Away to Brum

All packed for a weekend away, it's Sophie's big 30th bash in Birmingham tomorrow, really looking forward to it!

A short blog entry today, you can hopefully look forward to a full expose of the goings on in Brum when I get back!

Unrelated Science News

The worlds smallest Cornish pasty has been developed by Ginsters scientists working in Truro. It consists of a single molecule of minced beef trapped within a stable tetrahedron of four pastry atoms.

It's been estimated that a standard petrol station refridgeration unit could contain over 4,000,000,000,000 of these "Nanopasties".

Help... please

After being really happy when my Mum asked to see a picture of me as Becky, now I'm faced with a conundrum: what picture do I show her?

I've been through my stack of pictures and found a few fairly recent ones that I'm happy with. I'd like help narrowing it down! That's where you come in.

Put youself in my shoes. Imagine you're a transvetite like me.

Okay, you can stop playing with your tits now. :-/

Now... imagine your mum knows about you and is OK and supportive but a little freaked out by the whole thing. She's asked to see a pic of you dressed up because she's never seen you in femme mode.

You want to present a good image, but you don't want to freak her out more.

What pic would you choose? From the ones i've just posted?

Option 5: A lot of leg, but a pic I like. 

Option 4: Play up the friends angle. 

Option 3: Look nice. Conservative. Too plain? 

Option 2: Full length, nice smile. Look like a tart. :-/ 

Option 1: Cute, not too slutty... but on a hotel bed. Wrong message? 

Apple in Brum

Mmm... a new Apple Store in the Birmingham Bullring is opening this weekend. I think they're having a grand opening event. And I just happen to be in Brum this weekend!

Maybe i'll pick up something funky for my iPod. I really fancy some iPod Socks. :)

I pwn Google!

I'm already the number one site for all your internet defrag needs, according to Google.

Yay me! I am l33t! Etc.

I'm not a Transsexual, but... (Part 72)

... if I did get anything done it would be a nose job. It's the one thing that always strikes me as masculine about my face in pictures. I'd love to have a pert little button nose!

And maybe get my jaw softened. It's a bit square.

Hmm, better cheekbones, maybe.

And while I was in I'd see about maybe a small boob job. A small one. Nothing that couldn't be hidden under a shirt.

Bum and hip implants too, to give me a nicer outline.

Maybe a bit of lipo. Flat tummy would be nice.

Botox to get rid of the little laughter lines.

But I wouldn't go crazy!

Oh... and the tackle's not going anywhere. Get used to it.

Evil Becky Answers Your Mail #2

Some more of my mail that I couldn't be arsed to answer. Over to my evil twin, Evil Becky.

Tod writes:
HEY SAW THE PICS . UR VERY CUTE. I AM A STRAIGHT MALE ( MAYBE BI) NOT SURE. STILL TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT. ANYWAY. UR SOO CUTE. GREAT PICS.!!!

Evil Becky replies:
Hey Tod. Let me help U out. If U think U may be bi you almost certainly R.

Dave writes:

HI BECKY LIKED READING YOUR STORIES AND LOVED YOUR PICTURES IM DAVE 35 FROM NEWCASTLE.BYE 4 NOW DAVE XXX

Evil Becky replies:
Whatever happened to writing in lower case? And using punctuation? And writing words in full? Text messaging has a lot to answer 4.

Just Testing a Theory

Google Adsense, the "intelligent" advertising tool that's supposed to read pages and provide relevant advertising... hmm.

Yesterday's posting currently appears to feature three adverts that Adsense in it's infinite wisdom has decided are relevant to that item:

Spot a theme?

I was at a loss as to exactly what Adsense's thinking was... until Jessica pointed out that I'd mentioned Henry Bellingham, the Tory MP for West Norfolk. Surely Adsense wouldn't be that cruel?

So I'm going to check to see if that was the case. This post will mention Henry Bellingham, Tory and MP a few times just to see if someone somewhere has invented a rather funny way to get back at the Tory Party, or maybe just Henry Bellingham MP. Let's see!

So, Google, the relevant words on this page are Tory, Henry, Bellingham and MP. Do your worst!

Smile

I went to my Mum and Dad's this evening. They're still decorating the lounge so tea was a bit basic, but it was nice to see them.

Driving back, there were three people that made me smile. Here they are in reverse order.

