I remember from a very early age wishing that I could go to sleep and wake up the following morning as a girl. Then, of course, I would discover that I was actually a Princess who had been hidden as a boy for some reason. Even back then, I obviously had a strong imagination! As time went on, I occasionally dressed up, but only as a game. Actually one of my earlier memories is being told off by my mother for putting on a fresh new pair of tights rather than one of her old pairs. At the time, I'm sure she thought that the dressing up was innocent. At the time, I'm sure it was. I didn't identify with it as something that made me me.
When I was about 13, I started going a little further. I think it must have something to do with puberty. (Obviously, I'm a mutant and should join the X-Men. I could be 'Skirt' - the mutant with the amazing power of dress wearing!) I started sneaking items of my mother's under- and outerwear out of her cupboards and trying them on. I discovered that it gave me a very strong sexual thrill. So, of course, I kept doing it. At about the same time, I discovered girls. I must have been very confused, because I also started to worry about whether I was gay or not. This was despite the fact that I didn't actually fancy anyone of the male persuasion. How this minor fact managed to escape my notice, I'm still not sure!
At around this time, I also came across the concept of transvestites. My parents brought home a copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. This did not help with the whole 'Am I Gay?' thing. Although I saw the rest as the silly comedy that it was, this aspect I took very, very seriously indeed. Stupid, eh? Oh well. And the two bedroom scenes freaked me out as well. My parents weren't meant to watch this sort of stuff! And if they did, they certainly weren't meant to watch it (and enjoy it!) in front of me! I am obviously scarred for life.
This went on until I was about seventeen or eighteen. I started to occasionally buy my own clothes and I'd made some horrendous choices. One I particularly remember is a lilac lycra mini skirt that, at the time, I remember thinking was gorgeous. Now, I am ever so glad that I don't have any photos of it! Not all my purchases were this bad, though. I got a very nice loose, black cotton skirt as well which I still have today. The erotic impulses that came with dressing were also lessening as I went on as well. I had also started dating by this time. My first girlfriend, Adele, I went out with for about six months; my second was called Angela. This one was a total failure. We were together for no more than a matter of weeks, before she gave me the 'I just want to be friends' talk. She actually used those exact words! Neither of these two knew about my inclinations.
When I was 18, (post-Angela) I finally came to the decision that I would voluntarily come out to someone (involuntarily revelations happened a couple of times - see below). I chose my best friend of the time - another girl called Angela. Initially, she didn't believe me. Especially as I told her over the telephone and described the outfit I was wearing at the time. I don't remember what it was, but I don't think it was too outrageous!
Eventually, I got around to dressing for her (nothing sexual here, folks!) and she finally believed me. And started to help me with clothes and make up and the like. She was next to me the first time I went out in public - a seriously nerve-wracking experience. We didn't have access to a car, so we had to get the bus. We went to a pub - The Northumberland Arms - that, looking back, I would never have gone into normally - not even dressed normally. Fortunately, it was mid-week and so fairly quiet. I don't need if I was read, as I was tucked away in a corner. However, when I was going to the loo (first time in women's toilets!), Angela called out to me. Unfortunately, instead of calling 'Stephanie', the name I had settled on at that time, she called 'Stephen'. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't reacted. Oh well... No-one actually said anything, so I think I got away with it!
Over the years between then and now (eleven of them!) I started to come out to more and more people. Reactions ranged from 'Oh well, that explains your obsession with Rocky Horror' to 'Wow! Really!'. I have been lucky enough never to receive a bad reaction from anyone. Some of the people I told were a little unsure of what to make of it, but (apart from a few who dropped away through time for reasons other than my dressing) I am still friends with all of them. During this time, I also decided, for one reason and another to change my name from Stephanie. This was mainly due to a growing discomfort with Transformations, the chain of TV shops run by Stephanie Anne Lloyd. The more I heard about her business methods, the less I liked them. So, wanting to distance myself from anything to do with her, I decided that one of the things I could do would be to make sure that my name didn't conjure up any associations. This was actually a fairly small part of the reason - I think I was just getting a bit bored of the name 'Stephanie'. It's never been my favourite name (although it is the name I would have been given had I actually been born a girl, instead of changing myself into one) and so I spent ages casting around for a new one, talking to people and getting opinions from them. Eventually, I settled on the name 'Ellen' and it's stuck. It's been about seven or eight years now and I still like it, so I think that's the one that will remain... Perhaps.
I was caught a few times early on in my dressing career - my brother caught me first and, so became the first person to discover the 'awful truth'. Fortunately, he was cool about it and kept it a secret from my parents. I wasn't quite ready to come out to them... Although they did catch me a few times, or discover clothing, or something like that. It led to a few fraught discussions and arguments, culminating once in a request by them to see a psychiatrist. Nothing actually came of that, so whether they just forgot about or did a bit of research and discovered that going to see one wouldn't actually help or what, I don't know. Perhaps I'll have to ask them.
As far as actually, voluntarily, coming out is concerned, there have been several difficult ones. None of them have been especially easy - although they do get easier as time goes by and it the rush is also curiously addictive. Or at least, as far as I remember it is. I haven't come out to anyone for the last couple of years or so - almost everyone knows now. There are still one or two, but I'm sure I'll get around to them when the time is right...
Anyway, the hardest one, after Angela - who was the first, was probably coming out to Candy. I haven't talked about her a lot in these pages and I fear I may be doing her a bit of a disservice. She is the most wonderful woman in the world (gush, gush) and I love her very much. We have been together now over ten years. I came out to her after about six months or so of boyfriend/girlfriend-ness. It was at 2.30 in the morning and I had finally decided that I had to tell her. Not to tell her would be dishonest. So, I screwed up my courage, which took about ten minutes, during which time Candy got more and more sleepy. Eventually, I blurted out my hideous secret, half sure that she was going to kick me out of bed and never want anything more to do with me. Her reaction was 'Oh. Okay.' The thing that really freaked her out was my relief-filled proposal of marriage. She turned me down - sensibly.
The next hardest one was coming out to my parents. I actually only came out to my mom. Telling both of them at the same time was just going to be difficult. It was a similar story to telling Candy - the screwing up of courage and eventually blurting it out. Mom's reaction was 'Well, we sort of knew anyway...' Which, of course, they did, having caught me and talked about shrinks and things like that in the past. However, I think they had sort of assumed that it was something that I'd put behind me. Anyway, mom told dad who rang me at work the next day to tell me that it was all okay and he didn't mind, he still loved me no matter what I wore, etc. etc.
Anyway, that's pretty much me up to date. I'm now living in Paris, and I've just met my first Parisian tranny. I'll be going to a meeting of a French TV group in a couple of weeks. When I left Waterstone's my leaving present was a really sexy bra and panty set as well as a feather boa. The people there are all immensely cool and funky people and I was really lucky to work with them. Pity it was such a bloody awful job...
Please write to me with any questions, comments or suggestions. Thank you.
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