Monday, December 17th, 2001

• I masturbated last night.
  I hadn't masturbated since October 2nd. Let's get this out of the way in just in case you had not read it previously. I hate masturbating. I don't hate it for others, I think it is beautiful, but for me? NO. Maybe it is the motive behind it that I hate. Maybe it is because it reminds me so much that I am male. Maybe it is because it reminds me of the days that I would want to screw anything that moved, and how that is so pitiful and degrading to women. I don't know. When I figure it out, if ever, it will be written down here.

  And now, yet another disclaimer:
  The reason that I write of my erections and my masturbation was originally because I had heard so much before starting hormone replacement therapy that my sex life was going to be majorly lessened if not ground to a screeching halt. I wanted to keep track of this. I am not logging it so that my "sex life" is known to the world. I have friends in real time that might read this someday. How many friends do you have that can honestly say they know the exact last time you had an erection or masturbated, and they could recite back to you just what you were thinking when you had em or did it. I hate the thought of them even knowing there is anything to become erect. It's pretty doggone personal what I write here. Heck, my Mom could be reading this. If that doesn't keep me honest, I don't know what would. I am writing of my erections and masturbating because I think it is a part of hormone replacement therapy. It is not really about about sex, but about the emotional and the physical

  I have been celibate for 15 years at this point so it is not like a was a raving screw anything pig in those years before starting HRT, but I do want what is ever left of my libido, erections or what not to go away. Sexual desire spells nothing but trouble for me. It complicates life so much. In the past it has blinded me and kept me from having honest true relationships. So when I started HRT I was looking forward to this, and a lot of it has happened. My thoughts are not geared towards the "BIG O" at all anymore. My thoughts, my desires are deeper. I can sum it all up in these words: Touch, warm, hold, smell. With that said, I am now going to write of my masturbation last night. I am going to write just about everything because there has been changes, in thought, emotions and the physical. It is very personal and it is kinda gross, so you may wish to stop reading.............................. here.

  I have been on hormone replacement therapy for 18 months now, so bear that in mind. This is where I am at in this regard after 18 months.
  It is absolutely true that in the last few months I have been craving very badly touch and warmth, some sort of contact with somebody who cares about me. This, of course has not been fulfilled. These feelings and the need to satisfy them are not totally what led up to my masturbation. I had no intention of masturbating. I know that masturbation wouldn't quell or satisfy these feelings anyway. There was no "foreplay", no "build up". It was spontaneous. What did inspire me to masturbate was a photo of a beautiful woman. So, I guess visual stimuli can still work bigtime after 18 months of HRT. I prepared myself for the emotional feelings I had after the last time I masturbated. The feelings of melancholy and absolute loneliness, to the point of wanting to cry. This is what happened the last time and I was not looking forward to it. The act until orgasm took about 2 minutes. The first thing that I remember noticing was that my penis was shorter and smaller. I had written of this before, but now I know it to be fact. I am happy about this. Before HRT I averaged 6 inches erect. Now, my penis is a good 2 inches shorter. Not much to even hold. This is very good news. Not of any major importance, cause my penis is a moot point anyway, but the less of a penis I have, the effin better, emotionally. Maybe it's not good for any possible future surgery, but I will take what I can get right now. Foresight is difficult.

  I used a lubricant so if there was any of my own natural lubrication happening, I don't know. If there was, it sure was not much, and there was zero when I started. The orgasm was good. It has been different now though. It is not quite as WO. It is kind of like something is holding back. You know? Not a "balls out" orgasm, just kind of an "Okay, that is purdy nice" kind of orgasm. Not something you would write home to Mom about, but it is an orgasm none the less. My ejaculate was completely clear and so minimal there was hardly even enough to drip to the base of my penis, and 4 inches or so ain't that far to travel. (See, I told you, this would get gross.) This to me is also so cool. It is not all that huge big ol' spurtin icky semen getting all over everything. I always hated that and it made me feel unclean. I know it is not unclean, I know it is a healthy part of the human body. But MINE made me feel unclean. I never knew why it bothered me so much in the past, but now I can say with most confidence the reason that I never felt quite right about all that semen shooting out of me was because it was a major, "Hey, you are a guy, and a pretty virile guy at that." Oh ick........... Clean up time was practically just pulling up my underwear and, magic, it's over. Do you know how great that is? I am gonna go way out on a limb here at the risk of being accused of living in fantasyland. The lack of this major cleanup, the lack of the attack of the spurtin semen monster makes me feel so much less of a man. Here is the going out on a limb part: It in fact makes me feel like more of a woman. Not that it is anything like what a woman experiences or feels, but a woman doesn't shoot to the ceiling either. I swear, I am not in fantasyland. I know I am not a woman.

  This time, I did not have the feelings of melancholy or loneliness afterward. Well, maybe some loneliness, but not the melancholy and not to the point of needing to cry. Why? I dunno. But, this is good.

  So there it is, after 18 months of HRT. If I ever have surgery (please) I will wonder why I even wrote all of this. I imagine it will be like a bad dream.

  So, in summation Ladies and Gentlemen:

  My penis is at least two inches shorter and smaller overall.
  

  I had hardly any ejaculate at all.
  

