As an FTM TV, I thought you all might be interested in hearing about me.
Or, maye not.
Anyway... When I was little, I thought I was fairly normal. I was your average girl, dressed a little frilly by my mum. I didn't mind the dresses, but preferred just to relax in a pair of sweatpants or something. So I thought I was fairly normal. The other kids, unfortunately, did not. In first and second grade, I would come home beaten every day, for no reason that I could see. I was a loner. I tried so unsuccessfully to make friends that eventually I gave up.
Before I started school, my hair was extremely short, usually done up in a bowl cut. This was partly because I'd had alopecia and it was taking a long time for my hair to grow back. Once in school, my hair was still short, but not as short. People always thought I was a boy. Adults did, anyway.
Anyway, since I was having such a hell of a time at school, my mum took me out and homeschooled me for the second part of 2nd grade. Third grade I went into private school, where it was safer. I still didn't quite fit in, but as these kids were in the same classes every year, I eventually made friends with a lot of them.
It was around this time (age 8 ) that I began thinking, 'hey, I should be a boy.'
I'm completely oblivious to my feelings before this point. I've forgotten a lot of what happened. Repressed it. I remember certain things, but in my memories I'm always alone, and I can't remember the feelings I had. So maybe when I was 8 I suddenly thought this, or maybe I'd entertained the idea for years. I don't remember. I can't.
So, I thought, well, eventually I'd get breasts (wasn't sure how this happened-- the whole thing was kind of mystical to me). And I hated that idea. I remember hoping, wishing, perhaps even praying (I'm not religious-- never have been) that I wouldn't get them-- that the extra skin and flesh would somehow grow down below instead. I thought this very line: "I really want to be a boy. But a gay boy, since I really love boys. I couldn't like a girl." I had a concept of gays but not of TGs.
I tried to be Michael Jackson, a childhood hero. I got a perm. Trouble is, I'm white. No Jerry curl for me
I was trying to be Michael Jackson and, suddenly, everyone thought I was a girl! Where was I going wrong? This seems to be a recurring pattern; every time I wanted to be thought of as a girl (my latency periods, and because my parents made such a big deal of it), they thought I was a boy. Whenever I wanted to be a boy, they all thought I was a girl. I must have a neon sign above my head or something. So I kept trying. I cut my hair shorter. At this point I was allowed to pick out my own clothes, so I picked out boys' jeans and big t- shirts. By ten I was a fully- fledged boy. A classy boy-- I always dressed like I was going to church. Real refined. Dress shirts, nice black jeans or slacks, etc. I learnt to do up a tie.
I was still at private school, so no- one there noticed. We were required to wear uniforms. For the girls, it was a skirt every Monday and Wednesday. I despised this. Instead of jumping rope with the girls, I'd play football (American or European) or basketball with the boys, or unisex sports like 4- square and steal the flag.
At 10 I began puberty. I fought it tooth and nail. My mum started making me wear bras. I absolutely despised them. I was so opposed to them, mum had to check me before I went to school to make sure I was wearing one. Of course, as soon as I'd get to school, I'd take it off and stuff it in my backpack. I felt that these protrusions on my chest were some sort of alien thing. They weren't me. Boys aren't supposed to have boobs, right?
The next year I got my period. That killed me. I refused to acknowledge that I'd got it. I didn't tell my mother-- of course she found out. I refused to do anything about itin the pad/ tampon department for a long time. If I had to, I'd stuff a wad of toilet paper in my underpants. It took me at least six months before I could face it. Perhaps longer. I thought, I suppose, that if I didn't recognise it, maybe it would go away.
At twelve, I went back into public school, into 8th grade. I was again tormented, but not in any physical fights. I took it silently. I was always either tormented or ignored. I made a few friends, but most people didn't want anything to do with me.
If they did want something to do with me, it was always charity. With the exception of about two people. I'd get talked to in class, they'd say they'd call, but never did. I was too shy to call anyone. Besides that, I hate telephones. I was still in boy mode. Well, sort of. I was extremely androgynous. People would always ask me whether I was a boy or a girl. I told them I was a girl. I have this problem with lying, and I suppose I may've pushed myself into denial because of all the torment.
