What transvestism is like for me
Well, that was a busy start to the new year, blog-wise. I kicked off the poll to find the Best Tranny Movie in the World, Ever (results are still being worked on, if you haven't sent a reply to the email I sent you, do so soon!); had a go at generating a blog campaign to help knock Transformation off the top-spot for "transvestite" on Google; courted controversy by publicly outing a fraudster; and nearly accidentally outed myself at work by being a bit over-zealous with my blogging!
Why, there's been hardly been any time left to dress up as a girl!
Oh wait... I haven't dressed up this month.
Not once, even at home. Nary a slip has passed my ankles. That's kinda strange.
It's times like this, when I realise that I haven't dressed for a while and haven't really felt the need to either, that the self-doubt starts to set it. I start to wonder if I'll actually need to ever dress again. And what that really means for my health, wealth and wellbeing.
Transvestism is like Vitamin C.
I need Vitamin C. So everyone tells me. If I didn't keep eating it in fruit and stuff I'd get scurvy, like sailors in the old days. That's what my teacher taught me.
I've never had scurvy, and neither has anyone I've ever met. I don't get a kick every time I eat an orange that tells me that Vitamin C has saved me from scurvy. I believe that it's true, but the only way for me to really prove it would be to stop eating Vitamin C.
Openly cross-dressing is a great buzz for a transvestite, when you first do it. It releases built-up tensions and reveals a whole load of possibilities. Then you keep doing it and the buzz starts to fade. You don't get a kick everytime you're dressed, it's just something you do, like eating things with vitamin C in them. The accepted wisdom is that if you stop it becomes unhealthy, but the only way to know if it's actually unhealthy is to actually stop.
Scrap that. Transvestism's nothing like Vitamin C. That's a crap analogy.
Transvestism is like scaffolding.
Scaffolding is stuff you put up to support other things. It enables huge buildings to be created, but when they're finished it's no longer needed. The scaffolding comes down but the building stays up.
I've built a lot of things around my transvestism. A large group of friends, an interesting social life, a feeling of worth and recognition amongst my peers, and of course this website and blog.
The strange thing is now I've built this elaborate edifice around me cross-dressing, I don't actually need to keep cross-dressing to keep it all upright. It's self supporting. My friends won't stop being friends if I don't cross-dress. My website will still get updated with bollocks like this, and the pictures will always be there as a memorial to the "good old days" of Becky en-femme. I can dress up now and then for special occasions and maintaining friends (the equivalent of the scaffolding going back up to re-point the brickwork), but I wouldn't be doing it because I have to.
But I want to. Maybe scaffolding is a bad analogy.
Transvestism is like bingo.
My Nan used to play bingo a lot at her local community centre. She rarely won, and when she did the prizes were pretty shit. A basket of mixed veg, 10 tins of spam, that kind of thing. But she loved it. It got her out of the house, she socialized with people and got all the village gossip, and when she was stuck for conversation she could always fall back on What Happened at Bingo.
My transvestism gets me out of the house. The rewards are sometimes pretty shit, but I love it. When I'm stuck for conversation I can always fall back on What Happened at Angelic.
That's bollocks too. Transvestism is nothing like bingo.
I don't need to justify why I do it. I don't need to justify when I stop doing it.
I guess I'm looking for a chapter heading on my life: "When Becky Stopped Dressing", but real lives don't fall into neat chapters. Perhaps it will fade away, perhaps it will return with a vengeance. I'm just going to have to find out for myself.
Oh, are you still waiting for a definitive analogy of what my transvestism is like?
Transvestism is like a story without chapters about a man playing bingo whilst hanging from the scaffolding inside the Sagrada Familia and eating an orange.
That will have to do.
Why, there's been hardly been any time left to dress up as a girl!
Oh wait... I haven't dressed up this month.
Not once, even at home. Nary a slip has passed my ankles. That's kinda strange.
It's times like this, when I realise that I haven't dressed for a while and haven't really felt the need to either, that the self-doubt starts to set it. I start to wonder if I'll actually need to ever dress again. And what that really means for my health, wealth and wellbeing.
Transvestism is like Vitamin C.
I need Vitamin C. So everyone tells me. If I didn't keep eating it in fruit and stuff I'd get scurvy, like sailors in the old days. That's what my teacher taught me.
I've never had scurvy, and neither has anyone I've ever met. I don't get a kick every time I eat an orange that tells me that Vitamin C has saved me from scurvy. I believe that it's true, but the only way for me to really prove it would be to stop eating Vitamin C.
Openly cross-dressing is a great buzz for a transvestite, when you first do it. It releases built-up tensions and reveals a whole load of possibilities. Then you keep doing it and the buzz starts to fade. You don't get a kick everytime you're dressed, it's just something you do, like eating things with vitamin C in them. The accepted wisdom is that if you stop it becomes unhealthy, but the only way to know if it's actually unhealthy is to actually stop.
Scrap that. Transvestism's nothing like Vitamin C. That's a crap analogy.
Transvestism is like scaffolding.
Scaffolding is stuff you put up to support other things. It enables huge buildings to be created, but when they're finished it's no longer needed. The scaffolding comes down but the building stays up.
I've built a lot of things around my transvestism. A large group of friends, an interesting social life, a feeling of worth and recognition amongst my peers, and of course this website and blog.
The strange thing is now I've built this elaborate edifice around me cross-dressing, I don't actually need to keep cross-dressing to keep it all upright. It's self supporting. My friends won't stop being friends if I don't cross-dress. My website will still get updated with bollocks like this, and the pictures will always be there as a memorial to the "good old days" of Becky en-femme. I can dress up now and then for special occasions and maintaining friends (the equivalent of the scaffolding going back up to re-point the brickwork), but I wouldn't be doing it because I have to.
