A defining moment in my young life was in 1976 when I read in The Mirror newspaper about a "sex-change" tennis star called Renee Richards.  Until then I had never heard of transsexuals, but it started to crystallize all my nebulous thoughts.  I began to constantly look for items regarding "sex-change" in the newspapers and local library.  Jan Morris and April Ashley became my first heroines, and when I learnt of Amanda Lear and Caroline Cossey (Tula), I would fall asleep at nights wishing that I could be a woman as beautiful as they were!

A Passing Phase?
My supposedly hidden collection of transgender cuttings and other items eventually became known to my mother - I found out years latter that she decided that I was gay after discovering make-up under my bed.  On one occasion my father came home early and interrupted my frantic attempts to remove the clothes of a sister’s friend who was stopping over ... he closed the door while I died from embarrassment.  Nothing was said at the time, I suppose they hoped it was just a passing phase.  

When I turned 18 I went off to University.  For the first two years I was in a hall of residence and had my own room, I occasionally neglected my studies as I developed my skills in make-up and explored the mysteries of eyebrow plucking, leg shaving and other feminine arts - a degree level subject for anyone not brought up from birth as a girl!  As time went I became rather effeminate in dress and appearance - the highlight of my day was if a bus driver or shop assistant called me "Miss" - but I never found the courage to deliberately appear as a girl. 

In my final year I shared a rented house with friends - a girl with whom I was close friends (but no more), plus another couple.  Unfortunately my house-mates got to know about my "strange habits" after a couple of months when the other man returned early one weekend and caught me unawares dressed en-femme.  A few days later my friend (whose clothes I had occasionally borrowed, unnoticed I had hoped) completed my humiliation when I found a pile of her clothes dumped on to my bed.

So Nearly...
When I left University I got a job in a small town in Northern England.  Being in a new place where no one knew me, I absolutely resolved that I should start as I wanted to go on and from day one I wore make-up outside work, but this was not totally outrageous as it was the era of Boy George (whom I didn't actually like).  To further help things along I introduced myself as Toni - it was derived from my middle name but was mainly in honour ofToni Basil who was a well known female pop artist at the time.

My company pointed me towards sharing digs with a guy called Mike, this thankfully worked out well although I was hardly the conventional flatmate.  The first few weeks and months after I moved in consisted of me screwing up my courage for the next step towards living as a girl, only to be surprised and encouraged by a complete lack of comments from Mike, or indeed anyone when I had to venture out.  I quickly progressed from a little make-up and jewellery to more make-up and jewellery, to hip & thigh padding in my jeans (a bad idea - very uncomfortable and soon dropped), to pierced ears (more confirmation for my Mum when she next saw me that I was 'gay'!), to tights, to women's shoe's and eventually even padded bra's (another big anti-climax), but I avoided skirts and dresses as somehow being a step to far. 

I was greatly assisted in my development as Toni by the generous and laidback attitude of Mike, he always took me as I was and never asked any awkward questions.  I was never sure whether Mike really didn't care about my appearance, or whether he was too embarrassed to say anything, or whether he was just letting me make a fool of myself, or whether he actually liked it!  After a while I stopped worrying about leaving female items around, or hiding inappropriate drying underwear and clothes.  He never gave me a clue in our nearly a year together, although he mentioned various girls and girlfriends, I did not meet or speak to any of them.

We occasionally went for a drink together and reluctantly our regular haunt was a convenient, but otherwise totally awful, nearby farmers pub.  The first time we went there I made quite an impact and it was the only occasion that I became embarrassed with Mike as I felt him giving my make-up, blow dried hair and attire a double take.  The locals could probably never made up their minds whether I was just a dubious townie tart, or should be lynched as a gay pervert - I never dared go to the toilet!

While passing as a woman may have been relatively easy for me at 21, unfortunately the passage of time doesn't favour the dithering transsexual woman.  However, many months of hard dieting and hormones resulted in a much-improved figure and appearance.  I was still working and living as a man but my increasingly androgynous looks began to cause confusion, interestingly far more frequently with men then women. 

Because of my developing bust I began to favour wearing loose shirts and baggy jumpers, and had to avoid being seen topless - e.g. swimming became impossible.  But my ever more noticeable breast development still caused plenty of problems, I'll never forget two giggling and tipsy girls telling me when in male mode, "you need a bra" - embarrassing and wonderful at the same time.  I had also started shaving my legs but this was another potential issue, wearing shorts in public now meant having to pass as a western girl - and facing the risk of meeting an acquaintance who knew me as a man.

Most of my early public appearances as Annie were when Lydnsey insisted on dragging me out for the night - ladies were in very short supply and got free entrance and often free drinks at bars & clubs, so my agreeing to go en femme saved us a fortune!  I soon had no choice but go as Annie to our regular haunts - girls were remembered and I would have been out'ed, particularly if with Lydnsey. 

Much of the fun was the getting ready, I would go over to her villa at perhaps 8pm.  When there, her parents appeared to just ignore the goings on - but several years later her father told me that they had agonized over how to address me for a party invite.  It would sometimes be midnight before we headed out - when the bottle of whatever was empty!  Years of cobwebs were brushed away and I redeveloped my own "face" and style as regards makeup, jewellery and clothes, which I've basically stuck with since.

A late night out with Lyndsey, apologies for the damaged photo.

