In all the facade of "lets make some money", comes yet another day that stops everyone in their tracks to dip hand in pocket and spend the sort of money that may have been better spent on more important stuff.

Oh, LOVE is important but then so is having breakfast, lunch and supper. Cant remember a special day put aside for that, well not yet anyway. I don't sound grumpy and left out and thus want to knock this day, this Valentine's Day to pulp because at the end of the day it happens to be LEAP YEAR (February grace us with one extra day this year, 29 instead of 28) Whoopee!!!

In the LIB (well perhaps not in the title, but somewhere in the organisation at least) of Women's Lib it stands proclaimed that on LEAP YEAR Ladies can hunt their hunters rather then being hunted, as during any other year (when February do not have that extra day) 

So it stands to reason that here I would have the opportunity to track down and hunt my man for a change. Common sense put paid to that exciting idea when it occurred to me that I do not have a man I would like to hunt down, at least not anyone that had not already been taken that is .........

So once again I have only myself and my company to be with on this red and white, flowers and wine, chocolates and teddy-bears day of days

Valentine's day indeed.

I convince myself that it cant happen every year so mayBE next year, V-day will be special for me too .......

I am not sure what is worse? The past in which I was the liar or the present where I reveal the truth, only to find people running for cover. Pay back time? I guess so.

 

Many girls go stealth. Meaning they bury their pasts. Severe all links with people who remember and still see only that person of the past. They then start a new life in a new closet and pray to God that they never get found out.

 

I am not sure which is worst, hiding the true self in the past and living up to the expectations of others, or hiding the past and it’s false presentation to live up to the true self at the risk of being abandoned with out a second thought.

 

Perhaps in years to come, many years to come, the stigma that labeled girls like me with the totally incorrect image of a soulless sex toy with freaky features and nothing more but a fetish “please don’t ever tell anyone about our little no strings attached fling”, will yield to the truth of just how much women we are.

 

I wonder still, I wonder after all this pain, fear and suffering, who is going to want me now?

  

To all my trusted readers and followers,thanks and please feel free to comment.

I made a major change to my blog so that my newest post will now be listed first ....

Enjoy .....

So why is it that when a boy wants to play with dolls and wear a dress, he gets a slap and discouraged? My sister was as tomboy as they come. Much to my dispare she was encourage to be "strong" and play with my toys, boy toys.

Could no one see and understand that I could not be this boy? I mean here I was a little bambino with an empty brain, no experience, no knowledge and no real understanding of anything other the this instinctive sense of wanting to survive.

In my understanding, survival has a range of ingredients and one of them has to be HAPPY, surely? So why was I not happy, content and why did I have this instinctive sense of wanting to be like my mother? Oh, I had no reason to fear or hate my father. In my eyes he was the protector, the provider and with him around I felt safe and secure. The problem was seeing myself as a man he had come to be. I had no inclination, no reason, no need and no urge to want to be like him.

If given the free choice of selecting my gender by instinct and not by my genitals, then female would be my choice without on moment of doubt. So while my sister had so much freedom to express herself, I was stuck in this forever feeling of hopelesnes and denied the right to be me.

For why is not to ask, just be what is expected of you ..........

As the child see the light of day, covered in after birth and that first yelling lung clearing performance, the medical staff look to one place only. Perverts ... it's a BOY! Oh really? Just how would you figure that doctor? Not being able to see and most definitely not able to understand or recognise the fact that the brain gender and the psychical (genital) body gender may not be a perfect match, the poor child is labelled and set up for a life of living hell. I was such a child. And before you want to suggest that the "Creator" do not make mistakes I will let you know that being mismatched most definitely DO NOT make me a mistake to begin with. Different yes, abnormal NO! Human kind (and I need to be cautious using the word "kind" as I find more unkind amongst humans then I do kind) has this preset thing about gender. There are two distinct genders, male and female. Nature opted to have it that way so as to ensure the ongoing existence to man but nature did make one mistake. Giving man the ability to think and do, be emotional and being able to fear and hate. Complex as a human is, the sum of total that makes up an individual is a scientific harmony of life. Should any vital part of that human fail, death is eminent. Nature has it's variances and there is nothing in nature that is perfect. No human, no animal, no plant nothing is absolutely perfect anyway. Perfect and healthy is self invented yard measures man started to use to compare and match what is acceptable. Just like normal has no reference to anything other then many of the same. In my case, nature got it off the normal scale and from day one my instinctive female brain got flooded with male hormones called testosterone. Like any other human I am here to survive. Part of my survival package, besides having to breath, would be to live as long as I possibly can. In order to do this, I would have to blend in to a family and with an empty brain that bare no memories of life or understanding of anything other then that basic survival instinct, I had to match my instinctive options and choice with the approval of my parents. My instinct said I am female, long before I even realised or understood the different genital configuration was at that point (and still is today) the clear indicator of baby being dressed in blue or pink. I got blue without being asked and my heart and instinct cried for PINK instead ........