerous thing if you feed into it.
Being afraid of being seen as anything but the vision of feminine perfection is a hard habit to break.
Women have it tough when it comes to what is expected of them physically, but
if we all learn to love outselves and remember that perfection is a made up and utterly fake goal to be seeking,
we will all be a lot happier.


Being beautiful is just being you and being female. Forget what the world tells you to be.
Especially if you are transgendered.
Why bother to fight so hard to be a girl,
if  you are still pretending to be someone else?
My biggest fear is to finally have gone through my transition and still feeling that crying, girl inside me.
The body, the clothes, the shoes have nothing to do with who you are inside.
Inside you are female, you are emotions, thoughts and ideas.
That is why you are beautiful.
Everything else is just the reward for being true to the girl inside.
So smile and look towards the future
because the more you focus on what is coming at you
the more you gain the things you want,
avoid the things you hate
and the more control you will have over yourself.
Because if you lose control
someone else is sure to take it.


Saturday, October 8, 2011

" learning how to be you"

Throughout my whole life I have hidden any and all feminine feelings. It has been tough to deny so many desires and emotions and I have no doubt that hiding these things, even from myself, was an extremly unhealthy waste of time.
Since embracing and accepting these feelings, I have found myself struggling with the opposite situation. I am now bothered by any masculine interests, hobbies or thoughts that have remained, even if these things are natural masculine hobbies or impulses that are just part of the "Real" me.
It seems that on my way to becoming a girl I have to realize that, just like every girl, I do have boy-ish opinions and thoughts.
I am coming to terms with these things, but it is actually harder to accept my "Guy" habits than to accept my formerly secret female qualities. Most likely because there is a drive within me to be female, and it vastly overshadows any male goals I have ever had.
Luckily, overcoming this obstacle on my journey to Girlish Bliss, is as easy as accepting that every girl (Genetic or Otherwise) has Male qualities and sometimes these qualities are the very things that can make a girl a little more unique.
In the end there really is no "Guy" stuff or "Girl" stuff, just "My" stuff.
No matter who you are, what gender you are, or what someone told you, EVERYONE has the right to like, love, want or desire anything.
It is not about gender. Being male or female is something else, something deeper.


Here is a girl with some masculine features in her clothing.
She looks a bit tough.
A "Punk", maybe?
But look beyond the rocker-chick image.
She is a girl and she clearly expresses it.
Her clothes aren't hastily thrown together.
This is an outfit she created.
From the fingerless gloves to the tip of those very high heels,
this pretty blonde, planned this outfit in front of her mirror.
She mixed and matched her clothes until she felt beautiful and sexy.
 She has a look, now.
A look that both expresses her femininity and masculinity.
She can hit the city for drinks with a date or friends,
but she can easily be hanging backstage with the boys.

Okay, what about this cute blonde?
Does she express her male qualities in her apearence?
Her messy waves of blonde hair?
(She secretly styled it that way for forty five minutes, until it was perfect.)
Her simple grab and go outfit?
 (Was her morning's big decision. It is well thought out to seem easy and effortless.)
And finally, those run down, old-man shoes?
(She is declaring That she is an individual, but still fashion concious.Those shoes are hip and she knows it.)