  Orgasm is good, but different.

  The clean up, just a little tissue and up with the underwear.
  

  Physically, I feel like less of a man.

  I did not enjoy masturbating. It just happens. Shit happens.

  I will probably not write again anything close to what I have written here about my erections or masturbating unless there are kinda major changes. I just may forgo the whole erection and masturbation "count" for the time being. It can just be known that for now, after 18 months of HRT and for who knows how long, shit happens, not that I am happy about it.

  Last thought:
  I am most likely sterile and I am no longer in possession of the towering 6 inch beast I once had. You youngins should think umpteen times about starting hormone replacement therapy if you are not positively sure that this is right for you. Children can be very important. You may not think so now, but give it a few years. Sperm bank if you have to. I have lived long enough to know this is right for me.

   

  I still don't know what I was waiting for, and my time was running wild,
  a million dead-end streets.
  Every time I thought I'd got it made, it seemed the taste was not so sweet.
  So I turned myself to face me, but I've never caught a glimpse,
  of how the others must see the faker, I'm much too fast to take that test.
  David Bowie

Tuesday, December 25th, 2001

• It's Christmas....
  I was thinking tonight about all the different phases, levels, stages, changes, steps, whatever you want to call them that I have gone through with this transgender stuff. From the teen days of being totally in the closet and scared, to the days of still being in the closet but desperate to talk to somebody, to the days of first discovering others like myself on the Internet, to now as I hopefully transition to my little hearts content. I think in the future I will write of the different stages I have gone through as I see them but right now I think what I would like to do here, just for fun and to humiliate myself a little is to reflect upon some of the silly and not so silly things that I have done in the name of being transgender. "Pretty long ass sentence there, Trish." Yeah, I liked it. Thanks.

  These are all of the top of my head. Imagine if I actually thought about it some.. Oh yikes. Anyway....

  Closing Time...
  "Hello? Um.. er.. uh ahem uh can you tell me what time you close please?", I say in my squeakiest little girl voice to the woman who answered the phone at the clothing store. That's right, now this was at least 14 years ago (I would not cop to it if it was yesterday.. ha), but I would call up women's clothing stores to see if I could "pass" and just so I could speak with a woman about something... "woman". Do not try this at home. They have Caller ID now... Yikes.

  Teen Cruising for Fashion Night...
  Monday was trash collection day, so quite naturally Sunday night was "Teen Cruising For Fashion Night". That's right. Yours truly would hop in the car and drive down endless ally ways in search of just that perfect outfit. Something that would go along with a fabulous night of say, wearing women's clothing when nobody was home and being scared shitless that I would be busted. Oh the romance of it all. You had to dig through a lot of "we won't go there's" to find that oh so perfect ensemble, and it usually reeked of, whatever.

  On The Good Ship, Lollipop..
  Ah yes, speaking of fashion.... My first "going into clothing stores for reals" buying experiences. "Oh man, this is neat stuff. Madonna will have nothing on me." Yeah right... Get home. Try it on. Look in the mirror. Madonna my butt. It is more like Shirley Temple has nothing on me. Cute, but... um... a little young. All I needed was a staff and a little lamb at my side. (Like Madonna was a good role model anyway. I mean, I love her, but only Madonna can pull Madonna off.)

  A Real Womens Bedroom!
  Um, right... Furnishings, pictures... After The Good Ship Lollipop, I trust you can simply use your imagination on this one.

  Deer In The Headlights...
  It is inevitable if you are going to have friends, and I want and need to have friends. They take group pictures. They take them and put them on the Internet for the world to see. I am still learning how to do my makeup and how to dress nicely, etc. The pictures reflect this.

  Honda Happiness Double Vision Style...
  Wanna take a drive en femme but you are too scared? I had that same problem. Solution? Alcohol and plenty of it. Not only did I need the alcohol to get the "nerve" to go, but I had to drink major amounts of it just to allow Trish to come out. So drink drink drink I did. Then how about a nice little drive around the neighborhood at 1 in the morning. Brilliant. I am very lucky (understatement) that I wasn't pulled over and arrested for drunk driving or worse, hurting somebody. I really wasn't up to losing my virginity in jail either. I get freaked out just thinking that I did this.

  Dialing For Dainties...
  I used to call "working girls" on the phone, half because I just wanted to talk to a real live woman about girlee stuff and half because I wanted to actually go there and do it.

  "What did ya have in mind, hon?", she would say.

  "Oh, I just thought I could dress up and we could look at magazines and talk girltalk", I would reply.

  I used to think that this was what being a woman was all about as at least one of my close friends could tell you is true. I would have gone too, except most of the time I was not brave enough to make an appointment for that day, I was usually too drunk to get there anyway and they would not book me for say, like a couple of days later. This is good. Although I don't think the experience would have tainted me forever, I am glad it never happened.

  I Got Me Covered.
  Two sets of pajamas. Drab on top, women's underneath. Oh man. The things we do when we are in hiding. Believe me, it was a long time ago. Clothes just ain't that important at this stage of the game. I never wanted it to be the clothes anyway. I wanted it to be me. But I needed the clothes to feel like a woman, even if I had to wear two sets of them.

  The Secret Is In The Fit...
  LOL... Now ya tell me. Enough said.

