Hey Mate??  Hows it goin?? --thought you might have fell in love and got hitched or something in your travels.(Smile)

Been thinkin about yu bud. Good to hear that your still alive and kickin. Im not askin who. hahaha

Take care of yourself, my freind.   Phil

 

 

 

 

Hey Stan

I notice you've been pretty quiet on the board.  Hope all is ok.

Take care Rick

Hi guys Touched. This has been a difficult week for me back at work after the holiday. When I arrived at the language school at the beginning of February there was a small element of surprise that I was a man, instead of a woman. After four weeks, we had to give our life stories for 15 minutes in front of the class. Although we had a Japanese brain surgeon, an Armenian nutter who nearly became a pro football player in Italy, a Swedish engineer specialising in wave power energy generation, I think I got the biggest wow factor - twice. When it was my turn to speak everyone chanted "Stan the Man". I waved my fingures in a cautionary gesture and showed my driving licence ID around the room. "Putano" "What does that mean?" Was WOW factor one. "Ho cambiato la sessa" was WOW factor two. Yes I had lived for over twenty years as a woman. I was now presented as a man and the following week fully expected to be working as a woman again. Should I say "sono andato" or "sono andata"? The teacher, Carlo, told me that for the time being I was male. On the last day I was summoned to the headmaster's office, where all the staff wanted to say farewell to me. I referred to Carlo as "Principo Carlo" or Prince Charles and one of the girls called me "Principesso Stan", which means Princess (male) Stan", which I thought very sweet and was the invention of a new Italian noun. However, when it came to work I did not have it in me to dress as a woman - I would have felt like a transvestite, a fake, a sham, an object of ridicule. I went dressed in manly attire. I looked smart and felt good. However, it was only at the last minute that I bought some work shoes as all I had was trainers. Tracey, my assistant, said nothing. I had told her all about my trials and tributlations over the last year. How my chance meeting with Wendy and her husband had caused me to re-encounter the pleasures of female flesh on several occasions. How she had me buy a viagara pill rather than buy her a drink. How I had bought more tablets over the internet. Once my penis was used to erections, panties were no longer an option. Nor did I feel very feminine. Matters were to take a turn for the worse when I gave up smoking. I went to the doctor and said "ATF: alcohol, tobacco and fat - I want to kick them into touch". He said that I could not do it all at once and should concentrate on tobacco because that is what would give me a stroke or heart disease. Oh yes, and they had funding and a special programme for giving up. I had in fact given up smoking the night before seeing the doctor. I smoked myself stupid and before going to bed put out my last ever joint. The Doctor referred me to the nurse, "Amanda". It took a week to get an appointment to see Amanda and it just happened to be the last appointment on Friday. With the week-end looming she was quite relaxed and chatty. I was breath tested and weighed. We chatted and I told her I had quit for good. Her husband worked in football and one of her sons was a semi-pro. Unfortunately, she supported Arsenal. Despite this we got on quite well and she said there was a deal for cheap gymnasium places for those giving up the evil weed. I said I was interested but it was a bit of problem given my gender identity issues, in particular not being able to go into the womens changing room and showers. I was keen to lose the fat so I said I would take up the offer. She asked if I would have a problem and I assured her I would not. I bought some jogging bottoms, some shorts and some football shirts from the discount shop in Oxford Street and went to the gym. Of course I had to go in male clothes and leave in male clothes. During this period I met up with a friend that I had met on the internet for a swim. In the changing rooms it turned out he was wearing a bra and panties. None of the men in there batted an eyelid or noticed a thing, being deaf, dumb and blind to a man. He was braver or more stupid than me. I was going to the gym and swimming a lot last summer and started going to AA meetings close by. I found myself in need of more and more male clothes. You can't always wear the same things. I became a regualar at the discount sportswear shop and started to buy jeans. One of the things about AA is that you get to know a lot of people very quickly, and there are a lot of meetings to attend. I soon started taking a pair of trousers to work with me in my bag so that I could change into them to go a meeting after work. Very soon my typical work wear was: T shirt, bra, mens pants, skirt, socks and trainers. As soon as I could I would ditch the bra and skirt and put on the jeans or cargoes. After five weeks of monitoring, "Amanda" said she had made a new man of me. She was not wrong. My female hormone tablets were piling up in the bathroom and my underpants and socks were piling up in the washroom.