Then And Now………..

Tags

Transition

I had some pictures to put on, but I didn’t think it appropriate to add them to the last post when I had finished writing it.

There is a picture of Him a picture taken from my makeover of last year and there are a couple of pictures from today, a sort of compare and contrast type of thing.

My work picture is just that its Him taken for work, the makeover picture achieved what it was supposed to, it proved to me that I could go out in public without a bag on my head and not scare animals and small children. The pictures from today are different, they are natural, they are flawed but they are natural. They were taken on a camera phone, the makeup at my request was put on lightly with no bright colours to appear more natural, and thus a hint of shadow is visible, as is the stubble on my chest which decided to make an appearence less than one hour after shaving!!!. The tape of my breastforms needs to be stronger and the bra containing them is now too large after losing more weight. Gravity wins again 🙂

My hair is my own designed by a professional, blow dried by an idiot (Me) and finished off by Nature. (It might not have been Force 8 but it looks like it was)Him

Makeover

Today – Natural (Flawed)Today Again

Rachael

x

Alea Iacta Est……….

Tags

First Time Out, Gender Clinic, Makeup, Transgender, Transition

For once I had two  titles for a post, the one  “Alea iacta est……” or the “King is Dead, Long Live the Queen”

I chose the former to show I’m not being flippant, and taking the whole transition very seriously. 🙂

For those that don’t know, and, to save Googling, “Alea Iacta Est” (The Die is cast) is attributed to Julius Caeser prior to crossing the River Rubicon to attack Rome, though I believe the actual quote is “Iacta Alea Est” (Roll The Dice) History Lesson over.

My day… Started as a bag of nerves, as expected, not at the prospect of being Rachael in public, but as to whether I am sufficiently Transgender to avoid extended assessment. So nervous in fact that I bought a packet of cigarettes, (I know, Stupid doesn’t begin to cover it)

When I got back home my Wife was just leaving for work, so I could avoid the possible discomfort of getting ready while She was in the house. This, unfortunately only gave me forty minutes to shower, shave, blow dry my hair, (For the first ever time) dress and get to the Salon

I got to the Salon at 08:55, now I have watched YouTube on how to get in and out of a car in a skirt. Easy. Legs together, swing round and stand up. I whole heartedly recommend that you undo your seatbelt first before trying this manoeuver on your first time out, dressed with no makeup on a busy shopping street.

I believe I kept my dignity, or rather I didn’t actually luck round to see if I had lost it. And I did actually find the whole thing funny.

The makeup session was brilliant, no stress or hassle, just incredibly relaxing, and Kelly my beautician constantly building my confidence. She offered to walk me to my car afterwards but I felt so good that I walked on my own as Rachael in public, without a hint of self conciousness. (I have been so lucky so far, that the law of averages says I’m going to crash and my confidence will bomb, but until then….)

I then drove to Sheffield to clinic, not once looking to round to see if I had been read, while stopped at traffic lights or roundabouts. I found a place to park and then had to walk through the hospital grounds to the Gender clinic. I felt like I was walking femininely, although in reality I probably wasn’t. But at that point I didn’t care because I felt so confident.

I sat in the waiting area for a good twenty minutes with no trace of self consciousness, and when I was called as Rachael, (I had to sign in as Roy) another boost. (I believe it would be fair to say that by this point I could do anything, If they asked me to walk through Sheffield City Centre in a Burlesque costume I think I would have)

The therapist, straight away picked up on the confidence, And I explained that after the last appointment I was so angry thinking that I had been manipulated into moving forward faster than I was comfortable with, that I had been determined to be feminine and not androgynously female, that I actually realised I did want to be feminine and in doing so broke down some more of my self imposed restrictions. I told her I had informed my work colleagues and how supportive they were being. At which point she told me they provide assistance with this as it’s usually the most difficult part. A bit late to be telling me this I thought and yes it was difficult, but it worked out OK.

“Are you full-time?” she asked and I replied that out of consideration for my colleagues, I was going to do it gradually so they could get used to me as things changed.

“So, do you think you will be ready to go full-time by the end of the year?”

The first time I heard the following words were as they came out of my mouth, I had no indication to what they would be.

“I was actually thinking of two to three months”

We both stopped. I knew I meant it and I wasn’t just saying it to try to avoid an extended assessment.

She then asked about work again and I said that I was working closely with Senior management and my own managers to work to a timescale, whatever that would be, so there should be no issues with that either.