Girl's can use male accents in their clothing to display a part of their personality or interests. For example, a girl can wear a baseball jersey to show that she is a bit sporty and athletic. The way she adds this Item into her outfit can also say a lot about her. If she wears her jersey in the normal fashion she may be a bit more serious about her love of the game, but a girl who tailors her Jersey and makes it part of a Fashionable look might be less inclined to know the stats and be more into the fanfare.
A woman can also use Masculine influences to add a certain message to the people around her. Look at the 1980's obsession with shoulder pads, which added a look of male-power, especially to women's business wear. I personally hate shoulder pads, but once again, we can not look past the strong masculine shoulder mixed with a suit that is cut in a very feminine form. 
And of course, Male items or influences used strictly for fashion. Let's say a man's neck-tie "ties" together an otherwise lacking ensemble, then why would you not use it? When you add these masculine things and integrate them into an otherwise female outfit, you can bring character and life to the same old thing. The trick is to add splashes of male qualities to your outfit (if needed) so that your look goes from cute to fashion-foward.
Women don't need to wear four inch heels to feel feminine. They wear them because clothes are something to be played around with and fashion is certainly a fun and creative artform.
Style and fashion are always changing and evolving and it's so very fun to try and keep up. But remember, that following fashion trends means that you should incorporate designer Ideas to your own personal and unique style. What's popular this season in the fashion world should not the be all you wear. These seasonal, sometimes cyclical, and often inspiring trends are new pieces to a puzzle you have already started.
Girls were raised to be girls. You are new to being a girl, so relax and take a deep breath. If all the clothes, shoes, makeup, jewelery, hair, etc.., seems all too much, remember that Learning to be a girl and becoming the girl you are, should be fun and exciting, but it will take a long time. You are doing a lot more than designing a look or finding your style, you are freeing a repressed personality. It will take time, and most likely be a process you never truly can stop.





This pretty young girl, is in fact.....a boy,known as Gregory Gorgeous.
She hosts several, ongoing videos online all about the frightening task of making yourself
into the best possible Girl that you can be.
 As you can tell from her photo, she is talking from experience
and a place of knowledge about all the things
you want to know.


Gregory certainly inspires a bit of jealousy.
I am certainly a realist and I know that I can never be as pretty as her.
In fact, most of us Girls
will never,ever,
ever
be as
Pretty or as"passable"
as Miss Gorgeous.......But,
That is not a reason to deny your inner female.
I actually find this girl's striking beauty to be an inspiration.
Why would I be upset at a fellow "Gurl" for being this good looking?
Like I said, I am jealous, but sue me, girls get jealous of eachother all the time.
In fact I'm sure there are Genetic Girls who would be jealous of Gregory.
But, Looking this good starts with being....well......Good-Looking.


Take a look at Gregory as a boy.
He gives off a bit of a Gay vibe,
but I'm almost certain he is trying for that.
Other than that, this boy is just Good-Looking.
He does seem to have very girl-ish features,
which no doubt aid his feminine appearence,
but, guess what?
There are a million straight guys who, with a bit of makeup,
some hair exstentions and the right clothes,
would make beautiful girls.
And just the same, there are some girls that could scruff up a bit,
wear a baseball cap
and be passable as manly men.
My point being that Gregory and other "Gurls" in the trans universe
who may benefit from a few extra physically female qualities,
use those qualities to the advantage of their appearence.
The photo above is of a boy doing the things he needs to do so that he can look his best.
Put it like this
If his body had the mind and soul of a Boy who was 100% Hetero,
then the picture would be of a manlier Gregory.
His hair might be uncombed, his clothes dirtier, complexion a bit rougher,
maybe he'd have a beard, and his body might even be more muscular,
But because Miss Gorgeous is who she is,
this photo is of a boy who goes to the salon, goes tanning, and who takes pride in his appearence,
which he has chosen to be a more feminine one.
As time passed Gregory most likely learned more and more ways
to improve his outward feminine appearence.
Allowing him to look the way he does today,
which if you ask me is the definition of Gorgeous.


So in conclusion, I, with the help of my lovely girlfiend of course, am learning what my best feminine qualities are.
I'm learning to use these natural traits as a starting point to begin changing my physical appearence.
I think the biggest and most costly mistake anyone in this situation can make,
is to rush into any form of plastic surgery. Especially if you are still young.
I'm 25 and although Hormones may not turn me into a five foot five, blonde, cheerleader,
I know that they will be one of my biggest allies during my journey. I just need to give
them time to shape my body. If it takes 2 or 3 or 6 years, it is still better than a quick fix that can leave you looking less like a female and more like a Michael Jackson impersonator. I'm not against Plastic Surgery, but only as a last resort.
I am also in the process of learning how to walk, talk, and express myself in
a female manner, with confidence and without being a mockery or spoof
of the girl I am.



