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Lucy Diamond 's Entries

204 blogs
  • 15 Jun 2005
    Ripe strawberries ripe I was so proud of my first strawberry of the year I took a picture of it. It was as lovely, sweet and juicy as it was huge, so I thought I’d share it with you, the pic that is, I ate the strawberry all on my own. You can tell we’re not far from the Sellafield nuclear plant here can’t you., it’s got to be a mutant berry or something. The night before that it was such a lovely evening I tried to take a pic through my bedroom window, which is less than clean at the moment and has temporary secondary glazing over it, so there’s a bit of glare and cloudiness. It’s a shame the pic didn’t come out better because there was just such an aura glowing from the hills as the sun set behind them, awesome. Fortunately Sellafield is being decommissioned so the mutant strawberries and radioactive glow will be a thing of the past, in about half a million years or so. And people around here complain about wind turbines. Oh come on people, burn coal and damage the ozone layer, risk polluting the planet for millions of years with radioactive waste, or stick up a few windmills, which is the lesser of those evils? If you were in Holland it would be, "Oh what a pretty windmill, how quaint…" Anyway I’m not turning into a green activist or anything, just some things are obvious. And the large strawberry is probably just something in the soil, or maybe it’s my magic garden. Or the Cumbrian weather. I think I will plant some roses next then I can annoy the neighbours early in the morning singing songs from Oliver! "Who will buy, my sweet red ro-o-ses two-oo blooms for a penny…"
    522 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • Ripe strawberries ripe I was so proud of my first strawberry of the year I took a picture of it. It was as lovely, sweet and juicy as it was huge, so I thought I’d share it with you, the pic that is, I ate the strawberry all on my own. You can tell we’re not far from the Sellafield nuclear plant here can’t you., it’s got to be a mutant berry or something. The night before that it was such a lovely evening I tried to take a pic through my bedroom window, which is less than clean at the moment and has temporary secondary glazing over it, so there’s a bit of glare and cloudiness. It’s a shame the pic didn’t come out better because there was just such an aura glowing from the hills as the sun set behind them, awesome. Fortunately Sellafield is being decommissioned so the mutant strawberries and radioactive glow will be a thing of the past, in about half a million years or so. And people around here complain about wind turbines. Oh come on people, burn coal and damage the ozone layer, risk polluting the planet for millions of years with radioactive waste, or stick up a few windmills, which is the lesser of those evils? If you were in Holland it would be, "Oh what a pretty windmill, how quaint…" Anyway I’m not turning into a green activist or anything, just some things are obvious. And the large strawberry is probably just something in the soil, or maybe it’s my magic garden. Or the Cumbrian weather. I think I will plant some roses next then I can annoy the neighbours early in the morning singing songs from Oliver! "Who will buy, my sweet red ro-o-ses two-oo blooms for a penny…"
    Jun 15, 2005 522
  • 13 Jun 2005
    Zap! Had my second IPL session today. The power was turned up a couple of notches, and next time it will be on full whack, gulp. I have noticed a very slight slowing in growth since the first treatment, but not enough to really make any difference. Any amount of stubble is a problem, so it’s a case of all or nothing. Which could take some time. I remain patient. I’ve started the rather awesome task of informing various institutions of my change of name, my god there are more than you think. I collected my passport from my dad on the way back today, as I need that for my new driving license. I couldn’t stop long, but just long enough to tell him about my official change of surname, which didn’t seem to upset him particularly. I don’t think he ever liked the name either, but he doesn’t want me to go ahead with all this anyway so the name doesn’t really matter. I said if there was any way I could avoid all this I would, but he said, "I suppose a man’s got to do what, a woman’s got to do", so at least he realises that I have to do this, whether he likes it or not. Which he doesn’t. Oh well. He really isn’t happy about this, but I don’t expect him to be so I don’t let it bother me. It’s funny though, I was thinking last night how I have always accepted my transgenderism, it’s just always been a part of me, I’ve never known anything else, but I never really got emotional about it until I shared it with my family. I’m not sure if that’s because of the way it affects them, or the way them knowing affects me. Bring something like this out into the open and everything takes on a new aspect. Hard to explain, but dealing with one’s family is a very emotional time, for me at least. I think the worst is over. Perhaps my next major nerve-racking event will be the meeting of Lucy and her dad, which either has to happen soon, or he simply never sees me again, which I’m glad to say he hasn’t suggested. Yet… I said they were welcome to come round for dinner again anytime, but he said it must be their turn to invite me, perhaps in a few weeks when his schedule is less busy. Either he accepts me going dressed or I don’t go, so we shall see. I’m full time now, with a small exception – once a month when I go for my IPL treatment, as one is required to have a certain amount of stubble. Though in future I will go in girly jeans and an ambiguous top. The NHS criteria for the Real Life Experience is to not present yourself as male or revert to the male role at all. No problem there, I have no desire to do either, but I don’t think it’s crystal clear where one should draw one’s own line. As an example I am not prepared to shave every day, as my skin just can't handle it, but I shan’t be going out when I don’t except for the IPL, so I feel they must allow me that, as it has nothing to do with reverting to "male role", quite the contrary in fact. Anyway today will probably be the last time my dad sees me in any form of male clothes, not that I looked at all male today, despite a little stubble. He looked at my passport pic and said, "It doesn’t look anything like you!" "I know, it’s hideous…" My chosen path will make me a better person, of that I am sure. And already I don’t look half as bad as I used to. Must be a good omen. xx
    502 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • Zap! Had my second IPL session today. The power was turned up a couple of notches, and next time it will be on full whack, gulp. I have noticed a very slight slowing in growth since the first treatment, but not enough to really make any difference. Any amount of stubble is a problem, so it’s a case of all or nothing. Which could take some time. I remain patient. I’ve started the rather awesome task of informing various institutions of my change of name, my god there are more than you think. I collected my passport from my dad on the way back today, as I need that for my new driving license. I couldn’t stop long, but just long enough to tell him about my official change of surname, which didn’t seem to upset him particularly. I don’t think he ever liked the name either, but he doesn’t want me to go ahead with all this anyway so the name doesn’t really matter. I said if there was any way I could avoid all this I would, but he said, "I suppose a man’s got to do what, a woman’s got to do", so at least he realises that I have to do this, whether he likes it or not. Which he doesn’t. Oh well. He really isn’t happy about this, but I don’t expect him to be so I don’t let it bother me. It’s funny though, I was thinking last night how I have always accepted my transgenderism, it’s just always been a part of me, I’ve never known anything else, but I never really got emotional about it until I shared it with my family. I’m not sure if that’s because of the way it affects them, or the way them knowing affects me. Bring something like this out into the open and everything takes on a new aspect. Hard to explain, but dealing with one’s family is a very emotional time, for me at least. I think the worst is over. Perhaps my next major nerve-racking event will be the meeting of Lucy and her dad, which either has to happen soon, or he simply never sees me again, which I’m glad to say he hasn’t suggested. Yet… I said they were welcome to come round for dinner again anytime, but he said it must be their turn to invite me, perhaps in a few weeks when his schedule is less busy. Either he accepts me going dressed or I don’t go, so we shall see. I’m full time now, with a small exception – once a month when I go for my IPL treatment, as one is required to have a certain amount of stubble. Though in future I will go in girly jeans and an ambiguous top. The NHS criteria for the Real Life Experience is to not present yourself as male or revert to the male role at all. No problem there, I have no desire to do either, but I don’t think it’s crystal clear where one should draw one’s own line. As an example I am not prepared to shave every day, as my skin just can't handle it, but I shan’t be going out when I don’t except for the IPL, so I feel they must allow me that, as it has nothing to do with reverting to "male role", quite the contrary in fact. Anyway today will probably be the last time my dad sees me in any form of male clothes, not that I looked at all male today, despite a little stubble. He looked at my passport pic and said, "It doesn’t look anything like you!" "I know, it’s hideous…" My chosen path will make me a better person, of that I am sure. And already I don’t look half as bad as I used to. Must be a good omen. xx
