I Walk the Line
Right, bear with me because I'm writing this with a vague impression of something in the back of my mind but no idea how to commit it into words. So this is going to be rather rambling.
Being a transvestite is bloody difficult. Correction, being a good transvestite is bloody difficult. By "good" I mean one who makes the effort, who's happy to stand up and be counted as a transvestite, and who (and this is where recently I've been failing abysmally) actually cross-dresses. The Good Transvestite walks the line, the line that divides not bothering enough and bothering far too much.
Let me reel off a few more clichés.
The Good Transvestite lives on the edge. On one side is the massed hordes of proto-trannies who never get the urge to take it any further, and on the other side are the transsexuals who want to take it all the way. But the edge is a fun and exciting place to be. Edges are always where things happen. When two environments come into contact you get turbulence, conflict, excitement... life. There are a lot of interesting people on the edge, and even more approaching it from both sides. Away from the edge you get safety and uniformity, but nothing really ever happens.
The trouble is that there, in the middle, seems to be the hardest place to stay. The Good Transvestite who crawls their way up to the edge, fighting apathy, prejudice and self-doubt to become an "out and proud" tranny, faces a big problem. There are slippery slopes in both directions, back down the way they came or onwards into the murky realms of hormones, SRS, and permanent changes of lifestyle.
The Good Transvestite knows that although they'd fantasised occasionally about, say, having a proper set of boobs, they wouldn't be doing it for the right reasons and the novelty would wear off in a few hours, so they hold back. The craving for the "next big hit" (buying girls clothes, going out dressed, passing in public, whatever) has fuelled them all the way to the crest of the edge, so stopping before they go too far down the other slope can be hard.
Before I suffer the wrath of transsexuals angry that I'm implying they're just bad transvestites who couldn't give up on the "next big hit", let me qualify what I'm saying. I think that most transsexuals have a genuine need to do what they do, and you can tell by the huge sacrifices they've made with families, careers, etc.
And also, trannies that shade further down the transsexual spectrum face problems walking their own "line". The medical, legal and social structures in place in this country and elsewhere have great difficultly seeing any shades between "male" and "female". The transgendered person who wants to live a lifestyle somewhere after "man" but before "woman" faces huge difficulties from a society who wants to push them into one of the two available boxes.
But back to the point I was trying to make, and (rather predictably) it's all about me. I "walked the line" for a while, lived on the edge and sampled all the delights that were available there. But then I had to choose: fight extra hard to stay there or fall to the side. Falling "forward" never was an option, because I'm 100% sure I'm not a transsexual. And staying where I was became impossible because, despite Jane's utter support and understanding, the kind of tranny I was 4 years ago just wasn't compatible with a normal happy relationship.
Also, the need to dress has gone away since I've been with Jane. Maybe because I'm with Jane, but I'm not about to test that theory.
In many ways I've "lost" the old Becky, and gone though a bit of a mourning period because of it. I miss the hedonistic pleasures that came part-and-parcel with the particular way I chose to express my tranny side and "live" through Becky.
Despite Jane trusting me implicitly (and me being committed to deserve that trust), I've not trannied solo in over a year, and only once or twice since I met Jane. Going out dressed with Jane is a lot of fun (and she enjoyed it too), but it's strangely different from the pure thrill of going out solo.
When we first met I said to Jane that my trannying was going to be my garden shed, a place where I could retreat to be away from real life for a bit. But to allow Jane to be comfortable with the shed, she had to see inside, and somehow it never seemed right to shut her out after that. And so, unwittingly, my expression of Becky became diluted.
Part of me wants to reclaim that part of my life, part of me realises how selfish that would be. Perhaps the ultimate defining characteristic of the transvestite is selfishness - we want to do these things we do to satisfy our own needs and desires - but I don't want it to define me. So I'm going to have to find a new way to be a Good Transvestite. Giving up on personal short-term pleasures for the greater lasting pleasure of a loving relationship, perhaps that's the hardest line to walk of all.
Being a transvestite is bloody difficult. Correction, being a good transvestite is bloody difficult. By "good" I mean one who makes the effort, who's happy to stand up and be counted as a transvestite, and who (and this is where recently I've been failing abysmally) actually cross-dresses. The Good Transvestite walks the line, the line that divides not bothering enough and bothering far too much.
Let me reel off a few more clichés.
The Good Transvestite lives on the edge. On one side is the massed hordes of proto-trannies who never get the urge to take it any further, and on the other side are the transsexuals who want to take it all the way. But the edge is a fun and exciting place to be. Edges are always where things happen. When two environments come into contact you get turbulence, conflict, excitement... life. There are a lot of interesting people on the edge, and even more approaching it from both sides. Away from the edge you get safety and uniformity, but nothing really ever happens.
The trouble is that there, in the middle, seems to be the hardest place to stay. The Good Transvestite who crawls their way up to the edge, fighting apathy, prejudice and self-doubt to become an "out and proud" tranny, faces a big problem. There are slippery slopes in both directions, back down the way they came or onwards into the murky realms of hormones, SRS, and permanent changes of lifestyle.