It wasn’t until I left that I realised that the rest of the session was talking about how I WILL deal with things at home, work socially and not WOULD (Theoretically). This makes more sense to me when she said that she would make an appointment for me to see a clinician regarding hormone therapy, again six to eight weeks. I had assumed by what I had been told that I would have two or three assessment appointments (unless it was to be extended) I would then have to wait to see if I had been approved for treatment.

I guess unofficially I have been approved, I’m trying not to get too excited because as I say I have been incredibly lucky so far and the law of averages Sods Law etc means that if this goes wrong now it’s really going to hurt. But I am allowing myself to smile.

I sat in my car afterwards for a few minutes and realised that my post of last night was right. He no longer exists. Only I exist now, and my sadness of last night has been replaced today with feelings of freedom and serenity.

The King Is Dead, Long Live The Queen.

Rachael

x

And They’re Off………………..

Tags

Acceptance, Confusion, GIC, Sadness, Transgender, Transition

As My appointment draws ever closer, my brain, body and time itself all seem to merging into one confusing mess. I used the term “Surreal Normality” yesterday to describe the hair appointment experience, and I have the same feelings today, it’s almost as if my two personalities are starting to line up for the final conflict.

Mentally I am ready, I now no longer regard myself as Roy, he sits there quietly waiting for the end, clinging to the hope that, in his mind, this madness will end. It won’t. As I said, seeing me yesterday with new hair, that was just wrong with my appearance. The hair was right. It was everything else that was wrong. Seeing my partial reflection in the rear view mirror, seeing Me, seeing the woman. He wasn’t there. Buying the mirror, my mirror, the very item I despise because He was always looking out at me. He doesn’t look out of this one. He’s not there.

He still clings to the hope that His clothes will be his salvation. As long as he makes me wear them he still retains some control. Tomorrow will see the end of that control and he knows it.

After tomorrow, the choice of clothing will be mine. Be it male or female or whether it’s for me or out of consideration for the people still not quite used to who I am. But the choice will be mine, NOT His.

Time. I have a perception of time moving incredibly slowly, yet each time I look at the clock I have lost another hour. Is he clinging on to every second, knowing that today is His last day?.

I keep reading other people’s experiences, and their big moments, and wondered why I hadn’t had the big moment. Everything seemed so normal to me ,as if this is how it should be, no drama, no fanfare, just a quiet resignation that another step forward had been taken.

I think tomorrow is my big moment. Regardless of the outcome at the Clinic, I realise that my mental transition is complete, and the physical transition is beginning.

My emotions, rather than being of excitement or nerves  are filled with a sadness.

Sadness at the thought, that He will be gone. I have no regrets or hesitation as to my pathway or choices, but without Him, would I have had the strength to get this far? He has, after all, been the dominant part of my life for the 36 years of this journey. I look back now and ask myself, did he suppress me or did he protect me? And in all honesty I can’t answer that. And I don’t think I would really want to know the answer.

I believe that somewhere in the Bible there is a passage about dying in order to live. Maybe Romans or Acts, but not being of the overly religious persuasion I would probably misquote it or use it in entirely the wrong context. But the line I have in my head is;

“In order to Live, we must first Die”, on the face of it quite a morbid line, but for me, regardless of His contribution to this Journey, He has to go. In order for Rachael to live Roy has to die, and any death is sad.

And so at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning I will be at the starting gate.

Sheffield, 11 O’clock And they’re off……….

Rachael

xx

What Do You Call…………

The title has nothing to do with the post.

My ability to find suitable titles eludes me. And it was always the title that came first, followed by the out pouring of litery Tourettes. However a lot seems to have happened again in a short space of time, and I fear that to not publish would result in a lapse of memory and thus a failure to record a detail that may or may not be relevent at a later date.

I have never read any of my previous posts and don’t intend to, even though this is a journal of my journey. Just to know that it has been recorded is enough for me.

Anyway….. more shopping, more counselling, more visits to the doctors and I came out at work (with the previously mentioned nudge from Facebook)

At this point I have to say that I may well provide too much information, and for this I apologise in advance.

Replacement jeans are on the way in a size 18 woohoo! A new jacket size 22 that  I can fit other clothes on underneath, that’s the practical parts sorted out.