    Jun 13, 2005 502
  • 10 Jun 2005
    It's there if you want it Got up this morning to find a letter from Charing Cross gender clinic (The Claybrook Centre), not an appointment, just a questionnaire asking for basic details and confirmation that I do want an appointment to be made and that I promise I will turn up. Yes, I promise I will be there. They say they get a lot of people who don’t turn up, which is quite sad really. Surely all these people haven’t suddenly decided that they do not suffer from GID and don’t need any help? More likely they give in to their own fears, or they lack the confidence within themselves to go through with it. Though I hasten to add that this is not a criticism on themselves, more on the attitudes and pressures of society; there is so much mystery and so many preconceptions surrounding anything transgender related. One has to make a leap of faith in some way, dive into the unknown world of how you are going to be perceived and treated living in your chosen role, regardless of how sure you are about your real gender. We can’t just blame society though, too easy a cop-out, and after all, we are as much a part of society as everyone else. At least we ought to be. I’ve spent a long time hiding away, or at least not really wanting to go out because of the discomfort I feel having to live in a role which society has dictated. Not any more. It’s my turn to tell society what gender I am. So far in my experience though, society doesn’t actually seem to have a problem with me. I said once that to me my dad is the personification of society; I talk about prejudices and preconceptions but the truth is I never really see them, never experience them first-hand, except when it comes to my dad. He has been fairly quiet about all this, towards me at least, but I gather that he is no nearer to "coming to terms" with my situation than he ever was. How hard can it be? I don’t expect him to accept this straight away, to welcome Lucy with open arms, but I would hope that he would want to understand what is going on, to learn more about my condition. For in order to ever accept, he must first understand, and in order to do that he must WANT to understand. At the moment I think he just doesn’t want to know. Ignore it, it might go away. Hope they find a cure for it soon… There is a cure, hence my letter this morning. It’s the only cure, dad, the only way. So I feel now that I must move on regardless, and hope that in some way he will catch up, that the chasm between us will not continue to increase as I move further along my path. For I can’t wait for his approval, something that may never come. Nor can I wait for his understanding, even though he is a remarkably intelligent bloke, nor can I wait for him to start wanting to understand. The most positive thing he has said to me so far is "I will not stand in your way". But he needs to do better than that for his own sake. It’s him who has the problem, and him who needs to solve it. I got a new ID photo this week (see below), somewhat better than my old one, in fact I actually quite like it. Will be nice to have a passport photo that doesn’t make me cringe. So I got a form from the post office for changing the name or photo on my driver’s license. I want to do both, but I’m not entirely sure they will accept this without an accompanying letter, given my rather startling change in appearance. But I think I’ll send it off regardless, just to see what happens. After all, the new photo does look like me, the old one doesn’t any more, and I do have a name change deed, but I suspect that this may fall under some special circumstance which is not covered by their explanatory notes. First I must get my passport back off my dad (he hasn’t taken it off me to stop me leaving the country or anything, he’s just had it for ages following some legal stuff I had to sign). In the absence of my birth certificate which has disappeared off the face of the earth, I must provide my passport as proof of ID. So I guess that will give me an excuse to go over and talk to him. He doesn’t yet know that I have changed my name (to a name he seems to hate with a vengeance), not only that, I have dropped his precious surname and taken another. Will he see that as a slap in the face? Not wanting to be a part of his family? It’s none of that of course, it’s just a nicer sounding name. Purely that, nothing else, not even an attempt to distance myself from my past life. I went out the following day to meet mum for a girly lunch, and to post a dress that I’d sold on T-bay. I’ve put a few more items up for sale and will be adding more very soon, so come on girls, get bidding, there are some real bargains for the taking. Happy shopping! xx Would you buy a used dress from this woman?
    572 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • It's there if you want it Got up this morning to find a letter from Charing Cross gender clinic (The Claybrook Centre), not an appointment, just a questionnaire asking for basic details and confirmation that I do want an appointment to be made and that I promise I will turn up. Yes, I promise I will be there. They say they get a lot of people who don’t turn up, which is quite sad really. Surely all these people haven’t suddenly decided that they do not suffer from GID and don’t need any help? More likely they give in to their own fears, or they lack the confidence within themselves to go through with it. Though I hasten to add that this is not a criticism on themselves, more on the attitudes and pressures of society; there is so much mystery and so many preconceptions surrounding anything transgender related. One has to make a leap of faith in some way, dive into the unknown world of how you are going to be perceived and treated living in your chosen role, regardless of how sure you are about your real gender. We can’t just blame society though, too easy a cop-out, and after all, we are as much a part of society as everyone else. At least we ought to be. I’ve spent a long time hiding away, or at least not really wanting to go out because of the discomfort I feel having to live in a role which society has dictated. Not any more. It’s my turn to tell society what gender I am. So far in my experience though, society doesn’t actually seem to have a problem with me. I said once that to me my dad is the personification of society; I talk about prejudices and preconceptions but the truth is I never really see them, never experience them first-hand, except when it comes to my dad. He has been fairly quiet about all this, towards me at least, but I gather that he is no nearer to "coming to terms" with my situation than he ever was. How hard can it be? I don’t expect him to accept this straight away, to welcome Lucy with open arms, but I would hope that he would want to understand what is going on, to learn more about my condition. For in order to ever accept, he must first understand, and in order to do that he must WANT to understand. At the moment I think he just doesn’t want to know. Ignore it, it might go away. Hope they find a cure for it soon… There is a cure, hence my letter this morning. It’s the only cure, dad, the only way. So I feel now that I must move on regardless, and hope that in some way he will catch up, that the chasm between us will not continue to increase as I move further along my path. For I can’t wait for his approval, something that may never come. Nor can I wait for his understanding, even though he is a remarkably intelligent bloke, nor can I wait for him to start wanting to understand. The most positive thing he has said to me so far is "I will not stand in your way". But he needs to do better than that for his own sake. It’s him who has the problem, and him who needs to solve it. I got a new ID photo this week (see below), somewhat better than my old one, in fact I actually quite like it. Will be nice to have a passport photo that doesn’t make me cringe. So I got a form from the post office for changing the name or photo on my driver’s license. I want to do both, but I’m not entirely sure they will accept this without an accompanying letter, given my rather startling change in appearance. But I think I’ll send it off regardless, just to see what happens. After all, the new photo does look like me, the old one doesn’t any more, and I do have a name change deed, but I suspect that this may fall under some special circumstance which is not covered by their explanatory notes. First I must get my passport back off my dad (he hasn’t taken it off me to stop me leaving the country or anything, he’s just had it for ages following some legal stuff I had to sign). In the absence of my birth certificate which has disappeared off the face of the earth, I must provide my passport as proof of ID. So I guess that will give me an excuse to go over and talk to him. He doesn’t yet know that I have changed my name (to a name he seems to hate with a vengeance), not only that, I have dropped his precious surname and taken another. Will he see that as a slap in the face? Not wanting to be a part of his family? It’s none of that of course, it’s just a nicer sounding name. Purely that, nothing else, not even an attempt to distance myself from my past life. I went out the following day to meet mum for a girly lunch, and to post a dress that I’d sold on T-bay. I’ve put a few more items up for sale and will be adding more very soon, so come on girls, get bidding, there are some real bargains for the taking. Happy shopping! xx Would you buy a used dress from this woman?
