Full Name ~ Carol Shelles
Born ~ 22 August 1955
Origin ~ Lancs/Yorks
Current Address ~ East Anglia
Status ~ married, one kiddie
Sexuality ~ heterosexual
Dress Size ~ 14
Shoe Size ~ 7
Profession ~ Chartered Designer
Favourite Lipstick Colour ~ Fire Engine Red!
Favourite Outfit ~ anything short below, stretchy up top
Favourite Film Genre ~ horror movies
Favourite Songs ~'The Sun Has Got His Hat On',
'The Laughing Policeman'
Favourite Music ~ it's easier to say what I don't like ~
rap, jazz, manufactured 'pop' groups, otherwise ~
Led Zeppelin, U2, Oasis, Depeche Mode, Simple Minds;
classically ~ Elgar, Holst, Vaughn Williams
Heroine ~ Little Bo Peep
Favourite Drink ~ a large Cognac (neat) or Old Peculier, please!
Favourite Colours ~ lime green and sunflower yellow
Sport ~ Man Utd (hey, the champions will return!)
Bradford City and Yorkshire County Cricket
Pet Dislikes ~ golf (yawn), in-your-face 'artists', cats, royalty,
the French, cookery programmes
Pet Likes ~ pastel shades, bananas custard, rhubarb crumble, lemon meringue,
curry, trifle, er, lots of foodstuff, autumn, lazing in bed, travel, sheep gazing
Gravestone Inscription ~ the lovely Carol Shelles, died 3055, of young age!
Datable? ~ feminine (not necessarily female) company preferred.

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In the beginning ~ at five my Gran sat me on her lap
and said she would have preferred a girl. Welcome to the world, my boy.
I had an older brother and what she really meant was she would have liked 'one of each'.
As it turned out I became one of five, three sisters followed.
At around six my Gran bought me a shiny blue purse which I loved.
I don't know whether she sussed early on and pandered to my growing
predeliction or whether she was the cause of it, but at around this time I found myself
playing 'pulling on stockings' behind my grandparent's chair.
I had no desire to be a girl (and still don't) but I did like to be treated like one
and before I was seven I had a heroine in an Aunt in her late teens.
She was a real 'swinger' of her time; blonde, full-figured, extrovert,
bubbling with energy, full of fun and adorably sexual.
I liked it and I wanted it.

Hard-stitched & conical ~ I often slept in my Aunt's bed when staying overnight
and the smell of her perfume on the bedsheets was wonderful.
When alone I'd fumble through her drawers and wonder how those hard-stitched,
conical things would fit. Amongst the contents were corsets, suspender belts and
soft, silky knickers. What a contrast those clothes were to my own male,
dull, utilitarian dress.
Here was another world ~ and I fell in love with it.

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A kiss, fine, now can I try on your dress? ~ on turning
seven my family swapped the red rose of Lancashire for the white rose of
Yorkshire and my early teens were spent kicking tin cans around the backstreets of
Bradford. Though never well-heeled, I was always the choice of the 'nice' girls,
being cute, naive and just a little shy; unfortunately for them, I was always more
interested in what they were wearing than what they were offering!

A new identity ~ I began to collect girls clothing and secret them away
from my brother with whom I shared an attic. I dressed when I could,
occasional taking a trip outdoors in clothes borrowed from my sisters.
After my brother left for a place of his own I dressed more often.
The frequency increased again after I too got a flat of my own, followed
by my first house. If things had been different I may at this time have 'come out'
because I was beginning to find this 'daytime for me / evenings and weekends as her'
lifestyle a little restrictive and I felt I could commit myself to a new
identity as a female. But my life took an unexpected turn.

A simple twist of fate ~ I met this girl, fell in love and after a three
month whirlwind romance, married her.
I no longer needed to dress up. After all, why pretend to be the girl
of my dreams when I now lived with the real thing. I tore up my wardrobe
and dropped the remains in the bin prior to walking down the aisle.
But the urges didn't go away and before long I found myself being teased by
my wife's dresses as they hung in the wardrobe and that discarded bra
on the bed only dared me to pick it up and try it on, just for old time's sake.
I resisted for a while but temptation eventually got the better of me and I began
borrowing her clothes and stepping out of the door on dark wintery
afternoons while she was at work. The girl had returned.

Duh! ~ she eventually found out. I was taken unawares, totally embarrassed
and I fluffed the inquisition, promising it was a one off and it wouldn't happen again.
DUH!
She found out again, and again, and again . . . (and again).
She now knows the dressing goes on but turns a blind eye rather than make a fuss.
She knows I have a stash of clothes somewhere but prefers not to know of it.
Neither of us has any desire to break up our marraige.

Why oh why? ~ because it makes me feel good. I feel more relaxed and I'm a lot
happier with myself. Plus, I love it. But I'm not a woman trapped in a guy's body.
Nor do I have an alter ego who's bursting to come out. I'm never going to transgenderise.
I don't believe in any male/female, yin/yang stuff. I'm not into knitting or astrology.
I don't have a personality disorder any more than Carlisle United supporters
or Real Tennis players do.
I'm the same as either myself or Carol, I just prefer being Carol
(she's much better looking!) and I'm happy to leave it at that.
If this sounds like you, drop me a line, we may have a lot in common!

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