About Li'l ol' me

I know it seems a bit self-indulgent,
and I hope you'll forgive me that,
but sometimes it's easier to get to know
someone if you get their bio
(albeit an abridged version) right up front.

These are the Chapters of my life:
(Unedited for television!)

The Beginning is Only
a Place to Start
I was born a male, named after my
maternal grandmother,
back in the days before computers
(was there ever such a time?), before trips
to the moon and even before transistor radios!
Einstein, Edison and yes, even Helena Rubenstein
were all still alive and well. No, I don't remember
who came up with the recipe for dirt!

The Finer Things
My Grandmother was a concert pianist, so I was
introduced to classical music and jazz at a very
early age. (I composed my first song when
I was eight.) We lived in a large house at the end
of a quiet street in a nice little (then) city
I had delusions of grandeur and used to imagine
that our family was royal!
Well, there was ONE queen, anyway!

Boy Cooties!
I can remember that in first grade, I was
intimidated by the boys and wanted to play with
the girls, but they decided I had "boy cooties"
so I was religated to sitting on the side of the
sandbox, watching them. By second grade, the
teacher insisted that I play softball with the
"other" boys, I was terrified! They were so rough!

I had a crush on one of the boys in another class.
If you remember the original Mickey Mouse Club,
you may remember Cubby. This boy reminded me
of Cubby and I used to follow him home. I would
dream that some day he would ask me to be
his girlfriend! What?!
Yes, even then I wanted to be a girl.

I'm NOT a Queen!
I'm a Princess!
When my mother and father were not at home,
I used to go into her closet and put on her
clothes. Strangely enough, I wasn't interested
in the underwear, I wanted to see what I would
look like as a girl outwardly - I already felt like
a girl inwardly.
One summer some of the neighborhood
kids went down to the flood control, which was
like a small river with fish and all. We found
a large box with a lot of women's clothing there.
No one wanted to put them on, and I didn't
volunteer because I knew, being the youngest, they
would "force" me to do it anyway! I was right!
With just the right amount of false protest,
I "relented"! My older brother said I had to wear
those clothes all the way home. What a thrill
walking down the street with the other kids
wearing women's clothes! When we got home
my mother said, "How sweet you look, like a little
princess." My father took one look, shook his head
and walked away - his answer to anything he didn't
want to deal with. I knew he disliked me because
I wasn't "boy enough" for him. He proved time
and time again through the years that he disliked
me more and more as I tried to find out who
I was. "You'll never be a man!" was the one thing
I remember hearing from him over and over.
He never knew how prophetic his words were!
Of course he thought I should be who
he thought I should be.

Paper Dolls or Football
At the age of about 12, I found a hobby; designing
my own paper dolls, their clothes and their sorority
house. I thought nothing of it and used to do this in
front of my family in the den as they all watched
Ed Sullivan on TV. Finally my father had had
enough of this "sissy stuff" and forbad me ever
to play with paper dolls again. I was heartbroken
when he took everything and threw it all into
the fireplace! He wanted me to learn to fix cars
and play football, but I didn't want to get my
hands dirty or get hurt.

Mother's Little Helper
I loved cooking and learned from my mother,
who was glad for the kitchen help. I went grocery
shopping with her and learned how to shop for the
week, plan menus and organize the kitchen. At 12
I was preparing meals solo for our entire family
of six and loving it.

Can Boys have Boy Babies?
One vivid memory came back to me the other day.
It was when I was about 13. I started growing
breasts, with the same manifestations that those
taking hormones report, the solid lump under the nipples,
tenderness, etc. At the time I thought it was
a large pimple under the skin and tried to break
it. All that happened was a clear discharge from
the nipple and they continued to grow. I was afraid to
say anything to anyone about it because I knew
my father would explode and blame me for it.
My moods would swing like a windchime in
autumn and I would cry at the drop of a hat.
I decided to talk to my mother (we talked a lot in
those days). She reassured me that it was okay
to cry, just not in front of my father. We talked
a little about sex and it was only at that point
that I realized that I would never be able to bear
children. I was very sheltered and naive. With this
realization, I fell into a deep depression for about
four months. I so very much wanted to have
a baby! Nothing would bring me out of it and
my parents decided to send me to a psycologist
to find out why a 13 y/o boy would be so depressed.
Of course I didn't tell him anything. He sat in his
overstuffed, oversized leather office chair, feeding
the pidgens out of his window waiting for me to
talk. After about a month of twice-a-week sessions,
he gave up. He declared that it was "just" hormones
and I would grow out of it. It was certainly
hormones, but I never "grew out of it"!

