I remember vividly and still feel it, mostly vicariously, the thrill.. pitter pat.. of a boy's heart when he regards that which is soft, and sensuous, gentle and admiring, curvy and complete in a body that hurts to look at, eyes that hurt to look into... a voice that.. melts.... Mom's register, the female voice. The heart swells.... and that isn't the only thing that swells. Those special memories; just so tickled to have a sweet smelling, good looking girl on your arms or in your arms. To be the rather colorless consort to that gay colorful lilting creature!
So when you begin to seriously emulate her. When you dress as you never dressed as young. A flowing skirt, a lighter tread, sparkles from a little costume bling, and the lovely feelings of your beautful underthings, soft against your body. When you are her if only approximately, and with a few more years on you than she had, when you are her nonetheless, a experience the other side, there is a loss. She laughed, and lilted and flirted with that colorless shy boy, and that boy.... well.... that boy is gone.
It has been very satisfying for me to be transgendered, but like serial monogamy is not polyamoury so serial gender identification is not the full experience, but I am not sure with my hormones, and my sweety titties that I would never never want to surrender, that I could ever have that full experience. Some people, younger than i call themselves genderqueer.
I would love to know if someone can actually be both ... male and female in some fundamental way and enjoy both pieces of the dance. In the same day, in the same body.... The mystical union...
Or didn't you know. Yab Yum is Yum Yum.
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