In 2001 I rediscovered a fascination with feminine apparel that went far beyond my enthusiasm for Milady's bits and pieces. With her support, this magnificent obsession is simply one of my lifestyle choices. It's not been a picnic; I live rural in Canada's most redneck jurisdiction, the Edmonton region of Oilberta. Still, only losers make negative comments, and the rest is just teasing (inevitable for we vertically challenged). When the beer-night boys ask why I do it, I smile and assure them I'm a pervert - they can (or think they can) relate, but still tell me I make a really ugly woman...

The essentials: Dimensionally, I'm 163cm (5'4" for the unmetricated) and overweight at 70 kilos. I first dressed up in 1968. Brought up Catholic, now with redneck-to-bleeding-heart attitudes and an antiquated work ethic, I prefer to live in the Now and grow, rather than dwell on past grief, religion, or other excuses. I don't suffer from (or, for that matter, believe in) the catch-all psychobabble called gender dysphoria; rather, I consider myself to be gender-enhanced! I do have ideopathic pulmonary fibrosis (under control as much as is possible), and have always lived with major lethologica - so if I forget your name, don't take it personally.

Dressing Up is awesome, going out looking good, or at home because it's another way to enjoy life - the feel of the fabrics, watching my changing look, letting whatever femme there is show up. I'm blessed with good skin, hair, nails, and, as my uncle and best friends assure me, "great legs", so I try to keep these things up - we're all junkies for compliments. Some visiting with Edmonton transpeople is inevitable good fun, and sometimes far less than that, but many times there's a trans social, dinner or drag event, there's also an Eskimos game, a concert, any excuse to go shooting, a family feed, a gig, general crabbiness or just plain bad weather - and our love life comes first. Regular interaction with the public-at-large is by choice; most girls like the look, most guys chuckle, but it's all in how much grief you allow (gosh, just like life!).

I've been involved in a few newsgroups, forums, and publications, and, of course, interact with other genetic males who look good presenting femme - so my own take on this is: Do it! Enjoy yourself, make no apologies, harbour no illusions, be how you are. Life is short, get out there, dress as well as you can, and always smile! People smile back when they see that, and the various GiBLeT communities around here are always glad to have us around. That said, don't get the idea that we're actually as good-looking as most genetic women. Up close, 90% of us aren't. But if you do it right, you'll be a pretty man, maybe a pretty person. And "If you act like you own the place, they'll probably give you the keys".

That stated, I don't like the new crop of "victimized" transfolk who are busily playing word police, social engineers and thought enforcers - if the word tranny offends you, then you're out of luck here. I don't worry about pronouns, so lighten up, tranny-nazis. All my truly trans-and-happy pals simply live their lives, and roll their eyes at those of us who use trans issues to get in others' faces unnecessarily. Look over my Natter page for more opinionated, often Politically Incorrect straight talk.

The most important lesson I've learned about my transgender lifestyle, though, is No Whining - if you put your energy into apologizing, being negative, hiding, or making excuses - well, you'll not get a tenth of the gratification you can experience when you put on your Big Girl Boots and suck it up. This isn't to say that I'm without flaws, problems, foibles, or issues: I just have no confidence in Big Med/Pharma, and strongly feel all costs should be borne by the end-user. Being a cheapskate, I do things with good health, grooming, fashion sense, and manner: a fey male who cleans up nicely.