    Jun 10, 2005 572
  • 06 Jun 2005
    It’s official… Changing your name by deed poll is surprisingly easy, you don’t even have to register it anywhere. It cost me £7.50 to download the appropriate legal document, which is basically a contract with yourself to (quote) "entirely renounce relinquish and abandon" (etc) your former name. So that’s it then, I’ve done it now, it’s all signed so I can’t call myself Fred any more. No solicitor need be present, just one witness – thanks Cerys, who just happened to pay me a visit over the weekend and sign in quintuplicate as my witness. I guess there’s no such word as quintuplicate and I probably won’t need that many originals but then again when you think about who needs to be informed it becomes slightly mind-boggling, and many of these institutions will require sight of the original document. I can now apply for a new driver’s license/passport etc etc, but as yet I cannot change my gender on such ID. As I understand it the new rules say that one can apply for a gender recognition certificate after a minimum of two years living in the chosen gender, but I’m not too bothered really. Stealth is not an option if I am to continue this path; ID that says, "name: Lucy, gender: male" is a bit of a giveaway, but since I am required to live full time to get treatment on the NHS and referral for surgery I am caught between a rock and a hard place. At least I would be if I was bothered about it. No, it will just be nice to have ID in Lucy’s name and without Fred’s ugly mug for a photo. There is such a thing as a statutory declaration which is a name change which does require the presence of a solicitor; some financial institutions may require this, but I’ll cross that bridge if and when I need to, that’s still only about 30 or 40 quid. I’m sure I have enough to be going on with for the time being though. So, wow, it’s official, my name is Lucy! Call me Fred and I will sue the pants off you, or skirt, whichever is appropriate. Woo hoo! xx
    497 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • It’s official… Changing your name by deed poll is surprisingly easy, you don’t even have to register it anywhere. It cost me £7.50 to download the appropriate legal document, which is basically a contract with yourself to (quote) "entirely renounce relinquish and abandon" (etc) your former name. So that’s it then, I’ve done it now, it’s all signed so I can’t call myself Fred any more. No solicitor need be present, just one witness – thanks Cerys, who just happened to pay me a visit over the weekend and sign in quintuplicate as my witness. I guess there’s no such word as quintuplicate and I probably won’t need that many originals but then again when you think about who needs to be informed it becomes slightly mind-boggling, and many of these institutions will require sight of the original document. I can now apply for a new driver’s license/passport etc etc, but as yet I cannot change my gender on such ID. As I understand it the new rules say that one can apply for a gender recognition certificate after a minimum of two years living in the chosen gender, but I’m not too bothered really. Stealth is not an option if I am to continue this path; ID that says, "name: Lucy, gender: male" is a bit of a giveaway, but since I am required to live full time to get treatment on the NHS and referral for surgery I am caught between a rock and a hard place. At least I would be if I was bothered about it. No, it will just be nice to have ID in Lucy’s name and without Fred’s ugly mug for a photo. There is such a thing as a statutory declaration which is a name change which does require the presence of a solicitor; some financial institutions may require this, but I’ll cross that bridge if and when I need to, that’s still only about 30 or 40 quid. I’m sure I have enough to be going on with for the time being though. So, wow, it’s official, my name is Lucy! Call me Fred and I will sue the pants off you, or skirt, whichever is appropriate. Woo hoo! xx
    Jun 06, 2005 497
  • 31 May 2005
    Eating for two No I’m not pregnant. After I’d cooked my breakfast this morning I went to the cutlery drawer and took out two knives and two forks. There is only one of me though, which is probably a good thing for the rest of the population. It’s amazing how in just 2 days one can get used to doing these things. The lovely Pippa has of course been here over the bank holiday weekend, so I’ve been cooking, not eating, for two. Though I must admit, I have been enjoying my food recently. I’ve been a bit subdued of late, no particular reason, not down or depressed or anything, just not quite my usual bubbly self. Maybe I’m just recharging. Having my bestest friend here has helped me tremendously. I’m the sort of person who never really gets lonely, but having met Pip I know I’d rather be in his/her company than just my own. I’m used to being alone, getting through the day sometimes without seeing another human being, but on Saturday Pippa’s lovely face appeared to brighten my house, and my garden, and my soul. My batteries feel all the more topped up just from the pleasure of her presence for a couple of days. I’m very grateful for her scooting up north all this way, and spending the holiday weekend with me. Just to have her next to me is special, and words cannot fully explain that so I’ll stop trying. It was lovely though, honest. I didn’t need to hide behind the sofa while we watched Dr Who as I had my boyfriend to hold on to. Well OK I have never hidden behind the sofa but it was still nice to be able to hold on to someone. Does anyone else love this revamped series? Some great writing, silly plots as always, but some wonderful moments. And yes I did say boyfriend, not that I’m fussy, but Pip is both boyfriend and girlfriend, such is the nature of her transgenderism. Maybe she is neither, or somewhere in between, the label doesn’t really matter, she is my personfriend. I love my personfriend. After the good Doctor had saved the world once again, Pip went up to get changed and add a couple of letters to her name while I started on dinner. She reappeared as a vision of girly loveliness, in jeans and a shirt, casual, natural, relaxed, beautiful. Subtle, but stunning nevertheless. Pippa babe, you have just GOT it. If only we could bottle it (!) The next evening I got the barbie out (no NOT the doll!) and did us a lovely juicy sirloin, mmm. Went down a treat. We both tried some different outfits on and sat outside for a while, sipping our wine as the sun fell towards the mountains in the distance. And quite probably as my new neighbours looked on in amazement, or maybe they simply never noticed that the two lovely girls on the garden bench were not totally as they seemed. I used to be scared about stepping foot outside the house whilst dressed, but of course I don’t have such irrational fears any more. I still don’t know if the neighbours have noticed that the girl who waters the plants is the same person as the guy they met the day they moved in. I hadn’t shaved because of my IPL treatment, and I was somewhat bedraggled and tousled and covered in soil, so it wasn’t how I would choose to meet new neighbours, but I’m not going for full "stealth" so what the hell. Anyway where was I… oh yes outfits, lovely. I have to say I was so impressed by Pippa’s style, I mean I always have been, but this weekend she was strikingly girly, she just wears her clothes so well, and knows what looks right and what doesn’t. She just knows how clothes should be worn. Trinny and Susannah watch out. You know Pip, I bet the neighbours really didn’t notice. She’s not just a pretty face though, she can be a bit of a feckler at times. I don’t think you’ll find that word in the dictionary, and it’s not an insult. I planted some strawberries a while ago and covered them with netting, tied to the fence, to protect them from the birds. Unfortunately the cows in the field next to my garden are inquisitive little things and they came and stuck their heads over my fence and tore the net to pieces, buggers. So as a temporary measure I’d used some bricks to hold the net up, too low for the cows to get to, but looking like a mini Colditz for soft fruit. I mentioned it to Pip, that the small fortress in my garden was only temporary, until I found something with which to make a more attractive frame. I tend not to throw things away, preferring to hoard, so I just knew I would stumble on something that would do the job. Pip did it for me, finding 4 long metal strips in my garage which had been the cross-supports for a large Habitat shelf unit. She bent 3 of them round into U-shapes, and tied one across the top for stability, attached the net and we stuck it into place. You little feckler you, well done, and thanks; great job. My garden will be lovely when it is finished, though I guess gardens are something that you never really finish, due to their organic nature, but it’s looking so much better already. The grass seed I scattered is growing well, a little patchy but it’s early days yet, and all the things I have planted just need to become more established, so they don’t actually look like they have just been planted, but it’s all much lovelier nevertheless. Sarah said in her recent blog that she was watching the squirrels in her garden, you never see them in my garden in summer, only really in autumn and early winter, I’m sure they must take a summer break, maybe to Majorca or somewhere. Actually the lane leading to my house is lined with chestnut trees, so that’s why I think they camp out here in Autumn, stockpiling for the long Cumbrian winter. Like the beer festival in Munich, here we have the Oktober conker-fest for squirrels. Or squiggles, as I believe they are referred to in the St Helens area. Anyway I look forward to their return, lovely creatures that they are, and the same goes for Pippa, lovely creature that she is. "Don’t be sad", she said before she left, "I’m coming back". I’m not sad, just happy that we’ve had another chance to spend some time together. Thanks babe, you are my special person. xx
