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Nov 201520

Beautiful Breasts

frequently asked questions
...and why men are such suckers for them The female breast posesses many wondrous qualities which transvestites envy and try to emulate. Its shape, size and sensitivity all contribute to the character and personality of its possessor. No wonder that men love beautiful breasts! Why are men so obsessed with women's breasts? The oft-given psychological explanation is that it is all the result of infant conditioning - whether you were breast fed or raised on the bottle. But if that were really the case, surely half the men in the world would be breast fiends and the remainder indifferent to a woman's most conspicuous charms. In fact, there can be few men who are not fascinated by the twin globes which women carry before them and which they display with varying degrees of boldness or coyness. Men's primary interest seems to be in their shape. Although some overweight or muscular men have rudimentary bosoms they do not posess the subtle, pendulous and ever-changing outline of the female variety. These are the characteristics that transvestites go to so much trouble to emulate. f631_706gnrsxdofbreastpage1.jpgAn examination of a well developed and beautiful female breast shows it to be finely balanced, with the tissue tension precisely matching the weight so that it has both form and mobility, rather like a trendy work of art. The modern breast forms favoured by TVs are remarkably successful in achieving many of these characteristics, being attached to the chest by strong adhesive so that the wearer feels that it is truly a part of himself. He can walk, run, dance or swim without any fear of coming adrift. A further attraction of the female breast is its infinite variety. Many small women have big breasts while some big women are, sadly, endowed in inverse proportion to their size. The same is true of nipples - a big swollen bosom might be crowned by two miniscule points, the proverbial bee-stings...  
  f631_707gnrsxdofbreastpage2.jpgOn the other hand some flat-chested girls, who might have no need for the support of a bra, are often forced to wear one to conceal oversized nipples which press eagerly and unbidden against the thin covering of a summer dress or blouse. Girl runners burn off so much fat that they often have chests as flat as a boy's, and female body builders develop such solid pectorals that their torsoes acquire an almost masculine form. Perhaps surprisingly, many men find both these extremes attractive. Perhaps it is the mystery of the breast that men find so appealing... what shape is it exactly? Women are very clever at giving clues, often revealing a tantalising swelling and leaving the admirer's imagination to figure out the rest. TVs who have not resorted to hormone treatment or implants can, nevertheless, achieve something of this effect by forcing up the flesh of their rudimentary breasts to give a hint of cleavage. Of course, the final appeal of the feminine breast is tactile. Most men find the desire to touch almost overwhelming and they will prostrate themselves in gratitude at the feet of a woman who allows them to handle her most treasured assets! The warm softness, the eager response of the nipples springing to attention beneath the gentle pressure of finger and thumb, the trembling of the woman's body and the look of contentment as she closes her eyes in rapture... Many men also have breasts and nipples which are remarkably sensitive, quickly responding to sexual signals by rising and hardening. Fortunate indeed is the TV who can find a sympathetic woman to indulge him in an evening of mutual mammarial manipulation!

Nov 201520

An Unexpected Change

short story

AN UNEXPECTED CHANGE

  My Mother had always told me to take my vitamins, which I did. My father had run off and it had always been just me and my mother. I helped her with the laundry and during that chore noticed that her clothes were different than my blue jeans and T-shirts. For some reason I lingered over her clothes and marveled at the difference. They looked and felt so nice and were so soft. When I took a bath, I found myself noticing her stockings drying over the shower bar. When I asked her about what a run in her stockings meant, and why my socks didn't have runs, she tried to explain it was a girl thing. Then I decided one day to look in her dresser and that experience changed my life. Everything was so smooth and soft and smelled so good. I decided to revisit that dresser when I got the opportunity when I got the chance. I thought my chance came when my mother was at work and I got out of school at 3:00. Careful to remember where everything was placed and how it was folded, I took some items from her lingerie drawer. There were silky things and other items that looked tight and felt stretchy. For some reason I decided to put on one of the stretchy things that had legs in them. It was hard to get it on but I managed. It felt nice yet strange. My little parts between my legs felt constricted but somehow I felt wonderful. I also loved the smell of her perfume and opened a container of one, spilling a bit of it on me. I carefully replaced the cap and put it back on the top of her dresser. I spent an unknown amount of time enjoying my feelings and sensations. Then I heard the door open !!! It was my mother! I was in her bedroom, in her girdle and smelled like her perfume! I struggled to undo what I had done! I found myself on her bedroom floor, her girdle around my ankles, trying to crawl under her bed. The expression on her face gave me no clue as to what she thought. I undressed - embarrassed and afraid. We ate macaroni & cheese without a word spoken. I went bed fearful, yet exhilarated from the emotions and feelings that came from my mother's dresser that day. Nothing was said for a year. A year later I was in our garage and found some boxes. I rummaged through them and discovered the mother load. So many girdles, so many panties and skirts - blouses, bras and everything feminine! I couldn't resist myself! In a wave of ecstasy I dressed again. Nothing else mattered. Then I heard my mother's voice! Again I tried to scramble for cover! Again I didn't succeed in my deception! This time my mother insisted we talk. Afraid and shy, thinking I might die or be punished. I told her that I liked being in her clothes. Then I cried, went to bed and shivered.
Nothing was said again for about a week. She was my mother and I knew she loved me. I was 11 years old. At breakfast soon after she told me that I had to take some new vitamins. I took them as always and ate my oatmeal. I studied hard, made good grades but wasn't very good at sports. I continued this regimen for the next 2 years. Six months after my garage experience I told my mother that I was feeling a bit of pain. She asked me where and I said it was in my chest. She took off my shirt and examined me. My pain seemed to come my nipple areas and I thought that I felt a lumpiness that was new to me. She told me that I was O.K. and it was part of growing up. When I went to Jr. High School I was told that I couldn't take P.E. because of a medical condition. I still did art, studied hard, but didn't understand the obsession the other boys were starting to have in girls. I liked most of the other girls and even some of the boys, but I didn't somehow seem to fit in. I was a loner but still kept taking my "vitamins".   Now it was the era of long hair for boys and other social changes. There were other major changes happening to me. Some of the boys were growing mustaches but nothing that way was happening to me. Other things were though! Slowly I noticed things in the mirror! My pants didn't fit right! They were loose around my waist and my bottom and thighs were looking fat! My mother encouraged me to grow my hair long because it was now in fashion. Then I noticed in the mirror that not only did I not have any chest hair but that my chest looked like I had breasts! Over the next six months they were undeniable! I had larger breasts than half of the girls in my high school! I also started having feelings for some of the boys that were hard for me to understand. I also kept close to some of the girls who told me that I way of relating to them that "other boys" didn't. I wore loose shirts, kept my hair log according to the style and tried to figure out that which was getting very difficult to disguise! My waist was thin! My breasts were large! I had a body shape that caused most people to call me miss or young lady! I was surprised that most of the time I enjoyed it! I still kept taking my vitamins - but it was time that I had to express my concerns and intimate feelings to the only family that I had known - my mother. My breasts were now large, my waist was thin and body had a shape that some girls would envy. I felt attracted to boys in a way that scared me and excited me too. My voice didn't sound like the other boys and because I was teased I kept to myself for the most part. Confused, I turned to my mother again. Dutifully I still kept taking the "vitamins" as always. She suggested that we have a talk, keep taking my vitamins and that she had something to tell me! What she said both floored me and relieved me. She related that since my father left her she had a distrust of men. She tearfully told me that she had always wished to have a daughter. She couldn't fathom raising a son and had early on decided for me to be her daughter. We both cried. She then told me that she had a couple of surprises for me. In my old bedroom was a new dresser. She asked me to open the drawers. Inside them were the prettiest panties, the coziest night gowns and in the top drawer were barrettes, head bands and ear rings! I sighed, was excited but didn't know quite how to express my feelings. I was glad inside but then knew that it was time for us to have a real "girl to girl" talk! We proceeded to have that talk and I expressed my honest concerns and fears! I took my vitamins, sat down with mother as she told me of her last surprise! She told me that she had been saving her money and had befriended a skilled doctor. Over the next 2 hours I thought, cried and went more than twice to the mirror. Among the options I considered was being the boy that born as. The mirror told me otherwise. But there was still the matter of a particular piece of anatomy that made my mother's wish for a daughter impossible - or was it? After another heart to heart discussion with my mother, I decided to finally resolve my ambiguity. My anatomy could finally be in sync with the rest of me!
    The arrangements were made, and with trepidation I checked in, was prepped, sedated and went to sleep. When I awoke it was over and a nurse told me all was successful. I had completely become the daughter my mother had always wanted and there was no turning back! Eventually I healed, we went shopping together and even looked at catalogs. My reasoning was that over 50% of the population was female, I didn't feel comfortable as a male and we have nicer clothes. I enjoy doing my hair, picking out earrings and necklaces and dabbing perfume. I enjoy being a girl. The best "came later". Since being a woman I naturally wanted to try out my new equipment. I did however require that it be with a nice and loving man. Since my mother has passed on I have considered lesbian options. Either way I love to be loved, love to have my breasts loved and enjoy an orgasm. As a woman it is a bit of an inconvenience to pee when camping or to always have to sit on the toilet, but I have come to enjoy being touched, lotioned, and cuddling! The first time I was entered I was scared and it was a little painful. I sure it was the same for all girls at first. Believe it or not one of the most pleasurable experiences I now have is to walk by my bathroom mirror, look at myself and then apply the soap to the body that my mother so long ago envisioned her son/daughter having. Enjoy being a girl - a boy - but living!

