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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.

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An exercise in... exercise
11:39 a.m. -- 2008-08-27

Coincidences happen. And if several of them happen at once, well... that's just a coincidence. Anna joined the gym today. She also has a sibling with a home in the south of France. I think I must be her evil twin. Either that, or she's mine.

Anyway, some are born to the gym, some obtain membership, and some have membership thrust upon them.

It was thrust upon me: Victoria presented me with three months' membership. She hopes that by making hubby a member, she might be persuaded to go more often. With a certain amount of trepidation, I went along for the first time, two days ago. It's actually a really nice place. It's a country club, rather than one of those sweaty, inner city places... so that has eliminated most of the objections I might have been able to muster. Once inside and changed, Vicky headed straight for the jacuzzi. I was diverted by the sight of a completely empty swimming pool. The place was in semi-darkness, being lit only by underwater lamps... gorgeous. I mean, it'd be daft not to swim when you've got the whole place to yourself, right? The temperature was perfect, too.

So I swam while Vicky loitered in the jacuzzi for a while, and then we went from from one activity to another, together. Vicky would normally do some running; I'm not sure what I ought to be doing. Swimming is a 'safe' option for me; something that I know how to do, without looking too useless. I'm not exactly at home in a gym... particularly in the changing rooms! (And before you ask, no; I don't wear underwear by Gossard underneath my boy-clothes. Nothing like that.)

It's funny... when I'm doing martial arts, I can enjoy close contact with people of either sex, and respect them. A person who is actually trying to unscrew my head from my neck, I like... Martial arts have taught me to be a lot less squeamish about touching than I used to be, and I enjoy this form of 'fighting'... yet you say "gym" to me and I immediately think of posturing, macho locker-room bullshit. If I was gay, I might find the changing area intriguing. Instead, for the slightly girlie but straight male, it's just... a little bit intimidating.

All I can report, in that regard, is "so far, so good." I expect that it's like a lot of things that I fear... my expectations are probably completely unfounded. Perhaps, in time, I'll be more comfortable, and I'll have familiarised myself with everything the gym has to offer. Perhaps I'll learn what a 'deltoid' is, and why it should matter. Or perhaps not.

Vicky's new swimsuit was gorgeous. Um. Let's rephrase that to be more complimentary: Vicky looked gorgeous in her new swimming costume.

Oh, who am I trying to kid? I envied her. But I told her she looked lovely, anyway.

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