Bunnies.

 Growing up I would dream that I would wake up as a real girl. I had this dream thousands of times with hundreds of variations of the how and why I became the girl I should have been. I still have this dream to this day, although with some rarity now that I express my true self with complete freedom.

 Being a child of the sixties and seventies, one of the largest icons I wanted emulate was a Playboy Bunny. Lord I wanted to be a Bunny so bad. The costumes, with the girls breasts swelling out of the top and the deep curves of the tapered waistlines, The high heel pumps and sexy ears and tails, I wanted to be one of them with all my heart. Even in my transformation dreams, one of the recurring themes was that I became a Bunny walking around in my costume. Now as a adult (questionable by some standards) I do understand how those women were treated and objectified by the heavily masochistic culture of the day. Yet even now, armed with this knowledge, part of me still wants to be that sexy girl in the naughty costume. flaunting my sexuality for those around me.

 There was also another influence on me back then. Months ago on my Facebook page I also wrote about as a child, discovering cartoon drawings by artists such as Bill Ward and Jack Cole among others of that period. Below are examples of the drawings. Mr Ward's are on the right and Mr Cole's on the left. These exaggerated depictions of the female form also fueled my desire to be the girl knew I was on the inside.

 The power images like the drawings above and the photos of women in bunny costumes and others had (and still in a way do) over me was like a drug. A escape from the fact that I was not a girl and at that time, had no no hope of ever becoming. The depression and hopelessness was staggering. I came close to no surviving the struggle a few times. I am no longer that isolated child, thinking that they are the only one in the world with these "feelings". With nowhere to turn, afraid to tell anyone at all, I survived but only by a thread.

 As a child with less understanding of "what" I was in terms of being transgendered, it was daunting. But I did survive because I have spent a lifetime compartmentalizing almost every aspect of who I am as a person. Putting every thing that made me up into boxes and thus mitigating internal conflict. There was a box for the girl, A box for the Boy. A box for school. A box for friends, A box for family and as I got older a box for work, Anyone who knows me, only knows me through the one or two boxes they can see into. Putting up these internal walls served a purpose and kept me alive through some very tough times. But the cost of maintaining those walls is steep. Almost no one will ever know me fully. I will never really allow myself complete freedom to fully be who I am in many ways. Breaking down those walls has proven to be a impossible task.

 So if I can not take down the walls and eliminate boxes, I can work around them through this blog.
I have said this in some of my older posts; Blogging is a way of exercising ones daemons. A way of stepping out of yourself and looking back to see what the world sees of you. No matter what you are going through, a journal or blog will help with perspective.

I wish I could really explain what it is like to be something, someone completely different on the inside then you are on the outside. The best way to describe what it is like being transgendered for me is to think of it like being in a room one other person. It is just the two of you. The other person is just out of sight. You know them and you want to walk over to them but as you try and close the gap the other person keeps moving away. Always just out of reach but always calling out to you. It is a game of cat and mouse between who you are and who you are in your heart.

Thank you all for being here with me.

Candi.