• The anonymous political vandal. Some wit had daubed "t*sser" and "w*nker" in red spray paint over the "Vote Bellingham" (our incumbent Tory MP) signs at the top of the hill. It was some way out in the countryside away from town, so I applauded the effort.
  
• The village crazy kid. He stands on a grassy bank in my parent's village all day, and sings enthusiastically into an unplugged microphone for the passing cars and pedestrians. If you're gonna be a freak, do it with style. I can identify with that.
  
• My Mum. She makes a mean chicken sandwich, but that's not it. We were wandering out to the car together and she said "the next time I see you, I want you to bring a picture. One of you dressed up. I'm ready to see you now. It's been a year but I've found the courage!"

She said it with a warm smile of honesty, tinged with the nervousness she gets when talking about "important" things. She's known for a while now that I do this stuff, and that it's important to me, and she's trying to understand and be helpful.

I love my Mum very much.

En Femme, All En My Own.

Birds of a Feather

Trannies, in my experience, enjoy the safety of numbers. That's why these birds of paradise tend to flock together in tranny clubs and venues. There's a sense of security knowing that you're not the only one making a fool of yourself in public. You're going to blend in with the crowd.

Of course this positive can also be seen as a negative. If you're blending in with the crowd, you're not going to stand out or turn heads either. A lot of the fun I get from dressing up and going out is in the interactions with other non-trannies. When there's a dozen or so other trannies around, I tend to blend in with the crowd a bit too much.

Some people describe tranny clubs as an extension of the closet. When you go to one dressed, you're not really "coming out" as a tranny at all, you're just dressing up in a bigger place with more people.

Also, whereas "passing" as a girl has never been that important to me, I do like to be able to maintain that illusion for a few seconds. So that maybe only when a person looks closely do they say "wow that's a guy!". My friend Joanna Nicholls once pointed out that the chance of passing in public was related to the number of trannies in the group. I've formalized that theory a little here:



Where b_t is the individual tranny's percentage chance of passing solo, n_t is the number of trannies in the group and p_t is the chance of the individual tranny passing in that group.

Becky's First Law of Trannydynamics can be paraphrased as "The chance of a tranny passing whilst in a group is inversely proportional to the number of trannies in that group". So a tranny with say, 100% chance of passing on their own would have their chance reduced to 50% with one other tranny, and with 10 trannies in the group their chance of passing is down to a paltry 10%! By the way, for the purposes of this formula Michaela Marbella counts as 50 trannies. I think she'd admit she kinda stands out more than most.

But as I've said, I'm not that interested in passing. But this law can also be used to determine how much likelihood you have of turning heads as an individual.

So more recently I've found the idea number of trannies in a group in about 2 to 4. Enough that you're providing backup for each other, but not too many that you have a tiny chance of passing, and little chance of interacting with people outside the group.

Working Without a Net

Last night, however, for the first time ever, I went out completely solo. I wasn't in a posse of girls, and I hadn't arranged to meet anyone. Just me in my little Corsa driving to Norwich to try the Loft on my own.

It was strange, not having the safety net of friends to talk to and engage with. It forced me to be a little more pro-active and mingle a bit more. But it turned out that people were pretty willing to mingle with me! I met a really nice little gay boy who came over to ask where I bought my boots. Coincidentally, the guy he was with told me that he'd DJ'ed in the Way Out Club in the past, although no neither of them seemed too "tranny". In fact, I was the only tranny there, and the place was packed

Later in the evening a guy came over to me and did the adult equivalent of the playground "my friend really likes you!" opening gambit. I looked over and saw a nice-looking guy looking absolutely terrified. We chatted to a bit and he told me that he was a straight guy and this was his first time in a gay venue. He'd seen me and told his friend that I was the prettiest girl there.

I wasn't too sure about the "straight" bit... but a girl always likes being told she's pretty! It was strange to think that this guy was probably about 5 times more scared of meeting just me than I had been going out on my own and meeting 200 strangers.

I think I relaxed him a bit, though. :-)

The Battle for the Middle Ground

I heard a report on the radio tonight that in a recent survey of male grooming, over half of the 3000 men interviewed admitted to shaving at least part of their body hair regularly. The electronics company Philips have even launched an electric body razor exclusively for men.

I promised not to talk about politics, but it's suddenly struck me: being a modern day transvestite is like being a modern-day liberal democrat!

