How Kids Cope With A Sex-change Parent   When the children of former plasterer Anthony Hamilton Smith stopped calling him “Dad”, he was overjoyed. But they really didn’t have much choice-because they’d watched their father slowly change into a woman. No longer Dad and definitely not Mum, Jay 13, Melanie 8 and Louise 5 decided to call him plain “Toni”. That choice of name might sound like a minor problem, but for the delighted parent it represented an important breakthrough in gaining the kid’s understanding.   For a minefield of human emotions lied ahead for any family as it comes to terms with a father or mothers sex change.  But experts believe that children show remarkable maturity in dealing with this bizarre experience. Consultant psychiatrists, who treat patients at Britain’s leading Sex Change Clinic at London’s Charing Cross hospital says “Children cope very well, although there may be embarrassment or social inhibitions for some. Surprisingly there is very little disturbance”. Toni, 34, is certain she did the right thing in fighting-and winning-custody of the children in a historic ruling after a two year legal tussle with former wife Carol. “I am a her now and not a he” she says, bustling around her three bedroom house in Ebbw Vale, South Wales. Trying to slot into the role of a normal housewife, she realises an emotional crisis could rear its head at any time especially with Melanie and Louise. “I know that I will have difficult problems, especially when they reach adolescence” she says “but I’m sure my own experience will help me to cope. Because of what has happened to my body I’ll be able to understand more than most fathers what the girls are going through. I’ll be in a better position than most mums in warning the girls about certain types of boys” she says. But the problem remains more widespread than we might imagine with over 1,000 people in Britain suffering serious confusion about their sexual identity. Nonetheless, in a traumatic world of gender benders the case of Toni Hamilton Smith shows there can be a happy ending!!!!

My First Time Visiting  Bath

  I have been a secret cross dresser for many years but have only recently developed sufficient confidence to walk out in public.  Fortunately I have the support of my wife who has been a big help in getting the look right.  After much trial and error, I finally have an outfit I feel confident in. We both enjoy our occasional weekends away which combine a short out of season break with an opportunity for me to cross dress. I have found that the easiest places to walk out are busy city streets in the early evening. The Christmas shopping period is particularly good because people rush about a lot and don’t take too much notice of passers-by. The city of Bath is an ideal choice because it bustles with shoppers and tourists and has many streets with interesting window shopping. The narrow pavements and cobble stones provide a real sense of satisfaction when walking in high heels but make sure the shoes are well broken in first!! The  Saturday morning was spent on conventional shopping and used to acquaint ourselves with the layout of the roads and car parks. This is important because it gives confidence and helps minimise the stress of actually going out later in a strange area. Fortunately Bath has a large street level car park with many screening hedges which provides an ideal starting point. At the end of the morning we returned to our lovely old hotel near Bath which fortunately has some rooms in converted stables. This make it easy to dress in the late afternoon and walk straight to the car in daylight. A quick glance is sufficient to ensure none of the staff are about. There is no need to worry too much about other guests as they are mostly out that time of day. Once in the car we joined the anonymous local traffic for the return journey to Bath. The car journey is never a problem, as in the grey light of autumn it is virtually impossible to read a cross dresser through a car window. By the time we got back to Bath is was just going dark, but there were still plenty of shoppers about and fortunately a good selection of spaces on out chosen car park. After a few nervous moments we got out of the car to buy a parking ticket and then walked towards the shops. I usually walk round with my wife not far away in case of trouble, but sometimes I walk by myself while she goes into a shop. On this occasion I had built up enough confidence in my latest outfit to actually risk going into a shop for the first time. We had selected Marks and Spencer for the trial run and my secret ambition was to try on a pair of shoes I had seen earlier.  The store was very brightly lit and I felt rather nervous. At first we stayed on the ground floor where there were many tall stands to give more cover. After a few minutes I felt more confident and we ventured upstairs to look at the lingerie. The upstairs was more open and had fewer people around  so I felt more exposed but still felt confident. I then wanted to try the ultimate test and visit the shoe department. As I headed along the open gangway to the shoe area I was immediately ‘read’ by a chap who was standing there waiting for his wife. He had the time for a long leisurely look and as I walked towards him he discreetly pointed me out to his wife. After a momentary glance at the shoes I made a rather swift about turn and headed back to the stairs and out into the safety of the street. In many ways the chap in Marks and Spencer had done me a favour. The next day I felt strangely relaxed from the experience. At last I had tested my outfit and discovered its limitations. I am no longer hiding behind my own mirror image, but real world experience. I don’t yet know where the weakness is, but it gives me something to work on and an ambition to try and achieve a totally convincing look.   The hard part is knowing what to try next. I think I will invest in another Transformation Changeaway and try to pick up a few tips. Certainly the make-up could be further refined, perhaps a more feminine walk is required or maybe I somehow looked tense and did not smile enough. I think the real problem is to strike a balance between looking totally convincing, but at the same time sufficiently conventional as to avoid a long and searching look. I hope my experience gives others the courage to walk out for the first time. Remember to use the crowd as your friend and to walk along with everyone else. The more people there are milling about the less conspicuous you become!!!!!