    486 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • Eating for two No I’m not pregnant. After I’d cooked my breakfast this morning I went to the cutlery drawer and took out two knives and two forks. There is only one of me though, which is probably a good thing for the rest of the population. It’s amazing how in just 2 days one can get used to doing these things. The lovely Pippa has of course been here over the bank holiday weekend, so I’ve been cooking, not eating, for two. Though I must admit, I have been enjoying my food recently. I’ve been a bit subdued of late, no particular reason, not down or depressed or anything, just not quite my usual bubbly self. Maybe I’m just recharging. Having my bestest friend here has helped me tremendously. I’m the sort of person who never really gets lonely, but having met Pip I know I’d rather be in his/her company than just my own. I’m used to being alone, getting through the day sometimes without seeing another human being, but on Saturday Pippa’s lovely face appeared to brighten my house, and my garden, and my soul. My batteries feel all the more topped up just from the pleasure of her presence for a couple of days. I’m very grateful for her scooting up north all this way, and spending the holiday weekend with me. Just to have her next to me is special, and words cannot fully explain that so I’ll stop trying. It was lovely though, honest. I didn’t need to hide behind the sofa while we watched Dr Who as I had my boyfriend to hold on to. Well OK I have never hidden behind the sofa but it was still nice to be able to hold on to someone. Does anyone else love this revamped series? Some great writing, silly plots as always, but some wonderful moments. And yes I did say boyfriend, not that I’m fussy, but Pip is both boyfriend and girlfriend, such is the nature of her transgenderism. Maybe she is neither, or somewhere in between, the label doesn’t really matter, she is my personfriend. I love my personfriend. After the good Doctor had saved the world once again, Pip went up to get changed and add a couple of letters to her name while I started on dinner. She reappeared as a vision of girly loveliness, in jeans and a shirt, casual, natural, relaxed, beautiful. Subtle, but stunning nevertheless. Pippa babe, you have just GOT it. If only we could bottle it (!) The next evening I got the barbie out (no NOT the doll!) and did us a lovely juicy sirloin, mmm. Went down a treat. We both tried some different outfits on and sat outside for a while, sipping our wine as the sun fell towards the mountains in the distance. And quite probably as my new neighbours looked on in amazement, or maybe they simply never noticed that the two lovely girls on the garden bench were not totally as they seemed. I used to be scared about stepping foot outside the house whilst dressed, but of course I don’t have such irrational fears any more. I still don’t know if the neighbours have noticed that the girl who waters the plants is the same person as the guy they met the day they moved in. I hadn’t shaved because of my IPL treatment, and I was somewhat bedraggled and tousled and covered in soil, so it wasn’t how I would choose to meet new neighbours, but I’m not going for full "stealth" so what the hell. Anyway where was I… oh yes outfits, lovely. I have to say I was so impressed by Pippa’s style, I mean I always have been, but this weekend she was strikingly girly, she just wears her clothes so well, and knows what looks right and what doesn’t. She just knows how clothes should be worn. Trinny and Susannah watch out. You know Pip, I bet the neighbours really didn’t notice. She’s not just a pretty face though, she can be a bit of a feckler at times. I don’t think you’ll find that word in the dictionary, and it’s not an insult. I planted some strawberries a while ago and covered them with netting, tied to the fence, to protect them from the birds. Unfortunately the cows in the field next to my garden are inquisitive little things and they came and stuck their heads over my fence and tore the net to pieces, buggers. So as a temporary measure I’d used some bricks to hold the net up, too low for the cows to get to, but looking like a mini Colditz for soft fruit. I mentioned it to Pip, that the small fortress in my garden was only temporary, until I found something with which to make a more attractive frame. I tend not to throw things away, preferring to hoard, so I just knew I would stumble on something that would do the job. Pip did it for me, finding 4 long metal strips in my garage which had been the cross-supports for a large Habitat shelf unit. She bent 3 of them round into U-shapes, and tied one across the top for stability, attached the net and we stuck it into place. You little feckler you, well done, and thanks; great job. My garden will be lovely when it is finished, though I guess gardens are something that you never really finish, due to their organic nature, but it’s looking so much better already. The grass seed I scattered is growing well, a little patchy but it’s early days yet, and all the things I have planted just need to become more established, so they don’t actually look like they have just been planted, but it’s all much lovelier nevertheless. Sarah said in her recent blog that she was watching the squirrels in her garden, you never see them in my garden in summer, only really in autumn and early winter, I’m sure they must take a summer break, maybe to Majorca or somewhere. Actually the lane leading to my house is lined with chestnut trees, so that’s why I think they camp out here in Autumn, stockpiling for the long Cumbrian winter. Like the beer festival in Munich, here we have the Oktober conker-fest for squirrels. Or squiggles, as I believe they are referred to in the St Helens area. Anyway I look forward to their return, lovely creatures that they are, and the same goes for Pippa, lovely creature that she is. "Don’t be sad", she said before she left, "I’m coming back". I’m not sad, just happy that we’ve had another chance to spend some time together. Thanks babe, you are my special person. xx
    May 31, 2005 486
  • 23 May 2005
    Some things are meant to grow Well I’ve just been for my first IPL laser hair removal session, nothing to write home about really, but hey a girl can blog can’t she. Didn’t take long, had some gel applied to my face then several bursts of the laser which felt like being touched very quickly with a hot needle, not too painful but you can certainly feel it, and it hurts in some places more than others. The power will increase though as the treatment progresses, but the very nice therapist promised I would get used to it. If the IPL is successful and the hairs start to not reappear they will go on to the normal laser, which treats one hair at a time. The IPL (intense pulsed light) treats an area about 1cm by 4cm, so not too many flashes needed to treat the whole face. Afterwards she put on a cooling gel (I had to buy a bottle for 20 quid and have to use that twice a day for a week), she said my face was a bit red but it looked quite normal by the time I had got back to the car. Fingers crossed that it at least makes some difference. I will have to resort to electrolysis at some point to treat the paler hairs and any stubborn ones left, but hopefully the laser will reduce the amount of time I have to spend under the needle. It’s one of those things that you won’t know until you try; results vary. I’ve had to not shave for 2 days, and now have to leave it another day before I do, so I look as blokey as ever. I hate stubble. It feels like there are many ladders to climb, some of them look pretty high, so I’m glad I’m past the first rung on at least one of them. Which one do I climb next? So many to choose from, and the last ladder was kicked out from under my feet, I’m still thinking about which ladder I should climb instead, but I will get there, sooner or later. Grass is just starting to peep through on my new lawn, how exciting! No chance of gardening today though , or for the last few days, it’s been chucking it down. The weeds are taking over again, grrr, it’s a constant battle. Just like life really. I may have to buy a lawnmower, a pet sheep isn’t really practical. In a perfect world I would trade in my electric razor for a Flymo, probably about the same price. Good exchange really, the grass can grow as much as it likes, as long as I have NO MORE STUBBLE. Yuk.
    589 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • Some things are meant to grow Well I’ve just been for my first IPL laser hair removal session, nothing to write home about really, but hey a girl can blog can’t she. Didn’t take long, had some gel applied to my face then several bursts of the laser which felt like being touched very quickly with a hot needle, not too painful but you can certainly feel it, and it hurts in some places more than others. The power will increase though as the treatment progresses, but the very nice therapist promised I would get used to it. If the IPL is successful and the hairs start to not reappear they will go on to the normal laser, which treats one hair at a time. The IPL (intense pulsed light) treats an area about 1cm by 4cm, so not too many flashes needed to treat the whole face. Afterwards she put on a cooling gel (I had to buy a bottle for 20 quid and have to use that twice a day for a week), she said my face was a bit red but it looked quite normal by the time I had got back to the car. Fingers crossed that it at least makes some difference. I will have to resort to electrolysis at some point to treat the paler hairs and any stubborn ones left, but hopefully the laser will reduce the amount of time I have to spend under the needle. It’s one of those things that you won’t know until you try; results vary. I’ve had to not shave for 2 days, and now have to leave it another day before I do, so I look as blokey as ever. I hate stubble. It feels like there are many ladders to climb, some of them look pretty high, so I’m glad I’m past the first rung on at least one of them. Which one do I climb next? So many to choose from, and the last ladder was kicked out from under my feet, I’m still thinking about which ladder I should climb instead, but I will get there, sooner or later. Grass is just starting to peep through on my new lawn, how exciting! No chance of gardening today though , or for the last few days, it’s been chucking it down. The weeds are taking over again, grrr, it’s a constant battle. Just like life really. I may have to buy a lawnmower, a pet sheep isn’t really practical. In a perfect world I would trade in my electric razor for a Flymo, probably about the same price. Good exchange really, the grass can grow as much as it likes, as long as I have NO MORE STUBBLE. Yuk.
