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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

Horse
9:57 a.m. -- 2008-10-03

One of our neighbours keeps horses. We were having a chat a few days ago, and she happened to mention a quandary that had been foremost in her mind for some years during her childhood. �I just couldn�t decide,� she said, �if it would be better to have a horse, or to be a horse. The fact that one of the two was impossible just didn�t enter my head.�

This kind of thought pattern will be familiar to a lot of transvestites.

Not the being a horse thing. (Although I muse briefly acknowledge �Miss K�, who once described a friend thus: �Tori's a non-operative transsexual. She's also a Pony Girl, which makes things complicated; two genders to juggle, and two species.�) Um... um.

But no... that�s not what I had in mind. It�s not the dilemma of having one�s cake or eating it, but the unfathomable desire to be the cake.

An awful lot of transvestites have, at one time or another, told their significant other:

�I wish I was you.�

It�s meant to be a compliment, but it�s really not what they want to hear. It�s intended as a compliment to the person who has such grace, such a pleasant voice, lovely curves and intriguing softnesses, a nice smell... but it invariably comes out as creepy and stalkerish. It�s like a cross between �The Silence of the Lambs� and �Single White Female� - or maybe reminiscent of that thing that Norman Bates has for his mother in �Psycho�. In any event... it�s not good!

In addition to the complimentary things it might be intended to mean, there�s more than a little envy; for that fantastic girly lifestyle with the nail varnish, all those clothes, and the chance to go out dressed up and get attention (as opposed to scorn, or threats). Envy is not a good thing to find within a relationship, either.

Now, while it�s impossible to become a horse, one can change gender... although those who want to aren�t my target readership. I don�t know very much about transsexual motivations. Still, the transvestite can temporarily assume an alternative gender role. But he can�t become his wife. That position is taken!

Variants of �I want to be you� are common in the transvestite subculture, from the dialogue in tranny fiction to the comments people leave on shared photos. And it�s something that some trannies admit having said to their partners.

Guilty. I foolishly said it to Lucy... back when I didn�t really know what I wanted. My �tranny vocabulary� was limited. Maybe my whole emotional vocabulary. I think back, fourteen years or so, and I cringe to think that I said something so stupid. Within a year, our engagement was broken off and I was looking for somewhere else to live.

My neighbour, thinking back on her equine dilemma, is able to laugh at how silly she was. Now she has not only accepted that it�s silly to wish for the impossible, she�s learned that it�s more fun to be a human, and to own some nice horses into the bargain. I can�t laugh off my immaturity so easily; I was something like twenty-four years old when I blundered. But it was immaturity. And like my neighbour, I�ve learned that if I can�t be the thing that I admire, it�s still possible to lead a happy life with a gorgeous, glamorous woman. (No, not my neighbour. She always wears a Barbour jacket and smells of horse! I�m talking about the lovely Victoria.)

It makes me think of that well-known nonsense poem by Gelett Burgess, �A Purple Cow�... if only to end today�s entry on a high note:

I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.

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