  Yves Trish Laurent...
  Yep, Trish the fashion designer... From planning to finished product... Clothes fit for world travelers and aristocratic socialites... Have you ever seen a "dress" made from old T-Shirts? No? You haven't lived..

  Just A Trim, Please...
  "YOU PLUCKED YOUR EYEBROWS!!", she said, or practically yelled. "She" being a girl I used to work with. This happened maybe a year ago. "Umyanext", I said as I walked back to my office, hoping those 3 guys I also work with maybe didn't hear her little revelation. ("Umyanext" is Trician for please change the subject.) Oh yeah, one more thing, would you please say that again? I don't think they HEARD YOU IN CHINA.

  Hey Man, Are You Gay Or Something??
  13 years ago.... I won't go into why I was at the home of a good bachelor friend other then to say the "better half" threw me out of the house for the night and I could not go home. So my friend and I sat around drinking and watching videos. When it came time to sleep he set the couch up all nice like and I hopped under the covers. He said, "Hey, why don't you get comfortable, at least take yer pants off." I am all like, "Um.. no dude... That's okay.. I am fine." He kept trying to get me to be a little comfortable but I could not take my pants off as my legs were shaved. It's a closet thing. He was a good friend and it was kinda uncomfortable for me. I felt like I was saying to him, "Hey man, are you gay or something??" (Now now, don't be silly. I have nothing against being gay. That would be quite silly of me. I have never had a problem with homosexuality. Quite the contrary. But with macho straights, you know how it goes.) It wasn't the first or the last time I had to sleep fully clothed.

  The Princess's New Clothes...
  Back in the days, the days before self acceptance arrived, I had worn a bra under my clothes to work one night. All was going well until I had to be around the guys. I just knew that they could all see that bra through my clothes. I couldn't look any of them in the eyes. I went into the bathroom, took off the bra and went back into work. Ah... That's better. I was a "normal guy" again. And the guys were not looking at me "funny" anymore. I won't even go into the time I ended up with a panty inside the bottom of my shoe.

  Over Dressed And Under Transitioned...
  But even with all that I have gone through, I can think of no more a humiliating position to be in then to be in the company of a fully transitioned full time "transsexual" woman while I am wearing heavy makeup and a skirt. Like I say all the time, if I have to explain it, you won't get it.

  I just noticed most of this stuff had to do with clothes. How stupid. I am too tired right now to ponder it. But I wonder what it says about me. "I thought you were too tired to ponder it, Trish." Oh yeah, right. I can never shut up.

  Time certainly flies when you are reminiscing. It is now 8:45 AM Christmas morning. I think I will try to get a little sleep so Santa Claus can deliver my new Lexus.

   

  I dedicate today's entry to one relative and three of my
  friends who are currently having health problems.
  My wish is that it is all soon behind them.
  Trish

Wednesday, December 26th, 2001

• All the different phases, levels, stages, changes, steps, whatever you want to call them that I have gone through with this transgender stuff...
  Well, I have written quite a few very difficult entries in my Transition Diary, but I think this is going to be the most difficult one I have done so far. "Why Trish?" Because, among other things, I am about to write about Trish being a product of sexual motivation. "Wo Trish. I thought that Trish's existence had nothing to do with sex." You are right, at least now it has nothing to do with sex, but for a time it did. This is difficult. I am having emotions just this minute. If it were not for all the technical aspects of getting this diary from my mind to a document I think that right now I would be breakin down a little. This is difficult. Please keep in mind that I cannot write for shit and that there is no way this can be all inclusive. I am not going to write about the macho façade and walls that I built during these years. I probably will at another time. It is very important. It is also pretty involved.

  While growing up, sex and the human body were never treated in my house as anything other then beautiful. No hangups. All is good. So, I often wonder why I am so ashamed of the sexual aspects of my transgender past, even now. If I knew that my desire to be female were sexually motivated, I would never transition. Trish is not about sex., but as I am about to write, she was for a long time. Damn, this is gonna turn out all wrong. But I can't stop. This may be a little graphic, I am just going to write. I kinda have no idea where this is going to go.

   

• 0 To 14 Years -

  I am not one of those that knew they were transgender, a girl, different or whatever from an early age. I didn't mind hangin out with the boys. I wasn't one that necessarily wanted to be with the girls. I wanted to be like the other boys. I never was though. I mean, I always knew I was a boy, but I was never like them. I never could get the boy boy thing down. I don't mean I was a girl. I just mean I was not a "boy's boy", and I wanted to be.

  A couple of things stand out in my mind from my very young years, I think like around 4 or 5. I have heard others talk of these things in their lives as though this most assuredly made them transgender from a young age. For me, it means nothing like that. "Then why are you going to write them down, Trish?" I am not sure yet.

  One time, I think I was 4 years old or so, my mom gave me an old jewelry box. It was like tan colored leather with gold leafing and one of those shelves that pop up when you open it. I loved that jewelry box. Ever since then I have had a fascination with little boxes and such. I love presents in teeny boxes over anything big. I to this day have lot's of little boxes that I keep things in.

  I love the smell of makeup. I have since I was about the same age as above. I don't know where that comes from, and I am not a makeup freak. But I love the smell of makeup.