I did buy a handbag and a scarf, not, however, because I thought I needed them, but because I liked them. (I don’t do shopping, but apparently now I do)

Another thing I swore I wouldn’t do is wear skirts, dresses or anything too girly. And yet I now have a skirt and a lace top on my shopping list (I am still adamant on the dresses though 🙂 )

14/02/15

I’ve put the date in because I have started to write this again two weeks after I started it. Also in the preceding two weeks I have seen a dress, (Yes I know I said I wouldn’t) that I am going to order next pay day.

I have my next appointment at the Gender Clinic on the second of March, I’m ready. My make-up skills are not however. I have found a beautician who is going to do my make-up and shape my eyebrows for the appointment. The great thing about her, is that not only was she really happy to do my make-up she made me feel like she would be proud to do it. I thought I imagined the last part but I was there with my Stepdaughter  who said the same thing. She is opening her salon for me on the Monday, which is normally closed. She is also trying to find me a hairdresser.

The other items recently arrived are breast forms, 44D or now they appear to be a 42D

I have hip forms due soon and some bum enhancers, I also have a large Brasillian elastic band (Championed by Gok Wan apparently) also known as a waist cincher. I do have a lace up corset cincer but cannot fasten it myself, hence the elastic band.

At this point I have to say that these plastic body parts are not by choice but to enable me to jump through the hoops thoughtfully provided by the gender clinic.

I want their help so I’ll play their games.

I came out at work. (I am really beginning to despise this term – I think it sounds as though you’re having to apologise for something) I really love my colleagues, they have been so supportive. “Are you happy? then what’s the problem?” is pretty much the reaction. They don’t treat me any differently, they still take the piss, only now they have something else to joke about and none of it malicious.

I posted a humorous picture from a website next to my desk the day before I went to work away. When my colleagues saw it they thought that someone from another part of the company had put it there. And wanted to take it down before I got back, till I told them it was me.

Anyway, I’m hoping to have some new photos for my next apppointment, this time with my own hair.

RK

xx

As Yet………(Untitled)

Tags

Gender Clinic, Gender Identity Dysphoria, Transgender, Transition

I had my first visit to the Gender Clinic today. I don’t know what I was expecting it to be like , but it certainly wasn’t like this.

Apparently, today was an intake assessment. that is to say an assessment to see whether I would go forward to be assessed for being Transgender.

I am happy to say I will now go on to be assessed. This involves a minimum of two, one hour sessions with psychotherapists to assess my Transgenderism and to go through whether I am ready to start treatment and what treatment.

I now have to wait for six to eight weeks for the first of these sessions and then a further six to eight weeks for the second session and then who knows how long for the next meeting with who knows who? I don’t even want to think how long before I might start to get the Hormones.

I’m not complaining, I’m just getting impatient, although I am happy that I have got through the first Door.

I have a new Counsellor that I have been seeing for three weeks now, and while she is not trying to do the work of the clinic she is helping me to join the dots from a lot of events in my past, which is helping my mental state a lot.

I missed a session last week as I was supposed to going to Korea for work, and I will miss this weeks because I am going to Korea, but I think the time away will do me some good as the situation at home is definitely getting worse, with fifty percent of the time not talking about what is happening and fifty percent just not talking following rows that were not even rows, just some perceived transgression by one or both of us.

Due to this state of affairs I have not gone any further with makeup practice or voice training and as such I do feel in a bit of a state of Limbo.

I am also three weeks into a stop smoking program run by my surgery and I have cut down from thirty to forty cigarettes a day to four in the whole of last week, this week I hope to stop completely and also cut down the nicotine strength in my e-cig with the aim of giving that up too

And I am now down to less than 110Kg which is a third of the weight I want to lose in total, and stopping smoking has increased my cravings for sugar or chocolate, so although I have not lost as much weight as I would have liked in these three weeks I haven’t gained any.

So overall things are not looking to grim and there may even be a glimmer of improvement showing.

Oh and I’m still trying to catch up with my post reading, 🙂

RK

 

XX

Prozac, Porn & The Present

Tags

Acceptance, Denial, Depression, Guilt, Transformation, Transgender

The main difference between my crash and my previous attempts to survive life, is that with alcohol I only ever lost a day at worst. In the twelve years since I crashed I have lost entire months.

With this in mind, some of my memories may seem a little vague.

