Hi everyone, I thank you in advance for taking the time to read my profile, which is basically my early life story and beyond. I sincerely believe it helps you to get to know me better and fill in the lines between the photos. I realize it's a bit long (an understatement), but I know that parts of it will resonate with many of you. Just think of it as my story. I also love reading other people's profiles, especially when some thought is put into it.

Everything I write about is true and every so often I add more memories or thoughts. I also thank you for all your comments, it's so much fun to receive them and I will do my best to respond.

By the way, if you invite any of my photos to groups, please let me repeat,

INVITE ME TO JOIN THE GROUP FIRST, I repeat, INVITE ME TO JOIN THE GROUP FIRST!

That would be most appreciated. I think the community we have here on flickr is truly amazing for girls such as us. It's the best!

All of my images are protected by copyright and any unauthorized use of them will be prosecuted.

Who am I?

I am an extremely feminine slim 5 ft 6 TV/Trans/Gay person who just adores wearing dresses and enjoying all things girly. All my life I've hovered between being a transexual/transgender person and your garden variety tranny. I love everything about the feminine lifestyle and the wonderful joys it can bring. It's always felt so natural to me. In essence, I always just wanted to be one of the girls. Always!

As much as I love the gorgeous clothing, the makeup, the glamour and the feelings, my raison d'être is my femininity. It is where it all begins for me. I need to be feminine and I had to suppress it for years while growing up. Being effeminate is my norm, my neutral place where I am truly my authentic self. I absolutely love being able to swish my hips, celebrate my limp wrists and revel in naturally being like a feminine woman in demeanour, movements and voice.

Like so many of us, I started with my mother's clothes. I didn't have any sisters. I started dressing very early, age 4 in fact, just a compulsion, didn't know why, but I had to wear all those pretty clothes as much as I could. I even have a photo in my profile wearing my mum's shoes at age two or so, taken by my dad.

Panties and lots of them were my go to clothing of choice as a young boy. I even loved just saying the word, P-a-n-t-i-e-s! I still do. To me, panties were always the girliest items of clothing, so exclusively girly and feminine. As a little boy, I saw that 'normal' boys would get soooo embarrassed in seeing or God forbid if they touched a pair. Not me, I knew that when I put them on I was a little girl, it was that powerful for me. The first time I knowingly put a pair on, was when I was 4 and it's seared into my brain. I remember taking my mum's most delicious red silky panties with black lace trim and putting them on in the basement storage room. How many little boys are magnetically drawn to their future in such a way?

The only thing I knew for sure, was what I was doing, wasn't considered 'normal', I just sensed that and went to great lengths to cover up the fact I would rather have been born a girl and be my parent's daughter. Like so many of us, especially back in the '50's and early '60's, , I thought I was the only one in the world who was like this. A little boy who wants to be a girl, a boy who loves dresses and all things girly, a boy who doesn't see himself as a boy at all. A boy who looks in the mirror and sees a girl reflected back. A little boy who felt something's not right and somehow I was on the wrong team. A little boy who would pray to wake up in the morning as a girl. It's an odd feeling and one 'normal' boys don't feel. If we only knew, how many of us there really are in the world.

My sweet grandmother might have sensed something as she often called me her beautiful little girl. She told me that many times. I'm sure she saw that I was a sensitive effeminate little boy and she was just telling it like it was. That's the absolute truth. As much as I loved hearing those words "Beautiful Little Girl" , I didn't let on. Had I, since she was a professional seamstress, I know I would have had my pick of pretty dresses to wear. I spent a lot of time there and often dressed in her clothes as well. She would have done anything to please me. A very special woman. Among other things, she took the time to teach me how to sew. I loved it and it's been incredibly useful to me.