  When I was about the same age my babysitter had given me a cute little snowman teddy bear. I was sitting on the floor with him and like sitting him on a little box and lovin him. When my dad got home from work he looked at me and said, "Don't you have anything better to play with?" I remember him looking at my mom like, "Doesn't he have anything better to play with?" I don't remember ever seeing my snowman again after that.

  My dad left us when I was 9 years old.

  I remember being the first boy I had ever known or seen to kiss a girl on the playground at recess. Why? Because I liked her and wanted to show her in a way that I had seen nobody show it before. I was unaware at the time of the repercussions of showing emotions and caring outwardly. And there were....

  Summer camp, a fun night at Disneyland, a day in the mountains with friends, whatever it was, I would cry when back at home. Mom would say it was the "letdown" thing, the big day being over and such (Mom always made it better for me). I remember one time meeting a new friend on one such trip and crying in bed the whole night long because I did not have a chance to say goodbye to him, and I knew I would never see him again.

  Like I said, I have heard others talk of similar events in their lives and feel that their sensitivity, their playing with teddy bears, their not feeling like one of the "boy boys" made them know they were transgender at an early early age. For me I don't know what it says, but I don't think it makes a case for transsexuality. "After your preamble I expected a little bit more in-depth insight, Trish." What the hay, I am not a writer.

   

• 15 To 17 Years -

  I can't even remember the first time that I tried on women's clothing, but I do know that whatever it was, it: A., belonged to my Mom, and B., was much too small. I haven't and will not talk too much about it because if I was my Mom I would be like totally pissed about it, and she will probably read this one day if she is not reading it already.

  I do know that whatever I wore, I was masturbating while wearing it.

  It was at the age of 15 that I started becoming very aware of the female form. Then I became very jealous of the female form and started trying to emulate it in every way that I could, never having the slightest idea that I could be anything other then a boy. It was also at this age that I started becoming very aware of the male form: mine. It was also at this age that I stopped going to the beach. I started to hate my body. I wanted my body to be more female. I also hated my body because it wasn't exactly turning out to be a shining male specimen either.

  It was in summer school before the 10th grade and she was sitting at the desk next to me. She wore a low cut top and it was the first time in my life that I noticed that when a girl would breathe, her chest would ever so gently rise and fall. Not her breasts, but the area just above her breasts. I was mesmerized. Not sexually mesmerized, just, "Oh my God, how beautiful." mesmerized. I wanted to be near it. I wanted to be so near it. I wanted to put my ear to it and listen to it. I still didn't know that I wanted it......... to be me.

  Around this time I made an unconscious decision to always be underweight... no matter what.

  Up to now I was not even wearing women's clothing very often. Not hardly at all as a matter of fact. The clothes available to me were too small and I was still scared that I would be found out, busted. Besides, I hated myself for it. I did not hate myself for wanting to be as close to female physically as I could, but the clothes, I thought wearing the clothes was sick. At this point my primary goal in wearing women's clothing was still to achieve orgasm.

   

• 18 To 24 Years -

  Glam rock was in. David Bowie was my idol. He gave me the freedom to wear pleated bell bottoms in softer textures and pullover tops that were as close to blouses as a guy could wear. Platform shoes came in style and I like the way they looked on me. At 18 I was very involved in music as a musician and wearing women's clothing took a back seat. I almost forgot about it in a way as I could do the androgynous thing full time.

  Yeah, there were times I would finally be brave enough to order bikini panties from the Sears catalog and actually go down and pick them up. I would wear them and masturbate hating myself all the while for doing it. I was still after orgasm not able to get the panties or whatever off of me fast enough. That is an important point ya know. They say a true transsexual would remain in those clothes even after masturbating. I dunno.

  The Rocky Horror Picture Show. As soon as I got home I sketched to the best of my ability the way Frankenfurter did his lipstick, for future reference... Although the thought of actually wearing lipstick was something so foreign to me that I never thought I would do it. How I loved Rocky Horror. I had no idea at the time I was nothing like anything in The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

  There were also times that I would cruise Hollywood Blvd and The Sunset Strip in where else but Hollywood, alone in my car. I used to love to drive alone. I would stop and buy the cheesy newspapers in the racks on the curb. I would see the transgender people in the form of drag queens or hookers or whatever and know that there was something special about them, but is that me? Is that who I am? Didn't matter. I masturbated at the thought of being free in the world in women's clothing. I masturbated at the thought of panties and bras. It was about clothes. That's all I knew.

  But I also knew, someplace in me that these drag queens, these hookers, they were special. They knew. They had it. They knew something that the rest of the world could not even fathom. I was also................ afraid of them.

  When I was 22 I met a woman 5 years older then I and I ended up spending most of my time with her if not living with her for a period of about 2 years. I never told her of any of this transgender stuff. I don't remember having the desire to wear women's clothing at all during this period. Maybe I did, I just don't remember it. In hindsight though, this relationship was very "Trish symbolic". She was the first woman to tell me more then once that I was not a man, and it was never a pretty scene when she did. It was always in a fit of anger. It was she that initiated the relationship and I was always the submissive or the passive one. This was a major factor in the ending of the relationship. The sex in this realtionship was very good. We were very compatible. But like every other sexual relationship I had ever been involved in, I did not feel right. I performed fine, but I felt funny in the role. But then again, I thought every guy must feel this way. I never ever felt right with her in my arms and my head higher then hers and closest to the headboard. Not right. My preferred position to fall to sleep with her was curled up like a baby in her arms with my cheek at her breast. She let me do this occasionally, but it was not her favorite slumber position. So, I think clothes or not, Trish was there.