Nov 201520

Our Privacy Policy

frequently asked questions

Our Privacy Policy

Our privacy policy dictates the personal information you give us is used exclusively by Transformation for providing you with current and future information about our products and services and any other services described in this Web site. We don't pass any of your personal data to outside organisations and/or individuals, except with your express consent, only monitor the IP addresses of visitors to assess which pages are the most popular. These IP addresses aren't linked to any personal data unless an order is placed, so that visitors to our site remain anonymous. You have a right to know about the personal information Transformation holds about you. You also have a right to have your data corrected or deleted. Please address all your requests and/or queries about our data-protection policy to:
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Nov 201520

Crossdressing and Society

frequently asked questions, special interest
I choose the term crossdresser because transvestite carries too much negative connotation with it. As a transgendered person, my crossdressing is really more an issue of self expression than something I do for kicks. The many and varied reasons for this can be reduced down to a prime-motivating factor - it give me a more complete sense of self. I feel more like me (Don't get me wrong there is a definite sensual aspect to crossdressing. I like the way women's clothes feel - a flowing silk skirt against stockinged legs, a silk blouse - it very sensual. Let's be real - me;s clothing just isn't sensual. Functional? Yes. Comfortable? Usually. Sensual? Hardly!) Mens clothing is pretty boring - pants and a shirt, and for business - a suit. The steretypical business attire - a blue suit, white shirt, tie and black shoes and if it's raining a trench coat. It looks like a bunch of clones walking down the street. Women, on the other hand, have a flexibility in dressing of which, to be honest, I am quite envious. With choices of fabrics, colour, style and accessories, womens clothing is just more fun. It allows a freedom of self-expression men just do not have. My crossdressing helps fill that void. There is nothing inherently male or female about any one article of clothing. The design of a piece of clothing may favor one or the other (a bra definitely fits a woman better than a man) but it remains nothing more than a specific configuration of cloth, metal, plastic, etc. As a culture, we have chosen to associate certain types and styles of clothing with either men or women. There are those who feel that crossdressing is unnatural. Well, it is. In fact, the wearing of any clothing is unnatural. We have no genetic predisposition to wearing clothes. Crossdressing is as unnatural as straight dressing. Clothing and the meanings we placed upon is a fabrication of society. Men used to wear tunics with tights, knickers, ruffled shirts, wigs, heels... the list goes on and on. Try putting on a tunic length top and leggings today... You get the idea. Interestingly though, items such as sarongs and kilts are alright (in certain settings.) Prince Charles has appeared on TV (how appropriate) sporting his kilt while out with his sons.  
  Women crossdress all the time. They buy men's jeans, shirts and sneakers... even underwear, and they do it without shame or ridicule. In fact, the female crossdresser is considered fashionable. I have read many articles in fashion magazines about how to liven up ones wardrobe by borrowing clothes from your boyfriend, husband, etc. Women's fashions have even copied men's: tuxedo shirts and jackets, boxer shorts, and sport coats are just a few items that have been feminized. It seems clear that women wearing men's clothing (female crossdressing) is socially acceptable. Men, on the other hand, do not have this freedom. The wearing clothing associated with women is frowned upon by society. Men wearing women's clothing is not socially acceptable and the male crossdresser opens himself to scorn and ridicule almost beyond belief. We are tagged as freaks and misfits: deviants to be avoided. It is immediately assumed that we are either gay (not to insinuate that any of the above labels apply to either the gay or transgendered community as a whole), which is false more times than not, or that we are just mentally disturbed. The repression feelings is not a good thing, and women who want to express their masculine side are, in general, encouraged to do so. Society as a whole has no problem with women exploring the stereotypically masculine world. Men, on the other hand, are not supposed to have a feminine side. Any man who show interest in stereotypically feminine interests runs the risk of being pigeonholed as above. Men who crossdress tend to have strong feminine sides that needs to express themself. Whether crossdressed or not, this feminine side is still there, fighting to be heard; although society would rather that it not exist at all. Can you say Double Standard? Welcome to the life of a crossdresser. The simple fact is that the majority of men who crossdress are really no different than any other men. They work, have families and basically live like everyone else except they like women's clothes. Ah, I can hear it now "That's not like everyone else!" Allow me to ask, "How do you know?" Many crossdressers never venture into public. Some who do are better looking than some real women are! Many wear women's underwear on a regular basis. The fact is, if no one told you, you would probably never know. He could be anyone: a drinking buddy, an employee or even your boss. Anyone, put under close enough scrutiny, would probably reveal something, which could be construed as not fitting in with the societal norm. Yet, we all go about our business not really thinking twice about the person next to us. We are all different, and at the same time similar. The diversity of Mankind is something as yet unsurpassed in the animal kingdom, and is something to be embraced and celebrated. It is our differences which define us, not our similarities. Crossdressing allows me a freedom of self expression which the confines of society's definition of 'man' just won't allow. And I like that freedom. It has taken me a long time become comfortable with who I am. I am a crossdresser. And even with all the baggage that comes along with that statement, I wouldn't want change who I am for anything

