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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

Iceberg!
8:03 a.m. -- 2008-08-28

I nearly used the expression "the tip of the iceberg" in a comment I was writing just now... and then I didn't.

It set me thinking. Imagine a kind of weird, upside-down iceberg, with ninety percent of its mass above the water. In other words, the part you can see clearly represents the vast majority; the unnoticed bit is (relatively) unimportant.

I'm wonderng if this inverted iceberg is the male population. Most of them are in plain sight, being and doing what we all expect. Here, the unseen element is comparatively tiny*. The male carer, nursery school teacher, librarian... listener. (It doesn't have to be a job; it's more about temperament.)

I actually work in a very male-dominated field, but I lead something of a double life, as you know. Better file me at the bottom of that iceberg.

An inverted iceberg with ninety percent of its mass above the water-line...

And you wonder why menfolk are inherently unstable?




* No penis jokes please, Stepfordtart.

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