Friday, October 7, 2011

"Positive Thinking/Caption Ideas"

I always wanted to have a Mother Daughter Relationship with my Mom.
I wanted to know all the things she knew.
I wanted the female I was becoming
to reflect the part of my mother that I know she longed to pass on.
Sadly, without any daughters,
She never had the chance to
pass down her feminine wisdom.
Hopefully, My Mom,
Will be happy when she gains
Her Daughter.


I hope to Be as naturally beautiful
as I possibly can.
I flaunt my feminine attributes
to cover my masculine majority.
I know I am too tall, and broad shouldered
to be nearly as beautiful
as the girls I idolize.
But, I am
Young,
thin,
and smart.
I am not naturally hairy,
I have slender, smooth hands,
a pretty face
and long, long legs.
I count my blessings and know that if I
Keep learning, growing and taking
my Beautiful Girlfriends advice
I will Look Better, Feel Better, Be Better.

"Caitlin: Cancelled"
I have decided not to do this series of "Caitlin Captions" as I had planned. I rushed into doing captions and am going to start over, But rest easy as My Blog will certainly have a few more Emma Watson Pictures, because I adore her. She is certainly an Idol of mine and that British accent is something every girl wishes she had.
If Anyone would like to let me know what type of captions and stories they enjoy I'd love to take a crack at new captions and a few fresh Ideas would help get things started.


"Fem Fun"





Friday, September 23, 2011

"Captions: My Very First"

"Moment of Clarity"
Standing in her new apartment, Lorelai realized how quickly everything had changed. Three years ago "she" was a "he". She had a boring job, a miserable love life, a severe case of depression and a secret that was eating her up inside.
Lorelai was trapped as a man. A man who was nothing more than a make believe character who was good at one thing.....Keeping Lorelai hidden away.
Until, one day, she broke through her male cage and sobbingly cried out that anything had to be better than the life "He" had made for them. So she took over....without his permission.
Today, Lorelai lives "her" life to the fullest. She is a very successful salon owner. She can get a date with any man or woman she chooses. When she gets sad, a little shopping or some time with her Gal-Pals can lift her spirits right back up and she happily has nothing to hide from anyone.
As for "Him" he seems to no longer come around. Which is fine with Lorelai. She knows she's better off without him.


"Dream Come True"
"Hi I'm Tiffany and I'll be your waitress today."
Everytime Tiffany said that sentence it made her feel Happy, Sexy, attractive, confident and above all else she felt very very feminine.
Tiffany was born a boy. A very unhappy boy. Soft and girlish Tiffany was teased and tormented all through her youth. She would deny being gay when called "Fag" or deny wearing girl's clothes when the other boys asked if she was a Drag Queen. Just because she liked boys didn't make her gay, she was a girl inside, so liking boys was ok. She wasn't a drag queen, because she didn't want to perform or just dress up like a girl, she wanted to be a real girl. So, Tiffany made a promise to herself in highschool, that when she got to college she would start over as a female and she is so happy to have kept that promise.
Now, Tiffany is a gorgeous blonde that gets hit on by every guy she waits on and a lot of the girls hit on her as well. She Loves her job as a waitress and makes great tips, but as soon as college is done, Tiffany will be going on to bigger and better things.








"Caitlin: Part 1"
18 year old Cameron, who prefers to be known as Caitlin, is enjoying Saturday night as usual. She is in her Mother's personal bathroom playing dress up. She does this because Every Saturday night, like clockwork, Caitlin's mother heads out  hoping to find a man to be a father figure to her son. Little does she know that a father figure is the last thing her son wants.
Afraid of her mother finding a man who might eventually move in, Caitlin has decided to make this Saturday night a little different. Tonight she is going to leave on all her make-up, her wig and her clothes and wait for her mother to come home.
She knows how accepting her mother will be and how absolutlely relieved she is going to be, now that she can stop spending Saturday nights looking for a suitable man to teach Cameron all that macho BS. Instead they will spend Every night being like Mother and Daughter, as Caitlin learns all the fun girly stuff her mother will be so eager to show her.










