I Understand ....

I understand now.

At the beginning, there was within my body not one mind, not one soul, but two.

Note: This is written by Kylie, not Dorothy. Kylie rendered her account inaccessible, and asked to post it here instead.
Author's note: This is completely true, every word, and it follows my thoughts and actions in what I intended to be my final weeks. Please read with caution.

Kylie smiled her first genuine smile in several weeks, maybe even months. The plan was simple, but genius, and foolproof. An hour later, she set her plan in motion.

I’m moving out on January 4, her text to her case manager read. We can talk about it on Tues, if you want.

The first step was taken; there was no turning back. That simple action -a text message- banished any fears or uncertainty she may have had. She went downstairs to the staff office to add some momentum.

This is supposed to be the cheerful time of year. The expected Merry Christmas greeting and salutation is given.

Sorry, it's been a while since my last update. Apparently I can't write except on the nights when it's the most important that I sleep.

So this is my first work of "fiction" and I don't have an editor so Please be kind it's based loosely on a dream I had, and I am writing it in chapters because I don't know how the whole thing will play out yet but I felt the need to post it

Andy's Diary – Part 2
By Amy Lynn

Note: This is part 2 of a largely true story. Every event in this story actually happened to me in the period 1970 to 1971. I have collapsed the timeline a bit. I have had to write this to come to terms with the abuse I suffered.

Once upon a time there was a small child, and like all children do they dreamed there dreams and played there games,

The months pass after any cataclysmic situation that a couple like us endured, if you’re lucky. And I count myself as lucky. Christine’s demands were met. Her limitations imposed on me concerning my life. If I wanted to stay married, this was the end of my dressing. Could I meet that demand, of all of them?

copy rights are the norm here yada yada you can post this at any free site as long as it remains intact.I know this is a bit of a side track on the stories here, but just an up date on my life and its changes.

My early memories of my mother were of some one who was tired and worn down yet still fought the good fight and won out.
I imagine raising 5 kids would do that to you. I remember she had to leave for a while to go back home to Holland, why was never said but I think it was for mental reasons and a possible breakdown.

With renewed apologies for having to censor my last chapter, for the truths revealed were too recognizable, I continue! “Wishing for what might have been”…. So it is for me. What happened with the Agency had an effect on many things in my life. There’s more pure sex in this chapter – no apologies – but my dressing will return!

Chapter 24

The Tryst

A lifelong dream and desire to bring to life my alter ego, Sarah, is realised in this autobiographical story. All events herein happened very recently, and has resulted in a different type of story for me. This story is complete.

Dedicated to Lucy, a lifesaver xx

The Tryst
by Pyrite

Part 1. Dressing Up

“Wishing for what might have been”….. So it is for me. The story of many of our lives, perhaps - my succession of “First times” has gone on, and on. Returning to my theme of “First times…”, there are a number of events that are difficult to place in a real time-line. Life-changing moments, many of them, the next one I recall was talking with a Lesbian about making love to a woman.

I’m indebted to several readers that have helped me get over what was a bad day at the office and encouraged me to resume the autobiographical theme that I have been developing. I have put my concern about the Ratings and Hits away in a box and will no pay attention to them again. So, here we go again!

Sadly, dear Readers, my writings have lost their interest for many people and the number of hits received for my recent chapters have fallen and fallen. I must be boring everybody, which lowers the satisfaction I get from writing. So, reluctantly, I’m making this my Last Time of writing on the subject of First Times. Here are the firsts I would have written more about……..
Chapter 20

The years at Uni passed so quickly. Reflections of my life beforehand come flooding back, together with those from my years of academic study. I reached graduation with the greatest sense of gratitude for the ending of my life in the classroom/lecture theatre. Ready for a new life, I had some decisions to make about my special interest, my “Major” (in fashion, haircare and beauty)!

Chapter 18

First time…..

Musings from WannabeGinger

My first (and only) steady girlfriend hit me in my mid-teens. 17, I was, 15, she was!! This was the Sixties….. But everything wasn’t THAT relaxed! (…not where I was living at least). So I wasn’t yet ready to go out en femme as they call it. Girlfriend time was weekend time, so weekdays were the only possibilities for dressing…..

Chapter 16

Dear Mom,

This is probably the hardest letter I have ever written.

First, I love you very much. I love you and I honor you for everything you have done for the family I have now and the family I had when I was young. I’m so very sorry that I made all that so much harder for you. I hope recent years have made up for all the hard times I put you through during my teen years.

Maybe Mum can give me advice, where nobody else can? I was lonely…… When I wrote that yesterday, together with ‘Drea’s painful words about the hurt from others, I started thinking about the time I was in this situation. We are talking 1967/1968. Of course, there was nobody to confide in. Life was different then……… (No hairdressing in this chapter, by the way!)

Chapter 14 (There is no chapter 13!.. that would be unlucky!)

The Girl in the Mirror There...

Why Big Closet

By

Jacquimac

Let me start by telling you about myself.

I was born in a small town not far from Glasgow in 1953, my parents were from large families of different religions.

A New Name...
by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

With a Sigh...
A Letter Unsent...