The Good Transvestite knows that although they'd fantasised occasionally about, say, having a proper set of boobs, they wouldn't be doing it for the right reasons and the novelty would wear off in a few hours, so they hold back. The craving for the "next big hit" (buying girls clothes, going out dressed, passing in public, whatever) has fuelled them all the way to the crest of the edge, so stopping before they go too far down the other slope can be hard.
Before I suffer the wrath of transsexuals angry that I'm implying they're just bad transvestites who couldn't give up on the "next big hit", let me qualify what I'm saying. I think that most transsexuals have a genuine need to do what they do, and you can tell by the huge sacrifices they've made with families, careers, etc.
And also, trannies that shade further down the transsexual spectrum face problems walking their own "line". The medical, legal and social structures in place in this country and elsewhere have great difficultly seeing any shades between "male" and "female". The transgendered person who wants to live a lifestyle somewhere after "man" but before "woman" faces huge difficulties from a society who wants to push them into one of the two available boxes.
But back to the point I was trying to make, and (rather predictably) it's all about me. I "walked the line" for a while, lived on the edge and sampled all the delights that were available there. But then I had to choose: fight extra hard to stay there or fall to the side. Falling "forward" never was an option, because I'm 100% sure I'm not a transsexual. And staying where I was became impossible because, despite Jane's utter support and understanding, the kind of tranny I was 4 years ago just wasn't compatible with a normal happy relationship.
Also, the need to dress has gone away since I've been with Jane. Maybe because I'm with Jane, but I'm not about to test that theory.
In many ways I've "lost" the old Becky, and gone though a bit of a mourning period because of it. I miss the hedonistic pleasures that came part-and-parcel with the particular way I chose to express my tranny side and "live" through Becky.
Despite Jane trusting me implicitly (and me being committed to deserve that trust), I've not trannied solo in over a year, and only once or twice since I met Jane. Going out dressed with Jane is a lot of fun (and she enjoyed it too), but it's strangely different from the pure thrill of going out solo.
When we first met I said to Jane that my trannying was going to be my garden shed, a place where I could retreat to be away from real life for a bit. But to allow Jane to be comfortable with the shed, she had to see inside, and somehow it never seemed right to shut her out after that. And so, unwittingly, my expression of Becky became diluted.
Part of me wants to reclaim that part of my life, part of me realises how selfish that would be. Perhaps the ultimate defining characteristic of the transvestite is selfishness - we want to do these things we do to satisfy our own needs and desires - but I don't want it to define me. So I'm going to have to find a new way to be a Good Transvestite. Giving up on personal short-term pleasures for the greater lasting pleasure of a loving relationship, perhaps that's the hardest line to walk of all.
Maybe Becky was a 'support' who may, or may not be a support again in the future?
Or maybe it's as simple as growing and changing?
I think the reason it sounded sad to me is that by using the word 'good', it suggests that you are now 'bad'? Perhaps it's suggesting to me that because I don't meet your defenition of 'good' that I'm therefore 'bad'? Maybe that's my selfish bit, taking your comment and associating it with me?
Perhaps what you are saying is you were happy as the trannie you were but now you are happier without needing Becky at this point in your life and while you are missing her, you don't need her now? And perhaps thats a good thing? Perhaps that is being a good trannie? To know when to need her and know when to leave her?
And maybe that is the edge the rest of us are searching for?
Maybe you have reached the tranny nirvana many look for.
You are free to tranny, but dont feel the need as you have a loving relationship.
But please dont stop blogging, as we, your friends, would miss you.
This'll sound trite, but it's true: people change. What you thought was important - perhaps even critical to your wellbeing - just drops off the radar. It's not a bad thing.
I can understand you thinking about 'going back' because you know what happened in the past and could handle all that it threw at you. The future is (obviously) unknown and therefore a leap of faith. While going back may be tempting, sometimes there's a reason why you leave certain activities behind.
With regards to selfishness, I know various new parents who verbally flog themselves for wanting parts of their old life back: to have 'me time' once again. There's nothing wrong with a bit of selfishness every once in a while. Sometimes the world has to wait while you attend to your own needs. It sounds awful, but if you don't look after yourself, who will?
I wish you both well on that walk.
I'd love to offer you some pearls of wisdom, but to be honest I'm still trying to find them myself... The life of a tranny is never a dull one.
Take care
XXX
It is through courageous honesty like yours that new frontiers are crossed. Keep it up.
It's an interesting exercise defining the perfect trannie, but I'm not so sure one exists.
I do wonder, occasionally, how many trannies beat themselves up for not living on the edge, as you put it.
Having been out, done that and bought the teeshirt how many of us feel we *should* find bigger and bolder statements to make in order to prove our trannie credentials - all rather pointless, if you ask me.
Anyhoos, looks like you're going with the flow, so I'm sure you'll enjoy it. :)
But there's going to be loads of people who'll miss you not being 'on the scene'.
Take care, and have fun.
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