I still feel guilty that your mum and I separated and that she and I still don’t talk to each other. I know how painful the separation was for you, and I am grateful that you are still in my life. But now I feel I am going to cause you even further heartache and confusion when I tell you that I am transgender and hope to begin living full-time as a woman very soon. Indeed, I already live most of my life as a woman – I have even transitioned within my workplace – and I go about my daily business as a woman. The only times I have to pretend I am a man are the days and weekends when you come to visit. So, for one day a week, and every second weekend, I hide away my clothes and my makeup and anything that might lead you to suspect, and pretend to be someone I am not. Yes, I have grown my hair long and I have had my ears pierced – which you found amusing, if not remarkable. After all, there are plenty of men with long hair and pierced ears. So, why haven’t I told you yet? The truth is that I am scared. I am scared of how you might react. I am scared of how your mum will react and what she might say about me. But, most of all, I am scared that you might not want to see me any more and that might just break my heart. It has not been easy to get where I am. Believe me, I tried every which way I could think of to avoid it, but there came a point where I could no longer deny who I was. I never meant for any of this to happen, but I hope you understand that I need to be me I started seeing a counsellor and then I started the process of coming out to the people in my daily life: my friends, my colleagues, my GP, my employer. And yet you, the most important people in my life, don’t know. I hope you don’t think it is because I consider you the least important – quite the opposite. It is because I have left the most difficult task until last. With any luck, I will soon be put on hormone blockers and, after a few months of that, I will begin hormone treatment. My physical appearance will begin to change to match the image that my brain has of me. I have never been comfortable in my body – is anyone? But, with me, it is a constant buzz at the back of my brain from the minute I get up in the morning to the minute I go to sleep at night. I avoid mirrors as much as possible and I loathe my traitorous body that produces so much testosterone. I know that this will be hard for you to understand, but I am hoping that, some day, when you are old enough, you will be able to read this and maybe it will go a little way towards helping you to understand. I never meant for any of this to happen, but I hope you understand that I need to be me. I can’t go on living a lie and being deeply unhappy. You are all different ages, so that makes it much more difficult to know what to tell each of you and when. All I know is that you must be told – and soon. No matter what happens, no matter how I look, no matter what clothes I wear, I am – and will always be – your dad. Dad xxxx

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Mirror Mirror – A Short Story

