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� In this diary, I record my life as a transvestite. Perhaps it will help somebody else, who finds their lifestyle doesn't quite match that endorsed by the 'tranny mafia'. Well, I've been there... and survived. The debriefing starts here.

�loves: All kinds of stuff that society thinks I shouldn't.

�hates: Microsoft. Obviously.

�reads:
secret-motel
artgnome
enfinblue
stepfordtart
ten-oclock
boombasticat
lawliiet
annanotbob
fifidellabon
my-serenade

Lynn Jones
Becky
Samantha

A fall from grace
7:37 a.m. -- 2008-07-01

We have now reached December 1999, and a significant event in my tranny life. With apologies for getting out of sequence, it's time to recap something you may already have read about, in my earlier article, 'tranny heroin'. Basically, I observed that the cross-dressing habit kicks you when you're down. I hadn't dressed as a girl for well over a year. Then...

In December, I'd moved into a house, only to find that all kinds of things were unsatisfactory, including the landlord's attitude. I made other arrangements... but while I was home with my folks for Christmas, I received a letter stating that I was in breach of contract, and had forfeited my deposit, the rent paid in advance, and so on. Four nights (spent shivering in a room where the heating system vomited rusty water if it was turned on) had cost me half a month's salary. At the time, I could ill afford to lose that kind of money.

Maybe I was feeling down for other reasons as well; I don't remember. Anyway, that night, when everybody was asleep, I reached under the bed for the large cardboard box in which my alter-ego had been stored. I cut through the tape that had kept it sealed up for a year... and embraced my addiction again.

After so long, the 'hit' I got from cross-dressing was amazing. It made my heart pound in a way that it hadn't done for a long time. The kind of high that I would otherwise associate with an adventure sport.

Of course, a lot of people don't share my fetish. They might be turned on by completely different stimuli, be they visual, tactile, olfactory... whatever. Some people may not have discovered their vice yet, or (poor souls) may actually not have one. I may be just as unable to understand your 'thing' as you are to understand mine... I can't explain why cross-dressing works on me the way it does, but I can explain why I do it: because sometimes it makes me feel that good.

So, the addiction was back. And I was about to move into a new house which, my finely-tuned transvestite senses were now reminding me, was very private. It had an unusual layout, whereby all its windows overlooked the back garden. Just the place for a shy, single transvestite to experiment with an alternative lifestyle. How about spending a whole weekend as a girl? Not just dressing up for an hour or so, but waking up, wafting around the house in girlie-mode, and having breakfast in my nightdress. Then after a shower, back on with the makeup and such...

It was just an idea, brought on by the intensity of that first recurrence of cross-dressing. It turned out to be pretty boring, being pretty... and I only managed about ten or twelve hours before returning to boy-mode. Including the time I spent asleep. Of course, real girls sleep in nice, sensible things like pyjamas. This part-time girl's nightwear had to begin with control briefs (to hide the masculine equipment), and a skin-tone bra and padding to produce a suitable bust.

And you think girls suffer to look beautiful?

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