  I still wanted to have more of a female body and I still remained underweight...... but I still didn't know why.

   

• 25 To 28 Years -

  At 26 I met my bride to be. I am not going to write too much about our personal life, because many know her and it is not my wish to embarrass her at all. I will just say that in the first few weeks that we were together I more or less came out to her. She was the first person I ever told this to. To her credit, she has never ever betrayed my confidence. But during this time it was more or less a "panty fetish" and I was still just masturbating in panties. Neither one of us really knew what was waiting down the road for Trish.

  This was also the time that I began to shave my body. I first experimented with trimming my pubic hair. A little more as time went by until soon I was shaving my legs and my chest, at the same time being very careful to not shave that little tuft of hair that could be seen at the bottom of my neck when wearing a button up shirt. I didn't dare think to shave my arms. I found the act of shaving highly erotic. I was extremely turned on by my body when pretty much the only hair that was on it was on my head, and over my genitals. I still had very little female clothing and what I had was spelled, p-a-n-t-i-e-s. The thought of makeup had never really entered my mind. Just too out there. I might as well have been thinking sexual reassignment surgery as far as makeup was concerned, although I didn't even know what SRS was.

  From this point on in my life I would continue to shave my body off and on as guilt would allow. My wife was none to happy about this.

  My transgender issues were not in the forefront during these years.

   

• 29 To 40 Years -

  At the age of 29 I took the name Trish-Marie. I had my right ear pierced to match the left which had been pierced in 1974, I was receiving mail in her name and Trish in a way was becoming real.

  I started to purchase makeup and clothes. I don't really know what the turning point was, I can't even remember buying my first makeup or why. The clothes I started purchasing from catalogs, either by mailing orders in or ordering by telephone. I was extremely paranoid either way.

  I was getting drunk a lot. It seems that at this age I was becoming increasingly frustrated or unhappy with life, but I didn't really know it. I also began to dress in full and with full (really full) makeup. If I did not have to go to work I would usually get very drunk to do this as to not suffer the guilt. And my makeup and manner of dress was awful.

  Let's see, where was I at with the dressing thing. Well, I still can't believe that I had the energy to do this every Monday through Friday. My wife (who knew what was going on, but wished not to see it) would leave for work at 8 AM. I would get up around 9 AM, as I worked swing shift. I would take a shower, shave everything, get dressed, do my makeup and then revel in "femininity". This consisted of lot's of looking in the mirror, thinking "girlee" thoughts and reading a lot of magazines all to lead up to masturbating and looking at myself in the mirror as I made "girlee" faces and fantasized about giving oral sex to men and having them "make me a woman" by penetrating me anally. I had to really work hard to allow myself to have such thoughts as I thought they were sick and perverted, not for others but for me. After all of this I would undress quickly as the guilt would start settling in. I would then shower, scrub my face like crazy to remove all traces of makeup. Then it was off to work.

  It was very very difficult facing my friends at work when I thought about what I had been doing and fantasizing before I arrived. The guilt at times was almost unbearable. I felt like such a freak. And as I had thought so many times, my baby boy deserved much better then me. He had been born when I was 31.

  There was a period of time in here that I said enough is enough. I spent the next two years or so throwing myself into working in my yard, and around my home and putting all this perverted crossdressing behind me. It was always with me though. There was only one way to quell it. Once a day in the middle of what I was doing, whether I really wanted to or not, I would go off to my room and masturbate allowing myself to think anything that I wanted. I would know that when I had finished, the desire to crossdress or whatever it was I was doing would be diminished and I could think about other things. This is how I kept it in check.

  But, it always came back. (It was around this time that my wife and I had decided to separate.)

  Pretty soon I was back into almost the same routine as I had been in two years or so previously. The drinking continued. But this time I began to reach for help. I started sending letters to Tri-Ess, The Diablo Valley Girls, anybody just so I could talk to somebody. It was all rather unsuccessful.... for a while.

   

• 40 To 45 Years -

  One day, out of the blue in 1995 or 96 I received a letter in Trish's name. It was not an advertisement or a letter from an organization, but a letter from a person who I would soon regard as an angel. She was a transgendered person who had seen one of my communications to an organization and wrote to me to see if she could help. To make a long story short, we exchanged many letters. (She to this day remains my guiding light and mentor... and more important then all of that, my friend.) After quite a long period of time I was becoming quite aware that it was possible for me to actually get out of the house and not be ashamed of myself. Trish could live. It was the first time in my life that I was not ashamed of who or what I was. My friend and Angel finally convinced me that I would be totally safe if I were to visit her for a few days. I was becoming at this time just desperate enough to do it. I have to also add here that Trish was still very much motivated by sex. Not quite as much as before my friend and I started communicating but it was still there. It seems as I look back, that the more Trish became real, the less motivated she was by sex. I know. Weird.