Nov 201520

The Chance

short story

THE CHANCE

  Since I was seven I had had just one real wish, to be a girl. In the following years this wish grew stronger and stronger, and as I entered into puberty, this problem became ever more difficult. I saw how the girls developed into women with their wonderfully shaped bodies and breasts. I wanted to look like that too, but instead I developed into a man with an abominable body and this thing between my legs which, instead of disappearing, just got bigger and bigger. I tried to cope with this problem and live my life as a man, but I just wasn't very successful. Last year, at the age of 24, I made the decision to undergo a sex change, to take hormones, and to submit to an operation that would approximate a sex complete change. Naturally I would have chosen a simpler method, but this was the sole possibility (at that time). For weeks I surfed the internet in search of information that could help me on my path to become a woman. As a part of that I registered myself in a transsexual forum, in order to discuss my problem with people concerned with such matters. I registered using the name Jennifer. Then 3 months passed, and I just was preparing to begin hormone therapy, when a participant of the forum contacted me. She called herself Alexandra and wrote in her message just the following sentence: "If you would like to be a woman in 24 hours, then get in touch with me!" Naturally I thought right away that this was some stupid joke or a game. I was just about to shut down the computer, when I thought, it can't hurt to give this mysterious person an answer and to go along with the game. So I wrote her a reply: "Yes, I would give anything for that to happen." Scarcely had I sent off the email, when the answer arrived: "Then at 7 o'clock tomorrow morning be at the main train station in Zurich, track 12. Wear a white pullover and a hat and hold a book in your hands." That was all that she wrote me. I was overwhelmed by distrust and decided that I'd not go to Zurich, since from the start I suspected this to be a bad joke. So I did shut down my computer and went to bed. But I couldn't help thinking about this thing between my legs and how I would love to have it gone. But I kept thinking about this Alexandra and how wonderful it would be, if it were no joke. It was at 4 o'clock in the morning that I decided to travel to Zurich.
    f821_1557.jpgSo at 7 o'clock I was standing at the station, track 12, and I wore a white pullover, a black hat, and had a book in my hands. I waited... By 7:15 I was convinced that, as expected, this whole thing was a joke, when suddenly a woman came up to me on the bench where I sat and spoke to me: "Jennifer?" I turned toward her: "Yes. Alexandra?" "No, my name in Manuela and I'm supposed to pick you up here. Alexandra is waiting for you now." She stood up and walked toward the parking lot. I hesitate a brief moment, then I decided to go along; my curiosity as well as my fear were growing steadily. Without saying much I got into her car and we drove about half an hour into a Zurich suburb, where we went into an office building. On the fourth floor we came to a firm by the name Mental Trading, Inc. Manuela led me into one of several rooms, where a woman was waiting for me. "Jennifer. Please, come in! I am Alexandra." She was about 40 and made a friendly as well as a serious impression. "Hello" was all that I could say. When I had seated myself, Alexandra began to speak: "I know that you have been full of suspicion about my offer since yesterday evening, her into the hall. "The 6 candidates are living at this time in these rooms. They are one-room apartments, but we also have a recreation room, where the candidates can meet. Unfortunately I can't show you these facilities, since before making your choice you are not permitted to come into contact with other candidates." She led me into another room. "But I can show you this room; here the actual body transfer is completed. You will enter one of these cubicles, the other person goes into the other cubicle. The cubicles are connected with each other. After a short time you will fall asleep and the transfer begins. When you wake up, you will be very weak, that's why we'll take you into a care center, where you'll remain lying for a few hours before you can leave our clinic again." "How long does this transfer take?" "About 50 minutes." "How will I know how I'm going to look afterward?" "We will now show you the photos of our 4 female candidates. Before that, however, I'd like to ask you to take off your clothes, so that I can take a picture of you, because those 4 candidates must also want your body."
    So I undressed and stood naked in front of a camera. I was getting unsure again, as to whether this wasn't a joke after all, but my curiosity and my hope were too big, to allow me to back out now. Then the flash went off... "O.K. That's that. I'll put your photo in the databank and wait on the answers of our lady candidates. Before you can see their pictures, we still have one more thing to finish up, that is, the financial part." I'd been waiting for the time when this was brought up. "How much does it cost? "It's not so expensive. 15,000 dollars for a new life is actually not bad. For the usual sex-change, you'd pay a lot more." She was right there. "Naturally, the entire amount isn't due until the body change is complete, on the other hand, I need a down payment of 1,500 dollars. The financial risk for something like this was pretty small. So I took my credit card out and paid the 1,500 dollars on the spot. "Wonderful," she said. "And finally still one very important piece of information: So that you can live your own life after the body transfer, this afternoon I'll have your name and gender legally changed. I've got good contact with the authorities, so that this should go without any hitches. Then you'll receive your new ID papers in the next few days." That sounded too good to be true, but I didn't want to hold back from this step. Alexandra now led me to a computer, where she showed me the photos of the 4 candidates along with their personal information. "I'll leave you alone now. If a candidate suddenly disappears from the screen, that means that she has no interest. Good luck!" "Thank you." Alexandra left the room. Now I sat there and looked at these 4 women. The thought that I would be one of these women in a few hours caused me anxiety on the one hand but joy on the other. On the first picture there was a redhead with long hair, age 28, 5' 4" tall, a pretty face but with a large nose. She was rather slender with relatively small breasts (A-cup). On the second picture was a blonde also with long hair, age 23, 5' 9" tall, a delicate face. She was also relatively slender and her breasts were larger than in the case of the redhead (B-cup). The third was a brunette, who also had long hair. She was 26 years old, 5' 6" tall, an angular face, but feminine nonetheless. She was not as slender as the others, but still very much okay. Her breasts were significantly larger, a good C-cup. The fourth was another blonde, but with short hair, age 25, 5' 7" tall, and a very beautiful face. She was athletically proportioned and her breasts filled a B-cup.