Errr... bear with me.

The Lib Dems (in their various guises over the years) have always tried to hold the middle ground in British politics. In recent years the Libs have felt the squeeze from both sides, as Labour moved away from the left wing, and the Conservatives softened their right-wing stance. The smaller Liberal Democrat party have had to work hard to maintain a distinct identity from the other parties.

Sometimes as a tranny, it feels like that too. Women have already successfully freed themselves from the limitations of just feminine attire and mannerisms and can be found all over the spectrum. Now men, in particular the modern-day "metrosexual" male, are starting to move the other way. Converging, in a way, on the trannies in the middle.

Part of what I get from being a transvestite is the sense of being different. People have often said to me "wouldn't it be nice if men and women could wear what they liked and there was no shame or shock in a man wearing a skirt", and I've had to say "er, no, actually. I'd hate that!"

Say someone took me to the distant future where women and men had 99% overlap between them. Nearly everything was common between the sexes, in terms of hair-styles, perfumes, clothing, mannerisms, etc. I'd still want to do the 1% of things that women did and men weren't supposed to do. I'd want to be different, exceptional, special.

It's becoming harder to find things that make me special. The traditional preserves of femininity (and by definition the preserves of trannies) are slowly being eroded.

"I shave my body hair!"
"So? So do a lot of men."

"I wear earrings! Sparkly ones!"
"So? I saw David Beckham wearing big diamond studs last week."

"I wear makeup!"
"Get over yourself! The new romantics were 20 years ago!"

"I shave my body hair, put on earrings and makeup, false tits, a wig, a dress, and flounce about like a big girl!"
"Hmmm... well I guess that's kind of different..."

I just wonder for how long.

Blog Fatigue

I've hit the wall somewhat early in my blogging career. Blog fatigue has set in early. Have I already run out of things to have an opinion about? I think it's because the UK's national output of opinions is being used up by the election at the moment. There's not much room for opinions about anything else. I tend to steer clear of politics, not because I'm interested in them, I know who i'm going to vote for, and why. Just that discussing politics, like religion, is a sure-fire way of making enemies out of friends.

There are some people who thrive on political debate. I thrive on oxygen, water and complex carbohydrates. Metabolising is quieter and more relaxing than arguing.

It reminds me of a public-service advert running on the telly in the UK at the moment. A cartoon of two "regular" guys, designed to promote the idea that you can't complain about anything unless you're a voter. Supposedly because every aspect of life is influenced by the government. In the advert the anti-politics man says "I don't do politics," and is then chided by his pro-politics friend every time he attempts to say anything about anything...

"Ahahaah! You don't do politics," says Mr. Voter, with a waggling finger.

Mr. Non-Voter seems take this on board grudgingly and presumably sees the error of his ways and becomes an upstanding voting citizen (the advert doesn't make this clear).

Preposterous. ThunderCats was a more realistic animation.

I'm going to do my own version of the advert. When Mr. Voter interrupts his friend for the third of fourth time, the Mr. Non-Voter calmly smashes the pint-glass he's holding and glasses him in the face.

"Vote on that you sanctimonious, interrupting twat!"

Which I think is what any right-minded person would actually do in that situation.

This is quite an interesting account by a fairly average straight guy on how not to come out at work. While I'm obviously feeling the pain of the 2 tran-sisters involved, there are lessons to be learned:

1. Don't turn up for work in stillettos if you're no good at walking in them.
2. Don't leave pictures of yourself in bra and panties and engaging in sex acts on your work PC. Particularly if some of them are actually taken in the office where you work.

The mind boggles.

A Little Housekeeping

I was bored over lunch, so I decided to do my bit to improve the internet as a whole...

Internet Defrag

Please be patient while the page does it's job, it's a little slow cos I wrote it in ASP. If you get bored , look carefully, you can watch the little bits of information moving about.

Literary Transvestism

An article in yesterday's Guardian has confirmed a childhood fantasy of mine, that Alice in Wonderland was really a boy!

Feed Me!

I've had a little tinker with the homepage so that Firefox will now recognise that my site has got an XML feed.

This enables Firefox's nifty live bookmarks feature. If you're using Firefox (it's a great browser), then just click the little icon in the bottom right hand corner of the screen and it will add a live bookmark to my site. This appears in the bookmarks menu as a little sub-menu full of all the latest posts to my site, which updates automatically.