I'm Not a Lesbian!
More than anything, I wanted to feel like a girl.
By age 16, still a virgin, I was being torn apart
inside. I needed to feel what it was like to be with
a boy. I had no interest in being with girls sexually.
To my mind that was wrong, somehow. Yes, I dated
girls, but when I kissed them, it was like kissing
my sister! I knew only a boy could make me feel
like a girl should feel - like I should feel.

Does "Gay" really mean "Happy"?
One afternoon the man next door, a rough,
unhewn piece of timber, was complaining to my
father, about the "faggots" who went to the
construction site downtown where he worked,
to have sex after dark. After I found out what
the word "faggot" meant, I knew that was my
chance. At last I could be with a man. I borrowed
the car, drove there and found what I was
looking for. I came home feeling used and "dirty".
That wasn't what I wanted, at all.
I wanted the romance, the love, the
compassion. I still didn't want it from a girl,
though. I finally gave in to the obvious fact that
I must be gay. After all, gays were men who had
sex with men. There were no support groups in the
60s to go to, aside from the Suicide Prevention
Hotline, which I called on several occasions.

First Wife's Job
Because all my life my father had told me that
when I reached 18 years, I had to leave the house,
I left on my 18th birthday. I moved in with a man
about 15 years my senior. I was not so much in love
with him as I was in love with the notion that
I would be acting as his wife. I cooked, cleaned,
washed his clothes and was a duitiful wife for
about four months until he started bringing home
other boys. He wanted several, I wanted just one.

Makeup, Shutup or Give Up!
When I finally got my own place, I went through
what so many of us have; dressing, feeling guilty,
purging the closet, replacing the clothes, dressing,
ad infinitum! I got a job as a makeup consultant
for a now defunct makeup company
and all the makeup I wanted for free!
Talk about job incentive! I loved it!
I was in my element!

Then, at the tender age of 21, I was diagnosed
with testicular seminoma, a cancer which aflicts
men generally between the ages of 21 to 35.
What it is, is cancer of the testicles. So, I thought
God was corecting His mistake. But wait a minute!
God doesn't MAKE mistakes! What He was doing
was giving me an opportunity!
One of my testicles was removed along with
the "equipment" necessary to function,
and I underwent chemo and cobalt therapy for
several months afterwards.
I was finally prognosed as having six months
to live. I went through the usual stages of
denial, anger, acceptance and then just waited
to die. After I was released from the hospital
and no longer had to accept any sort of therapy,
I went on a sexual rampage! I HAD to live!
But now I found that I could not even become
arroused. Was this the end of my sexual life,
and therefore, my existance? I was determined
not to let it be, and eventually found myself
in myself! I would NOT give up! After several
followup visits with the doctors, they were
astounded that there was no longer any sign
of the cancer. They told me that if this continued
for another five years, I would be deemed "cured".

Engaged in Battle
A couple years later, through a roommate, I met
a woman (my exact same size in all clothes!) and
I fell in love (with her wardrobe)! We got engaged
and she moved in with me (he moved out). By this
time we had had sex only once. One evening while
she was taking a shower before bed, I was trying
on her clothes. She came out of the bathroom
unexpectedly and asked me what I thought I was
doing. I said something lame like, "I just wanted
to feel closer to you". After two months of not
being able to perform in bed, we broke up.
Mind you, I had pleanty of sex with her
girlfriend's husband, when he would
let me wear lengerie!

A Match Made in Heaven
I had a series of lovers, from a few months to
nine years after that, and always assuming the
"wife's" role in the relationship, but still not
daring to admit to him that I wanted to be
a woman and no one suggesting I be.
In 1991 I found myself working in Japan.
Wrong place to be if you are a white TV.
In '93 I moved to Taiwan. This is NOT
China. This is an island south of China and,
from 1895 until 1945, was a territory
of Japan, but in 1945, was ceded to the U.N.
in the Treaty of San Francisco. I won't get
into the history, but Taiwan is a democratic,
freedom-loving nation of 22 million people,
still (officially) at war with the Communists.
To make a long story, short (too late!) I broke up
with my boyfriend here of four years, spent two
years single. I finally met a wonderful
man and we were together for nearly 10 years,
all the time I was his full-time wife, woman and lover.
I finally knew what it felt like
to be a woman and I LOVED it!
He encouraged me to dress completely at home
and only refered to me by my femme name.
He was loving, kind and supportive.

we broke up in 2008 and I've been
on my own since then.
I hope to find the right man to be with me always.