topsy turvy

Topsy turvy is a t-girls life. From an early age we perceive that we have a very different take on our lives than do others.

I mean, how do are you supposed to explain to daddy at the age of five that you wanna play with dolls and not with toy cars? Or convince your disapproving boy buddies that the elegant skills of netball are far superior to the bruising thuggery of playground football?

harsh mistress

At the times in my life when I tried living full time and seriously considered transitioning it was my impending poverty - and the way that plays you into the hands of the disgusting institutional benefit and health system - that really decided me against it. Yes, I'm a terrible coward but I also know I need to certain level of control over my own destiny. I refuse to be defined and deliniated by uncomprehending idiots!

One T-friend suggested I join her in the sex industry, offering to help me get set up as - believe it!!! - a dominatrix. It was all a bit seedy for me, I must admit but also I thought: 'Gosh, how could I do the dom when I hate hurting anything. Even little baby houseflies?'

I realise now that this sensitivity would have qualified me perfectly for the job. They would never admit it in a zillion quintillion years but there is nothing your average 'straight' man-thing would enjoy more than being chained up and thrashed silly by a dominatrix who whispers with breathy conviction, 'This is hurting me a lot more than it's hurting you'. And the icing on the cake is when you slip those black panties down a notch to reveal that little twiglet you keep tucked between your legs. That's when their eyes pop.. as you reach once again for the punishing cane.. eeeeeeek!!!

cigarette butts

Gawd.. it took me the longest time to come to terms with the fact that I was born with what the medical community have scientifically and prosaically termed 'a very small penis'!!!

The jokes from other boys started in the changing rooms in my last year at primary school and continued up into adolescence. Typically dumb comments such as, 'Most boys are born with a cigar but you were born with a cigarette butt'. I imagined it was down to my wishes coming only half true. As a young boy I prayed and prayed that hated stub would disappear from between my legs allowing me to turn into a proper girl.

Perhaps my most embarrassing incident occured when a gruff but likeably paternal Scottish PE teacher held me back after class and delivered some rather awkward advice. He kept saying. 'Problems down there' and for half the conversation I honestly thought he was referring to Australia leaving me totally confused. Eventually, he summoned the courage to get blunt and suggested I seek some professional help. 'Sonny', he said in that concerned but thoroughly unhelpful schoolteacherly way, 'Someday you'll have a wee wife and frankly, she'll need more than you've got now. Doon there. Do ye understand me, Sonny?' I must have turned ten shades of purple during the ordeal.

Later, when I had my crazy spell of ignoring my T-ness and pretending to be a regular man, I had nightmares whenever I managed to find myself a girlfriend. I was horribly conscious that at some point we'd have to do the sex thing and that I'd strip off and she'd just kill herself laughing at me. Of course, I'd delay having sex as long as I could. When it came to the crunch and we got down to making love I had far more success using my fingers than employing my underwhelmingly tiny girlycock.

It was actually a real relief when I finally accepted who I was and gave up GGs, deciding to devote myself (sexually that is) exclusively to delicious man-things. One of the fabulous things about having a tiny girlycock is that it's soooooo easy to tuck it away in your panties.

But ironies of ironies. In no time at all I was shocked to discover that gentlemen actually prefer well hung T-girls. It's a big part of the thrill to them. Damn and triple drat!! Lucia just can't win in this cigar-obsessed world of ours!!!!!!

blob blob spoldge splodge!

Blob blob spoldge, Gosh, gurls. Remember back to those first tremble-handed years of putting on your mascara. Half an hour of carefully applying your make up. Time to rush rush. You're already late. One final touch to go - that definitive second coat of mascara... ARGGGGH!
Big black splodge right across the bridge of your nose!!!

Indiscretions

As exhuberant Tgirls, sometimes that enthusiasm gets the better of us. I started my indiscretions at an early age - I blame it on my near-total innocence.

I was nine, maybe ten, when I invited a male school friend back to our flat knowing ma. pa and sis were going to be out. Once home, I took him straight into my sisters bedroom, grabbed a bunch of her things and started dressing. All the while I was blithely delivering a running commentary on how I much prefered being a girl and what a delight it was to wear dresses, skirts etc. I had cute half length hair back then (which my dad absolutely detested and regularly urged me to chop off). My lovely sis had taught me how, with a bit of crazy back combing and brushing, I could work it up into a not too bad girlish little bob.

My friend sat on my sis's bed with saucer eyes saying not a word. I began to realise things weren't going terribly well and in that compensatory way (which is always a huge mistake) I plonked myself down right beside him and asked him if he'd like to try anything on. VAVOOOOOOM! He grabbed his satchel and was out the door like a jack rabbit.

Now, if this sounds like proto-Lucia being predatory,you couldn't be further from the truth. There wasn't anything the least bit sexual about this. I just really really really wanted to share this fantasic secret with my friend. I honestly thought the time had come to reveal my innermost dreams with him.

Alas. Doncha just know it. Already regarded as a bit of a 'fairy' by kids in my class, suddenly I was the walking pariah known only as 'He who dresses up in girl's clothing'. I was even taunted by a gang of six year old lads who sang 'He wears knickers' at me as I walked home.

I'll never be one to say, 'Keep yer mouths shut, girls' but, nevertheless, some old clichés do come to mind such as discretion being the better part of Tgirlydom.. eeeeeeek!