The last night of the village pantomime, Sleeping Beauty had been a resounding success. The director had whipped us into shape and it had exceeded all our wild expectations. My part in the production had been insignificant, I was a stage hand, painting the scenery but the director Emelda had taken pity of me and promoted me to “ Gofer” If she needed anything I got it !! It had been my responsibility to place the mirror on the stage. No one else was permitted to touch it or even look into it. To my surprise she had also cast me to make the mirrors replies. The groans from the other cast members made me blush. I had had a disastrous debut in a previous production and had sworn to never appear on stage again. Emelda persuaded me though. By the time the show came round I was entranced by her and she had asked me to rehearse with her. I had learned all the mirrors lines by heart and when we practiced together all my nerves disappeared. Despite the age difference we were close and my crush was huge !! and I found myself opening up to her and telling her everything about me. On the opening night she found me in a corner by myself. She sat next to me still resplendent in her stage makeup that emphasised her hypnotic blue eyes and the figure hugging black velvet dress that did the same for her body. I was jealous of her husband that much was obvious !! Her arm rested on my shoulder. “ It’s always the same after a successful show. I’ll tell you what, go home and take my mirror with me. After we’ve cleared the stage tomorrow you bring the mirror to my house and I’ll show you the play I’ve chosen for the summer. I think there will be a small part for you” As I hurried home clutching the precious mirror. Exhausted I began to undress but felt an irrestible urge to look into the mirror. As I stared at myself I could see my bare shoulders. Not broad as  I longed for but slim and delicate like a girl. My eyes switched back to my face and I felt more atrractive than I ever had before. My lips had become fuller and pinker. A straggly eyebrow had disappeared and the brows seemed more prettily arched than before.  I felt a flush of excitement. I could not believe this feminine face in the mirror was me but it was !! Now I could see bra straps running across bare shoulders and interesting moulds entrapped within delicate white lace at her chest. Glancing down at my own chest I was shockingly disappointed to find nothing there. Disturbing dreams of the girl in the mirror intruded into my sleep. Who was she? How had she appeared in the mirror ?? Why was she so like me ? I arrived back at the theatre to clear up but Emelda ignored me. As the rest of the cast went off to the pub she offered me a lift. She lived in a remote farmhouse about a mile away and we completed the journey in silence. I was going to ask her who she thought the girl in the mirror was. We had a light lunch and I discovered she was no longer married and in her mid forties. It was on a visit to a foreign country that she bought the mirror. “ No one looked in it did they??” She asked. Within minutes I was confessing what had happened the night before. Her pale blue eyes darkened as I told her. Her voice was soft and bewitching when she answered “ And who do you think it was ? “ My masculine ego denied my interest. “ It must have been my imagination, I have always wanted a sister” I noticed during this denial that was voice had lowered as if to underline my masculinity. To my surprise she got the new script put and suggested we do a rad through with each other. Emelda was keen for us to a particular scene together which turned out to be a love scene between 2 women!! “ Surely we aren’t going to perform this in the village ?” I stammered She laughed, “ I don’t think the village is ready for this yet do you ? ! “ “ I just wanted to see if you could get into character -well done !!” “ Lets try again and this time try the voice you used for the mirror – remember you’re a sexy, young woman determined to seduce an older woman. “ We repeated the scene stopping just short of the climax where the two women embrace passionately. “ Martin you’re nearly there ! You have to believe you’re Lizzie. Discard your masculinity and be this girl with all her memories and feelings” The words hung in the air between us and I longed to get to the part where they embraced. But Emelda wouldn’t let it get that far until I was fully into the character. “ Look your character is returning from a nightclub. She’s a little tipsy, sexily dressed and frustrated. You know what its like to be frustrated don’t you ?” This was it. This was my chance that every young man dreams of – an invitation from a  sexy, older woman. She read my thoughts and smiled. “ There is one way – but it isn’t fair….” She hesitated and then went on” you do want to get it right don’t you ?” Once again I gulped in excitement and nodded. Her suggestion that I borrow a blouse and skirt from her to get into character shocked me at first but the promise of those passionate embraces and what they might lead to induced a heady recklessness. Throwing all caution to the wind I agreed. Purely for the sake of the art of course !!

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[caption id="attachment_4257" align="alignleft" width="150"]Top Tips For Beauty Top Tips For BeautyEyes[/caption]   1 – Eyeshadow can double up as liner if you apply it with a damp cotton bud 2- Use a little green eyeshadow on red lids 3 – turn ordinary mascara into the lash lengthening variety by dusting your eyelashes with a little powder first 4- stand dried up mascara in a glass of warm water to bring it back to life 5- if your mascara clogs use a small brush instead


[caption id="attachment_4260" align="alignleft" width="150"]Top Tips For Beauty Top Tips For Beauty[/caption] 1-Revive dried up polish by adding a few drops of nail polish remove 2- Prevent air bubbles by rolling the bottle between your palms to mix it up 3- Make it last longer by adding a clear top coat 4 - Run a dab of vasaline around the neck of a new bottle and it should be easy to open forever ! 5 - In a hurry ? Dry it off quickly with a blast from your hairdryer