    May 23, 2005 589
  • 20 May 2005
    If it’s offered on a plate… I’ve had 2 professional makeovers in the last 2 days. At one point I had one girl doing my make up while another did my nails, while another attended to my hair. I have to admit I felt very pampered, and what’s more it didn’t cost me a penny, in fact they paid ME! Too good to be true? Well sadly I ended up looking like a filthy, somewhat revolting peasant from the 1600’s, and a blokey one too. I know, that’s not my usual image, but you see I’ve been working for the BBC as an extra in a period drama, at a castle near Carlisle. It was good fun, despite my "look", though it’s surprisingly hard work standing around all day, shaking one’s fist and shouting angrily over and over again. The title of the show will be "Elizabeth the Virgin Queen", and it should be screened at the end of the year, or early next. A prize will go to anyone who recognises me; such were the talents of the Beeb make up ladies! The first day we were shooting a scene where two bishops were burnt at the stake. Jolly uncivilised in those days weren’t they? It’s interesting to see all the tricks they use to make it look like people are actually being burnt alive, especially when the stunt man stepped in, was painted with flammable glue, and set fire to; very spectacular, and slightly scary. Incredible, the things people do for a living. So we were the protestant protestors infuriated by such sacrilege. And a rough looking bunch we were too, all with blackened teeth, dirty hair and faces, and grubby hands and nails. Not my style at all, but hey, I’ve had a lifetime of acting experience, pretending to be a bloke… They made me a redhead too, well, dirty tousled reddy-brown, weird. Took ages to wash out, and god was it tangled, matted even. The second day was a bit more civilised, as I was a courtier rubbing shoulders with the Queen (Ann-Marie Duff), watching an indoor tennis match. Just a brief scene and I’m not even sure if I got in shot, maybe from a distance, or a quick flash of the back of my head, which is a shame because they made my hair all curly like Shirley Temple, kind of cute, though they spoilt it when they stuck on a moustache and a little beard like a cavalier. I was quite the court fop, back to my usual blonde, but secretly jealous of all those heaving bosoms around me, and rather elegant dresses. Maybe next time I’ll get to wear a more appropriate costume, though perhaps not for such a period drama; I don’t think Lizzie the 1st had t-girls in her court. We finished earlier on the second day (the first had been a 12-hour day, plus an hour’s drive each way), so I couldn’t resist getting (properly) made up and going out with my new hair style, very curly girly, without the glued on beard and ‘tache of course. It was about 6pm so I just went to the supermarket and the garden shop, everywhere in town being closed by then. I would have gone for a walk somewhere but my new shoes were starting to hurt a bit. Anyway it felt lovely and I’m sure I was just that little bit more passable than usual. I took a pic when I got back but the curls had loosened up a bit by then, and I’d combed the fringe a bit straighter, to hide my wrinkles, but you get the idea I think. My costume was ok in a 1600’s posh bloke sense, but I much prefer my own outfit. I told the agent I would be happy to do any more work he had going, but I’m not sure how long that can last. It’s getting to the point where I really shouldn’t be getting changed in front of blokes (top half at least), and it’s going to be highly impractical when I start living full time, although I virtually am already; it’s very rare that I actually go out en bloke these days. And I don’t suppose there is much work for TS extras. It was an enjoyable experience though, and a bit of pocket money too! Thanks to everyone who sent me birthday greetings this week, if there’s anyone I haven’t replied to yet I do apologise but it’s been a hectic week, with little time to myself. Mum and I went out for a meal on Monday night at a place called "Lucy’s on a plate" in Ambleside, very appropriate. And very lovely too. The place was packed and nobody seemed to notice me, and the food was great. I’m glad it went well, for mum’s sake really, that being the first time she had been out with me all dolled up. I think these sort of experiences help her to realise that my situation is considerably less of a big deal than as first imagined, especially as far as the general public is concerned. All I need now is for my dad to realise that too. He obviously needs to see it for himself, rather than me just telling him that’s the way it is. But I’m not pressuring him, just have to give it time… So it’s back to the 21st century for me, back to 15 denier tights instead of 40, and court shoes in the modern sense. And I much prefer flowery skirts to those silly breeches they used to wear. I think I’ll go do some gardening now. I’m just a peasant, country girl really. xx                                                                          
    551 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • If it’s offered on a plate… I’ve had 2 professional makeovers in the last 2 days. At one point I had one girl doing my make up while another did my nails, while another attended to my hair. I have to admit I felt very pampered, and what’s more it didn’t cost me a penny, in fact they paid ME! Too good to be true? Well sadly I ended up looking like a filthy, somewhat revolting peasant from the 1600’s, and a blokey one too. I know, that’s not my usual image, but you see I’ve been working for the BBC as an extra in a period drama, at a castle near Carlisle. It was good fun, despite my "look", though it’s surprisingly hard work standing around all day, shaking one’s fist and shouting angrily over and over again. The title of the show will be "Elizabeth the Virgin Queen", and it should be screened at the end of the year, or early next. A prize will go to anyone who recognises me; such were the talents of the Beeb make up ladies! The first day we were shooting a scene where two bishops were burnt at the stake. Jolly uncivilised in those days weren’t they? It’s interesting to see all the tricks they use to make it look like people are actually being burnt alive, especially when the stunt man stepped in, was painted with flammable glue, and set fire to; very spectacular, and slightly scary. Incredible, the things people do for a living. So we were the protestant protestors infuriated by such sacrilege. And a rough looking bunch we were too, all with blackened teeth, dirty hair and faces, and grubby hands and nails. Not my style at all, but hey, I’ve had a lifetime of acting experience, pretending to be a bloke… They made me a redhead too, well, dirty tousled reddy-brown, weird. Took ages to wash out, and god was it tangled, matted even. The second day was a bit more civilised, as I was a courtier rubbing shoulders with the Queen (Ann-Marie Duff), watching an indoor tennis match. Just a brief scene and I’m not even sure if I got in shot, maybe from a distance, or a quick flash of the back of my head, which is a shame because they made my hair all curly like Shirley Temple, kind of cute, though they spoilt it when they stuck on a moustache and a little beard like a cavalier. I was quite the court fop, back to my usual blonde, but secretly jealous of all those heaving bosoms around me, and rather elegant dresses. Maybe next time I’ll get to wear a more appropriate costume, though perhaps not for such a period drama; I don’t think Lizzie the 1st had t-girls in her court. We finished earlier on the second day (the first had been a 12-hour day, plus an hour’s drive each way), so I couldn’t resist getting (properly) made up and going out with my new hair style, very curly girly, without the glued on beard and ‘tache of course. It was about 6pm so I just went to the supermarket and the garden shop, everywhere in town being closed by then. I would have gone for a walk somewhere but my new shoes were starting to hurt a bit. Anyway it felt lovely and I’m sure I was just that little bit more passable than usual. I took a pic when I got back but the curls had loosened up a bit by then, and I’d combed the fringe a bit straighter, to hide my wrinkles, but you get the idea I think. My costume was ok in a 1600’s posh bloke sense, but I much prefer my own outfit. I told the agent I would be happy to do any more work he had going, but I’m not sure how long that can last. It’s getting to the point where I really shouldn’t be getting changed in front of blokes (top half at least), and it’s going to be highly impractical when I start living full time, although I virtually am already; it’s very rare that I actually go out en bloke these days. And I don’t suppose there is much work for TS extras. It was an enjoyable experience though, and a bit of pocket money too! Thanks to everyone who sent me birthday greetings this week, if there’s anyone I haven’t replied to yet I do apologise but it’s been a hectic week, with little time to myself. Mum and I went out for a meal on Monday night at a place called "Lucy’s on a plate" in Ambleside, very appropriate. And very lovely too. The place was packed and nobody seemed to notice me, and the food was great. I’m glad it went well, for mum’s sake really, that being the first time she had been out with me all dolled up. I think these sort of experiences help her to realise that my situation is considerably less of a big deal than as first imagined, especially as far as the general public is concerned. All I need now is for my dad to realise that too. He obviously needs to see it for himself, rather than me just telling him that’s the way it is. But I’m not pressuring him, just have to give it time… So it’s back to the 21st century for me, back to 15 denier tights instead of 40, and court shoes in the modern sense. And I much prefer flowery skirts to those silly breeches they used to wear. I think I’ll go do some gardening now. I’m just a peasant, country girl really. xx                                                                          
