On Why I Do What I Do

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This is another article on the hazards of living, TS style. Technically, most of what I write here is; but this was something that just gripped me and wouldn't let go

until I put it on paper...well, okay. Put it online is better.

Most mornings, I wake up, and I look forward to my day. There are things to do, people to see, and things, while not great, are pretty good. I get up and get moving,

and don't think twice about it. Since I started waking up and thinking in Mina mode a few years back, I have come to grips—most of the time—with my femininity,

and I am quite at peace with it. It's who I am, anymore. My internal voice is totally, irreversably female, for example, even if some mornings my regular voice isn't.

Some mornings, however, I wake up and I wonder: Why do I do what I do? Why do I live like a woman lives, instead of as a man? What is it that has compelled me

for so long to dress, act, look, and live like a woman? Sometimes I even wonder what it would be like to wake up and be a man. (I've lived so long as a woman now

that I actually have to think about man things.)

What is it that draws me to get out of bed, go through my morning routine, put on my panties and bra, women's clothing and jewelry, some makeup, and face my day?

I can tell you what it's not a bit easier, perhaps.

I don't get my jollies out of it. In fact, some days, it's a pain in my posterior to go through the drill. I don't always want to deal with things like putting a pad in my panties,

putting a bra on, taking my hormones and applying makeup. Since I haven't been able to afford laser treatments, some days I don't want to shave my face and/or

underarms...much less epilate my legs, hands and chest. And yet, I do. Why? I do it because I am the woman I am.

It's not a sexual thrill. I have said this before, and will doubtless say it again—if this is a sexual thrill, it is the worst and most expensive. And, because I'm on hormones,

I have a certain lack of desire for sex, anyway. (Not that I don't ever want sex again. I just don't want/need it daily.) No, sex is not even in the picture for this.

It's certainly not a fetish. All that would mean is that I attribute certain inherent values or powers to an object or state of being. There is no power for me per se in being

feminine...although I do attribute certain values to my femininity. But then in all fairness, I attribute certain values to breathing as well.

No, it is something far deeper, for me at least. There is a need at my core being, something that compels—no, better yet, drives me—to do this. There is something that

pushes me to give up on trying to be the man I never was, and focus on being the woman I really have become.

So, I’ve gone for a walk, done the laundry, had lunch, and now I am supposed to be working. And this question of “why” still haunts me a bit. Normally with me, asking

“why” is the booby prize. But there is something about this that just hasn’t let go of me the last two days.

Why? Why do I live as a woman? Why do I undergo all the heartburn, loss, pain and work to look, act, live, and be a woman? There are days it would be easy just to

Or, would it? Would it really be all that easy? I don't think so...I know so.

I know, from firsthand experience, what would happen. Been there and done that. Oh, the first few months would be okay. But then little by little, the feminine thoughts,

emotions, speech and thought patterns would come back. Eventually, I would break down and have to go back a little. Just a bit, to ease the rumblings and the mental

frustration of trying to live in a way that really isn’t me.

And before you know it, I’d be back where I am now, and further down the pike then that.

Now it's several days later, and I still am no closer to the why than I was. But what I do have is a sense of peace, a sense of the rightness of what I do, even if I don't know

the “why.” I don't have to know why, really.

What I do have to know is that I am becoming more of the woman I am meant to be. And I'm okay with that.