Matey Kuntgomerie. Big bloke. Massive veiny man-hands. God-knows-what going on "downstairs" (or "upstairs", come to that), but it won't look, smell, or feel - like a nice healthy and natural vulva and vagina.
Another of Montys numerous delusions is that males impersonating women can be so convincing that no one can tell the "difference" between the fake and real thing.
Especially as, in trans terms, I'm one of the "failed" females who has never embraced lipstick or high heels, thus have always been worried I wasn't differentiating myself sufficiently.
Women do, too. The first time I met a transbian was in the 80s, at a friend's. Oh, so-and-so is dropping by, my friend said, you'll get to meet her, and when this 6 foot gent in a skirt walked in, I felt a visceral reaction, not disgust, but unease in some way. Even then I thought it was creepy that this dad in his late 30s was hanging around with lesbians in their 20s.
We had coffee that day, and he "revealed his secret" and told me that he'd been to an ob-gyn and he claimed 'they hadn't been able to tell'. Inside I was dying laughing--I could tell in the first nanosecond. Hidden: a Gender, is the title of the play he went on to write.
Always? I'm not sure--there is the panto dame, like Dame Edna, who will all know is a man, we are all in on the ruse. I feel like that is different from the sexualized, pig-tailed, mini-skirted, "it's MA'AM"-ers.
hhhmmmm, I was being facetious about not "sufficiently differentiating myself" from trans impersonators of women. I have never had my sex mistaken, ever, since 18 months old. In adulthood I present as quintessentially female as I'm short, large breasted and gifted of generous childbearing hips that have performed their intended function impressively. In addition to the sticky out bits I have small hands and feet, smooth soft skin, a voice box that only ever devp to the softer speech delivery physiologically programmed by XX....and a preference for long hair.
Matey Kuntgomerie. Big bloke. Massive veiny man-hands. God-knows-what going on "downstairs" (or "upstairs", come to that), but it won't look, smell, or feel - like a nice healthy and natural vulva and vagina.
Now Colin says he won't date me.
I has a sad now.
Another of Montys numerous delusions is that males impersonating women can be so convincing that no one can tell the "difference" between the fake and real thing.
Everyone knows.
As a heterosexual male who has had sex for the last 40 years or so I think I and just about every hetero male on the planet would know the difference.
as a woman, I find that extremely comforting.
Especially as, in trans terms, I'm one of the "failed" females who has never embraced lipstick or high heels, thus have always been worried I wasn't differentiating myself sufficiently.
Women do, too. The first time I met a transbian was in the 80s, at a friend's. Oh, so-and-so is dropping by, my friend said, you'll get to meet her, and when this 6 foot gent in a skirt walked in, I felt a visceral reaction, not disgust, but unease in some way. Even then I thought it was creepy that this dad in his late 30s was hanging around with lesbians in their 20s.
We had coffee that day, and he "revealed his secret" and told me that he'd been to an ob-gyn and he claimed 'they hadn't been able to tell'. Inside I was dying laughing--I could tell in the first nanosecond. Hidden: a Gender, is the title of the play he went on to write.
having the agp paraphilia includes enormous capacity for self delusion
Mostly because men in women's clothing has always been cringe.
Always? I'm not sure--there is the panto dame, like Dame Edna, who will all know is a man, we are all in on the ruse. I feel like that is different from the sexualized, pig-tailed, mini-skirted, "it's MA'AM"-ers.
hhhmmmm, I was being facetious about not "sufficiently differentiating myself" from trans impersonators of women. I have never had my sex mistaken, ever, since 18 months old. In adulthood I present as quintessentially female as I'm short, large breasted and gifted of generous childbearing hips that have performed their intended function impressively. In addition to the sticky out bits I have small hands and feet, smooth soft skin, a voice box that only ever devp to the softer speech delivery physiologically programmed by XX....and a preference for long hair.