    May 20, 2005 551
  • 03 May 2005
    Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman... (Stand By Your Plan) Qualities one needs to transition: Patience, determination, self-assurance, emotional strength, empathy, and a high pain threshold. I’ve been told I’m a remarkably patient person, but I don’t really feel it. I don’t like waiting, though I guess I’m patient with other people. My patience, determination, self-assurance and emotional strength were put to the test last week when I travelled 400 miles to go for a consultation for a tracheal shave, only to be told that I would need a referral from somewhere like Charing Cross to have this procedure done privately. Now I know that one needs a referral for SRS, and I had heard that some surgeons in this country were now asking for referrals before they would do FFS, but I’d never thought of the trach shave as being a specifically feminising procedure. Of course in my case that’s why I want it done, but not all men have noticeable adam’s apples so to have an unsightly lump on one’s neck reduced seems to me to be just like any other cosmetic surgery. If (hypothetically) I was to decide not to go ahead with transition, I can’t imagine that a lack of an adam’s apple would in any way affect my ability to "be a man". But according to the surgeon I saw those are the rules. What really pissed me off was the fact that they could easily have pointed that out over the phone, but were instead prepared to take my money for the consultation for a procedure that they knew they wouldn’t be doing (at this stage at least). I was upset too, having travelled all that way, and thinking that this relatively minor op would be a great help to my going full-time. I’m not totally passable so my large thyroid cartilage is not in itself going to give the game away. Some say it’s not that noticeable which annoys me because it so is, but that’s not the point anyway; I am self-conscious of it, so I have to try and hide it, so I always wear scarves or high necks, not practical in the summer. It’s an unmistakably masculine feature, so it has to go, regardless of all other masculine features. My options it seems are to get a private referral (more expense), or have it done outside the UK, or to wait… ugh. There is a chance I could eventually have it done on the NHS, but only a chance, as it depends on our local health authority’s funding policy, and only after several months of the required "real life experience". Catch –22, as the reason I want it done now is to help with the RLE. I’m looking into those other options… The night before the wasted journey (to Leicester), I’d met up in the Village with Cerys, Shan and Alex, who was on her way up to Scotland. Lovely to meet you Alex, and lovely as always to see Cerys and Shan. It was my 3rd night out in the Village in 3 ½ weeks, and 2 of those had been my first 2 nights there without Pippa, was like going out with a limb missing. Love you babe. Cerys offered to come with me to Leicester, which was nice, and as it turned out I was most grateful for her company and for her navigational skills whilst I drove back, devoid of any sense of direction, oblivious to all road signs, with tears in my eyes following my pointless consultation. She came back to my place and stayed the next day too, thanks for being there for me babe, I was glad to not have to be alone. We’d had a couple of hours to kill before my appointment so we went for a meal on the outskirts of Leicester in a local pub for local people. Never before had they seen the like… I got a few looks but nothing too bad, and no looks of disdain. We asked for the menu and a guy went to check the specials for the day, came back to tell us what they were, and promptly forgot when he clocked me! "OK today we’ve got… er, um, I, aahhh, I seem to have forgotten…." He did his best to remember, and got some of it right, using the excuse that they’d just changed the specials when we went through to the restaurant. He was probably just astounded by my beauty. Anyway the food was super, and had Cerys not been there I would have ended up going to the nearest Burger King or something. Thanks again babe. Although my family are certainly not being obstructive towards my transition, it is an emotional drain just having to deal with their feelings. I don’t mean that selfishly, but all this affects them, and that in turn affects me. So a bit of empathy doesn’t go amiss. Dad doesn’t want me to do this, wants me to reconsider, to find another way, thinks it will be impossibly difficult, can’t offer encouragement, but does not intend to stand in my way. I can’t ignore his feelings and concerns so I continue to do my best to help him with them, or at least answer them from my own perspective. It’s hard to do that, hard to bare your soul in an attempt to show the need that drives this thing, emotionally draining to delve into the feelings that make me who I am, and to compare how I used to live; how my approach to life was virtually non-existent. I think that’s what makes me cry when watching films, usually in some way it’s a reminder of the past, more specifically of the pain; without any healing you stop feeling it, but start to feel better and you remember the pain, and the emotion finally catches up with you. And high pain threshold? Well I haven’t quite got that far yet, though come to think of it the epilator took a bit of getting used to. But it’s less than 3 weeks to go before my first laser session, which I don’t think will hurt too much. Emotionally or otherwise, it’s true what they say: no pain, no gain. xx
    520 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman... (Stand By Your Plan) Qualities one needs to transition: Patience, determination, self-assurance, emotional strength, empathy, and a high pain threshold. I’ve been told I’m a remarkably patient person, but I don’t really feel it. I don’t like waiting, though I guess I’m patient with other people. My patience, determination, self-assurance and emotional strength were put to the test last week when I travelled 400 miles to go for a consultation for a tracheal shave, only to be told that I would need a referral from somewhere like Charing Cross to have this procedure done privately. Now I know that one needs a referral for SRS, and I had heard that some surgeons in this country were now asking for referrals before they would do FFS, but I’d never thought of the trach shave as being a specifically feminising procedure. Of course in my case that’s why I want it done, but not all men have noticeable adam’s apples so to have an unsightly lump on one’s neck reduced seems to me to be just like any other cosmetic surgery. If (hypothetically) I was to decide not to go ahead with transition, I can’t imagine that a lack of an adam’s apple would in any way affect my ability to "be a man". But according to the surgeon I saw those are the rules. What really pissed me off was the fact that they could easily have pointed that out over the phone, but were instead prepared to take my money for the consultation for a procedure that they knew they wouldn’t be doing (at this stage at least). I was upset too, having travelled all that way, and thinking that this relatively minor op would be a great help to my going full-time. I’m not totally passable so my large thyroid cartilage is not in itself going to give the game away. Some say it’s not that noticeable which annoys me because it so is, but that’s not the point anyway; I am self-conscious of it, so I have to try and hide it, so I always wear scarves or high necks, not practical in the summer. It’s an unmistakably masculine feature, so it has to go, regardless of all other masculine features. My options it seems are to get a private referral (more expense), or have it done outside the UK, or to wait… ugh. There is a chance I could eventually have it done on the NHS, but only a chance, as it depends on our local health authority’s funding policy, and only after several months of the required "real life experience". Catch –22, as the reason I want it done now is to help with the RLE. I’m looking into those other options… The night before the wasted journey (to Leicester), I’d met up in the Village with Cerys, Shan and Alex, who was on her way up to Scotland. Lovely to meet you Alex, and lovely as always to see Cerys and Shan. It was my 3rd night out in the Village in 3 ½ weeks, and 2 of those had been my first 2 nights there