    f821_1753.jpgThat was all the information that I had available. Now I had the torment of making a choice, and I had to decide for myself, which criteria were most important to me. I asked myself, what I was really imagining. One important point was height. I didn't want to be all that short, and red hair wasn't for me in anyway. That left candidate one out. The brunette followed a short time later, because somehow I couldn't identify with her face and her breasts were also a bit too large for me. Each of the two blondes made a good impression, maybe I felt a tendency for candidate two. Now I could only wait and see, if one of the ladies had no interest and which one might accept my body. Five minutes before time ran out, the redhead disappeared from the screen, but this was no problem for me at all. A minute before the end, however, candidate two disappeared from the screen and this disappointed me a bit. Soon after than Alexandra came in again. "Have you decided?" "Yes, I've chosen candidate four." Although she was not exactly my first choice, I could be enthusiastic about her body and after all who has the choice to pick out one's own body. "Great, I'm glad to hear that. Now everything will go quickly. Please, undress now and enter the cubicle to your right." I did, what Alexandra required of me. Then I had cables attached all over my body. Alexandra closed the cubicle and now I became truly nervous. For several minutes (it seemed like hours) nothing at all happened, till I suddenly got tired and slowly went to sleep... "Jennifer, wake up!" Alexandra stood before me, and it took a while before I realized where I was. I lay in a bed and was covered. Manuela stood next to Alexandra and so I slowly realized what had probably happened. "It's over," grinned Alexandra. "You are now a woman. I'll have to ask you though not to move much in the next half hour; after that you can try to stand up and check out your new body." My heart was turning somersaults, but I couldn't make a single sound. Alexandra and Manuela then left my room. After several minutes, however, there was nothing that could keep me in bed. I tried to move. At first I moved my arms and my head. After a while I could support some of my weight on my arms, and now I felt for the first time the weight on my chest. As I looked down, I noticed two roundnesses, and it was unmistakably clear, that these were genuine breasts and that they were mine.
    f821_1754.jpgNow I tried to move my legs and this went well, too, so that I was soon sitting up. In that motion feelings registered between my legs for the first time. But I didn't want to touch this place with my hands yet. After several attempts I succeeded in standing up and I walked slowly back and forth in the little room. After about an hour of this I could walk without any problem, and now I felt ready to stand in front of the mirror and take stock of myself. It was with a shock of joy that I stood before the mirror. There I was, with short blonde hair, a lovely face with expressive eyes, a sweet mouth. Then I looked down a little and saw these curvatures again. Now it was time, to pull off the nightgown and see the full results. First I freed my breasts and touched them quite lightly as I did so. It was already a very intensive moment, which excited me a lot. Then I let the nightie fall and was able to see the result between my legs: a vagina, a real vagina. With great respect for my body I drew my hands across my breasts and stroked them, which caused me to give out a small groan. That made me realize that I had a new voice. I began to speak and giggled now and then. The voice was not terribly high but rather a deeper woman's voice, but I had no problem with that. Then I let my left hand wander further down till it came to my vagina. I moved my hand back and forth several times and felt how this excited me more and more. I decided to lie down on the bed, spread my legs apart and began to investigate my new genital region by stimulating my clitoris. I was becoming more and more excited and noticed how I was slowly getting moist between my legs. Now I pushed two fingers into my vagina and then pulled them out. This was repeated and the movements got faster and faster till I was just moaning and had my first orgasm as a woman. When I opened my eyes, Manuela stood in front of me and smiled. "Nice feeling, isn't it?" "Heavenly. Men don't know what they are missing." We both giggled. "Jennifer, it's time to pack up. I've put the clothing of your predecessor into your bag and I've some clothes for you to put on now. As soon as you are ready, you can come into Alexandra's office." "Thanks so much," I said with my new voice. When Manuela left the room, I took the clothing, which she had given me and stood before the mirror. Then I discovered a package of tampons lying there. Oh, yes, that's a part of it all, I thought. But joy was to dominate today. I took a tampon out of the package and guided it into my sheath, a strange feeling. Then I took some panties and pulled them on. It was wonderful, how my panties didn't bulge but rather clung closely to my skin. Then I took the bra and pulled it over my breasts, it fit perfectly. Then came my socks and a pair of tailored pants. Now there was just a white top, which delineated my breasts nicely. Finally I pulled on a pair of sport shoes and looked into the mirror a last time before my departure. Makeup wasn't really necessary, since I already looked very good and had a natural appearance. I took my bag, left the room and walked into my future as a woman...