But I want to. Maybe scaffolding is a bad analogy.
Transvestism is like bingo.
My Nan used to play bingo a lot at her local community centre. She rarely won, and when she did the prizes were pretty shit. A basket of mixed veg, 10 tins of spam, that kind of thing. But she loved it. It got her out of the house, she socialized with people and got all the village gossip, and when she was stuck for conversation she could always fall back on What Happened at Bingo.
My transvestism gets me out of the house. The rewards are sometimes pretty shit, but I love it. When I'm stuck for conversation I can always fall back on What Happened at Angelic.
That's bollocks too. Transvestism is nothing like bingo.
I don't need to justify why I do it. I don't need to justify when I stop doing it.
I guess I'm looking for a chapter heading on my life: "When Becky Stopped Dressing", but real lives don't fall into neat chapters. Perhaps it will fade away, perhaps it will return with a vengeance. I'm just going to have to find out for myself.
Oh, are you still waiting for a definitive analogy of what my transvestism is like?
Transvestism is like a story without chapters about a man playing bingo whilst hanging from the scaffolding inside the Sagrada Familia and eating an orange.
That will have to do.
Labels: transvestism
Like you say, not dressing doesn't mean I'm not a tranny. I don't feel I'm somehow letting the side down by having nothing to do with skirts for months....
Of course, not everyone likes Branston Pickle. In fact some people actually find it very offensive, and may even ridicule people for eating it... I for one love Branston Pickle, and I had some last weekend... if you know what I mean ;-)
Bingo & scaffolding... Oh come on!!!
If you love pickle, then after eating everyday for a while, you fancy a change or a rest.
But when you can't have Branston pickle (or any substitute variety), that's when you REALLY want it.
Being a tranny is a bit like that. Except it's less pickely and has much better clothes involved.
However, your analogy is easier to remember Steph, so I'll use it next time I am imagining a scenario where I'm out to friends and they actually ask me to explain my trannying! :P
(however Bex, your analogy does deserve a prize for best thought out)
Actually Kath.. I was thinking more this
But I don't think, that transvestism is like a sandwich toaster. Cause you don't be a toaster if you don't toastes. But we all are trannys if we don't dress. You can see it at the websites.
It's more than a oldtimer-car. You don't drive them often, but you are one of only a few people who are so crazy, to drive a car which is loud, which need more petrol than normal cars and where all spares are much more expensive than normal. You have anytime anything to do with your car. You have to wash it, polishing ist - to be perfect on the day you drive next time. You drive it only when the Day is perfect, and most at events with other Oldtimer-Fans. If you drive out, you love it, when all eyes on your car and you love the Feeling.
You are an oldtimer driver anytime but most time you drive your normal car.
I love toasted sandwiches, but the ridicule and bad vibes I will get from my parents from making and eating the sandwiches will be catastrophic. which, since I'm living with them at the moment isn't something I particularly want to happen, so I will have to wait till I move out then eat as many different toasted sandwiches that I can eat.
Transvestism is starting to sound like lunch.
I've barely dressed in the last 20 years, but I'm still a tranny at heart. It doesn't go away it seems. It lurks in the back of the cupboard of your mind . . . .
And I don't like acorns, so no toasties for me.
I do love the "transvestism is like scafolding" analogy but I know I'll get it all confused with bingo and pickles when I try and explain it to someone.
When asked why he did so many drugs and drank so much, Robert Downey Jr said something along the lines of "because its bloody good fun". I guess that'll do for me, yep thats it "scaffolding is fun", got it.
Once day, you'll open the draw, see the badge, and a wave of incredible memories will come back to you, and it will be just like you were six again and thinking that John Noakes was really cool.
But the REALLY cool thing is: even though you're not wearing it, you'll always have had that badge.
Gemma xxx (who's taken to wearing her badge amongst people who like Magpie, WDY... and Swap Shop (urgh! Those sweaters!))
I sense the 'can't be arsed- ness' indicates a balance in life, ie. it's not dominating everything one does or defining the individual.
Granted, having the luxury to do the trans* bits when you want and how you want, is a major factor in a 'take it or leave it' attitude.
I used to stress if I didn't dress as Connie once a week. Now? Not fussed. I still do when the chance arises, even if it is at home so I can work on my look. In fact I think I tend to dress casually as a woman more and save the glitzy stuff for going out. I just like to think I have a huge varied cross-gender clothes choice.
I am Connie either way.
As it seems to have turned into analogy central around here here's my penn'orth: Transvestism is like a favourite band. You don't need to be listening to them all the time but you know that a time will come, sooner or later, when nothing else will suffice.
The rewards can really be very pretty shit... :) Beautiful in fact.
We don't all go to the same kinds of S&M clubs that you go to, Jo!
[i]err, sorry, never got this analogy milarkie sorted[/i]
ps, the dressing disire has gone right off for me too, although I know it will come back... perhaps it's a seasonal thing?
Analogy: I'm a cyclist (as anyone who's seen my site will be painfully aware), and I happen to have a choice of more than three bikes. Each of them is great in its own way, but I can only ride one at a time and I'll go through phases of riding one in preference to another, sometimes this lasts for months and months. Then the preference changes and I'll go with the flow once again. It doesn't mean I may as well sell the one I'm convinced I'm not using enough, because I'm mindful that my preference will change at some point. It's still valid for a choice of two bikes/items/states of mind/etc. Is that any good?
I can't really comment on the crossdressing thing exactly, except for distant memories in which it was exactly a case of whether the actions justified the identity, or vice versa.
Crossdressing is like me, confusing, fun, irritating, joyful, and frustratung when the zipper gets stuck between the shoulderblades and you feel as if your not getting out of the dress without the application of sissors.
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