without Pippa, was like going out with a limb missing. Love you babe. Cerys offered to come with me to Leicester, which was nice, and as it turned out I was most grateful for her company and for her navigational skills whilst I drove back, devoid of any sense of direction, oblivious to all road signs, with tears in my eyes following my pointless consultation. She came back to my place and stayed the next day too, thanks for being there for me babe, I was glad to not have to be alone. We’d had a couple of hours to kill before my appointment so we went for a meal on the outskirts of Leicester in a local pub for local people. Never before had they seen the like… I got a few looks but nothing too bad, and no looks of disdain. We asked for the menu and a guy went to check the specials for the day, came back to tell us what they were, and promptly forgot when he clocked me! "OK today we’ve got… er, um, I, aahhh, I seem to have forgotten…." He did his best to remember, and got some of it right, using the excuse that they’d just changed the specials when we went through to the restaurant. He was probably just astounded by my beauty. Anyway the food was super, and had Cerys not been there I would have ended up going to the nearest Burger King or something. Thanks again babe. Although my family are certainly not being obstructive towards my transition, it is an emotional drain just having to deal with their feelings. I don’t mean that selfishly, but all this affects them, and that in turn affects me. So a bit of empathy doesn’t go amiss. Dad doesn’t want me to do this, wants me to reconsider, to find another way, thinks it will be impossibly difficult, can’t offer encouragement, but does not intend to stand in my way. I can’t ignore his feelings and concerns so I continue to do my best to help him with them, or at least answer them from my own perspective. It’s hard to do that, hard to bare your soul in an attempt to show the need that drives this thing, emotionally draining to delve into the feelings that make me who I am, and to compare how I used to live; how my approach to life was virtually non-existent. I think that’s what makes me cry when watching films, usually in some way it’s a reminder of the past, more specifically of the pain; without any healing you stop feeling it, but start to feel better and you remember the pain, and the emotion finally catches up with you. And high pain threshold? Well I haven’t quite got that far yet, though come to think of it the epilator took a bit of getting used to. But it’s less than 3 weeks to go before my first laser session, which I don’t think will hurt too much. Emotionally or otherwise, it’s true what they say: no pain, no gain. xx
    May 03, 2005 520
  • 22 Apr 2005
    Truths, damn truths, and statistics I was just looking at my tally of forum posts. Now that old posts are archived I have 71 filed under "archive", which could be anything. The next highest scoring subject of more recent posts is Hormone City: 36, then General: 35, Coming Out: 20, Make up Tips: 17, Good Morning and Tranny Psychology: 15, All about us: 13, Tranny Music and Elite Members: 12… etc all the way down to Ladies who lunch: 1. I never do lunch, I don’t get up until it’s over. It’s not a great deal of posts so perhaps not enough for a conclusive survey, but it does seem to indicate the subjects which have been most on my mind recently. You girls must be sitting there wondering why I’m telling you all this. I have no idea. Oh well… Actually I thought Tranny Psychology would have been higher, but although I find that subject most interesting I don’t always feel inclined to comment. The statistics would concur that I’m currently self-prescribing hormones, am always interested in a good make up tip and have recently come out to my immediate family. Music is big in my life though again, to list my top 10 tracks, for example, would take me too long to be bothered with, and although I love music, I don’t always know what to say about it. It’s a language of emotion to me. Coming out to your family has got to be the hardest thing anyone will have to do. In fact, like music I don’t know what to say about it, at the moment at least. There is strength in music, and strength in love. And they can both affect you emotionally and profoundly. Recent weeks have been emotionally embroiling, I’m sure the worst is over though. Dad is coming to dinner on Sunday, still have to think of something decent to cook. I think I am past the stage of trying to think of what to say; the letters I wrote to my family were as comprehensive as possible in one go, now it’s down to their own feelings; preconceptions, lack of exposure to such "problems", shock, horror, willingness to learn, or to accept. Just have to play it by ear from now I feel. My overriding feeling is that they will never "come to terms" with anything until they experience it first-hand; until they get to meet Lucy, or rather have come to know her as a person. Even though I am the same person. My thoughts won’t change because my gender is not as people presumed it was, so I will still be the same person, but nicer, and happier. Perhaps when they realise that the improvements in myself are long-lasting and for real, they will understand why this was so needed, and so right for me. I am at peace with my transgenderism, it’s never really been too tortuous. Am I the only one? I’ve never actually denied it, just tried to tell myself that it didn’t really matter, that I shouldn’t allow it to be forefront of my mind. Keep it hidden. Not quite denial, but certainly an attempt at suppression. The only thing I have lost is time. Although I haven’t felt tortured, I haven’t felt fulfilled either. Fulfilment from some achievements – yes, but that is a fleeting thing, like a drug, an instant high, a quick fix. Fulfilment of spirit is different, it doesn’t get you high, but it makes you feel better. Permanently. Be who you can be, and don’t make excuses for who you can’t.
    529 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • Truths, damn truths, and statistics I was just looking at my tally of forum posts. Now that old posts are archived I have 71 filed under "archive", which could be anything. The next highest scoring subject of more recent posts is Hormone City: 36, then General: 35, Coming Out: 20, Make up Tips: 17, Good Morning and Tranny Psychology: 15, All about us: 13, Tranny Music and Elite Members: 12… etc all the way down to Ladies who lunch: 1. I never do lunch, I don’t get up until it’s over. It’s not a great deal of posts so perhaps not enough for a conclusive survey, but it does seem to indicate the subjects which have been most on my mind recently. You girls must be sitting there wondering why I’m telling you all this. I have no idea. Oh well… Actually I thought Tranny Psychology would have been higher, but although I find that subject most interesting I don’t always feel inclined to comment. The statistics would concur that I’m currently self-prescribing hormones, am always interested in a good make up tip and have recently come out to my immediate family. Music is big in my life though again, to list my top 10 tracks, for example, would take me too long to be bothered with, and although I love music, I don’t always know what to say about it. It’s a language of emotion to me. Coming out to your family has got to be the hardest thing anyone will have to do. In fact, like music I don’t know what to say about it, at the moment at least. There is strength in music, and strength in love. And they can both affect you emotionally and profoundly. Recent weeks have been emotionally embroiling, I’m sure the worst is over though. Dad is coming to dinner on Sunday, still have to think of something decent to cook. I think I am past the stage of trying to think of what to say; the letters I wrote to my family were as comprehensive as possible in one go, now it’s down to their own feelings; preconceptions, lack of exposure to such "problems", shock, horror, willingness to learn, or to accept. Just have to play it by ear from now I feel. My overriding feeling is that they will never "come to terms" with anything until they experience it first-hand; until they get to meet Lucy, or rather have come to know her as a person. Even though I am the same person. My thoughts won’t change because my gender is not as people presumed it was, so I will still be the same person, but nicer, and happier. Perhaps when they realise that the improvements in myself are long-lasting and for real, they will understand why this was so needed, and so right for me. I am at peace with my transgenderism, it’s never really been too tortuous. Am I the only one? I’ve never actually denied it, just tried to tell myself that it didn’t really matter, that I shouldn’t allow it to be forefront of my mind. Keep it hidden. Not quite denial, but certainly an attempt at suppression. The only thing I have lost is time. Although I haven’t felt tortured, I haven’t felt fulfilled either. Fulfilment from some achievements – yes, but that is a fleeting thing, like a drug, an instant high, a quick fix. Fulfilment of spirit is different, it doesn’t get you high, but it makes you feel better. Permanently. Be who you can be, and don’t make excuses for who you can’t.