  So we had it planned, I was going to visit her. I was coming out, finally.

  I was also drinking alcohol quite heavily and often. I had been drinking since I was 15, but it was becoming very dangerous and a problem. I was not mean, I was pretty much a happy drunk, but I was losing my ability to function, I was driving drunk a lot and I was detoxing dangerously and regularly. My job was in jeopardy as I began to drink at work. I could not sleep for more then 45 minutes at a time before my body started screaming for more alcohol. I decided it was time to call in the troops. I was hurting badly.

  My wife got me the name of a gay/lesbian oriented psychologist and I made the call sometime in the middle of the night. I cannot remember what time. I was really hurting. I called and spoke with her 3 or 4 times during the night and she saw me the next afternoon. My primary reason to see her was because of Trish, but I could not go on drinking either. I told you I was desperate. I had had it up to here with hiding and I was going to do whatever it took to survive this.

  I am not sure how I got there, but I made it to the appointment the following afternoon. I spoke with the psychologist for I think about 20 minutes. She then said that she had to do something and would be right back. So I said I would go out to the patio and have a cigarette. Within a few minutes, 2 police cars and 3 officers approached me on the patio. They explained that the psychologist had called them not because I had done anything wrong, but because she suspected I was going to die soon. After some conversation, the police took me to the hospital for tests and then over to detox where I was drugged and put to bed. I was ready. I was tired. I was..... so....... so...... tired.

  As soon as I could after detoxing I called my wife and asked her to bring to the hospital some writing paper and an envelope so that I could let my Angel friend know that I could not come as we had planned. I also made the decision that I would no longer hide and gave the hospital permission to tell my employer that I was there for alcohol dependency. They could have padded it and said I was there for another reason. I said, "No. It's time. Tell them."

  I was put on anti-depressants and assigned a psychiatrist. I was not going to speak with this person about Trish. Things were too complicated already and I think he was not qualified anyway. The anti-depressants worked really well, and soon I didn't care about anything much at all. Trish was in the past. I gained 100 pounds anyway and nothing that I had would have ever fit me again. I thought Trish was gone forever. And I didn't care.

  I lost touch with my Angel friend.

  I continued on the anti-depressants until one day in about June of 1999 when I finally bought my first computer. Oh man, look, a lot of people like Trish. Oh shit. I stopped taking my anti-depressants because I was tired of falling asleep at my computer. Pretty soon I started losing all that weight without even trying. I lost all 100 pounds. Oh shit. After 3 years, Trish is coming back to me. I had email now. I emailed my Angel friend.

  We started communicating again only this time by email. It was so good to be back. Once again we made a plan to meet. I was going to stay with her for about 4 days in October of 1999. This was to be my coming out. I was sick of hiding and I had finally reached self acceptance. I was not going to hide anymore. I was going to get therapy and whatever else I needed.

  Trish was still not where she was going to end up yet. Trish was still "girlee talk", magazines and masturbation. I had thought when I visited my friend we would spend all of our time doing our nails, talking the "girlee talk" and reading magazines. Not because she said that's what we were going to do, but because that is what I wanted to do. She is way past that. At the time, Trish never even knew there was a "past that".

  I drove to her house wanting to turn around and go home with every mile I traveled. But I knew that if I did, I would never forgive myself.

  Hang with me now, I am getting to it.

  I am not going to go into how gracious my Angel friend is or how completely safe and comfortable I felt with her. I want to get to my "moment". We did not do what I thought we were going to do. We talked. We talked into the early morning hours of important things. Feelings. Thoughts. Emotions. Options. Family. Then it happened. I have written of it before, so I won't go into it too much. On the third day I went in to take a shower. I walked into that bathroom one person, and I came out another. It was the two minute stare myself in the eyes revelation that changed my life. Over two years ago and I am still overcome with emotion when I think of it. If ever a light could come shining down on a person from the heavens, it did on me that day. From that day on Trish was as real as she could be. Everything Trish thought she was, she wasn't. It was like Pinocchio turning into a real boy. I have never used that analogy before, but believe me, it fits. Something or somebody flipped a switch and Trish is real, and for the first time in her life she loves herself. I have not felt the need to masturbate over women's clothing or talk "girlee talk" or whatever since that moment. Sex was no longer a motivating factor in Trish's life. As I sat that night talking to my Angel friend, even my mannerisms changed. I started moving in ways that I had never moved before. Trish came out. If it hadn't happened to me, I sure as shit would not believe it.

  That was when I understood that for all these years I have admired the female form not because I wanted to be with a woman so much as I wanted to be a woman. It all came together, and it all makes sense now.

  Two months later I was in therapy with a qualified gender therapist. Six months after that I started hormone replacement therapy and electrolysis. I am no longer ashamed of any part of me. I have complete self acceptance and I have never had any problem with talking to anybody about Trish since my "moment". If I think back to earlier days, the completely closeted days, I feel that I have come so far. I know that a lot of times I write that I would rather not be alive, and I stand by that, for now... But I do know that Trish is real now, and things could be worse.

  What does this all say about me? I dunno. I just know that I am Trish.