You can also do this on sites like BBC News and other blogs like Siobhan Curran's excellent Tranniefesto.

Mermaid

I've started swimming again! It's been a while, but I really want to shift a few pounds before Barcelona in June.

As well as dusting off the goggles (they really were dusty!), I remembered to strip off the toenail varnish before I got there this time. Another tranny tip I've learned from experience: scraping nail varnish off with the edge of a 50p coin whilst in a changing room cubicle doesn't work.

Of course, the other big giveaway is the recently-shaved legs. For some reason I'm a lot less paranoid about this than I used to be. I suppose because you're underwater most of the time, it's not really noticeable.

Of course a lot of sprint swimmers shave their legs anyway. If anyone asks I'll just pretend I'm in training for the Olympics.

Hmm, might have to lose the water-wings and polystyrene float.

Silence of the Lambs: The Musical

Don't you just love Google? I was talking to Jessica earlier about a scary tranny I'd met who reminded me of Buffalo Bill, the mad TS from The Silence of the Lambs. I was trying to think of the signature line that Bill drawled to his captor in the basement. A quick search of Google reminded me that it was "put the f-ing lotion in the basket", of course!

And my search also turned up this gem: SILENCE! Silence of the Lambs: The Musical

You've just got to listen to track 6!

Evil Becky Answers Your Mail #1

I get so much post via my website that sometime it all gets too much and I have to let my identical twin answer my mail. The trouble is, like all identical twins she's irredeemably evil. She's also called Becky, but I call her Evil Becky just so there's a distinction. I'm the nice one, honest.

I don't mind answering intelligent emails from interesting people, in fact I love getting them. It's just answering the unintelligible emails from "interesting" people that causes me problems. So I'm going to give them to Evil Becky to deal with. I really hope she doesn't upset too many people. Names have been changed to protect the innocent, spelling and grammar hasn't.

Anoymous writes:
I am very curious,can you please give me some advice

Evil Becky replies:
Wow, long email. You don't seem to have written about what you want advice on, so I'll just give you some snippets of general advice

1. Don't eat yellow snow (everyone should know this one by now.)
2. Always use gloves when working with acids.
3. Wasps don't make good pets.

I hope this helps.

Taxinor writes:
When do i get my licence please let me know can you send it to me asap hope to heree from you soon.

Evil Becky replies:
I'm sorry but the people at the TVEE licencing people have decided that you're not a true tranvestite. Please cease and desist from all crossdressing activities from this moment forward. Any attempt to continue girly activities may result in a prison sentence.

Amanda and me, heading to Norwich 

My Back Yard

My life, like many trannys, is punctuated by "firsts". The first time I got excited by wearing and item of female attire. The first time I fully dressed en-femme, the first time I went out dressed, and so on. It's like every tranny has a long checklist of achievements, and every time you tick off a another box it feels good.

Once I got out onto the scene or beyond, the firsts came thick and fast. Each night out had at least one. Meet another tranny, tick. Drive en-femme, tick. Go out dressed in a non-tranny venue, tick.

It can be quite addictive, but there's a law of diminishing returns. Eventually you realise that not every night out can be groundbreaking; and just because something is "the next step" it doesn't mean you have to take it.

I sometimes wonder if some full-time "transsexuals" (note the careful use of quotes and the word some) are actually transvestites who got addicted to ticking off all the boxes.

So anyway, it's been a while since I went out as Becky and achieved anything new, and I've kind of reached a plateau anyway. Doing anything more will take me places that I don't currently want or need to be. Last night, however I found a little checkbox high on my list that had remained unticked: a night out in my home county of Norfolk, England.

Now Norfolk isn't exactly known for it's "scene". I joke that my home town of King's Lynn is Tranny Capital of the Fens. Truthfully however, the gay scene (which trannies tend to use as a safe haven) is pretty sparse in this county, and I was always quite happy trannying further afield. But recently I'd started to wonder what the gay scene was like in closer to home. Norwich is virtually my back yard, relative to some of the places I've travelled to for a tranny night out! So last night me and my friend Amanda (fellow King's Lynn T-girl) decided to check it out.

Ah Norwich, home of Alan Partridge, Colman's Mustard and Trisha. It was once said that Norwich had 365 pubs and 52 churches, so you could drink in a different pub every day of the year, and confess your sins at a different church every Sunday.

