We Sparkled

Sparkle ... what can I say?

No really, what can I say? I've run out of new and interesting ways to do post-outing write ups without slipping into tired cliches.

I want to say "it was so nice to see x y and z again", but that would be boring. But then again, I did meet a lot of nice people, both old friends and new. And it was nice. Really nice. I'll just leave out the list of everyone, because you know who you are.

But that wasn't the important thing.

I want to write up a detailed account of the 3 days, but that would probably be boring too. So I'll summarize: I dressed up a lot. We went out a lot. Sparkle happened around us. And in many cases despite of us.

But that's not the important thing either.

I want to write gushing praise for people like Kim Nolan, and the AXM people, and the hundreds of other people who put an amazing amount of effort into making Sparkle happen.

That's important, but that's not it.

We took quite a few pictures:



But, believe it or not, that's not the most important thing.

This is the most important thing: I felt great. And, for the first time in a fair while, I felt like I looked great. Which, sometimes, is the most important thing of all.

Bit of "trouble"

Lipstick, powder and paint

...but not in that order.

The powder and paint will be next weekend at Sparkle, which I'm starting to panic that I've made absolutely no preparations for.

Meh, I'm at my best when under pressure, I'll plan it all on Thursday.

This weekend was all about paint. Big tubs of paint from the local DIY emporium, rock-hard paint on ancient woodwork, globs of paint oozing satisfyingly into trays, and tiny flecks of paint in my hair and all over my clothes.

Yep, we've been decorating. Deep joy.

We're re-decorating Jane's old place with the (seemingly ever-distant) aim of finally selling it. While Jane concentrated on preparing the living room, I was given the job of stripping the paint from the aforementioned woodwork. Actually, a wooden arch that's over 200 years old, with paint that's been there so long and built up so many layers it had become virtually a structural part of the building. Yes, at one point I began to worry it was load-bearing paint, and if I took any more off the whole house would cave in.

The bottom layer of paint was having nothing to do with modern-day fancies like paint stripping chemicals, and was only slightly more susceptible to brute-force chipping and swearing. Eventually I gave up and decided just to paint over the whole bloody thing, which I suspect (judging by the patchy nature of the previous layers of paint) is the conclusion reached by several generations of previous decorators!

Sorry, dull post I know. Jane might make the same weekend sound a whole lot more interesting, there might even be pictures! And there's always next weekend's post-Sparkle evaluation to look forward to.

"Scott Free" by Marijane Meaker

One of the rather pleasant perks of running a tranny web site of moderate renown is that occasionally publicists with book of "transgendered interest" to plug send me copies for review.

After my initial reaction to the parcel plopping on the doormat - "Squee! Free hardback book! Oooh... signed free hardback book!" - I realise I actually have to read the things and then write something coherent about them.

Such was the case recently when I was sent Scott Free, a crime novel featuring a central TG character.

I'll be honest up front and say I'm not a big fan of crime fiction, so it's not a genre that I have a lot of experience of. But the idea of a TG detective fascinated me, so I looked forward to seeing how the author would handle it.

The main protagonist, Scotti, is a pre-op transsexual living full time as woman in the Hamptons, the area known as a weekend hang-out for the ultra-wealthy of New York. Scotti herself isn't rich, working mainly as a librarian, with the occasional sideline as an insurance investigator.

Being a relative newcomer to the genre I expected a book that describes itself on the cover as "a crime novel" to be, well, about crime. There is a crime involving a corrupt horse killer, which is cursorily solved within in the first few pages, but apart from that the first half of the book is almost completely crime-free.

It's also seemingly plot free, the author spending many chapters developing the build-up to the actual "crime" of the story, the kidnapping of the daughter of a super-rich media tycoon. The lack of action wouldn't be too bad if the time was spent ratcheting up the tension, but there was a distinct lack of that too.

I suppose I should talk about how the TG characters are handled. I got the feeling that the author had done quite a lot of research into transsexuals, as the character of Scotti is quite well realised. Like many transsexuals she's trying to deal with her sex change in a quiet and low-key way, but at the same time has a single-mindedness in the pursuit of her goal, to the detriment of most of her family relationships. The part that rang slightly less true was the ease in which she was "going stealth". No-one in the book clocks her as a pre-op, she's only found out by one other character when she stops for a roadside pee after a drunken night out.

There are two other TG characters in the book, another transsexual (post op), who's more realistically described as still having a deep voice that's mistaken for a man's on the phone, and an FtM man. Both only have a minor part in the story and seem rather undeveloped as characters.

When the kidnapping actually happened I expected the book to pick up pace, but it seemed bogged down in too many loose ends and convoluted relationships. Scotti, far from being the latent master detective that the early plot hints at, is actually quite a minor character towards the end of the book. When she does finally does something dramatic and heroic, the eye of the narrative is elsewhere.