Nov 201520

Christine Jorgensen

frequently asked questions, how to guides
f794_1534"I could never understand why I was receiving so much attention," Jorgensen said in a 1986 interview. "Now looking back, I realize it was the beginning of the Sexual Revolution, and I just happened to be one of the trigger mechanisms." Christine Jorgensen-with her sleek hair, smokey voice, slender f794_1537body and smart clothes, exploded into the nation's consciousness in the halcyon days of the post war Baby Boom, in the placid I-like-Ike, I-love-Lucy era when issues of sexuality, much less transsexuality, were strictly taboo. It didn't take much to propel her private, two-year odyssey from man to woman into the object of international debate and ridicule. "EX-GI BECOMES BLONDE BOMBSHELL," screamed the headline in the Daily News, which broke the story on Dec. 1, 1952, after it was leaked about the second of Jorgensen's three operations.   Unwittingly, Jorgensen's surgery proved to be something more than the lurid tale it was made out to be at the time: It was also the begining of greater candor and understanding in the way the world looked at issues of transsexuality. According to the International Gender Dysphoria Association, by 1980 an estimated 3,000 to 6,000 American adults had undergone hormonal and surgical sex changes. Among them, tennis pro Renee Richards and British-born writer Jan Morris.  
  f794_1535And while transsexual surgery has hardly become commonplace since it was pioneered in Europe in the 1930s, it certainly has become less-than-scandalous in most quarters. Indeed, by 1982, when news spread that a Nassau County police officer had undergone a sex-change operation and was planning to return to the force, the response, from the county executive to the police commissioner, was more support that embarrassment. "It (the surgery) wouldn't get on the 95th page of the newspaper if it happened today," Jorgensen said last year in an interview with the Los Angeles Time. "It's not news anymore." But it was news-scandalous news-when Jorgensen did it. In those pre-feminist days, there was no end to the cutting appellations: The press described her variously as mankind's gift to female species," "The latest thing in blonde bombshells," "tops in swaps" and "the turnabout gal." In and out of the press, she became subject of endless conversation and the butt of thousands of titillating jokes. And that was just the beginning. While Jorgensen was still in Denmark, she had sold the rights to her life story to the Hearst Corp.'s American Weekly Magazine for $20,000. But that contract did little to dissuade other journalists-and evryone else-from besieging her. f794_1536On Feb. 12, 1953, when she stepped off the plane from Denmark, at what was then Idlewild Airport, Jorgensen was greeted by more than 350 "admirers, autograph hounds and just plain curious people." Not to mention hordes of reporters and photographers who catalogued everything from her baggage (13 pieces of luggage) to her destination ("the Swank Carlyle Hotel" in Manhatten) to her first beverage in America (a Bloody Mary "containing two shots of vodka and tomato juice") From then on, wherever Jorgensen went, neither the press nor the attendant carnival atmosphere was far behind. Every detail was grist for the mill: Her size 9-AA shoes. Her $10 contribution to a volounteer fire department in her new Long Island's hometown. Her first Easter bonnet, which landed her on the front page of Newsday on Easter weekend in 1953, a much-vaunted accolade traditionally reserved for Long Island's society matrons.  
    z13884585qchris-jorgensen-juz-jako-christine-jorgensenThe press couldn't get enough of Jorgensen. The press was there on Feb. 26, 1953, when she took her drivers test in Garden City. A Newsday reporter noted on the occasion, "She, then he, had once been employed as a chauffeur. But her license had expired and so, said one wag, had the sex of the owner." The press was there on May 8, 1953, when Jorgensen made her debut at Hollywoods Orpheum theater, narrating a 20-minute travel documentary she filmed in Europe: "Her paycheck is reported to be $12,500 for a weeks work." And the press was there a week later, on the flight back to New York, when Jorgensen announced that she planned to make her home in Massapequa, on a 150-by-100-square-foot parcel of land where her father, George, a carpenter, would build a six-room, $25,000 ranch-style house, complete with the most up-to-date burglar alarm system. "Long Island," she said, "[is] a lovely spot to settle." It became her home base until 1967, when her parents died and she moved to California. But if the press fueled the furor over Jorgensen, it was feeding a public that couldn't get enough of her and a society that didn't know what to make of her. Was she some sort of side show freak? Or a modern pioneer? There was no consensus. While gossip columnist Walter Winchell ridiculed her, hostess Elsa Maxwell feted her. While the Stork Club banned her, the Waldorf-Astoria welcomed her. Jorgensen, from the beginning never regretted what she did, "I regretted at the beginning, that the press got hold of it and made my life such an open book," she said in a 1979 Newsday interwiew. "But the publicity, too, hasn't been altogether bad. It's enabled me to make an awful lot of money."   christine-jorgensen2Although Jorgensen preferred to be known as "the noted colour photographer"-she even went to London in 1953 to photograph the coronation of Queen Elizabeth-she made her money, and her mark, from her celebrity. The offers of Hollywood stardom that poured in from film producers when she returned to the United States never panned out. Nevertheless, Jorgensen decided that if the notoriety that was following her wasn't going to die out, she might as well cash in on it. During the '50s and '60s she earned a more-than-comfortable living on the talk show and lecture circuit and, most notably, as a stage actress and nightclub performer. The act, which she took from the Latin Quarter in New York to the Interlude in Los Angeles to clubs in Havana, Caracas and throughout England and Australia, was both serious and fun. With a straight face she sang "I enjoy being a Girl." With tongue-in-cheek, she performed "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" as a parody of her life before the operation.  
  3a34f573f093f05ac988cae7ac11b573Throughout the years of living under a magnifying glass, Jorgensen retained her sense of humor. But in her 1967 book, "Christine Jorgensen: A Personal Biography," it was obvious that she had considered life before the operation anything but joyous. As a child growing up in the Bronx, Jorgensen said she was a "frail, tow-headed, introverted" little boy who "ran from fistfights and rough-and-tumble games." When she was 5, she wrote, her Christmas dream was for "a pretty doll with long gold hair." Under the tree, there was a red railroad train. A graduate of Christopher Columbus High School in the Bronx-Class of '45-Jorgensen was drafted into the Army a few months after the end of World War II, as a 19-year-old who admitted years later that he felt like a woman trapped in a mans body. The road to Jorgensen's transsexual surgery in Copenhagen began in New York, with years of independent research. At the Manhattan Medical and Dental Assistants School, Jorgensen devoured information on the subject of sexual hormones and glandular imbalances. Then, through a friend who was a physician, the young man discovered it was possible to obtain sex change treatments and operations in Scandinavia. In 1950, George Jorgensen Jr. left for Denmark, staying with friends and keeping his plans a secret from everyone, including his family. It was not until two years later-on the eve of the second operation-that Christine Jorgensen finally wrote to her parents in New York: "Nature made a mistake, which I have corrected, and I am now your daughter." Although Jorgensen's parents were shocked by the news, they welcomed their child home. Jorgensen herself never married, but there were countless reports of liassons: In 1952, a Texas GI told the world that he had dated her in Copenhagen "and she had the best body of any girl I ever met." In 1959, she became engaged; her first fiance later broke the engagement. "I've never been married," she said in the Newsday interview, "but I have been engaged twice, and I've been deeply in love twice. I was never engaged to the men I was in love with, and I was never in love with the men I was engaged to." When the noteriety died down, Jorgensen settled into a fairly private existence. After she left Long Island in 1967, she lived quietly in California, first at the Chateau Marmont, the historic apartment-hotel on Hollywood's Sunset Strip, then in a four bedroomed house in Laguna Niguel, 60 miles south of L.A., and for the last two years in San Clemente. Although she had dropped out of the lecture circuit for 15 years, she returned on-and-off during the 1980s. She had also been lpanning a sequel to her autobiography and had been trying to find a U.S. distributer for a Dutch-made documentary on transsexuals, lesbians and female impersonators. After she was diagnosed as having cancer in 1987, she confessed that one of her remaining dreams was to appear on the hit T.V. show, "Murder She Wrote." jorgesen555Jorgensen never found even fleeting fame on T.V. But she didn't need it. To many, she had won more enduring recognition, as a pioneer, as a man-turned-woman who broke down at least one of society's sexual barriers. For her own part, though, she saw it as nothing more that a case of self-preservation. "Does it take bravery and courage for a person with polio to want to walk?" she once said. "It's very hard to speculate on, but if I hadn't done what I did, I may not have survived. I may not have wanted to live. Life simply wasn't worth much. Some people may find it easy to live a lie, I can't. And that's what it would have been-telling the world I'm something I'm not."