A lot of pubs, but not many gay bars, and no reported tranny activity. So it was with an almost pioneeering spirit that Amanda and I descended on the city, gay-guide in hand.

The place Amanda and I had decided to try was The Castle, a busy gay pub on the outskirts of Norwich, and according to the press the main gay venue of the city. It was very lively, lots of gay guys and lesbians having a good time. We ordered a drink and stood near the bar. It was pretty apparent we were the only t-girls in there, which is by no means a bad thing, but I was getting the impression that this was not a "tranny place". It felt more like a regular pub than any gay pub i've been in a before. Amanda had (possibly sensibly) dressed down a little in a black jacket, long skirt and black top. I was wearing a pink t-shirt, short white denim skirt, pink fishnets and pink boots. Next to the crowds of lesbians in cargo trousers and gay skinheads in camo gear I was feeling distinctly... pink!

Thinking back today it's hard to define what was wrong with The Castle, but Amanda and I both quickly decided it wasn't our cup of tea. We knew that there was a gay club in town, called The Loft, but we weren't sure if it was open every weekend. Luckily Amanda had bought a local gay guide, which suggested it was open every Saturday. Onwards!

The Loft looked very shut indeed. It was cold and had started raining. Downhearted, we decided to make the best of the night and head to The Fox and Hounds, a gay pub in essex and dependable tranny oasis of the Eastern Counties. Our Norwich expedition a failure, we traipsed back to the car.

Our drive out of town took us by the entrance of The Loft. Some people were unlocking the door and going inside. I checked the listing in the gay mag again... no opening times but there was a telephone contact number, so I rang it.

Yes, The Loft was open tonight. At 10:30. Yay!

We had half an hour to kill. Neither Amanda or I had eaten so...

Standing in a Dominos Pizza en-femme waiting for your takeout order to be cooked, tick.

The Loft turned out to be very cool! A nice friendly mix of fun people, great music (upstairs current dance, downstairs funky oldies), and a nicely appointed venue.

On our arrival the manager had kindly said that if we got any trouble to let him know, but we didn't get any trouble at all. We were still the only en-femme t-girls in the venue, but it was a completely different vibe to The Castle. I spent a lot of time chatting to a very cute straight girl. She said that her step-dad was TS so she understood that it took balls to do what I do. I couldn't argue!

We spoke to the manager again on the way out, who made a point of checking that we'd had a good night. We had. One of our best nights out yet, we agreed.

It's funny that if we hadn't seen people going into the Loft, and Amanda hadn't had the magazine with the contact number which I rang, we would have probably left Norwich that night and never come back. As it is, I'm thinking of going back next weekend!

Frustrations

Things that are bugging me today...

• There's a woodpecker working in the woods just next to my office. It's making a fantastic sound as it hammers away in a dead tree trunk. I really want to get a picture of it but every time I go outside with my camera it's flown off.
• Gonzo won't land in the bucket.
• Michael Howard's face is getting more punchable by the day.
• I can't decide what wedge sandals I should buy from Next.

The only thing that cheered me up a little was this item on my local news broadcast last night. Check out the audio link to hear the 999 call made by an eight-year-old girl who thought her mummy just had a "belly ache", and found out half way through the call that her mummy was actually giving birth to a totally unheralded baby boy!

Okay, Siobhan wanted a harder picture, so what's THIS? 

Just going through some of the stranger pictures on my hard drive. A prize for the first person to comment and corrently identify what this is! 

Would this raise an eyebrow at work? :D 

The Right to Bare Arms

Summer (or the British approximation of it) is rapidly approaching and short-sleeved shirts have started appearing in my office already.

I was sitting in a meeting this morning with a few male work colleagues who'd succumbed to short-sleeves already, and noticed that they all had horrendously hairy arms. Like gorillas. Seriously.

I only have relatively fine hair on my arms, but not fine enough in my mind to get away without shaving them, which I do about once a fortnight. Luckily the hairs are pale enough not to look stubbly while they're growing back. So I was the only one at the table with completely bare arms.

That added to my tidily plucked eyebrows, long-ish nails and pierced ears, anyone who knows what a tranny in stealth mode looks like would spot me a mile off. My friend Katya calls it having the "commentators eye", that ability trannies have to spot potential sisters. Our very own "trannydar". I leave my trannydar switched off most of the time. The "ping" noise it makes gets distracting.