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It was a glorious bright sunny spring day. The road stretched out in front of me over the rolling countryside. I pressed the accelerator and the wonderful surge of power as my small open-top sports car swung out to overtake a sedate family saloon. My hair streamed in the breeze and the chiffon scarf knotted loosely round my throat fluttered gaily in the slipstream as I bombed up the hill towards the motorway junction. I glanced down at my legs, encased in the sheer gossamer nylons, lovely long legs to give a girl confidence when she goes out in public. My short black leather mini skirt had ridden up slightly exposing more of my elegant long legs. My breasts swelled proudly to burst the confines of the lacy bra and tight white blouse. I glanced in the mirror and the face I saw reflected was that of a pretty girl, eyebrows plucked, eyelashes mascaraed, cheeks blushed, lips plump and glossy. Yes, I felt desirable, confident in my femininity and looking forward to a splendid day out in my newly acquired sporty two-seater. Who knows what adventures await me! I had every reason to be pleased with myself. It was not often I could indulge my desire to dress in the clothes of the sex I most desired to join. And I had carefully planned this day out for some weeks. Oh the joy of shopping for the clothes I would wear and the make-up to go with them. Last night I had spent hours doing my nails, my hair, plucking my eyebrows, making all the preparations which could be safely done in advance. And early this morning, clad in my new silk negligee, I had spent over an hour at my dressing table, applying make-up before wriggling into my suspender belt and mini skirt, bra and blouse, and enjoying the sensuous pleasure of rolling on my new 10 denier nylons. As I joined the slip road a large van was in the slow lane of the main motorway and I had to slow down to let him pass me before I could edge out into the traffic. I say traffic, but this particular morning it was exceptionally light. As the large van passed me I was conscious of the driver looking at me. From his height in the driving cab he no doubt got an eyeful of me in my low slung car. Doubtless he could see my legs fully revealed below the tight mini skirt. I pulled onto the motorway and out into the fast lane to overtake the van. As I did so I could see the drivers face in the mirror watching my car (and me) and as I passed him he looked out of his side window. His lips moved to shape a wolf whistle. I ignored him and drove ahead for about half a mile and then I decided to a little fun. I pulled back into the slow lane and allowed my speed to drop to a sedate forty. In my mirror I watched as the van quickly gained on me and them pulled out to over-take. As he passed he was looking sideways at me, a big grin on his face. The van pulled in some yards ahead and reduced speed. Again I could see his face in the van’s large wing mirror and could see the look of anticipation on his face as he waited for another view of the fast girl in the sports car. This time I gave him a good view. I wriggled slightly in the driving seat so that the mini skirt rose another tantalising centimetre to partly reveal the suspenders and my nylons, and as I passed I gave him a long look moistening my lips with my suggestively with my tongue. As I passed, he gave me a wave. Again I pulled back into the slow lane and allowed him to catch up. He didn’t take long over it. The van came bombing up behind me as though about to sweep me off the road, then settled down to follow me closely. Another half mile and I gave him a wave to overtake. As he did so, he waved back and I blew him a tantalising kiss. Almost immediately he slowed down again ahead of me and once again I pulled out to overtake. This time I drove alongside and level with his cab for two or three miles, occasionally  glancing up at him and tugging ineffectively at the hem of my skirt as though to affirm my modesty. Then I pulled ahead and drove fast, putting a considerable distance between me and the van and yet keeping him within sight in my mirror. The road signs indicated the approach to another intersection, and as I drew level with the 300 metre sign I switched on my indicators to show an intention to turn off the motorway, at the same time slowing down considerably. Seconds later as I eased into the slip-road I was gratified to see the van’s indicators also signalling and he came up the slip road in pursuit. At the junction I paused, just sufficient time to let him catch me up. Then I let in the clutch and shot forward across the intersection and onto the slip road that led to the motorway. As I re-joined the motorway, I could see the van following me down the slip road. Back on the main carriage way, I again eased back into the slow lane and allowed him once again to catch up and overtake. Bu now he was signalling wildly as though to pull onto the hard shoulder and intermittently flagging me down with his arm. But I maintained my speed behind him and then, as another intersection approached, I ignored his implied invitation to pull off and become better acquainted, but flashed him with my headlights and zoomed past him at full throttle. When I finally lost sight of him I took the next intersection and ended the flirtation. He is no doubt still regretting the loss of the sporty girl who might have pulled off and indulged in a little hanky-panky in the cab of his vehicle. I drove on happy to have played fast and loose with a fellow like any flirtatious girl. Well, after all, that’s precisely how I felt.