down the drain

Gawd! There are things that make a Tgirl wanna scream!

To beat off the cold snap, I stopped off on the way home at a chemists to grab a couple of pairs of Pretty Polly tights. Yes, I was joking! No way is Lucia gonna be caught dead wearing thick wooly tights except in an Arctic blizzard. Wish I'd checked the price 'cos they were way over what you'd pay at the supermarket.

Mind you, I shan't moan. I was in a rush and besides, it's worth spending a tiny bit more 'cos cheap tights and stockings tend to catch on everything and run like mad. Well, silly me.. for some reason I popped on a big jangly bracelet I found at Accesorize as I got ready for work this morning. No sooner had I slipped into my tights and was just smoothing them down when the bloody bracelet snagged at the back and next thing, a fiver's worth of leg covering was ineluctably ruined. A great hideous run longer than Jacob's Ladder!!!

Grrrrrrrrrrrr.... why am I such a pudding faced dumbo at times!????!

bully for science!

Some of you gurls will maybe remember the sudden change that took place a few years ago within the scientific community following the research by a Dutch team (literally) into TG brains. I'm not in any way up on this stuff but I kinda recall that it involved methodological, autopsy type work - worthy of CSI - microscpically examing slices of the brain matter of deceased transgender women. Not surprisingly (to me at any rate), it yielded the information that there was quite likely a defined structural difference in the brains of TGs as opposed to males. Oh really? I coulda told u that.

Despite the fact that the research was to a degree preliminary (in other words - you'd have to chop up a lot more brains to get conclusive proof), it at last allowed some of the embattled girls out there to make a valid claim for having 'real' feminine identities and helped to dismiss the prejudiced idea that all Tgirls are crazed fetishists hell bent on subverting gender in pursuit of a kinkier pair of knickers.

But Lucia says: 'Bully for science!'

Ok, I can't seriously knock the scientific method which has given us such wonders as longer lasting foundation, barely black hold ups, lip gloss that actually stays on your lips, the iPod and the wurld wide webbbbbb. Eeeeeeeek!

But if there's an unfortunate weakness in science, it's this. Nothing can be proved to exist outside of verifiable phenomena. Paradoxically, that's also it's primary strength. Yeah, right.
An example. Suppose all those learned scientists tell us that the world is flat and that anyone who disagrees will be burnt at the stake. You might know the world is round but commonsense dictates that you keep your big Tgirl mouth shut. But loose tongues being what they are, every passing day brings more human bonfies. Fear and terror stalk the land like rent hungry landlords.
Then you wake up to discover that the powers that be have had a little change of heart and decided the world IS, after all. round (or round-ish).
Excuse me asking, scientist people.. er... but what about all the poor souls who you've so recently burnt for crimes of 'heresy'? I'm afraid that whispering, 'Ooops.. so sorry about that', in your sincerest lispy scientist voice doesn't help very much, does it now?!!!!

What I;m getting at is this. Why not assume the world is round in the first place.. until otherwise proven? It's the same with attitudes to us Tgirls. I think many of the assumptions made scientifically (and even worse, in psychiatric circles) about our psyches, preferemces and sexualities border on the crass and insufferable. Can so many sweet Tgirls be delusional?

The answer needs shouting out:

NO F***ING WAY, JOSE!!!!

icy pins

Oooh.. don't mind me showing so much flesh today. There's a simple reason. I'm feeling singularly uninspired at the mo' and so I'm gonna have to jump right back onto that tired old britisher soapbox and bore you all half to death nattering on about (roll of cheap drums) Da Weather!!

Yes, I'm going to have a little hissy bitch 'cos here in London Town the first icy blasts of winter have arrived and all of us Tgirls who shave our legs are suddenly suffering something rotten! Aaaaaaagh! I was on my way home from work yesterday in man-drag but naturally wearing my girly designer jeans (ie. very very thin and fine denim). Bus delays left me waiting ages at my stop which is situated on a bridge over the Thames. This is great when the weather's warmer 'cos there's lovely views and it's all open and skyful but in wintery times it's just dark and mizz.

A great ghastly ice wind came blowing up the Thames and in under a minute poor Lucia's legs felt like they'd been stored in a freezer for twelve years. How can it get so cold??? Gosh. if ever I needed a hunky man with big warm hands to come and turn me into his hot toasted sandwich it was right then. But hunky men are as bad as London buses... they only show up when they feel like it which is usually too bloody late to save us!