In the end it was all horribly disappointing. The numerous loose threads that the author had spent so long weaving were left wide open. Except for maybe the heroine, none of the characters were likeable, each seemingly cut from the same selfish and self-centred mould. I wanted to root for the heroine, but I never got a chance to, because for most of the book she wasn't doing anything.

Overall a brave attempt to put a TG character at the centre of a genre where transvestites and transsexuals are often cast as the creepy villain,their cross-dressing somehow used as short-hand for their "wrongness".

Scott Free succeeds for using a TS protagonist realistically and sensitively, but fails for not using her to tell a good story.

May the cute be with you

My friend Jogger Blogger created a "Hello Kitty" style Princess Leia for his daughter, and was inspired to create this brilliant "Hello Stormtrooper" too.

I do hope he does more. :-)

How to give a sex offender a pill

The UK government have outlined plans to help prevent sex offenders from re-offending by providing them with libido-reducing drugs on a voluntary basis.

I listened to the Home Secretary answering questions on this policy that were sent in by the public. One of the most popular questions was:

"Why is it vouluntary!? Why can't we force them to take the drugs!?"

John Reid suggested that it was impossible to make sure a person was taking pills, and that the treatment only really worked if the offender was willing to take part.

I doubt that this will appease the massed Daily Mail readers, who'll only really be happy with the systematic castration of anyone who comes into contact with kids, before they get any ideas.

Then I remembered the set of instructions that does the rounds on the internet now and then, on how to give a pill to a cat. Hell, if it works with cats, it should work with those dirty paediatricians, right?

One quick find-and-replace later:

Instructions for giving your paedophile a pill

1. Pick paedophile up and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of paedophile's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As paedophile opens mouth pop pill into mouth. Allow paedophile to close mouth and swallow.
2. Retrieve pill from floor and paedophile from behind sofa. Cradle paedophile in left arm and repeat process.
3. Retrieve paedophile from bedroom, and throw soggy pill away.
4. Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle paedophile in left arm holding legs tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for a count of ten.
5. Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and paedophile from top of wardrobe. Call friend.
6. Kneel on floor with paedophile wedged firmly between knees, hold legs. Ignore low growls emitted by paedophile. Get friend to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into mouth. Drop pill down, remove ruler and rub paedophile's throat vigorously.
7. Retrieve paedophile from curtain rail, get another pill from foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered Doulton figures from hearth and set to one side for glueing later.
8. Wrap paedophile in large towel and get friend to lie on paedophile with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force paedophile's mouth open with pencil and blow down drinking straw.
9. Check label to make sure pill is not harmful to humans, drink glass of water to take taste away. Apply band-aid to friend's forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.
10. Retrieve paedophile from neighbour's shed. Get another pill. Place paedophile in cupboard and close door onto neck to leave head showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with elastic band.
11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus shot. Throw Tee-shirt away and fetch new one from bedroom.
12. Ring fire brigade to retrieve paedophile from tree across the road. Apologise to neighbour who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid paedophile. Take last pill from foil-wrap.
13. Tie paedophile's front legs with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining table, find heavy duty pruning gloves from shed, hold paedophile's mouth open with small spanner. Push pill into mouth followed by large piece of fillet of steak. Hold head vertically and pour pint of water down throat to wash pill down.
14. Get friend to drive you to the emergency room, sit quietly while doctor stitches fingers and forearm and removes pill remnants from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home to order new table.
15. Arrange for RSPCA to collect paedophile. Ring local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.

"No two ways about it... you're totally feminized up"

A quote from the wonderful Gok Wan, on "How to Look Good Naked". I caught it for the first time tonight because, well, I assumed it was just about looking good naked. Turns out it's all about (at least this week) finding clothes that emphasize your femininity, and make-up and beauty and stuff.

Me like. Gok is a gent, all the fashion skills of Trinny and Susanna with none of the condescending attitude. Seems a genuinely nice guy, he can feminize me up any day.

...

That came out wrong. :-/

Undisclosed medical condition

Save the planet two point freakin' O

Well, I said I'd work on it a bit more when I got back, and after pulling an all-afternooner*, the probably-final version of the Tranny Footprint Calculator is now online!

It's got a few more graphical bells and whistles, and has a "get the code" function so you can slap funky stuff like this on your web site, blog, whatever:

My Tranny Footprint

3723875 COt

(COt = Cubic Ounces of trannieness)

Calculate your tranny footprint at BeckysWeb!

'Cos I know some of you like that kind of stuff. And even if you don't, I know how much you want to be my best friend by being the first one to try out the code. ;-)

A little on the calculations it does in the background. Believe it or not, it's not just a random number generator, and there is a little more to it than meets the eye. The answers are all weighted, so stuff like "facial surgery" will up your footprint a bit more than "visiting tranny sites".