Actually, one time when I was about 9, maybe 10, there was a costume day at our school. As much as I wanted to go as a girl of some sorts, I was as mentioned, obsessed with keeping my real feelings a secret. I found a way around it by telling my mum that a friend and I were going to go as Roman soldiers. She asked my grandmother to make me a costume, which she happily did and to my delight, it turned out to be basically a dress. A white one with a full skirt and a shield of course. I wore it proudly and my friend and I won first prize. I did get comments about my legs from other students and I certainly enjoyed that. No, I didn't wear panties that day.

Growing up, even my reading material was girl oriented. When I went to the library, I loved to take out books featuring Madeline, a young French girl living in Paris. I truly identified with her and also I had almost all the Bobbsey Twin books as well, and it was no surprise that is was the sister who I imagined myself being. My parents never commented on my girlish book choices.

Regrets....so many of them. Especially about about not being more honest about my feelings, desires and sexuality throughout my life. I had feminine mannerisms that people would often point out and when dressed alone as a girl, I knew exactly how to behave. It was always so natural and fun and right! As an effeminate child, I used to run like a girl and my wrists seemed to have a life of their own. After I was told about it, I paid special attention to change how I ran and held my wrists, at least when in public. I had to observe other boys to make sure I was behaving more like a boy and not the effeminate girlish person I really was.

My mother and I had a special relationship. She would often dress herself in my presence. She didn't seem to mind that her effeminate little boy was in her room watching her change her dresses, putting on slacks or doing her makeup. I loved those moments and I always paid attention. I still remember sitting next to her on her bed while she put on her garter belt and then rolled up her nylons to attach them. I was fascinated and always took mental notes. More often than not, she'd also try out different outfits and ask me which one of them I liked best. I don't know if she trusted my fashion sense, but she would ask and sometimes went with my choice. Come to think of it, how many little boys like me would have enjoyed those moments as much as I did. Certainly little femme boys like many of us here. I felt honoured that she asked me and I treasured those special moments we had together, that were more like mother and daughter relationships.

I especially loved the moment when she was all dressed, applied perfume and put on her red lipstick. I was enthralled with how she applied it and then rubbed her lips together. I yearned to ask her if she would put her lipstick on me too, but her little sissy scaredy cat Nerissa was much too shy. I certainly practiced on my own though. My mum didn't use a lot of makeup, just lipstick and powder pretty well.

Unbeknownst to my mum, she was my teacher in all things feminine. It didn't hurt that she herself was extremely feminine, a girly girl and I just wanted to follow in her footsteps. I loved my dad of course, but I dreamt of growing up to be just like mum and in most ways I certainly did. There's no doubt that mothers and daughters share a special relationship. To be brought up as a girl by my mum would have been the most fantastic experience and one I often think about to this day.

As ashamed as I am now to admit it, from the age of 10, I began liberating girl's and women's panties from clothes lines. This included the occasional slip as well. It was like girl candy to me and over time, I collected about 20 gorgeous lacy panties. These days people rarely use clothes lines. I was only caught once by an older male teenager in the neighbourhood, who thought I was a peeping tom. It turned out alright, but scared me away from doing it anymore.

I loved having my 'own' pretty panties to wear and certainly made great use of them. I thank all the females who unknowingly gifted them to me. One gorgeous full slip I took was covered in lace. With my grandmother's sewing lessons, I carefully removed some of the lace and sewed them onto several of the leg bands of my stolen panties. They looked so feminine and girly, including a custom made pair of rhumba panties I created. You know the kind that had 3 layers of lace on the derriere. I allowed myself to think that one day, I might also be a seamstress and sew myself pretty dresses and other girly things.

I often wore my mum's panties or 'mine' under my boy clothes. I just loved being with my mother, knowing we were both wearing panties. I absolutely loved how they felt underneath and rubbed deliciously against my pants. Most panties in those days were made of satin, rayon or nylon......a delight!

When I was 11, the urge to be a girl was overwhelming (Gender Dysphoria I guess) and I had to share it with someone. I wanted that person to be my mother as I admired and loved her so much and wanted to be like her, as I previously mentioned. I came so close one Friday night when we were out together........it was like an anxiety overwhelming me. I had to tell her!