Ooooh, I know you GGs laugh at us for complaining and you man-things have zero sympathy but honestly... subjectivities placed to one side, I swear us bare-legged Tgirls feel the cold more than anyone in the whole wide world.

So, soon as I got home I began rumaging in the back of my undie drawer and pulled out various shades and patterns of stockings and hold ups... This stuff is cool in the bedroom but I can assure you.. if it carries on being this frosty, Lucia will be going everywhere in her thick black wooly tights. Eeeeeeeeeek!

kewl secretary

One of the most annoying things about us Tgirls is the sheer crassness of our fantasies. While GGs of the West (despite the evil machinations of the greedy man-things) march fearlessly into a future based on equality and meritocracy, we Tgirls seem determined to take a retrograde step.

Looking online, you're soon overwhelmed by the number of Tgirls offering their services in such curious formats as 'cum-sluts', french maids, bondage babes, pierced puppets, household slaves, trojan horses, cigarette molls, water features, bum cushions and bootlickers.

C'mon gurls! Whatever happened to self respect?? Take me, for example... I'd never dream of being anything but a totally obedient secretary to my powerful man boss, ready to follow his every instruction and satisfy his every whim. From filing his precious tax returns in the wrong order to booking tickets for him and the wife to go to the wrong show on the wrong day.

I am yours to command, gentle sirs! Use me with a dignified lack of respect! Eeeeeeeeeeeeek...

bullies & brutes part one

When I wuz a kid I always used to wonder at the strange chatter that would take place amongst my mum and her friends whenever one of the women showed up with a black eye or other injuries. I'd get insatiably curious in that childhood way and ask: 'What happened to Sheila/Elizabeth/Jenny?'

Invariably, I'd be given an unsatisfactory explanation such as - 'Oh, she walked into a door' - and quickly shooed away so that the mums could continue their conspiratorial natter in peace. Looking back, I realise that I more or less believed the explanations I was given despite the undercurrent of unease that ran beneath. But I still marvelled at how those marvellous creatures (women of course - eeeek!) that I so admired and me so wanting to 'join their club', I wondered how they could be so clumsy.And with such regularity... ok.. I 'fess up now. I was an extremely dumb and gullible kid!

It wasn't until some years later, during my very first attempt at living full time, that I came to understand the true subtext to -'Oh, she walked into a door!'

By my mid-twenties, I'd just about overcome any lingering inhibitions and self-imposed proscriptions to my sexuality. My last real girlfriend had long since fled with the parthian shot, 'Going to bed with you is like going to bed with a woman!' (Grrrrr, babes. Was that supposed to be an insult???!!) As any Tgirl who bursts forth from the confines of her closet will happily explain to you, I didn't emerge quietly from my cocoon. I exploded into an orgy of totally femme misbehaving, partying all night at all sorts of clubs, being full on outrageous as I discovered how liberating it was to be...ME!

This was the 'end of acid/start of raving era' (shows you what an old bird I am!!!) and I dunno if it was all the drugs they were taking but everyone (with the exception of that usual heinous minority of Tphobic idiots) was agreeably tolerant. Although I lost most of my friends around this time (good riddance), those that remained became closer than ever. I was in with a lovely bunch of GGs and their BFs who used to look out for me. And Big D - not that you'll ever read this - but I love you for that night you saved me from the nutter by coming and putting your arm round me and saying, 'Come on, babe.. it's time to go home'. BIG BIG LUCIA SIGH!

Gosh.. my fingeries ache from all this typing... I'll continue this self indulgent ramble another time..

byes-ee fer now, sweetniks... x

so u wanna b a Tgurl?

Sometimes I think I must be the world's biggest hypocrite. Lemme explain.

On one hand, I'm totally for Tgirls in every form, circumstance and manifestation. I'd love to live on a Tgirl planet where everybody, from the hairiest panty wearer to the most ravishing TG was readily accepted and adored. A world where Tgirls presented the news alongside the usual seedy man-things and intelligent women. A world where nobody batted an eyelid at an overweight bald man scuttling up the highway in hi-heels and diamante earrings.

But here's my hypocrisy thing. If I meet a guy I fancy, I really can't stand the idea of him wearing a bra or even a pair of girly jeans. I like men to be... just that... men! This probably sounds a bit odd coming from a dedicated Tgurl such as I but there ya go!

