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.