It Started With a Nightie

For me, the most wonderful aspect of transforming myself is painting my lips. I think that this is because it's such a feminine thing to do. Similarly, painting my toenails and shaving my legs.

By Anne Ritson

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From what I've read and learned there are crossdressers, transvestites and transsexuals to be found in every walk of life, every background and every social group. I don't think I could come up with one 'type' of person who couldn't fall into one of those categories or another.

Fair enough, not every individual is a transvestite, but I reckon that we all know one without ever knowing it. The nearest to the 'type' of person I could think of who was least likely to be a transvestite was me. Now if that isn't a sweeping statement I don't know what is, but let me try and explain.

I'm in my mid-thirties and I work in the security industry. I love contact sports, football and rugby. I'm six foot tall, long-haired and I'm a heavy metal loving, part time writer, full time beer drinker. Oh, and I served in HM forces in all the mud and muck that the wetter parts of Europe could supply.

You know the sort, the gun-toting, hard drinking, hard swearing, macho type that terrifies the locals, smashes up bars and the countryside with equal abandon, all in the name of our national defence. Best off all, the good old tax payers paid me and my colleagues for doing it. Travel the world, meet interesting people and kill them. Fun, huh?

Lonely

When I left the forces I wandered about a bit, met some very interesting people and realised that I didn't want to kill them. I got a short term contract job with a security firm and moved down South. It was in a not so sunny London that I first came across the 'alternative scene'. I found London to be a pretty lonely place, busy as hell and full of people, but no one seemed to have a minute to spare for themselves.

Unless you got 'in' with the crowd quickly, it seemed you were destined to spend most of your time on your own. For a bit of pocket money, I worked the door at a couple of nightclubs, many of which ran theme nights. One of these was a real eye opener for me even though I'd lived in Germany for three years.

Fetish clubs seemed to be springing up all over the place - having seen evidence of one or two 'fans' at rock clubs and heavy metal gigs I wasn't repulsed, but then again I wasn't particularly drawn to it. I wasn't really bothered either way, long sifts, little cash and little interest in anything but beer and bands really.

No whether this had planted a time bomb in me I don't know, but a few years later I read a newspaper advert looking for new writers. One of the subjects the advert requested manuscripts under was erotica, so working along the lines of 'anyone can write that', I sent off for the publishers guidelines and got by return a sample of their previous output. One of the pieces was transvestite fiction at its very worst...

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