I bumped into a quite yummy guy at a club a little while ago. Though a bit on the young side for Lucia, we slowly got chatting over a few glasses of sancerre (guess who paid for the drinks!!!). I had him pegged for an aspiring admirer and he was scrummy enough to make me wish I was twenty all over again! Imagine my disappointment when he began to tell me all about his repressed tranny desires. Natch, I was full of encouragement and filled his head with useful tips about the right clothes and makeup for his shape and skin-tone but... sigh gurls... I could have curled up and died. Another delicious man-thing lost and shipwrecked forever on the rocks and reefs of Tgirlydom.

See... I'm such a nasty little hypocrite! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeek!

whatsup spoo daddi rhumbarbo??

ooh.. it's pumpkin night.. the night that Tgirl's blogs go a little krazeeeeeeeee!

Is it the witchy bitchiness that sits in the air like pulverised flea dust or is it the haze of wispy wonder that blows in from the tops of the orange tanned legions?

Lucia has one leg over her broom and, kicking out with her nine inch heels, starts the twiglet motor purring and mewling as she lifts off across the ruins of the ghetto.

Watch as she passes by the moon!

men's shirts

It's a funny thing y'know really y'know. In an effort to be effortlessly femme, us Tgirls can spend a fortune on the right hair, the right makeup and the right clothes.

But what about those lazy mornings when we wake up at the BFs flat, our party frocks smelling of stale tobacco and generally foul nite club booziness? Naturally, we wanna cook up our man some nice brekkies before fading quietly out the door and up the road so we reach into his messy pile of clothes and pull out the cleanest shirt we can find.

It's all a bit like that Shania Twain song about 'men's shirts, short skirts' whathaveyou.

But 'eeeek'! It's not fair. While GGs can slip into man drag and do a Julia Roberts with impugnity, dressing in dull manly garb is usually fatal for our Tgirl image...

Maybe the best thing is talk the BF into buying a few girlyish shirts from time to time.. as long as he doesn't go round wearing them the minute our back's turned!! No way are we dating a guy like that!

SinoSoviet

Those of you young enough or with a great deal of wax between your ears will maybe remember a political situation known as The Cold War.

I really couldn't tell you much about it beyond the fact that the world was divided by ideology. The only people capable of moving between the two worlds were the Tgirls. This was when attitudes towards us first took a change for the better. The leaders and generals figured out that the only way to get information about the other side was to employ Tgirls as secret agents.

Recently, as I was admiring a Fendi bag that I can't afford in Selfridges, I was approached by two government stooges who asked me to slip into North Korea. The head stooge was a colourless woman in dark ill fitting clothes so I was inclined to refuse my services. However, the other stooge was a handsome hunk with very striking deep brown eyes and, even though he was quite obviously straight, I could just picture myself tugging off his 501s and clambering up onto his lap and feeding him some of my sweet sugar.

My mission was simple. To solve the mystery of the Noth Korean big bang. The key thing about Tgirl espionage is that you have to blend into the background like a packet of shadows. Which explains this outfit, darlinks... teehee

my pink thinks

Gosh.. a mad week of travels has left me breathless. Passing through customs always reminds me of one of those confrontational moments I had a few years ago. I was stopped on my way out to Vienna by a vary hard nosed and rather belligerently butch security woman. She didn't have to dig far into my wheely bag to find handfuls of my sexy undies and quite deliberately made me unpack everything after establishing I was travelling alone. She was soooo vile to me, casting me dirty looks and going through my stuff like it was contaminated. It was plain she was one of these stone age misfortunates who seem to believe that a guy who wears frocks and panties is some sort of 'perv'!! Crazy!!!!

Practically everyone's met one of these cold bureaucrats at some time in their life. What I don't understand is how anybody can want to behave that way to other people.

I once watched in horror as a poor American was deported from Heathrow. The reason? He'd made a silly joke to a busybody custom's bitch about what was in his violin case. In a rather unfunny but harmless mock gangster voice he said,' Dat's my machine gun'. The nasty custom's lady immediately radio'd for armed support and they deported the guy. Like a broken dalek, she kept saying to him, ' I'm sorry, sir but you have indicated to me that you have weaponry concealed within your luggage. We have no choice but to deport you'. No choice??? Oh, come on!

In the case of my own spiteful old cow, I just refused to be intimidated. Even when she unfurled my dresses and examined them carefully one by one all the while tut-tutting loudly, I just smiled ever so mildly while I pictured her dressed in leather dominatrix gear. Ugh... soon I was the one tut-tutting!

ho-hummmm