   

    I am no longer afraid of transgendered people. I have learned that transgenders whether crossdressers, drag queens, self decribed she-males, transsexuals MTF or FTM or whatever are just that: people. They have hearts and children and everything in-between. I have said to one or two transsexual women friends that I was so happy to know them, and that I never thought I would know anybody like them. "Oh, you never thought you would know any freaks, huh?" they reply with an almost bitterness like I had said something insulting. No... uh-uh, I never thought I would be lucky enough to be in your world, to be a part of your life. I always knew in my heart that you were special before I even knew what transgender was. And now I also know.... I am one of you. And if you think that is just sentimental gobbledee goop, then you don't know Trish at all.

   

  Oh no love! You're not alone.
  David Bowie

Thursday, December 27th, 2001

• I realized yesterday that I was almost out of Premarin.
  And I know there is none to be found anywhere. So I called my endo and he prescribed for me estradiol. Starting Monday I will be taking 4 mgs of estradiol and 150 mgs of spironolactone (the spiro as usual). I had to act fast as it is the holidays and yikes, nobody is going to be open.

  I have enough estradiol to last 50 days. It is sure a lot less expensive then Premarin, by about $125. I sure hope it works for me. I really needed the savings today as I also have to refill my Emla for electrolysis. That is another $70. Not a cheap day for an unemployed person, but it could have been much worse, I guess. I just thank God that transition, what there is of it continues.

   

  I'm not much of a man.
  Frankenfurter
  The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Tuesday, January 1st, 2002

• Happy New Year.
  I am now officially on estradiol, thanks to the Premarin shortage. I thought the Premarin pills were small, but the estradiol? Microscope city. I feel as though I should be taking 20 at a time instead of two. How are these little things going to give me gargantuan breasts (among other things)? Ha... "We are laughing through our tears, aren't we, Trish." Yep.

  I stayed in with my son last night for New Years Eve. We watched movies and had munchies together. It was really great. However, it is not like I had mega offers to go out anyway........ and I would have wanted to.

  I had electro yesterday morning and I have it again on Thursday. I hadn't shaved since the previous Monday. You couldn't see a whole lot, but I could feel it. Those that have been in this position know how awful it can be. I shaved yesterday. I wanted to feel good for the end of the year. I probably should not have shaved as it will not be advantageous for Thursday, but I had to. I have therapy on Friday morning.

  Sometimes I feel like writing here for likeever. It is the only place I can completely relate how I feel. Even though I have a difficult time communicating, it is my saving grace.

  "..and so I present to you that on the one side, transitioning from one gender to the other is a matter of money and those that will judge us..... and without transition there is Hell. On the other side there is God who tells us that we will forever burn in Hell if we take our own lives. As you have the power, I would request of you an answer, which Hell shall we choose?"

   

  Will I ever live again, as a mountain lion, or a rooster, a hen.
  Or a robin, or a wren, or a fly.
  Who am I?
  Leonard Bernstein

   

  Trish's Current HRT Statistics (01/01/02):
  Hormone Regiment: 4 mgs estradiol and 150 mgs spironolactone once a day.
  Emotions: Slightly..........stable.
  Breasts: Still sore a lot. Very tender. Not near as painful as HRT naysayers had warned about.
  Hips, Thighs and Bottom: I don't know.
  Body Hair: The hair on my upper arms continues to lighten. I still shave my forearms, my belly and chest. The hair on my hands seems to be blonde now instead of the dark color it once was. I cannot wait to start electro on my chest. This may be coming in the next 6 months.
  Skin: I still think the pores on the back of my hands are getting smaller. This could be wishful thinking.
  Erection Count: Discontinued for now... Since December 17th, 2001.
  Masturbation and Sexual Desire: Discontinued for now... Since December 17th, 2001.
  Trish Bottom Line: It is not like January 1st is a magic date or anything, and we are adults here and not child dreamers, but I will hope for things to get better.... I will hope for today anyway. I still would rather not be alive.

---

Thursday, January 3rd, 2002

• Oh man. I like neat little packages...
  Maybe I am just trying too hard to fit into one. I don't see that changing anytime soon as I have always been this way. I'm sorry, but this has been going through my mind so much lately. "Trish, me thinks thou doth protest too much." I know... I KNOW... Iknowiknowiknow....

  turn on (1833)verb transitive
  1 : to activate or cause to flow, operate, or function by or as if by turning a control "turn the water
  on full", "turn on the power"
  2 a : to cause to undergo an intense often visionary experience by taking a drug; broadly : to cause to get high
  b : to move pleasurably "rock music turns her on"; also : to excite sexually
  c : to cause to gain knowledge or appreciation of something specified "turned her on to ballet"
  verb intransitive
  : to become turned on
  turn-on \"t€r-'nÕn, -'nän\ noun
  © 1996 Zane Publishing, Inc. and Merriam-Webster, Incorporated

  I have been so worried about keeping sex apart from my transgender issues, to the point of it making me crazy. I think I know why. Okay, here's the deal: As I have written here, yes, I was turned on by women's clothing and my "pritty pritty" image in the mirror. This would quite definitely mean, I am not transsexual. After masturbating I couldn't wait to get the clothes and the makeup off as the guilt was incredible. Again, this would quite definitely mean, I am not transsexual. It is not like I want to be transsexual, but darn, it feels so right, what I am doing... and I am doing what transsexuals do, so in a way I guess I do want to be transsexual. Sheesh. Anyway, I am no longer (as I wrote in a previous entry) turned on by women's clothing or makeup or whatever. I no longer have the guilt about clothes, I have self acceptance.