    Apr 22, 2005 529
  • 20 Apr 2005
    20th April 2004 A major date in the life of Lucy, in fact the date that Lucy first ventured into the big wide world, well, a small corner of it, in Scotland actually. Though I suppose Edinburgh is a fairly big corner, for Scotland. Anyway, the events of this date, a year ago today, were to set off a chain reaction, which was perhaps inevitable anyway, but which has led me to where I am today. Awaiting an appointment at Charing Cross, on the road to becoming the woman I have always felt I should have been, that I am in fact, but which was always kept hidden from all around me. It seems a lot can happen in a year, but maybe, hopefully, a lot more will happen within the next 12 months. The change that came over me in one night was fairly dramatic though. I guess it was something I had longed for all my life, to be in public, as a woman, even if the reality was that I wouldn’t be totally accepted as an "everyday", normal woman. I certainly didn’t feel a freak though when it came to it, in fact I felt considerably less freakish than I do when in drab, and that’s what changed me. That’s what made me realise my life had changed for ever, I would never go back. It was just a question of finding the right path that lay ahead of me. It didn’t take long. I’m still acutely aware of the contrast between personas, I just feel better when I am dressed. Being read as a transsexual is better than being stared at as a man who looks a bit odd, and blending in to the crowd as a woman is kind of nice. Wearing the right clothes somehow allows me to be the person I feel I am, and that I think is the important point; it’s not wearing the clothes that makes me feel better, it’s the feeling of fitting in to the right gender; "congruency". Being dressed correctly allows me to behave appropriately for my true gender. Though having said all that, it’s starting to not matter, I’m just me, and I don’t really care what people see, but I think nowadays they generally see someone who is happier than she otherwise would be had she not followed her heart and started living for herself. I remember the second time I went out, we’d just met up and sat down in "Vanilla" (aptly my favourite scent) and noticed a young man watching us doing our nails. He asked if he could join us and it turned out he was actually a f2m, you could see it, but only when he told us! Anyway he asked if any of us were TS, and since I said I was he asked if I would have SRS. "I would like to", I replied, "but I don’t think it’s realistic really". "Why not?" He asked, slightly pushily, as if to say, "I’m gonna do it, so can you…" I was taken a bit off-balance by that, no-one has ever been pushy about it before, in fact no-one had ever suggested it might be a good idea, although the idea had certainly occurred to me! I fumbled around trying to find excuses, the family being the biggest stumbling block, but everyone has that to deal with... Although his interrogation didn’t change my way of thinking at the time, it was a bloody good question - why not indeed? I’m into collecting quotes at the moment, and writing a few of my own based on recent positive experiences, here’s one of mine for you: "Cast aside fear and doubt, and there are no barriers, only hurdles". I used to fear what might happen, I used to doubt whether I could ever do this, but no more, not for a long time in fact, and hence the quote. My family ceased to be a barrier and became a hurdle over which I have recently leapt, but am still having to deal with, purely by way of helping those around me to understand. I do not fear what they might think, I do not care if they think this is not a good idea because they are wrong. And I intend to prove that. One person in particular may never take my word for it, but one day he will see the improvement in me as a person, see the acceptance by the local townsfolk, of whom he seems to have a stereotypical view. Perhaps only then will he truly understand, but I can wait. I know I’m right. I was "madam’ed" in the supermarket again today, in drab, baggy pants and scruffy, blokey, denim jacket. I might as well go full time if people think I’m a woman anyway! I am being frivolous of course, but hell why is it that I get read when I’m dressed?! Getting read doesn’t worry me though, it’s just something to work on, and it will all take time. It’s hard to remember exactly how I was feeling a year ago, although I remember clearly the excitement of a year ago today, shopping for a coat in the glorious Edinburgh sunshine, bubbling with anticipation. And I remember the instant calmness I felt as soon as I stepped onto the street in my little black dress; freedom, liberation, realisation, empowerment. In a moment something changed within me, my whole attitude towards my life, and the person inside me. A glimpse of completeness, a view which becomes clearer every day, as I move closer towards my goal. A big thank you to Cathy who gave me the chance for such a perfect first night out, the atmosphere in Edinburgh was just right, not a tranny hotspot, just the chance to feel like a natural woman in relaxed surroundings. The chance to be aware of myself. As Wendy and Lisa said, "Everybody needs a chance to grow". xx
    512 Posted by Lucy Diamond
  • 20th April 2004 A major date in the life of Lucy, in fact the date that Lucy first ventured into the big wide world, well, a small corner of it, in Scotland actually. Though I suppose Edinburgh is a fairly big corner, for Scotland. Anyway, the events of this date, a year ago today, were to set off a chain reaction, which was perhaps inevitable anyway, but which has led me to where I am today. Awaiting an appointment at Charing Cross, on the road to becoming the woman I have always felt I should have been, that I am in fact, but which was always kept hidden from all around me. It seems a lot can happen in a year, but maybe, hopefully, a lot more will happen within the next 12 months. The change that came over me in one night was fairly dramatic though. I guess it was something I had longed for all my life, to be in public, as a woman, even if the reality was that I wouldn’t be totally accepted as an "everyday", normal woman. I certainly didn’t feel a freak though when it came to it, in fact I felt considerably less freakish than I do when in drab, and that’s what changed me. That’s what made me realise my life had changed for ever, I would never go back. It was just a question of finding the right path that lay ahead of me. It didn’t take long. I’m still acutely aware of the contrast between personas, I just feel better when I am dressed. Being read as a transsexual is better than being stared at as a man who looks a bit odd, and blending in to the crowd as a woman is kind of nice. Wearing the right clothes somehow allows me to be the person I feel I am, and that I think is the important point; it’s not wearing the clothes that makes me feel better, it’s the feeling of fitting in to the right gender; "congruency". Being dressed correctly allows me to behave appropriately for my true gender. Though having said all that, it’s starting to not matter, I’m just me, and I don’t really care what people see, but I think nowadays they generally see someone who is happier than she otherwise would be had she not followed her heart and started living for herself. I remember the second time I went out, we’d just met up and sat down in "Vanilla" (aptly my favourite scent) and noticed a young man watching us doing our nails. He asked if he could join us and it turned out he was actually a f2m, you could see it, but only when he told us! Anyway he asked if any of us were TS, and since I said I was he asked if I would have SRS. "I would like to", I replied, "but I don’t think it’s realistic really". "Why not?" He asked, slightly pushily, as if to say, "I’m gonna do it, so can you…" I was taken a bit off-balance by that, no-one has ever been pushy about it before, in fact no-one had ever suggested it might be a good idea, although the idea had certainly occurred to me! I fumbled around trying to find excuses, the family being the biggest stumbling block, but everyone has that to deal with... Although his interrogation didn’t change my way of thinking at the time, it was a bloody good question - why not indeed? I’m into collecting quotes at the moment, and writing a few of my own based on recent positive experiences, here’s one of mine for you: "Cast aside fear and doubt, and there are no barriers, only hurdles". I used to fear what might happen, I used to doubt whether I could ever do this, but no more, not for a long time in fact, and hence the quote. My family ceased to be a barrier and became a hurdle over which I have recently leapt, but am still having to deal with, purely by way of helping those around me to understand. I do not fear what they might think, I do not care if they think this is not a good idea because they are wrong. And I intend to prove that. One person in particular may never take my word for it, but one day he will see the improvement in me as a person, see the acceptance by the local townsfolk, of whom he seems to have a stereotypical view. Perhaps only then will he truly understand, but I can wait. I know I’m right. I was "madam’ed" in the supermarket again today, in drab, baggy pants and scruffy, blokey, denim jacket. I might as well go full time if people think I’m a woman anyway! I am being frivolous of course, but hell why is it that I get read when I’m dressed?! Getting read doesn’t worry me though, it’s just something to work on, and it will all take time. It’s hard to remember exactly how I was feeling a year ago, although I remember clearly the excitement of a year ago today, shopping for a coat in the glorious Edinburgh sunshine, bubbling with anticipation. And I remember the instant calmness I felt as soon as I stepped onto the street in my little black dress; freedom, liberation, realisation, empowerment. In a moment something changed within me, my whole attitude towards my life, and the person inside me. A glimpse of completeness, a view which becomes clearer every day, as I move closer towards my goal. A big thank you to Cathy who gave me the chance for such a perfect first night out, the atmosphere in Edinburgh was just right, not a tranny hotspot, just the chance to feel like a natural woman in relaxed surroundings. The chance to be aware of myself. As Wendy and Lisa said, "Everybody needs a chance to grow". xx
    Apr 20, 2005 512