I want to be pretty

I love wearing nail varnish, it makes me happy.  Weirdly I can’t stop looking at my nails, how shiny and pretty they look.

And I like the way I look in the mirror when I am wearing make-up.  Eye make-up and lipstick are the best but foundation is important too, even more so because I am male physically and have stubble to cover.

When I wear make-up I find myself pouting and flouncing in front of the mirror.  It is not because of some ridiculous stereotype of how women are.  It’s simply because I love to look pretty.  It is because I have felt trapped in my maleness all my life and looking pretty fits the way I actually am inside.  To see myself looking pretty and feminine – it is such a joy and such a relief.

I hate my hair by the way.  I do not mean the hair on my head.  I mean the hair on my chin, the hair on my legs, the hair on my belly.  Even the hair on my arms bugs me these days.  I shave my face, shave my belly, use hair removal cream on my legs and arms.  But still it grows, relentlessly, as if mocking me in my inescapable maleness.

I would take hormones to better enable my looking feminine and pretty.  But I like to masturbate and worry that hormones would make that pleasant, comforting pastime less enjoyable.  I might be wrong about that – or I might be right.  I do not know.

But femininity fits me better than masculinity.  And I need to look feminine and pretty all the time, even if that is not currently possible for me.  Something dies inside every time  I see myself looking conventionally male in the mirror.  Something cries with joy whenever I look pretty.  I want to look pretty.  I need to look pretty.  It fits who I am inside.


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