I crashed. I saw a doctor and was prescribed Prozac, as “A relationship break up can trigger the sane mental response as a bereavement”. I was offered no counselling or any other help. Just keep taking the tablets and come back in three months. 3 months later, “How are you feeling?” “No better, keep taking the tablets and come back in 6 months”.

It was during this period that I fell into another pointless relationship, had a vasectomy. (The pointless relationship came of the pill before the snip and got herself pregnant in an attempt to force a marriage. I have not spoken to her, nor have I seen the child. – This may make me seem heartless, but another child, especially an unplanned one was really not in the best interests of my mental state.)

I can’t remember how I first came across it but I found some pictures of Shemales, T-Girls, (If these terms offend, I apologise. I am only using the names used on the pictures). Something inside was triggered. I can’t put words to the feelings I had, but there was fascination, excitement, but no arousal. I remember imagining myself in the place of these girls. – I still didn’t consider myself Transgender.

The more guilty and dirty I felt for looking at Trans porn. I found it harder to deal with this time as I had almost stopped drinking completely, and had no escape. It seemed like I was in a never-ending downward spiral.

I crashed again, fell into my present relationship, got a change in antidepressants at a higher dose. (Still no other help, just keep taking the tablets.)

In 2006 we packed up and moved abroad, believing that getting out of the rat race and having a more sedate living would cure me. I have clutched at so many straws since 2002.

I crashed again. This time, however, the local Doctor changed my medication AND referred me to Psychiatrist! At last. I started to skirt around the subject of sexuality and gender with her. I was still very much in denial and was sure my fears would be brushed to one side.

They weren’t, and I became even more confused. Yet more denial, more internet porn more self loathing.

My partner returned to England to see her family I think round 2008 or 9. Bang! yet another crash, more medication, but not to the Zombie making standard.

For some reason I signed up to Second Life. Initial gender Male, didn’t work it didn’t feel right, I became a Transvestite, still didn’t feel right and slowly I moved towards Transgendered, with each step I felt more comfortable. (The internet porn stopped – result) Still in denial. No really I did not seriously consider I had any real Gender issues.During the following three years till I returned to England I had a major crash each year. Each one worse than the last. With each crash came something new. Suicidal thoughts but also I wanted to be a woman. (And yes I was still in denial)

When I returned to England I was referred to a counsellor. Now, I admitted to being gender neutral, but definitely not transgendered. The counsellor said I need to be referred to a mental health team. Between the Psychiatrist, another Counsellor and my Doctor they diagnosed me as transgendered even though I would only admit to Gender Neutral.

The biggest surprise was that I was not surprised, nor did I try to deny it and demand a second opinion. It actually felt right. It felt natural, and for the first time in a long time the anxiety knot in my stomach was gone. Now I could have been clutching at more straws, but I really believe I could feel my depression start to lift ever so slightly.

The next visit to the Mental health team resulted in my referral to a specialist Gender clinic. Was I OK  with this? Hell yes!

At last the denial was gone and the acceptance was total.

The only problem I have now is that I believe that as I have not only denied I am Transgendered, I have also conditioned myself to believe that I am a freak, I am abnormal and dirty.

I can’t describe how I feel as I know that to think I am a woman, will result in feelings of self harm. I am now a complete emotional wasteland, and I don’t like to be round public places and people as I am sure they see me as a freak also.

I can, however, say with all confidence that I am no longer confused and no longer in denial. I also realize that to completely throw of the darkness will not be an easy journey. But it is a journey that I am fully prepared to make, no matter to what end. I can see the light.

This has been my journey to date, and while it has been bad for me, I would never presume to think that it has been any worse for me than it has been for anyone else travelling the same route.

To these people, I take my hat off. And if I can offer support to anyone, I gladly will.

I hope my future ramblings can contain humour and a feeling of hope and be a little less dark.

Thank you all.

RK

2nd Relapse, Marriage & Kids.

Tags

Alcohol Abuse, Gender Confusion, Sexual Identity, Transgender

This time the drinking didn’t shut out the need to cross-dress . If anything it everything worse.

I really was starting to feel like a freak but without really knowing why. The cycles of self harm and self abuse fed the feelings of self loathing, shame and in general feeling dirty. My drinking was at such a level that I was selling my possessions to buy drink and drugs.

Two events happened in quick succession that changed me.

The first I was sold some grass laced with LSD. I had such a  a bad trip that I have never touched drugs since and have no intention of touching again.

The second and frankly the most scary, was the morning after  nearly a full bottle of vodka.