I was so nervous I began to shake a little, my little heart beat hard in my chest and tried to find the words I wanted to say. I was about to say I wanted to be a girl, when all I got out, was something like 'Mum, there's something about girl's clothes......I just love them so much' She said, 'What do you mean, you want to wear them?' I just wasn't brave enough to say yes to her as much as I wanted to, but she obviously knew. She gave me a look that even at that age, I understood to be a mixture of bewilderment and understanding. She didn't bring this conversation up again.... that, would be up to me. When I finally did tell her as an older person, she assured me that she knew of my feelings and tried to understand, but didn't know exactly how to help me back when I was young and trusted that I would find my way in the world.

In fact, I was sure she knew that I wore her clothes, despite the fact I was meticulous in making sure everything was as I had found it. It helped develop a fantastic attention to detail and memory. Location, folds, hanger, direction the dress faced, etc. Thankfully, my mum would leave the laundry basket of clean clothes in my room before she ironed and sorted them. To my absolute delight, I would have her freshly laundered panties and slips to wear in my own room. Heaven!

As a teenager, she did catch me once trying to sneak one of her pretty dresses into my bedroom so I could enjoy wearing it. I told her I wanted the belt.......such a lame excuse and she took it away and that was that.

At one time, when I was 12 or 13, I was hiding my panty collection in the pockets of a coat hanging from my door. One day, both my Mum and Dad walked into my room and confronted me with my panties. There were lots of questions, whose are these? What are you doing with them? On and on it went and in hindsight, it could have been my coming out party had I been bold enough. Instead, I vomited up my usual lies and missed an opportunity to tell them I desperately wanted to be their daughter.

There were more than a few occasions when my mum asked me if I wanted to be a girl. Once, when I was in her room and she was getting dressed for a party and I was obviously enthralled with the process, she looked at me with a smile and said, 'Do you wish you were a girl too so you could dress up like me?' I just gave her the biggest smile. Of course she had to know, just by asking me the question, meant that she knew I wanted to be a girl.

Or when I had my ears pierced during the hippie period (I was 16) and she saw what I had done. She wasn't smiling then, when she said, 'Do you really want to be a girl?' I understood completely that my mum and dad didn't know what to do with their effeminate son who wanted to be a girl. How could they at that period of time. Much later in my life, my mum confessed to me that she and my dad knew for sure I was either a transvestite, a budding drag queen, or at least gay..............obviously!

We had a woman come to clean our house once every two weeks and as we all sat at the kitchen table eating lunch together, she always told me I looked like a girl, especially when I tried to grow my hair. Sometimes while playing with other kids in the neighbourhood, children I didn't know, would often ask me whether I was a boy or a girl. I secretly loved it when people did that and would occasionally go with the flow and say, 'Yes a girl' if I knew nothing would come of it.

Back then and now, I truly feel blessed that when dressed as a woman, I can generally pass with no problems. Thank you mummy! The reality is, my hands and fingers are large and my shoulders are a bit square compared to a genetic female, but picking the right clothes, etc. truly helps.

As I got older and tried so hard to grow my hair longer, my mum, who didn't want me to have long hair, would try to embarrass me into cutting it. She did this by telling me what she would buy me. Usually, it was when she was behind me in the kitchen and I was at the table. She'd say, 'With your pretty long hair, I'm going to buy you a pretty lace blouse and a cute mini skirt, nice shoes and everything you need underneath as well, panties, nylons a bra. Wouldn't you like that?' Of course, I wanted to say sooooo much Mummy, but I was afraid, deeply. Of course, she thought the embarrassment would make me cut my hair, but it only fuelled my girliness. Why I couldn't tell her the truth about her feminine son still escapes me other than I knew it was supposedly 'wrong'. By the way, she didn't buy those clothes for me, unfortunately. The experience morphed into yet another fantasy of mine.