Nov 201520

Coming to Terms With Transvestism

frequently asked questions
I am not a doctor or a psychiatrist, so what gives me the qualifications to write about transvestism? I write purely from experience, having been a heterosexual transvestite for many years... I first discovered the pleasure that cross dressing gave me during my early twenties, when I secretly donned some of my wife's underwear. The effect was immediate and resulted in an uncontrolled ejaculation, which in turn left me with a feeling of guilt and disgust. However, the desire to wear women's clothes became so great that those secret flights of fancy continued whenever the opportunity arose. Also I had become more adventurous and had purchased some clothing of my own: these of course had to be hidden, and so deceitfulness was added to my list of sins. Over the next ten years I was becoming increasingly frustrated by the enforced limited duration, and lack of opportunities, for my trips into my alter ego. Also I was becoming increasingly guilty about keeping the whole secret from my wife. So I decided to tell all, naively hoping she would understand and allow me to 'dress' at any time in the house. It obviously comes as a great shock for a wife to discover that her husband likes to prance about in ladies' undies. She did, however, agree to give it a try and I dressed myself in a skirt and jumper, and a pair of mule slippers. At this time I used neither a wig nor make-up and I realise now what a bizarre sight I must have presented. It was clearly not going to work, and if continued it would obviously cause a break up of the marriage. The only thing to do was to stop, put temptation behind me and live a 'normal', 'healthy' life - if only I had known then what I know now. During the next twelve months or so I became more and more irritable and unreasonable until I eventually I suffered a near nervous breakdown, confessed all to my doctor and finished up in the psychiatric ward of the local hospital. All this eventually cost me my job and my marriage. I will skip briefly over the next forty-odd years of my life, only to say that I did marry again, but this time I told my wife of my transvestite tendencies before my marriage. Cross Dressing On the whole it was a very happy partnership in all respects, my cross dressing continued but not in my wife's presence, and by arranging for her to have the odd week or two away on holiday now and then the frustration was contained. Although there were many times when I felt I must get away, the love for my wife was the thing that stopped me. My wife has recently died and I now live alone which gives me the opportunity to dress all day, three or four times a week, within the confines of my home. I have braved the outside world on a couple of occasions in the past, but only for a few hours and much as I would like to live completely as a woman, at seventy years of age I feel the disruption to my life would be too great.  
  f509_1262.jpgSo, having spent about fifty years seeing doctors and psychiatrists, taking tablets, considering suicide and doing other daft things, I offer the following as a possible aid to understanding transvestism, facing up to it and removing some of the shame and guilt you may feel in succumbing to your sexual fantasies: I hope it is of some help... Why do we want to cross dress? What determines our personality? Our genes, our upbringing, our experiences, our environment: all play a part in determining the kind of person we are. A traumatic experience can change our outlook on life but it is our basic personality or character, call it what you will, that determines our reaction to these things. Some people are aggressive, not necessarily in the physical sense, but in terms of their approach to life in general. Others are more submissive, and given the same environment and upbringing will react differently to the same set of circumstances. The point is: there are a number of inborn basic characteristics that do not change irrespective of any other outside influences, they merely change our reaction to them. Our sex is determined by our genes, so why should our sexuality not also be determined by some other factor in our genes, making us either heterosexual, homosexual or bisexual? I do not believe that one becomes homosexual or bisexual as a result of some outside experience. Carry this theory a little further and consider the cartoon character who believes he is Napolean, or the Elvis fan who dresses as, and mimics, his idol. These are fanatics who so worship their idol that they want to be that person. It is an inborn need to become the object of their desire, let's say the 'wannabe factor'. So now, let us first take the genes that have determined our sex, add the factor that has determined our sexuality and increase it's influence in our lives, and finally add the 'wannabe factor'. Bingo! You have the perfect recipe for a transvestite. Learning to live with it Are we abnormal? In terms of what is socailly acceptable, yes, we are abnormal, although the size of the mail order and personal shopping market indicates that we are a fairly large percentage of the population. We were born different (yes, I do believe the problem is genetic), as others are born with physical or mental disabilities. Whilst they are partially accepted into society, depending on the degree of their disability, we don't fit into a convenient slot, and society, on the whole, doesn't know how to deal with us. We are an embarrassment and therefore become the subject of snide jokes, ignored in the hope we go away, or in extreme cases hounded out of town.  
  f509_1263.jpgUnless you are fortunate enough to have the right stature and features, and can pass fairly easily when dressed and made-up as a female, it means the only outlet for us is the confines of our homes - we must not be found out, we would become outcasts. Should we feel guilt or shame? Providing what we do harms no other person, either physically or mentally, there should be no rational reason for feeling guilty. Neither should we feel ashamed of what we are, but unfortunately we feel ashamed of other peoples' perception of us. If we have the courage to 'come out', as many do and eventually become if not totally accepted then tolerated, then our shame and guilt would disappear. But this is the real world and unless you are fortunate enough to be able, physically, to pass as a woman then the stress and strain of continually being looked upon as a 'freak' may mean we have traded in one set of problems only to be confounded by another. Coming Out I am sure we all often feel the frustration of having to limit our activities to the confines of the home and would dearly love to 'come out' and damn the consequences. If only we could be found out and the decision made for us, life would be so much easier. But beware, speaking from experience I can tell you that unless you intend to go all the way, being accidentally found out only compounds the problem and you can be left with the task of having to rebuild your life. My advice to any of you having the courage to 'come out' is: do it sooner rather than later, it will never get easier. Will it go away? As stated earlier, I believe that transvestism is inborn and not the result of a childhood environment. or the fact that when you were a lad some nasty man put his hand down your trousers one night in the cinema. I can look back to when I was about five or six years old and remember the fascination I had with young ladies and girls, which of course could be said to be quite normal (our sensuality is alive and well from a very early age). But I can see now that what I felt was different. I seemed to envy their femininity. What must be appreciated is that although cross dressing is something from which we can derive great pleasure and release, once satisfied the urge returns in a relatively short space of time. The major part of your life is dominated by this desire for femininity and I can assure you it does not go away.  
  f509_1264.jpgI am afraid that we must all find our own salvation. Some may be fortunate and find a satisfactory solution, but whatever you do, try and obey the following rules: The Golden rule. Don't harm any other person, either mentally or physically. Know yourself and be honest with yourself. Don't feel guilt / shame. Accept youself for what you are. Don't marry unless you find a partner who is prepared (or even pleased!) to accept your cross dressing. If you do decide to come out and/or have the op, do it sooner rather than later. The compulsion to 'dress' transcends all other considerations and this is where we must be careful that our actions do not have a damaging and irreversible effect on our lives, or on the lives of those dearest to us. In these circumstances, the quick temporary solution is - to put it bluntly - masturnation. But this is not what we want. We want to savour the feeling of being dressed as a woman, and we want that feeling to last, not supress it. It is in these moments of almost fanatical desire that we must be thankful that we are neither rapists nor paedophiles. These people are obviously driven by an uncontrollable urge to act in the way they do, but as their actions have a serious effect on other people's lives they must be forcibly restrained from acting out their urges. Thinking along these lines, and no doubt we all do at times, can make us feel what a thin line we tread between the obscene and the deviate. Much as we rightly revile the actions of these people, we have a much better understanding of the emotions that drive them to commit their offences. Do not despair or castigate yourself for having this affliction - and affliction it is. At least we can live a normal life in all other respects, and the worst that can happen is that we become an object of ridicule.

