It was an extremely frustrating time for her because she just couldn't go out and show the world what she truly was inside. Piccy is of me (Iain), was taken at work and is on my name badge. At least now she has the weekends to express herself. By the way regrets? Yes, I have some but I also have three lovely girls!
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Non Je Ne Regrette Rien
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
C`est Paye, Balaye, Oublie, Je Me Fous Du Passe
Avec Mes Souvenirs J`ai Allume Le Feu
Mes Shagrins, Mes Plaisirs,
Je N`ai Plus Besoin D`eux
Balaye Les Amours Avec Leurs Tremolos
Balaye Pour Toujours
Je Reparas A Zero
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Car Ma Vie, Car Me Joies
Aujourd`hui Ca Commence Avec Toi
Chapter 78 – Growing Up
The one thing that's constantly been with me all my life is that I love, no adore, dressing as a member of the opposite sex. It was clearly there before I was born since my earliest recollection of childhood is being told off by my Father for putting on my Mother's stage dress (she was a singer, her stage name was Margaret Dale, hence why I am Tricia Dale). I wonder now how I managed to get it on! I also remember playing silly dress up games with my friends when I was desperate to play a girl's part. All my friends would say I couldn't and I would reluctantly accept it. If only I knew then.... As I got older and reached puberty, I realised that the little thing between my legs was not just for peeing, and was not always so little. I can remember the first time I masturbated. The class at school had to go skating (why, goodness only knows, I'd never been skating in my life, I guess it was on TV at the time) and my grandmother had to get me an emergency skating outfit and bring it to school. It arrived in a package and I was only given it when I was in the changing room. I think you know the rest, it was a sparkly emerald green dress (why? but I still love that colour), and had the prettiest, frilliest emerald green panties. I tried to hide in the toilets but was found by the teacher and had to walk onto the ice in front of the whole class, boys and girls, to whistles and catcalls. I suppose my life hasn't changed much since then, at least privately. The trouble is that I was, and am still not, ever worried about being a man. I could do it, I could hack it; I was popular, I was good at sports - especially football and cricket. Under the covers however my dreams began to get erotic. So I reached 16, 17, 18 whatever and I should have been dating girls. This was a real problem because I'd look at a girl and think how much I wanted to be her, to wear what she wore, to smell how she smelt, just to have the opportunity to be feminine. I did go on some dates but I just wasn't committed enough, although the girls were lovely I had no desire to ravage them, I just wanted to be them. At this stage in my life I never thought about boys at all or whether I fancied them, however had I allowed myself to dress as I would like, I think I would. I would see a very pretty girl with a guy and just think how wonderful it would be if I were her.
So I went to University. Successful at school and still playing sport to a very good level. Inside me this desire to be feminine, to look and feel like a woman; but externally I would do everything to fight this off. I was seen through at University and had options to develop my feminine side (how I now wish I had taken them). I did have girlfriends but I couldn't make love to them as a man would. Underneath I suppose I still wanted to be underneath. I fought and fought for the one thing I shouldn't have fought for. So I left University with a degree but no acceptance of what I really was, so I carried on fighting. The dreams got even more erotic, the masturbation better and better.
So I left university, started a job in computing and threw myself into sport, particularly cricket, and beer. I was trying to cover up what was inside, trying to be macho (ha ha) and to some extent it succeeded. Men would treat me as one of them but as soon as I met a woman, she read that there was something different about me. I have more of an idea why now. I didn't think, kiss or act as any other man she had met before (not surprising). I was in no way the predator she was used to and was desperate for her to take control. It was extremely difficult for me to get past a first date - and as for sex? Not with me anyway.
I did get one or two chances to dress up, at themed parties - but the ache I felt when I took off my clothes and make-up hardly made it worthwhile, added to that I looked awful. So I suppose in my mind at the time I was succeeding but I had no clothes of my own and wasn't particularly happy. I moved into a flat with a mate, a wonderful guy who knew nothing then but does now and is so scared, so the opportunities became less and less. Under the bedclothes however things were going from strength to strength. I couldn't resist the tranny phone lines which were available at the time and love to read about tranny's in newspapers but couldn't bring myself to buy a tranny magazine. I was learning about my submissive side.
Then I met the girl of my dreams, trying desperately to forget the fact that I was the girl of my dreams. We knew each other as friends earlier so the transition to partners wasn't too hard. I was very much in love and did think that I had got rid of the biggest burden of my life. With my partner I had proved I was no longer transgendered and honestly thought that in my mind, so I didn't tell her. Inside me I was determined to make it work. Sex was so difficult though, as soon as I got on top there was nothing there. We managed, thanks to her determination, and eventually produced twin girls to go with her other daughter. So I had a ready made family and I WAS going to be a Father to them. I still love them to bits. Sexually things went downhill after the twins were born, though I wouldn't describe it as a particularly steep decline. I did play the dutiful Father and feel my femininity helped in bringing them up. I was and still am much closer to them than most men manage. So I was stuck in a rut. No dressing, no clothes, much love for my children; but many many thoughts deep down which were now getting dangerous. I'm amazed it hasn't worn away!
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