I woke up to find myself covered in vomit.

To this day I still think someone somewhere was watching over me. I have not drunk spirits since.

I didn’t, however stop drinking and went back to beer.

I then found myself in yet another relationship that I genuinely have no Idea how it started. And I can’t remember how long it had been going on when she told me she was pregnant. (Shotgun Wedding within three weeks) We then separated within a month of the wedding.

I went back to my favourite bar and friendly bar-flies. My daughter was born 3 months later, but because of my drinking I only saw her for 6 months before I stopped.

Prior to the wedding, I had thrown all my clothes away, and with the amount I was drinking, I couldn’t afford to buy any more.

I then went through a phase of trying to pick women, to prove to myself that I wasn’t gay. It didn’t work. I never got turned on and could never perform. I also went to gay clubs and cruising spots, but could never go through with picking anyone up, but that still didn’t stop me thinking I was gay.

I have to say at this point that being Transgendered had still not occurred to me. But confusingly I do remember fantasising about having sex with me as a woman? Go figure.

I then ended up in relationship that was to last for another 8 years. And yet again, it found me, and I just went with the flow. Woo hoo! Normal again.

Wrong. I had to force myself to have sex once a week, I just figured it was the years of alcohol abuse and abstinence and that I would grow to like it now I was normal.

It may sound ridiculous, but I really did believe it at the time. How naive can someone be? Looking back I think that this was the start of my denial and suppressing my feelings.

I had  a son. And bringing up a baby helped me avoid sex again. (Bringing up a baby is tiring. Too tired . And the denials and lies kept on coming).

I then had an accident at work and was off sick for nearly three months. During that time, while my partner was at work I would start to dress in her underwear and the old feelings of calm returned followed by the feelings of shame.

I had now started shutting down ALL my feelings, in fact I became an emotional wasteland. That and lack of sex ended that relationship.

The year was 2002 I was 34. I crashed. Big time.

RK

1st Relapse Back Into Reality

Tags

Alcohol Abuse, Confusion, Self Harm, Self Loathing, Sexual Identity

I never looked for a relationship. I never even tried to pretend thats what I wanted. By the time I was 18 I was still a drunk and still a virgin. Which suited me fine.

Since I had left school and was working, I could afford to buy some clothes, and during a few brief spells of sobriety I started crossdressing again. However, something was missing but I didn’t know what. So, I convinced myself it was just a phase that I would pass through and started to drink again. At some point, I also convinced myself that what I was doing or wanted to do was wrong. If dressing up didn’t make me feel better it must be wrong. Right?

Sometime after my 18th birthday, I fell into a relationship. It found me and I didn’t try to run away. Hooray I’m cured!!

Within 6 months we had moved in together, I was drinking less and having sex, (An activity that, if I’m honest did nothing for me.) Within 2 months I was finding excuses not to go to bed at the same time, and if I did I tried to get to sleep as quick as possible. Once a week or once every two weeks I would do my duty, but it was getting harder all the time, (No pun intended)

Then I started to finish work at lunchtimes on Fridays while my girlfriend was working till 5 or 6 o’clock. I started dressing up again. I had no clothes of my own so it was back to stretching someone else’s.

Shock! Horror! I am gay. But hang on I don’t find men attractive. What the f**k is going on? I am seriously confused now..

I remember the pleasure I felt, but then almost instantly feeling ashamed and dirty. I undressed and put my male clothes back on.

It was a few weeks before I dressed up again. My confusion was growing and I really was beginning to doubt my sexuality.

But I enjoyed the feeling, but its wrong, it’s dirty.

I had, however moved a step forward, I really did feel better, calmer and perhaps more at peace with a more complete outfit on, no matter how ill fitting.

I tried to forget about playing with myself and concentrate on dressing up. The feelings of calm soon started to fade And I felt yet again that something was missing.

During this time myself and my girlfriend had bought a house even though the relationship was heading full speed into oblivion, but hey girlfriend, mortgage I’m Normal.

Make-up. that was what I was missing, it’s no good dressing as a women when you don’t look like one. I can’t apply make-up to this day, but back then who could I ask to show me. Frustration was building up as was the confusion.

It still didn’t occur to me that I could be Transgender, I was just freak who liked to dress up, while trying to keep up the appearance of normality.

The relationship died. No surprise. I think it was nearly 18 months since we had sex.