Nov 201520

Free Personal Advisory Services

frequently asked questions, how to guides

Free Personal Advisory Services

Are You * New to Cross Dressing? * Inexperienced at dressing realistically? * Looking for a change of image? * Wanting professional help and advice? * Needing confidence building before venturing out in public? Then this is the free service for you! Here at Transformation we are sensitive to the fact that some of our customers simply don't know "where to start" when it comes to dressing. We have a simple answer and it's completely free! Simply visit one of our Transformation Shops and let a mature image consultant gently guide you. In the privacy of our changing rooms she will select for you all the products to magically mould your feminine hourglass curves. It will exceed all expectations. Because we passionately believe all cross dressers should have the opportunity to visualise their feminine potential and enjoy the sensation of wearing silicone breasts and foundation garments we are offering this service FREE OF CHARGE. This discreet facility which takes about 30 minutes is available at your nearest Transformation shop and you do not need to book an appointment. Simply walk in and ask - this is a wonderful opportunity to see that woman of your dreams - YOU! "Transformation, thank you for a wonderful experience, to feel truly feminine was a big boost for my self esteem. I enjoyed my day immensely. There is something really nice about being feminine and I have embarked on my journey to achieving the ultimate in grace, beauty, gentleness and of course perfection." Diane Check out pictures of our Changeaway Services Free Feminine Hormone Advisory Service DO YOU * Dream of growing your own breasts? * Want to reduce your beard and body hair? * Desire soft skin and a natural womanly shape? * Want to feel more womanly inside? * Need informal counselling? * Require guidance because of gender identity issues? * Need information about the Albany Identity Clinic? Then this free service is for you! For many years Transformation has been fulfilling the the hope and dreams of many men who want to feminise their own body. Our shops stock a wide range of feminising hormones which will help you to achieve the desired effects. Top of the list are the new maxi-strength hormone range now available without a doctor's prescription. Naturally having so much choice, it can be an overwhelming decision to decide which are the most suitable products for you. Simply visit your nearest Transformation Shop and we will advise you on a personal programmes for your needs (remember all the products are safe, can be used discreetly and will not interfere with your masculinity) We want you to be completely satisfied. If ever we fail please let us know immediately and give us the chance to put it right.