  You would think that would take care of that, but no nononononono... wait a sec.....

  I guess this would mean that in the past, I had a fetish for women's clothing and I leaned more towards the crossdressing side of transgender. But at the same time, I wanted to be a girl, bad... I just didn't exactly know it. Okay, where does crossdressing end and transsexuality begin. Are all crossdressers heading for transsexualism? Were all transsexuals at one time crossdressers? Not from what I have heard. Where does this put me? This is so utterly frustrating. Why do I give a shit why I am doing it if it makes me happy and whole. Damn, Trish.

  I had made a promise to myself that I would never be sexually involved with another person again as long as I have a penis. I will never again be seen as anything even close to a man in bed, or on the kitchen table, or by the fireplace or whatever. Why I felt the need to put this little tid-bit of information here, I am not sure...

  I am totally turned on by women. Every little curve, every little smell, every little bead of sweat, every little fold, every little texture. Now, do I want to be a woman so I can have my own little curves, my own little smells, my own little beads of sweat, my own little folds, my own little textures? Am I going though all of this and hopefully gender reassignment surgery so that I can play with myself? I am enjoying a few of my new physical attributes when masturbating. What does that mean? As a male, I was never turned on by my own body. I dislike/disliked hate/hated it. I am going to have to come to some sort of an understanding with myself. I know in my heart that my need to transition is not motivated by sex. Why did Trish go away when I was on anti-depresants? She is not going away on estrogen or spiro. Shit. I am going to go have a cigarette. Why do I keep rehashing this when I know that either way it is not going to stop me and that I need to transition?? Damn.

  Fast cigarette. I smoke too much. I shouldn't be smoking at all.

  I will try to have this agreement with myself:
  

  1. I Trish-Marie will masturbate freely and without guilt when I choose to do so. I will appreciate the beauty of my slightly evolving body as I appreciate the beauty of any woman's body. I will relish my curves and my textures. I will fantasize freely.
  I understand that I do not want a woman's body for masturbation purposes, rather, as it relates sexually, to finally feel comfortable in the act of masturbation, or ANY sexual activity for that matter.
  There is nothing wrong with enjoying in a sexual manner the body that I have always wished to have. This does not change the fact that I would still rather not have any libido, but like I have said, shit happens. This does not change the fact that I hate my penis. But, I guess I am stuck with it for a while, if not forever.

  2. I know in my heart that my motivation for transitioning is not sexual. Sex and gender are two different issues. My desire to transition does not hinge on my libido.

  "Duh Trish. Took ya long enough. You said it yourself so many times. Why did it take you so long to really see it."

  Finally. Time to move on.

  I realize this entry is confusing and I feel like deleting the whole thing, but I am not going to. Perhaps someday, if it hasn't already, it will give some insight into my psych, or maybe even my psychosis. Hopefully I can be done with this for a while. I most certainly seem obsessed.

   

  Do you have the time, to listen to me whine, about nothing and everything all at once.
  I am one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it.
  I went to a shrink, to analyze my dreams, she says it's lack of sex that's bringing me down.
  I went to a whore, he said my life's a bore, so quit my whining cause it's bringing her down.
  Green Day

---

Sunday, January 6th, 2002

• One.
  Trish goes up to the hot dog stand, "en femme". The person behind the counter knows I am genetic male and is perfectly okay with me..... "accepting". Fine then, I can wear women's clothing and makeup in public. This is bad.

• Two.
  Trish goes up to the hot dog stand, "en femme". The person behind the counter thinks I am genetic female. Being "fine with me" or "acceptance" does not come into play. This is better.

• Three.
  Trish goes up to the hot dog stand. Trish is wearing jeans, a t-shirt, tennis shoes and no makeup. The person behind the counter thinks I am genetic female. The clothes and the makeup don't matter at all. This is what I need.

  Unfortunately, it does sometimes take surgeries, hormones etc. to get to Three, but Three is me at least. Not any ol' skirt or lipstick. I love hot dogs.

   

  We have lost the time, that was so hard to find.
  And I will lose my mind, if you won't see me.
  Paul McCartney

---

Wednesday, January 9th, 2002

• Artificial.

  Captain Williard:
  "Kilgore had a pretty good day for himself. They choppered in t-bones and beer and turned the LZ into a beach party. The more they tried to make it just like home, the more they made everybody miss it."
  (Apocalypse Now)

  Makeover Representative:
  "Good evening Ladies!" she cheerfully exclaims to our group. "Please don't say that. Just.... don't... say that" I think to myself. The more "Good evening Ladies" you say, the more artificial I feel.

  The further along this path I travel in an effort to present as the person I feel I am, the further away I feel from what it is I wish I was. You can paint a wall to look like an ocean, but it will still be just a wall.

   

  It's the real thing.
  Coke is what the world wants today.
  Bill Backer

 

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