Hell, as with virtually everything on this site, it was mainly for my own amusement. And yes, that is my score up there. :-)

*It's like "pulling an all-nighter", except rather working all night when you should be sleeping, you work all Sunday afternoon when you could have been sleeping.

Save the planet

I need to work on this a little more, but I couldn't resist letting you try it before I go away for the weekend. :-)

I look down on her

Squeeee!!

I literally made that noise just now when I saw the results of feeding my blog titles into LOLfeeds.

It takes a random cat picture and slaps a blog post title on it. A lot of times it's kinda meaningless, but sometimes...







I know it's dumb, but this appeals to me hugely. :-) Try it on your own feed, I guarantee it will brighten your day.

And now the news for kittens

The interweb craze du jour that is LOLcats shows no signs of abating, but this has to be one of the best bandwagon-jumpers yet.

In the best tradition of zeitgeisty mashups, LOL Feeds takes feeds from various sources and superimposes the titles over pictures of cats taken from Flickr. For example, LOL BBC News.

The results are completely random, very surreal, and strangely entertaining.

Vaportrannies II

Dammit, maybe I should think things through a little more before I blog them sometimes. I blame in part the strident mood I'm still in after the "Shrek 3 Indoctrination" episode, I was a bit too black and white about the whole thing, for which I apologise.

In a way, I was following on from my recent "Versions" post. The point I was trying to make (albeit badly) was that some trannies never get to the equivalent of my "1.0", i.e. actually getting out of the door "en-femme".

But one tranny's 1.0 is another tranny's 0.5, or as Jayne put it:

"I could maybe argue that your are not really going for it, unless you have your man bits cut off like what I did!"

Which of course is true, I'd be mad to argue that there's a "right way" to be a tranny, and I'd be even madder to suggest that I was doing it the right way.

We all have this thing inside us to different levels, some need to express it more than others. We also all have different personal situations, so some of us are more able to express it than others. As Kat says:

"Maybe it is enough for someone to live out a fantasy online and manage to hold things together - like a family, marriage."

Exactly. I hope that I've not given the impression that I think "dressing up" is the be-all and end-all, it's not. Everyone has to make their transgenderism "fit" in the best way possible with their other aspirations and the needs of the people they care about. I'm far more admiring of the tranny who curbs their dressing to avoid hurting others than I am of the tranny who selfishly puts their own needs first above all other things.

That's not to say that all trannies who end being "selfish" about their need to dress have really any choice in the matter. It's a sad fact that because of the varying levels of transgenderism, and the varying types of environment in which transgendered people find themselves, there's always going to be an element of "hard luck" involved.

Every one of us are given two dice, red a blue.

Roll the red dice, that's your tranny score. The number represents the level of transgender expression at which you'll be happy.

Roll the blue dice, that's your environment score. The number represents the level of transgenderism you can express in your situation without problems.

If red is less than or equal to blue, well done! You've won the tranny lottery, you can be just as much of a girl as you want to be.

If red is more than blue, hard cheese. You want more than you can do without changing your lifestyle. You're either going to have to compromise or do things that will hurt those around you.

Some people roll low on both scores, they can't get away with much but they don't want much anyway. Maybe just chatting with other trannies online, or maybe a girly avatar in some online forum, is enough for them. That's fine, I don't have any problem with that.

The kind of person I was describing as a "vaportranny" are the ones that constantly profess to wanting to go so much further than they have, when actually they're happier where they are.

Look at it this way, if I were to say "I really want to live full time as a woman but my work/home life doesn't allow me to", some trannies who are living full time would quite rightly point out that they were in exactly the same situation and had to make some painful choices to get where they were.

In the same way I get annoyed when I hear closeted trannies bemoan the fact that they can never get further than they are because of their wife/overall manliness/work situation/whatever. The fact is, if they needed to do more, they would. They're just using those things as excuses to maintain a status quo that they're actually quite happy with.

Spot the difference between these two sentences:

"I wish I could dress up, but my wife hates it."

"My wife's wishes are important to me, so I choose not to dress up."

They both say basically the same thing, but the first one demonises the wife and places the blame for the decision on her shoulders, whereas the second one shows someone taking responsibility for their own choices, and shows that the reason they're not dressing is because they value the relationship with their partner.

Far too often I see trannies slip into language like the first example, blaming outside factors for the situation they find themselves in. When really they should be proud that they are able to moderate their activities to fit in with other things that they find important, and also thankful that they don't have the overriding urge that some trannies are cursed (or blessed?) with that forces them to ride roughshod over other's feelings to achieve their aims.

Another two sentences:

"I could never go out... because I don't pass."