My Mother loved fashion and always had the most beautiful clothes. For a girly boy like me, it was simply the Garden of Eden. She even kept some old crinolines from the 50's and I had worn them every chance I could get. There were three, one white taffeta with lace trim, one red nylon and a scrumptious black one. I loved wearing all of them at the same time under her full skirts and dresses. I can still hear the rustle and relive the tactile experience. I used to go into the cedar closet where they were kept, strip off my clothes and put her crinolines on. I would just lay there against some pillows and stare in awe how my legs looked peeking out from the lace, tulle and froth. In addition, I got to wear the latest fashions from my mum's collection, sometimes even before some of the girls my age at school.

By the age of 14, I was into serious drag that included everything from Mum's makeup and lingerie to her gorgeous dresses, tops etc. and her only wig. It was a short frosted number that reminded me of Connie Stevens. In fact, I wanted to look like her from among the many female role models I had. I would stare at myself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, finally seeing the real me. Hmmm, I still tend to do that, the mirror bit that is.

Like yesterday, I remember that magical moment when I was completely dressed and wearing her wig for the first time with complete makeup looking into her bedroom mirror. I was wearing one of her feminine floral tops and white tight pants with heels, her white lace bra and matching panties. (I loved seeing the visible panty line through the pants) It was a watershed event for me, when I definitely didn't see a 14 year old feminine boy anymore, but a real girl looking back. A GIRL, and it was me!

I'll never ever forget that moment! Powerful stuff. A glimpse of the real me and my trans future. I definitely knew that at that moment that I really wanted to be the most feminine girl in the world. I was lucky to have lots of time alone at home as both my Mum and Dad were working by the time I was 14 and I continued on with my girlhood dressing as often as I could.

I also knew then and there, that I was destined to be a drag queen, tranny, trans, whatever the label. In fact, I had to be and of course that's who I am! For many years now, I have to dress completely with makeup, etc. I can't just slip on panties, or a dress and call it a day, it's all or nothing for me. It was also around this time, that I heard about sex changes and I was obsessed with the subject. The first piece I read was about Christine Jorgenson and I couldn't believe it. In pre internet days this kind of information was very hard to come by. Little by little, I educated myself about the subject and was determined that that was going to be me when I had the means and ways. To have a sex change that is. The fact that I could become a real girl thrilled me to no end and I thought about it constantly. I also sought out photos and info I could get about transvestites and drag queens. My road to becoming one of the girls was becoming clearer and clearer and I couldn't wait for the day, that people would see me as female.

When I was 11 or so, my friends and I would often hang out downtown before we went to the Y for activities. We used to visit different stores and one of them sold pornographic magazines. I vividly remember on evening where I saw a magazine covered in a plastic wrapper. The photo on the cover featured a beautiful looking woman in a black full A-line dress with petticoats. What caught my eye and soul, was that the woman was a very pretty bald man. He wasn't wearing a wig. I was drawn to that magazine much like a moth to a flame. In a few years time, those magazines (once I could afford them and be old enough to buy them) would help inspire me with my look and my desires.

The first time I ventured out in mummy's clothes was when my parents went on a holiday when I was 16. I had been driving for a little less than a year and I thought, I'll go for a drive as a girl. I put on one of my mum's gorgeous skirt and top outfits that featured a pleated skirt, did my makeup and left the house. The winter cold made its presence known on my nylon encased legs and I LOVED IT. It was dark of course and I got in the car and took a ride as Nerissa. The first of many.

At this time, my plan for when my parents would go for a trip would be the following. As soon as they left, I would dress as a 16 year old girl and go to the beauty salon down my street. I would have the stylist cut my longer hair into a very feminine style. I would also have my nails and toes done. The plan would have me get a shorter haircut the day before they returned. I would have done this several times, but my parents had relatives look in on me and I would have been discovered as the trans person I am. Of course, that didn't stop me from dressing in mummy's clothes almost all the time while they were away. I even moved her panties, slips, nylons, bras, stockings and dresses into my room. I just put all my boy clothing elsewhere. I even cleaned up my desk and made it into a makeup table with a little mirror. Trust me, I spent a lot of time there.