The next year I made a lot more friends. I was more confident, I suppose. I got my look together. The previous year, my look was all over the place. I wore suits that didn't fit, etc. The baggy trousers were in, but mine were too baggy. They'd fall off if I didn't wear a belt. My look was not working. 9th grade, I got it more together. I was less stiff. I figured out that confidence has everything to do with how people perceive you. I could wear the stupidest- looking clothes, but I could carry it off.
Even now, I have this incredibly ugly denim jacket. It's too short for me, it's got all sorts of hideously- coloured stripes. I wear this with anything, and I carry it off. I seem cool, because I flaunt it. I know why I look like a dickhead, so to speak.
So I got my confidence together. I faked it. And, well.
The next year I went into the high school. High school was good to me. Most people knew me. In fact, people I had never met knew who I was. I was not popular, don't get me wrong. It was more like infamous. Noteriety.
I got in with people. I forced myself into little groups. I was always on the outside, but kind of waving at them. I'd pop by from time to time into different cliques at lunch.
I thought that this was good (I'd have perhaps one or two good friends in each group), as I wasn't labeled as anything; wasn't tied to one group of people. I could be free to do what I wanted.
Since everybody at school knew me, I knew they all thought I was a girl. By this point, my hair was long again. I wanted to be a rocker. I always had, but had been slightly sheltered from pop culture and didn't know what a rocker looked like. I had found out that metalheads have long hair. I had the hair for it, so went for it. I was still mostly in 'girlie' mode. Basically, I always, always dressed male, it was just what I told people that was different. I'm not in touch with my feelings so... I think this was my latency period, when I didn't actively pursue being a boy. I think that because it happened fairly soon after puberty and lasted a few years.
After I graduated, I found a surrealist comedian called Eddie Izzard. He was British, and, in his 2- Emmy winning HBO special, Dress to Kill, explained transvestism. I'd never thought about TVs before, had no opinion. It was more or less, well, it's their life, and that's fine by me. I was into Queen (since age 12) and kind of aesthetically liked the idea of Bowie and Boy George. I got more into Bowie and stuff later.
So, anyway, Eddie explained transvestism. He said he was a male lesbian. A male tomboy. A straight man who liked womens' clothes. He wanted to be a woman, but was not into changing sex (because he thought he'd look like a bloke who'd changed sex). I thought, "that's ME!"
Only opposite. I'm a girl transvestite. I fancy boys. I'm not into changing sex for slightly different reasons, but still not. So, that was the birth of Edward. Or, Eddie. Of course, I picked my name because of Dr. Izzard.
I've learned and studied a lot since then (that was a little under a year ago). I'm happier now. A better person. I hold my own now.
I was never in denial about being TV, and didn't repress my clothing cravings. I've been dressing male since 9 or 10 so it was no change. I feel no sexual thrills from dressing, really, although I am, admittedly, a bit narcissistic in being fascinated with myself with each new change. My hair is short now, and mostly I'm being taken as male. This is a recent thing. When I first discovered I was TV, I was always mistaken as a girl. As I got my hair cut, the occurence came less and less. Now, I mostly get called sir. Probably 70% of the time; and it really depends who I'm with at the time.
I've gone into a few mens' toilets, with no hassles.
My problem is that I can't seem to get a boyfriend. I want to be open as a TV when getting into a relationship, but also want to pass. Straight guys probably won't be into me (especially if they already think I'm a guy) and gay guys won't either. So... Yeah. It's tough, and I really want a boyfriend. Someone to love, ya know?
I've come out to my mum, brother, father, and stepmum, as well as all my friends, but not to mystepdad. They don't know of my wish to be called male (my friends do), as I think they'd be uncomfortable with it. They don't know about my 'willie'. There are still some secrets, but they more or less know who I am.
Anyway, that's my story. Sorry it was so long... I hope at least one person found it a bit interesting. If not, it was good for me to write about. So... Good thing.
Anyway... That's all for now. It's nice to be here.
--Edward
That was a cool story. And you express yourself so well, too. This had me laughing out loud: 
It's also true, I personally don't know any guys who are into girls who look like guys - or at least none who would admit it! 
Just keep chasing that rainbow, though. I'm sure there are a multitude of them out there, it seems like you can find people of just about any preference if you look hard enough!
