To look pretty...

I have been attempting to grow my hair in an effort to make my big debut as a cross dresser (a once in a lifetime affair) as convincible as possible. I did have it almost at shoulder length last year but a job interview came along crushing my 6 months stint of painstaking effort growing my mane. Now i am back at it, like it was never a huge deal, that 6 months i did survive a hideous styling of my crowing glory.

There has always been that interest in me; sex change. I always knew something was amiss, like this body was not meant for me, like those pair of testosterone factories and that ejaculatory device was not meant to be attached to my groin, like i should have had less male steroids and more oestrogen, like there was supposed to be enlarging, functional mammary glands where my hands go every time i am shocked! All that obviously did not happen but then again, i always wanted to know what if...

Would i have been attractive?

Would i have turned heads?

Would i have had men head over heels for me?

Could i walk down the road and have eyes following my swagger?

I guess I'll never know unless i did try. And i am positively going to be turning heads if i ever i strut around in women's clothing, for the wrong reasons or otherwise it is all up to the eyes of the beholder(s). Try, i shall, to look as closely to a woman i can; perfect, out-of-the-runway makeup, clothes to die for that plays to my strengths some women don't possess (i have been told so often than not that i had curves that would put women to shame), not forgetting a pair of killer heels, a bag to die for and soft luscious curls that sit pretty over my shoulders.

I know how its like to look pretty when properly dolled up. My dancing endeavors during varsity days were those times i wish i could re-live again and again. One such experience was during a performance in capital city. It was some semi-classical piece and i had all the time in the world to get my eyeliner, lip colour and blush right (its not like i always don't). The event was a wedding reception and we were hired to perform in a rather tasteful, quaint restaurant. It was a small yet a glamorous event with attendees not exceeding 200 people. I remember this lesbian fellow dancer of mine who had her girlfriend drive her over so that she could leave after her slot as she pleased. She was the feminine one whilst her better half was very much the more masculine of the two (think of the gay roles; top and bottom). Off makeup it seemed like Mr. Lesbian friend didn't seem to give two hoots about me, however, 15 minutes later, when i was putting on some final touches of rouge and mascara, Mr. Lesbian friend suddenly did a 180 and started flirting with me. She even managed to slide her hand up and down my thighs.

Even Mr. P used to admire me, repeatedly mentioning that i would make a stunning female. I miss times when someone you love so deeply acknowledges your presence. I long for someone staring at me when i am putting on my lip gloss and then turns around and shakes his head in disbelief that i wasn't born female. (Cookies and Cakes, i am sorry, i am really not dwelling on anything. Its just that i don't want to forget good times, even if it was with the wrong person, for the wrong reasons).

Shit, i missed my first half of The Nanny!!!