For me, my goal, as I've already mentioned was simply to be one of the girls. One time at my aunt's (my Mum's sister-in-law), all the men and boys were in the living room watching some sports show (what a cliché, but so true) and all the women were in my aunt's bedroom. They were talking about some of the things females from that generation talked about, food, clothing, and men of course. Who was there sitting in and amongst all of them, soaking it all in? Me of course, the effeminate little girly boy who sewed lace onto his panties. I truly felt I was allowed to be a member of the sisterhood that evening as I paid attention to everything that was said and imagined being my mum's daughter while there.

The experience once again became one of my favourite fantasies. In it, my aunt's sister who led the whole real conversation, notices me and my femininity and invites me back to be dressed up by her and instructed in the ways of women.

I loved it when girls and older women would sometimes tease me about how I would look in dresses or having my hair styled. This would happen fairly often and I'm sure it was because of my girlish features and mannerisms. I always feigned surprise, but did my best to encourage it and push it as far as I could take it. This happened so many times to me.

For example, I was ten or so and waiting at the bus stop with some girls to go home from school. One girl out of nowhere said, 'You would look so sweet in one of my dresses and with a crinoline too!' Little did she know. Another time also in elementary school, while I was playing with the girls, sometimes even skipping rope, one of the girls said to me, "You should wear dresses like us so you would fit in better." I never forgot that! I had a whole fantasy where I went to one of the girl's houses that was right across from the school. it would be lunch hour and she would dress me in her panties, knee high stockings, a pretty dress and a crinoline. We then went back to the school yard and I would play with the girls as one of them. I still love that fantasy.

Once a year, I looked forward to the arrival of catalogues from Eaton's and Simpson Sears.

I would pore through them, heading straight to the girls and women's sections. Little Nerissa would ooooo and ahhhhh at the lovely panty and slip sets, nighties, and of course the myriad of gorgeous dresses, skirts and lingerie. I'm sure many of you have done the same thing. This being the early 60's and beyond, outside of going to the store and buying items, the only other way would be to order them. I didn't have the money or an address to send it to. I still fantasized about getting dressed in all the outfits.

Over the years, I have come to realize, that many cis girls and women are happy to encourage boys like me to dress and act like a girl. Some of them really want to help us when they realize we are failures as typical males and are more feminine than they are. There are so many stories of older sisters doing it to their brothers or others. I have personally found that when they find out how feminine I really am, they can't wait to help me.

Of course, some girls at school were the complete opposite, but I avoided them. I was also bullied by boys who would sense my deep femininity and submissiveness. I've been called a sissy so many times, I've come to love the word. I'm a sissy in the truest sense, a very effeminate male who wants to be completely girlish in manner, clothing and desires. In high school, one boy would always call me a homosexual and as many times as he said it and despite my denials, I just finally accepted it (turned out to be true anyway). I think it was more because I had great fashion sense for a boy and I had longer hair.

In fact, my fashion sense was unusual for the other boys, during the MOD era, I wore flowery shirts and high heeled boots. A few times while I was at parties, some of the girls would invite me into a room where they would lock the door and one of the girls would show off her lingerie to the other girls and me. I guess they felt a feminine kinship with me for them to include me in these situations. As the girls oooohed and awwwd their reactions at the lingerie, so did I.

A girl I knew from our group and one I had a crush on came to a little party at my house. I was 15 and she was wearing a beautiful red sweater top. I convinced her to leave it at my house and I gave her one of my shirts to wear home.

The next day while alone at home, I wore her sweater and my mum's gray box pleated skirt and imagined that I was my friend going to school. A few days later when I returned it, she said, 'I hope you enjoyed wearing it!' I sure did, omg it was wonderful, but I didn't share that part.