Although nervous and self-conscious I was forced to quickly learn how to handle men as the chat-ups were continuous.  I would often pick out a safe looking guy early on and then keep him in tow to help fend off the others.  Some nights were great and I began to relax and enjoy the attention, others became a nightmare as the loud music, dim lights and drink encouraged unwanted intimacy even on my last resort of the dance floor.  Lyndsey often rescued me (and me her) but still plenty of stories to tell on our nights out.  For example, one night - as the Night Club began to close - the word went round the regulars that Public Security were waiting at the exit and female officers were checking every girl for her 'authenticity'.  I grabbed an American sailor (literally!) who couldn't believe his luck as we were waved through the exit by the police, although his bounty then ended with a final kiss.  Probably my being a westerner had helped a lot as the next day the local newspaper revealed that six Asian's had been deported for unacceptable social behaviour, i.e. 'female impersonation'.  Another memorable experience was someone giving me "a lift home" late one night, when we reached his flat "for a coffee" I flopped down exhausted and rather drunk on a rug - we then had some pleasant snogging before I realised that my tights were being pulled down and it was obvious what would be next!  I been enjoying everything up to that point (Lyndsey was convinced that we went all the way!) and in a moment of total lunacy I went back round the next night, thankfully he was out and never replied to my note.

A New Life
In hindsight I was far from prepared for transition, but events suddenly had a momentum of their own.  After a hectic few weeks of organising the end of my old life and the beginning of my new, I flew to England on the 14th December 2000.  On my passport I was still "Male" and so I arrived at Heathrow for the last time (please God) as a man, but thanks to a lengthy session in a disabled toilet and a pre-prepared MasterCard I checked in to my Hotel as a stylish(?!) young(?!) Miss - very self conscious but elated.  My first test was avoiding the inclusive full breakfast because of my dieting!

I spent two weeks finding somewhere to live and sorting myself out, I had to cope with a huge change in my life and even everyday activities were rather frightening and intimidating at first, but as the days passed I slowly relaxed and eventually began to feel confident enough to chat and socialise a little when people talked to me.  I found London to be seriously expensive, partly because of all my essential shopping.  Now that I was living day-in day-out as a woman I suddenly needed far more in the way of clothes, shoes, make-up, jewellery, bags, accessories, et al. - which cost a lot of money.

After New Year it was in to work.  This was an enormously stressful and worrying time.  My alarm was set for 5:00 am so I that could go through a ridiculously long morning routine and then commute in, and I quickly realised that I had been "out'ed".  My contract was for three months and it was not renewed, I consoled myself that it was a start and a big step. 

In early April I joined a computer company in Ireland.  This was an interesting job supporting their large accounts and overseas agents, I fitted in better and got on well with my colleagues and key customers.  I slowly become less self conscious, but unfortunately business was badly hit by the tragic events of 11th September.  The company closed its Dublin office at the end of November and I was again made redundant. 

At both these organisations my CV, qualifications and references had clearly revealed my background and despite promises that "aspects" would remain confidential, perhaps inevitably it soon became widely known that I was a transsexual.  This caused a few problems, particularly in the early days at the Bank when I was still far from confident as Annie, but for good or bad it also ensured that I was well known - everyone knew me by name!

My personal life was also very hectic during this period.  In October 2001 my boyfriend (emphasis still on the "friend") of about four months persuaded me to go on holiday with him.  I couldn't sleep the night before with worry, but it began to feel a bit special as we held hands on the aircraft for take-off.

When we arrived at the hotel his promise of separate rooms became one room with a double bed - to my very mixed feelings.  For the first time since my transition I was expected to look and behave as a girl for every minute of every day in every way, but with a wine fuelled 'what the heck' I actually relaxed and stopped worrying.  I found myself loving being someone's girlfriend, I began to seek and enjoy intimate "silly girl" and ultra-feminine moments.  It was wonderful having a man looking after me, paying the bills, telling me how beautiful I was and ... well ...  to cuddle up to and tease and kiss whenever I felt like it.  The holiday was a new and unforgettable experience that I'll always treasure - among other things I just had to visit Aphrodite's Bath and we also went to several monasteries, one of which I couldn't enter because I was a woman - which made my day!  I finally began to believe and feel that I was indeed a woman; and the memory helped sustain me in the months to come.

Back home we went our separate ways again.  I was at a loose-end and rather down because of my redundancy when in mid-December 2001 my boyfriend - let's call him "Martin" - suggested that I should move in with him.  Despite another mental panic, this time I didn't resist too hard, even though it meant moving down to Cork - and during our negotiations I gained a credit card and a promise that we shared the housework.  The former he's always paid without complaint, but the second promise he soon broke. 

When I arrived at his house I sat outside for half an hour, trying to gain courage to start a new chapter in my life.  The day I arrived was his work Xmas Party - where my participation in a Lovely Legs competition was not optional, but to be fair he later had to "joust" for my Maidenly favours.  Despite his winning my hand in gallant fashion, a severe dose of reality began to creep in over the following days, and it was initially rather hard for us to adjust to living together as a couple.

Soon after arriving in Cork I had a short and rather disastrous period as a Teacher's Assistant at a small Nursery School.  On impulse I had phoned in response to an advert, and was offered the job after a rather cursory interview by a desperate Principle.  It seemed a good idea at the time as I felt that I wanted to work with children, but my timing was poor - I was having laser hair removal treatment and was about to have breast augmentation.  I never really fitted in and the situation became impossible when the other teachers realised that I was a transsexual and reacted rather badly to that.  The experience was also rather a set back to my burgeoning maternal instincts, children and even motherhood suddenly became far less attractive!