Tuesday, September 13, 2011

"Growing up Girly"

 
 So You want to be a Girl.
You're not interested in being a woman.
Not yet.
You missed out on so much.

 Deep down inside you are a young,
Pretty, Fashionable
Girl.
You love the Juniors fashions,
the accessories, the shoes.

 You Buy heels,
try them on with your girlfriends.
You Love buying heels.
You Love Matching them to your outfits.
 The cuter the heel,
the cuter the outfit,
the cuter you will be.
You have a closet full of pretty shoes.
Your girlfriends say you have great taste.
They are sooooo Jealous.
 You love shopping.
You love the rush of trying things on,
smiling at the register
as the cashier
rings you up,
Bags your pretty new things
and smiles back.
She knows how it feels.
All girls do.
It's something only we girls share.
An emotional and sexual need for
Gorgeous Fashion.
 You are so very Girly.
So pretty and well put together.
Even simple outfits Can make a girl feel
So
Very
Sexy and feminine.
Feeling her hair brush her neck
can make her feel
like a Princess.
 Even a plain, seemingly boring,
white headband
can look gorgeous
popping out of your wavy, cascading
Hair.
You don't need
The most outrageous,
Hot pink,
Sparkly
Accessories
or clothes to look
and feel like a girl.
The girl is in you
and she knows what looks good.
Let her pick,
Let her dress herself.

 She wants, to style her hair,
Learn how to do makeup
And She Will make herself
look as girly as possible
because she is as girly as possible.
So are you.

Once you let her find the style she loves,
Let her do her hair,
Shape her brows,
Paint her face,
Delicately Place her earings in,
Slip into her favorite outfit,
Slide on her new, Sexy High Heels
You will see that
She quickly takes over
your life.
She will naturally
pick up these feminine skills,
Find feminine hobbies
and You will both be on your way to becoming
a Woman.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

"Oh, That Beautiful Blonde"




She came into my life knowing who I was.
WIth time she has accepted me and in some ways, she is still accepting me.
We are closer than most couples.
We are stronger,
Happier,
more confident.
She is the beautiful blonde girl I adore.
I am the girl, she loves,
no matter what.

We met by chance. I was upfront with my gender issues.
She met me at night,
no judgement,
no other goal than to find out who "I" was,
and still am.
She found a girl beneath a pile
of lies and depression.
She vowed to love that girl.


She was fashonable.
Excited to have a girl who knew so little,
but wanted to know so much.
Their hobbies were so similar.
Both girls, loving fashion,
adoring....Shoes.

 They both knew a beautiful outfit,
A beautiful Purse
And a beautiful girl
All come together with the addition of the perfect
Shoes.
My taste was so juvenile.
My beautiful blonde taught me
that gorgeous shoes,
Much like gorgeous girls,
come in many shapes, colors and styles.
My eyes were opened
wide.
What it meant to be a girl
in body, mind
and soul.
That was what I had to learn first.
Why do girl's love fashion,
adore shoes
and know the in's and out's
of why something looks good,
why something looks bad 
and everything in between?
Because another girl taught them.
MY Beautiful Blonde
was teaching me.

She showed me that beauty
was never
too tall........


 
Beauty was our love of eachother
mixed in with a love
of Shoes,
Clothes,
Movies,
Music,
Sex,
And the joys of being two girls
Deeply
In Love.
Being a girl wasn't about the shoes,
the outifits, the hair.
It was about an emotion.
It was and is about love for myself,
love for my Beautiful Blonde Girlfriend,
and the love that she radiates for me.
We choose to express our love
through the beautiful, feminine and gorgeous
Clothes and shoes
(and girly accessories)
That we wear
beacause it's something we love together.