Unfortunately, I don't have any photos of me dressed from being a teenager as some other girls on flickr do. I did have an unsophisticated camera, but I was always worried about what the person at the photo shop would say after I came to pick them up. The only photos I have are the ones my dad took of me when I was very young and those are in my albums.

Later when I was much older, I went to a department store and bought a package of stick on fingernails. The saleslady, who was around 40 plus, asked me very sweetly as I was paying her, 'Are you going to wear those tonight?' She knew who and what I was right away. She then asked, "What dress will you wear with your new pretty nails?' I was dumbfounded and turned incredibly red with embarrassment, mumbled some incoherent answer, but the truth was I loved it. I treasured being one of the girls, but I also eventually discovered that I loved being a boy who wanted to be a girl. I love stories about little boys wanting to be girls or how their mums, aunts and sisters encouraged them. I love seeing a picture of an incredibly feminine looking girl and realizing it's in reality a boy. Pure magic! This was also a realization that maybe I didn't have to have an operation to be who I wanted and needed to be, instead I could be Nerissa with a little extra equipment and everything else would fall into place.

Up to the age of 19, I was lucky to have a small frame that could easily be a woman's with the right undergarments. At age 20, suddenly, my shoulders got a bit broader and more masculine features seemed to appear. Of course, this happens to many of us and we find ways to deal with it. I was thankful that I was healthy, but wished I could have had the feminine body I craved. As we know, it's a short window where our bodies could take on true feminine features with hormones, but it wasn't in the T cards for me.

As a young femboy, I often allowed myself to think about what would be my future. Would I stay in the closet? Would I come out as a gay transvestite? Would I finally have the surgery to truly be one of the girls? I wasn't sure and something always held me back from being totally honest with myself. It was as if two people were sharing my body. One very female and the other, well you know.

Here's another cliché but a true one. I often fantasized that after High School I would study hairdressing and become a stylist. I would think about which gorgeous outfit I would wear to work and be I'd be so happy working on making genetic women look their best for their men. They would confide in me as one of the girls. Or, another where I would be a designer of women's clothes, or a sales girl in a wedding wear shop. I actually applied to a dress store like that, but they declined my 'offer.'

At the age of 18, I played keyboards in a hotel/pub band. The group consisted of a guitarist singer who was the leader, myself and various female singers over the months. All of the vocalists were pretty women who were also having sex with the leader. Some had better voices than others, but of course that didn't matter.

They were all nice to me and me being me, I was enthralled with all of them, their clothes, their femininity and well, I simply admired them. This was a long time ago and I had long hair at the time. Some of the people in small towns would give me a hard time, yelling out 'Hey Mary', 'Did your barber close down' or 'Hey faggot'....you know the usual.

One singer we had for quite awhile, wore wigs and gorgeous dresses for the stage. I had already explored her lingerie collection in her hotel room and she had several beautiful feminine lace and ruffled panties and bras which I had to try on when it was possible. She also must have worked as a stripper as I saw she had one pair of cute red panties with fringes.

After the gig, she always went to the leader's room and spent the night. In the morning, I would go in to his room while they ate breakfast and put on her black panties, bra, scrumptious purple full skirted dress with a crinoline and purple high heels and imagine I was her. I topped it off with her blonde pageboy wig. A little bit of lipstick and I was her mincing around the room and being the real me.

One night during a break, they (the singer and leader) started talking about my hair. She said to me and I still remember the exact words, 'You would make a great girl, you could dance on stage and wear my red pants, you'd really fool them all.' Little did she know, I knew exactly which red pants she was talking about. They continued to make fun of me and inside, I loved it.

That night after the playing, I came up with one of my other favourite fantasies. I imagined that she thought that I should dress and act like a female all the time. That way, the band would be extra special with two females and the male guitarist leader. We would wear matching clothes on stage and she would instruct me on how to be the perfect girl. That part wouldn't have been difficult. The fantasy would include me having to take hormones and successfully fooling them all as she said to me in real life. Oh, I think it also meant I was visiting the leader's bed as well. What can I say, he was cute and very well endowed.