"I don't go out... because I wouldn't be happy dressing in public unless I passed."

Again they both say basically the same thing, but the second one is being honest about the reason you don't go out, rather than using the inability to pass as an excuse not to go out.

The bottom line is if you need to go out you do it anyway. You do it if you've got size 14 feet, or if you duck to get through doors, or (like me) your tummy needs a little help to stop it sticking out further than your fake boobs.

Why is all this important? Because I worry that "new" trannies come online and find forums full of trannies bemoaning the fact that they're "trapped" in situations beyond their control, and they think that moaning is what trannies do. When actually we should all be trying to show how we're all making the best of the cards we were dealt (or to keep the earlier analogy, the dice we were rolled) and take responsibility for, and be proud of, the decisions we've made.

Vaportrannies

You've heard of vaporware, right? The term is used to describe software which announced to great fanfare, with loads of great promised features, but then sits in development for years and is never actually released.

I've noticed a similar phenomenon, the vaportranny.

This kind of tranny appears suddenly on the online scene, writes copiously about their transvestism on internet outlets, particularly about their desire to "get out and meet all the friends I've made online" and their frustrations of not having any decent pictures to show yet, but never actually seems to get round to being seen out in public, or even posting pictures of themselves for people to see.

Now, I know it's a shallow to base the entire legitimacy of a transvestite on whether they've posted a few thousand Boudoir shots on Flickr or not, but sometimes I left with the nagging suspicion that some trannies online are little more than the figment of the imagination of some bloke with mild tranny tendencies but no real desire to actually act on them.

None of you, of course. ;-)

Where's Brighton?

Here's a little puzzle for you, using only the scroll and zoom functions of Google Maps, try and find the south-coast town of Brighton on this map.

Clue... it should be near Hove.

Can anyone tell me why it's not there? :-S

Shrek III "a ploy to desensitize children to transgenders"

Well, according to this fuckwit.

Human Nature / The Family of Blood

I have a new favourite Doctor Who episode ever.

Brilliant, just brilliant. The casting, the plot, the acting... all perfect.

And very touching, both Jane and I were blubbing at the end. The final scenes of the Great War could have been mawkish, but they somehow worked, and knocked me for six. It brought home the huge sacrifice that those young men made... and even just writing about it is making a lump in my throat again.

Not bad for Saturday teatime family telly.

The town by the sea

I was driving. North, I think, on a wide and busy motorway. At one point I was overtaken by James May, who was being filmed as he drove. I knew this because there was a television in my car and it was showing coverage from inside James's car. He had a glove puppet on one hand, and they were filming it from an angle that made it look like the puppet was helping him drive.

The road came to huge suspension bridge, hung over a ravine. The crosswind buffeted my car, the bridge had no guard rails and I feared any second I'd get blown right off the side.

On the other side of the bridge the road suddenly became a lot narrower, winding it's way through increasingly hilly countryside. Soon the road became so impassable that I abandoned the car and took to a bicycle. I turned a corner and found myself in the middle of an open-air wine tasting festival, being held precariously on a hillside. Someone handed me a glass of red wine and I drank it as I cycled, it was quite good. I was just starting to pull clear of the group when a lady shouted that I wasn't allowed to leave with the empty glass. So I handed it to her, noticing in passing that she was my Aunt Mary.

The path reached a high ridge, I stopped the bike and looked down the ever-more-rugged landscape to the sea far in the distance. It was too rocky now even for the bike, so I started to travel on foot. I had to get to the sea.

I came apon a little black kitten, and we decided to travel together, for mutual benefit. He helped me by finding hidden paths down cliffsides and stepping stones across streams, I helped him by keeping him hidden in my jacket when we passed big evil dogs.

We got to the town by the sea. It was barely a line of houses, sheltered close behind a concrete sea wall. The wall was so tall that it loomed above the rooves of the houses, keeping them in permanent darkness. The sea was so high it reached to the top of the wall, and stormy waves crashed over, soaking the houses. They wouldn't last much longer.

I explored the flooded and gloomy streets of the town for a while, stopping briefly in a sodden and darkened pub full of sullen people.

Finally I took shelter in a caravan further up the hillside. As the kitten looked out of the window and mewed at the big evil dogs that passed, I read a magazine that I'd found. In it was a story about the town, the writer confirming what I knew: the town was doomed, the sea was getting too high, and it would keep rising. But people were already building new houses at the new tideline, and laughing at the old townspeople, who'd stupidly built their houses too close to the sea.

...

These days I don't often have dreams that I can remember. Last night I had that one, and in my mind it feels like it lasted all night. I've actually edited it down because I know that other people's dreams are tedious at the best of times, but I had the strange urge to document this one.

I'm not a big believer in dreams having meanings... but can anyone make any sense of that lot? :-)