I used to worry that my trannyness was so blatant that even the ostensibly straight people in my office would know that I was a girly-boy without needing trannydar. So I chose the person in the office I trusted the most to be "cool" about Becky and, after a few drinks one evening, came clean.

He did turn out to be very cool about it, also quite surprised.

"So you didn't guess?" I asked.

"No... no idea."

"What about the hairless arms?"

He looked at my arms as if for the first time.

"Oh yeeeah! I hadn't noticed!"

"Has anyone else said anything? About the ear piercings? And the nails? And the eyebrows?"

"Nope... nothing!"

The main reason why I came out to this guy was to find out how much gossip there was about me at work. But I've come to realise that, to a certain extent, everyone is too tied up in their own lives to notice little details in other people. If I turned up at work dressed in my PVC maid outfit they might raise an unkempt eyebrow, but currently it appears I'm successfully pulling off the "ordinary bloke" routine at work.

It's annoying in a way. I want to be noticed, dammit!

...

I'm going home for lunch to change into the maid outfit.

Today I Are Been Mostly Listening to...

... The Singles by Basement Jaxx, their new best-of complilation.

They're one of those groups that I've subconciously liked for ages but never really realised it. It wasn't until I saw all their stuff in one place that it clicked just how large of their back-catalogue was and how much of it I like.

I was even a good music-listening citizen and payed for it on . Is it wrong that I feel all smug and worthy for paying for downloaded music? If i'd paid for the album in a high street shop, rather than running out with it tucked under my shirt, I wouldn't have felt the need to boast to everyone "I'm not a shoplifter!". But somehow paying for digital music makes me feel all saintly!

Legally Bloke

A couple of years ago I had an idea.

In the UK we have Television licences. You actually have to pay money just to own a television. This might sound like a crazy idea, but the money funds the BBC, which in my opinion makes some of the best television (and radio) in the world.

Anyway, my idea grew from the obvious fact that Transvestites and Television share the abbreviation "TV". What if you needed a licence to practice Transvestism? Wouldn't it be cool and fun if you could fill in a little questionnaire on my website and it would produce a licence for you? I wanted it so you could add a picture of yourself, and it would be automatically embedded into a picture of your licence that you could print out or stick on your own website. I could do the graphic design stuff, the trouble was I had no idea how to actually do all the coding.

Luckily Jessica did, and with a lot of her help the Tranny Licence was born!

I thought it was pretty cool, but I was amazed at how popular it became. Tranny Licences began popping up on loads of tranny web-sites and picture galleries. Other trannys started to stop me in clubs and say "You're Becky aren't you? I have one of your licences!". People dig in their handbags to show me ones that they've had laminated!

What was meant to be a bit of a joke seemed to be taken quite seriously by some people. And the Tranny Licence has even taken on a semi-official role, apparently you can't get into the picture section of http://www.tvuk.org/ unless you have uploaded a copy of your Tranny Licence first!

And it seems that the UK government have copied my idea too! Now that the Gender Recognition Act is in-force, transsexuals can apply for a Gender Recognition Certificate to prove that they're the gender they identify with and entitle them to the appropriate rights and responsibilities.

I once heard that you're only legally sane if you were once mad. In the eyes of the law, only a person who's got a certificate to say they've been cured of mental illness has actual evidence of sanity. So if you've never been mad, you can't claim you're sane!

It seems almost like the same is true for transsexuals. Only men who were once women, and women who were once men, will have certificates to prove their gender. The rest of us who've happily been one gender all our lives will just have to do without the proof!

I'm not a transsexual. I spend 90% of my time as a man, and i'm happy that way. I'm thinking of applying the the Gender Recognition panel as a bloke who wants to be recognised as a bloke.

While I'm down picking up my certificate I'll see who I need to talk to about being paid for coming up with the whole idea of Tranny certification in the first place!

Siobhan, me, and Jessica in the Superstar Boudoir, Liverpool. 

Taken in Jessica's flat in Liverpool. 

Where have all the Becky's Gone?

In the 60s there was 1 baby christened Becky for every 16000 children born. But since then Beckys have plummented from that peak to none!

Where did all the Beckys go? Even the more formal "Rebecca" has seen it's popularity more than halve since it's heyday in the late 60s.