So here I am many years later and the urge to dress and transform myself into a woman is stronger than ever. It's truly a wonder how deep the desire is. I mean really deep. Many of us have these feelings and we hopefully learn how to deal with it. Many of us marry cis women and some come out to them before getting married and others after. Not an easy thing to do, but I know it's also very hard keeping it inside as well. I'm sure many therapists and counsellors have earned a lot of money from our community.

In case you're wondering after reading all of this, whether my family and friends know about me..........well, the answer is yes. They've known for quite awhile now and have just accepted me for who I am. It took me a long time to let them know, but almost all said to me, what took you so long, we've always known. My mother's acceptance of who I was was very important to me for obvious reasons. She would tell me in later years how I would have made a wonderful daughter and that she wanted me to be happy. She understood as mums do, that for her child to be really happy, was infinitely more important to her than knowing your son was an effeminate transvestite and what that meant.

For the past 30 or so years, I have lived my life mostly as a woman. Most people upon realizing that I'm really male are kind, very interested in my story and are accepting. I especially enjoy the company of trans people, effeminate males and some straight acting men, plus I adore having cis women as girlfriends to talk about clothes, makeup, going shopping and our feelings. I know that sounds so silly and stereotypical lol, other things too you know.

Coming out has taken a long time, but has made such a difference in my life. Of course, I should have done it much sooner, but I now live my life honestly and adore being who I am. Despite being way out of the closet, I like to keep a low profile where I live. It's just who I am.

What's also amazing is the change and openness of being trans now. If I was only just starting out, it would be so much easier and I think my life would have taken a different direction and obviously a physical feminine one. I still think about those forks in the road where I could have taken a more obviously feminine route. In fact, I'm still debating yes or no, maybe. It's my fate, I guess and one I share with so many others. I will always want to be one of the girls........always!

I have to say that so many of the photos here on Flickr are incredibly inspiring to me. I also love to see trans girls who have taken the brave steps to becoming real girls and women and living their lives as the honest people they are. I have the deepest respect for them and I take much pride in their achievements. My heart goes out to them for what they've gone through and I especially love hearing from other girls so we can share experiences, tips and support.

I also express my support for our trans sisters who don't have feminine features at all and look like the classic boy/man in a dress. I know that in their hearts, they are so happy to be able to express their femme side and no matter how they look, they are doing their best.

I encourage all the little boys who want to be girls, to try to be who they really want to be and of course all the little girls who want to be boys as well. Follow your intuition and dreams and be brave.

There really hasn't been a better time than now to be trans (except for a rough period ahead in the U.S. right now) so let's celebrate that fact, my sweet sisters and brothers.

Love you girls and boys!

And, I LOVE seeing your comments! I read each and everyone of them. Thank you so much, even if it's a word or two. Also, if I don't get back to you right away please forgive me in advance, but I will eventually........I hope.

One of my favourite people is Shane Jenek a.k.a Courtney Act. She's beautiful, talented and a leader for the queer and trans community. Check out this video about her from ABC, the Public Australian Broadcasting Service.

youtube/DKiZ5GRogIk

Here's a very informative film called "Screaming Queens" produced by KQED Arts.

youtu.be/G-WASW9dRBU

Here's one more from HBO called "DragTime" an HBO Documentary co-produced by Fred Reidel and HBO. Required viewing!

youtu.be/qWDlhwYJcpg

One of my favourite drag queens is Jinx Monsoon. Check out her story in this great video.

youtu.be/KV2TROlEaQI?si=wAeJXP_RAcNSZQaO

With all the celebration of SNL and its 50th anniversary of late, I came across one sketch that could have been lifted directly from a gay club. See the delightful Terry Sweeney as Nancy Reagan. He's incredible!

www.instagram.com/kidicarus222/reel/CxyWLQqv4rd/?hl=en

With much love to all, kisses and hugs

Nerissa