For as long as I can remember I’ve felt like a girl. When I was young I would pray to God every day to turn me into a girl. I prayed so hard for it. It never happened of course, but she was always there, inside me.
I called her “Amanda” because this would have been my name, had I been born a girl, physically. I was always tall and thin, with soft features. From about age 24 to 29, I crossdressed regularly (I had my own apartment in a college town). I bought a ton of female clothing, makeup, a few wigs, and I was living as Amanda almost full time (I was male presenting at work and some other parts of my life.)
I was never an attractive male. I have soft features, I am thin, a little tall for a girl, 5′-10”, but once I put on the skirt and wig and makeup I was HER. I was Amanda, and heck, I didn’t think I was that bad looking. I felt very fortunate; I’m very fair, I have almost no chest hair and when I shave my face, it takes at least 4-7 days before it starts growing back. It felt like Amanda was working from the inside out.
Like many of us, I did the “dress like a girl” thing for Halloween. I walked from my apartment to work, in the city. I wore a tan skirt, thigh highs, a light blue baby tee and sneakers (long walk).
At work a coworker hit on me, telling me I was a “super cute” girl. I laughed at him and told him to go away. He asked me out 3 times. I thought he was joking at first, but he wasn’t. I turned him down and afterward, never brought it up again.
Later that night at a party, I received compliment after compliment, from men and women. One guy even asked me if I wanted to go to the bathroom with him. I didn’t, because I was shy and convinced he was joking, but I’m really not sure. I was on Cloud 9. I was very passable, and for the first time in my life, people found me attractive.
I just recently sent a photo of myself from that Halloween to a girl who is a friend of mine, as a “lol” and she replied, “you make kind of a cute girl.”
I even started going on walks and hanging around outside my apartment as Amanda. One afternoon, I was outside in a dark green sundress, wedge heels, black choker necklace, smoking a cigarette. My neighbor (who I never really spoke to) came out of his apartment, looked at me, smiled and waved, got into his car and drove off. He just thought I was some girl, smoking outside. My adrenaline was pumping, this was incredible! Many other times I would be outside and walk past people and they wouldn’t bat an eye. I felt so alive in those moments. Just a girl. The way it was supposed to be.
I had so many great times from 24 to 29. Unfortunately, my circumstances changed and I don’t get to dress anymore and have all but fully suppressed Amanda.
I lost access to my old Myspace account with all my photos; I tried to reset the password, but I never got an email from them. I had to go to this old online game I used to play, called Second Life, to find any remaining photos left of me. I found a precious few. They’re lower res now, but my memories aren’t. Those are still crystal clear.
My life is good, I don’t want to complain, I don’t want to rock the boat, but I miss her sometimes. I miss me sometimes.