Conversely, the name I was actually given as a boy-child back in the early 70s has more than tripled in popularity since then.

Where am I getting my facts? From The Baby Name Wizard's NameVoyager.

Accurate? Maybe. Useful? Possibly not. I like the dynamic chart though!

I Must Improve My Bust

If you're wondering about the remarkable emergence of cleavage in the picture from the previous posting, let me explain...

I was out at the weekend in Liverpool, and feeling in a experimental mood I decided to try taping.

For the un-initiated, "taping" is the art of using some kind of tape to, er, "enhance" the cleavage of a genetic male who would naturally have none. The tape is used to gather the pectorals (or more accurately "man-boobs") together so that they form a ridge in the right place, and hold them there. This is then supplemented with padding, or in my case my trusty silicon
boobs from Doreen Fashions.

It's possible to do it yourself, but an extra pair of hands is useful. Luckily Jessica was on-hand with a reel of sticky tape and a spirit of scientific curiosity.

I think you'll agree the result is quite impressive! I was VERY pleased with my new feminine charms, especially the way my Angels pendant nestled between them snugly! I showed them off all night around Liverpool!

The fun had to end though. Next time I'll use tape designed to be stuck to human skin! And it wasn't a particularly good idea to manfully ask a now slightly tipsy Jessica to rip the tape off quickly to "get it over and done with".

Ow. :-/

For the first time ever, a shot of Becky's cleavage!

Kat's Korner

What happens when I decide to jump on the blogging bandwagon? Katya, my down-under tranny pal, decides to do exactly the same thing. And she has the cheek to copy me over a week before I get round to actually doing it!

Anyway, it does look like it has potential! :-)

Picture taken at the Central in Nottingham. From left to right: Lisa, Shannon, Julie, Julie's Friend Who's Name I Forget, Me, Sophie and Rich. (Not shown 'cos she was taking the pic: Sophie Green)

Tranny Central

Right! Time for some meaty blog content!

I suppose I could tell you all about the night out I had on Thursday in Nottingham. Would you like that?

I'd known for a little while that my friends Sophie Green (Derby T-girl), Shannon Starr (Derby T-girl but not called Sophie), Sophie H(called Sophie and from Derby but not a T-girl) and Lisa MacCartney (t-girl neither from Derby or called Sophie) were headed out to sample the delights of Nottingham on Thursday, so I kind of engineered an invite to crash at Sophie's and come with them. It turned out to be a good night out, and I got to meet the legendary Richard and Julie.

Richard is a work colleague of Shannon's and for a long time Shannon had debated whether to "come out" to him. I can see why she did, in the end, because he and his partner Julie are genuinely fun and "cool" people, and seem to love Shannon and her tranny friends! At the same time I can see why Shannon wanted to wait... because I don't think they'll disagree when I say they're both a little bit bonkers. ;-)

We ended up in a nice gay pub in Nottingham called The Central. Hence the tenuous blog title.
I'll try to put up a picture in a minute, if I can get Picasa talking to Blogger properly.

Make Room for Becky!

Whahey! A new blog to join the over-crowded blogsphere! Let the people rejoice!

Hmm... now what should I write in it?

I'd previously avoided writing a blog for several reasons:

1. Pride. I had a web site. People with web sites don't need blogs. Blogs are for poor people who don't know how to do proper web pages.
2. Humility. Blogs were for people who were terribly opinionated and considered that every thought that crossed their waking mind was worth sharing with the world.
3. Practicality. Other people already had blogs that said everything I wanted to say. I'd just be re-inventing the wheel.
4. Inexperience. I didn't really do the blog thing. I don't tend to spend hours reading other people's blogs and posting comments.

Time has passed and I've come to realise I was wrong on every count.

1. Pride. Yeah so I have a web-site, but I don't have anywhere on it to quickly post pictures and things wot I think of. This weblog will fill that gap.
2. Humility. I'm as opinionated as the next tranny, and I demand my voice is heard, dammit!
3. Practicality. I've come to realise that re-inventing the wheel isn't such a bad thing. Yeah so I might say the same stuff as 1000 other blogs, but someone might read it on my blog first! Consider the band-wagon well and truly jumped on.
4. Inexperience. When I started out as a tranny, I was clueless. When I started out as a webmistress, it was my first try at a personal website. I'll pick it up as I go along.