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.