Nov 201520

Myths about Transvestism

frequently asked questions
MYTH: ALL transvestites are gay. FALSE. Since the Drag Queen and transvestic prostitute are highly visible members of the social picture and dramatized on the evening television news, occasionally in television "dramas" and the print media the "average" transvestite is, naturally tarred with the same brush even though in truth few "average" TVs are gay or engage in same-sex sex acts. In fact, MOST transvestites are heterosexual while only a small minority are bi-sexual or exclusively homosexual. This latter statement is supported by the results of a study done by Dr. Wardell Pomeroy (co-author of the famous "Kensey Reports" and director of the San Francisco based Institute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality) which found that 68% of cross-dressing males are exclusively heterosexual while only 50% of non-cross-dressing males are exclusively heterosexual. It should also be pointed out that some gay males are also, incidentally, transvestites but do not crossdress for the purpose of attracting males, either gay or straight for sexual purposes. MYTH: A transvestite is a potential transsexual. FALSE. The opinion that transvestites are latent, undeveloped or potential transsexuals, is false. Any other form of ignorance is the result of oversimplification and the failure to make distinctions. It IS true both the transvestite and transsexual wear feminine clothing, but they do so for different purposes. While the transvestite often dresses for the physical pleasure of this form of fetishism he always retains or reverts back to and maintains his male gender-identity. It is also true that many transvestites, upon initially bursting forth from their closet assume, because of the lack of information on the subject, they are transsexual. But a TRUE transvestite is quite happy to retain his male gender-role and perform sexually as a male -- although he may OCCASIONALLY fantasize he is the female partner. Definition and Description of Transvestism. It is of the utmost importance to establish the distinctions between transsexualism and transvestism. Originally, a transsexual (TS) was thought to be a type of transvestite (TV). Outside of the fact both dress in apparel normally reserved for opposite physically gendered individuals, although for different purposes and reasons, and, to a certain point in life, live in constant fear of discovery, they have very little in common. Strictly speaking the transsexual is NOT cross-dressing when she wears feminine clothing. Rather SHE cross dresses by wearing masculine clothing to conform with Society's dress code for the physical male. The bi-gendered or cross-gendered person (both the TS and the TV) may start, as early in life as perhaps age 5 years wearing items of opposite sex apparel. Often the apparel worn/used, usually lingerie, are items of mother's or a sister taken either from the laundry or their fresh clothing supply. Occasionally, in early stages, lingerie will be purchased for personal use. It is NOT unusual for the transvestite to use items of feminine apparel as sexual gratification aids in the early stages of sexual awakening. This practice may continue into late adulthood. Occasionally an item or type of apparel, such a bra or panties, or garter-belt and hose, etc., may become a fetish item and required to be worn for, or at least close at hand during, completion of the sex act. Cross-genderists are secretive, because their life-styles are not considered, by non-participants, socially acceptable.
  A transvestic male identifies primarily as a male who has and retains male gender-identity. Often the transvestite is married and the father of children. The transvestite seldom, voluntarily, confesses his need to cross-dress to his spouse, usually because of the fear of non-acceptance and the resultant rejection, although some women not only accept crossdressing and the associated behavior but seek out males having those needs and traits and actively participate in the "game" -- sometimes with each partner reversing roles, not only in social, but in sexual, situations. Some TVs profess to be alternately or intermittently bi-gendered, although most of the time they feel and behave like a normal male. A transvestite is satisfied with being a male and generally enjoys the role. It is possible for a transvestite to adopt the female gender-role while retaining his male gender-identity, but THAT is a rare combination. Transvestites DO NOT, by definition, want sex reassignment surgery, although a sizable proportion self-diagnose as transsexual when they initially burst forth from "the closet". Thankfully, saner heads prevail and irreversible reassignment surgery does not occur. (One of the logical reasons for the frustrating, to the true TS, waiting period and Real Life Test.) A transvestite is, usually, a heterosexual male having a periodic or episodic, sometimes fetishistic, urge to dress in opposite sex clothing. The feminine apparel apparently reinforces the male gender-identity and may intensify male sexual satisfaction. The subconscious mind, apparently, associates dressing in opposite sex apparel with women as sex objects and their own formative male sexual drive; it became imprinted with the same mechanisms which form other fetishes such as the shoe fetish, the panty fetish, the leg fetish, the breast fetish or a fetish for other parts of the female body. A transvestic fetish is intensified by virtue of the fact that, by actually wearing the fetish items (of feminine apparel) the transvestite is in intimate proximity of, and contact, with the objects. He, often, derives sensual pleasure from the feminine quality of the fabrics; he is reminded of his REAL sex object (the female body) through the simulation of the outward presence of a woman, and he can take satisfaction in the dissemblance of knowing he is REALLY a man under the feminine finery. Transvestites are, perhaps, more rejected even more than transsexuals because the TS at least attempts to accommodate Society by changing to a full-time apparent, and as completely as possible to a, woman while the transvestite switches mode of dress, if not role, back and forth adding confusion to, at least, his visible gender-identity. Article from http://www.rainbowtrail.info/sept4.html

Nov 201520

Susan's First Adventure - Transgender Fiction

short story
But when I turned 13 I suddenly became more serious. I wanted to wear underwear, jewellery and make-up. I wanted people to pass me in the street and look at the sensible young girl across the road. I had wonderful fun working out the order in which the clothes went on and feeling the beautiful constricture of a bra for the first time. After about 18 months of bunking off school or pretending to be ill and sneaking into my mother's wardrobe I wanted to go out dressed. My opportunity came one cold November afternoon. I had been left in the house on my own with the certainty that I would not be disturbed until early evening. My only task was to walk the dog. On hearing the front door close I decided to start the day again en femme. I went to bed in a nightie for a cat-nap and woke up and had a bath. I then went over to my mother's dressing table and applied make-up, mascara, eye shadow and lipstick, none too expertly. Having put my face on I put on a pair of earrings and a pearly necklace. I then dived into the wardrobe, desperate to transform myself from a gangly teenager to a gamine young woman with a taste for sensible clothes. I stuffed my white bra with a pair of socks, put on a pair of matching panties and dark blue tights and a lovely slip with a lace trim around the hem. I then chose a white chiffon blouse with bell sleeves and a long bow at the collar and a dark blue pleated skirt. I donned a pair of dark blue patent leather court shoes and after choosing a handbag I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I looked so feminine it was ridiculous to think of me as anything else. It was then downstairs to find a suitable coat and headscarf (well it was the 1970s and I did not have a wig) to protect me against the cold.
    Closing the back door behind me with the, rather bewildered, dog on the lead, I felt the cold wind in my skirts - it was delicious and I felt a quiet gasp of pleasure at this sudden vulnerability and internalising, all- pervading femininity. I felt my movements grow calmer. If someone had spoken to me at that moment my voice would have been higher and softer. Sneaking out the back gate I looked both ways and seeing there was nobody about I ventured out with quick short steps. As I got used to walking and gained confidence I began to mince a little. I loved the fact that it was cold and that I was being kept warm by wonderful women's clothes. I walked for miles, slowly gaining the confidence to walk on the same side of the road as passers-by. A rather alarming incident occurred when another dog started to pay attention to mine and its owner, a middle-aged man, seemed to want to engage in conversation about canine matters. I smiled sweetly and nodded my head a few times and carried on. I don't think he ever twigged. I was so ecstatic I could have skipped. It was beginning to get dark and it was time to head for home before the nightmare scenario of my parents and siblings being in the house whilst I, dressed up to the nines, was outside. I walked home quickly nervously checking to see whether any cars had returned before me. Had there been I do not know what I would have done apart from go into a quiet, blind panic. Waving mischievously to the old lady across the road in the semi-darkness I slipped through the back gate and into the house. The house seemed very hot after the cold of outside.
    I hung up my coat and scarf in the cloakroom and went upstairs and undressed, taking care to put everything away exactly as I had found it. I then had another bath to wash off all the make-up and whilst I was in the bath the rest of the household returned. "Could you leave the bath in," came my mother's voice through the door. "Yes," I said. "Did walk the dog?" "Oh yes." I said more dreamily. "She had a good walk." As I thought of the blissful last few hours I sank back into the bath and I am afraid did what teenagers do in bathrooms. That night my parents were going out. I had to smile when I saw my mother dressed in exactly the same clothes as I had been wearing only a couple of hours before. I thought she looked lovely and showed great taste. My first outdoor experience dressed as a woman remains to this day my finest.

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