A part of me was glad as I knew I could I dress up without anyone knowing. One problem. I had to go into the shops to buy my clothes, small town everybody knows everybody’s business. Wasn’t going to happen.

I bought some cheap mail order underwear from an advert in the back of porn magazine and also some cheap pvc fetishwear.  It wasn’t working, I didn’t feel good or calm anymore. All I felt was more confused and more frustrated. So I did the only thing I knew would kill some of these feelings and I started to drink again.

This time the booze didn’t stop the confusion or the frustration, if anything it made it worse and added to that a good dose of self loathing. I had convinced myself I was gay and I hated myself. (The indoctrinated bigotry of my upbrining)

When I crossdressed now I started to hurt myself, by piercing my nipples and genitals with safety pins, push pins and on one occasion a straightened paper clip. I felt I had to punish myself for what I was doing. This self harm was done without any thought of the consequences, even the thought of a hospital visit didn’t put me off doing what I knew was dangerous. I had to be punished.

Before I had only drunk beer, now I turned to vodka and started smoking grass. I was going to obliterate any thoughts of being gay or of dressing like a woman.

I will be normal.

RK

The Saga Continues

Tags

Alchohol Abuse, Caroline Cossey, Crossdressing, Gender Confusion

I remember very vividly when Caroline Cossey was outed by the British medial “The Bond Girl who was a man” I saw her picture and thought wow! I kept the story from the paper and re-read it over and over till the print literally vanished.

Again, I don’t think it was a sexual fascination, but I was amazed at how unlike a man she was, and the story of her transition.

(Years later, and still to this day, when the subject of Transsexual / Transgender crops up I still refer back to Her)

I think it was then that I started crossdressing. I don’t know why. (With hindsight I would say that I knew then I was Transgender. But I want to try to tell my story as I lived it and not as I see it now)

I have an older sister who was out alot as were my parents, which gave me plenty of opportunities to go through their underwear drawers.

There was a sexual element to it, but at 11I hadn’t discovered masturbation, but there was also a sense of frustation, that something was missing.

My family must have known what I was doing as none of them are very tall and I was 6′ 2″. (Small womens underwear does not go fully back into shape :-)) but they never said anything. So I carried on.

I first came while dressed in my sisters pants and bra. It was completely involuntary and unexpected. I panicked and put the undies back in her drawer, stains and all.

I knew it was wrong, but I felt different, better more calm. I had started to masturbate by then, and my sister and mother probably both thought that there was a problem with the washing machine. I really didn’t think they would notice, badly stretched, cum stained underwear.

It was’t just about cumming, during the school holidays when everyone was out I would spend whole days in bed dressed in a bra and pants (My favourite set were peach coloured silk)

As I got older 14 or 15 frustration was building I wanted my own clothes, I did a paper round but didn’t have enough money to buy any. Apart from that, how does a 15 year old 6 foot plus boy go into a womens shop and ask for clothes in “My Size”

The frustration I felt, manifested itself in two ways.

The first; I taught myself to shoplift with the aim that I would steal the clothes I wanted.

The second; I started drinking.

The shoplifting stopped when I got caught by parents with a load of stolen stuff. (Not clothes as I had not yet worked up to that) I took a real battering of my Dad for that.

Stopping stealing only increased my frustration as I had lost the main route to getting my own wardrobe.

The drinking got worse. I rebelled against everything. (I know, all teenagers do it). Being drunk alot also had another consequence. I didn’t have to play that other bastion of teenage male-dom. Trying to get laid.

I wasn’t interested in girls, I wasn’t interested in sex, but I knew I wasn’t gay. Being drunk was the best way to avoid the first two and avoid being accused of the latter. (I come from a small town in the UK where being gay is possibly one of the worst things someone can be)

I was drunk for nearly ten years.

Where Or When It All Began

Tags

Sexual Identity, Transgendered

I was maybe nine or ten when I first became aware of feeling different,

Feeling different and being different are not necessarily mutually connected. I felt different, but I don’t think I acted or appeared any different. (However, this may not be correct as I suffered familial abuse – not sexual, but psychological when I was younger) – More on that later and elsewhere.

Kids can be vicious when it comes to being different so I wasn’t. When the other kids were looking at dirty magazines or the lingerie section of catalogues, I joined in, except I was more interested in the lingerie. The bodies interested me but not in a sexual way. At the time I didn’t know why or how they interested me.

I did however feel that it was wrong.