Tina's Diary - Introducing Tina
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I am the kind of
person to whom
things happen -
never let it be said that the path
of my life is a smooth one.
However, I do live life to the full
and enjoy most of the varied
experiences that fate throws at
me. Like many girls, however,
I have found it essential to keep
a diary in order to make some
sense of the various goings on...
December 22nd Gran Canaria
Scared this am, met Jeff and Trudi (nice but
loud), Anne and Nicole (nice but gone).
Lost my bra in pool, had a boob feeling
session with the girls (weird). Drunk!
Will I get arrested when I leave the country?
you've got balls''
Not the greatest compliment I'd ever been
given but, although hurtful, it was physically
accurate and meant in good spirit.
At the time I was sitting at the poolside,
arms clenched around my chest as my
'Miracle non-slip latex bra and breast
enhancer' slowly gravitated southwards
underneath my wrap.
I had observed the Vikingesque man
checking me out some time earlier, and had
wondered how long it would be before he
plucked up the courage to approach me.
As it happened, I needn't have worried
about his social etiquette because he
ploughed straight in ... 'I hope you don't mind
me asking, but me and the wife were
wondering like, are you a bloke or a girl?
Let me introduce myself
My name is Tina Pots and I am a 42-year-old
Pre-Operative Transsexual. Simply put, this
makes me one of 5000 or so people in the
country, born into a body of the wrong sex
and who is waiting for, or has had, sexual
This means that I do not follow a
lifestyle as a transvestite, although I do have
a lovely collection of Victoria's Secret lingerie.
I dress 24/7, not to get a sexual kick, but in
the hope that I will not suffer the gripping
nausea caused when I am addressed as
'Mr', 'mate', 'Sir', or 'Guv'.
Nor am I a chick with a dick - my being
a transsexual is a 40-year-long transient
phase that I dream will now end as quickly as
possible. I long for the surgery that will give
me a functioning female body. So far, I am
aware that, as well as giving me hips, and a
bum that looks big in everything, the
hormones taken over the years will eventually
erode any erectile function I may currently
possess. (I also happen to be a bi-sexual
submissive - but more of that later.)
I could see that it was going to take
some time for the concept of transsexuality
to sink in, and the once dazzling blue pool in
front of me now seemed to be shadowed by
an ominously dark cloud.
With his face resembling a bulldog
chewing a wasp, he waved his wife over and
they duly introduced themselves to me as Jeff
'If anybody looks at you funny, I will do
them - I've just done time inside for GBH'.
With that pronouncement he headed for the
bar to replenish our drinks.
Now I always considered myself as a high
maintenance kind of girl - at 6ft tall with
blue eyes, dark hair and topping 13 stone,
I need all of the help that I can get.
But Trudi beat me hands down. If she could
have taken her hair straighteners into the
swimming pool, then she'd have done so.
Not that she would ever risk her investment
with 'Tantastic' in mere chlorinated water nor,
indeed, would the contents of Fort Knox
currently adorning her body have allowed her
Refusing the copious amounts of Spanish
'champagne' thrust in my direction, I soon
realised that Jeff and Trudi's was a never-tobe-
empty table, and before long there were
half a dozen or so other people enjoying their
hospitality. The volume of the party ebbed
and flowed with the booze, but I slowly
became aware that two young girls, with
suitcases at their side, appeared unable to
avert their gaze from me. I was quite pleased
to discover that after a few hours all that
remained were the five of us and a table full
of empty bottles.
I said 'hola' to the girls, and while Jeff
made yet another visit to the bar they
introduced themselves as Anne and Nicole.
Waiting for the transfer coach to take them
to the airport for their 'plane back to
Manchester, they lost no time in asking if
they could mention something a bit personal.
'Here we go again,' I thought and prepared to
launch into my usual explanation.
'Are your tits shrinking?'
I looked down and almost died of
embarrassment. At some time in the
afternoon, my chicken-fillet-like bra had given
up the ghost, leaving me with a camel-like
growth across my stomach.
Shrieking with laughter, Nicole gently
took my hand and pushed it under her top.
'See, I'm only an 'A' cup, so I know all about
padded bras.' She smiled as my thumb gently
rolled over the top of her nipple, making it
pucker. 'And I'm not much bigger' joined in
Anne, as she made a grab for my other hand.
But Trudi had other ideas and within minutes
the scene resembled an erotic version of 'Auld
Lang Syne' as the relative merits of each of
our breasts was explored with lips and hands.
All too soon it was time for the girls to
depart but before they left, Nicole thrust a
pink passport cover into my hand. 'Here babe,
something to remember us by, and pink is so
much your colour'. Nestling inside was a
Manchester telephone number.
The evening beckons
A brief nap and then it
was time to get ready
for the night's
entertainment at the
was lengthy - shave,
foundation to cover but
not so heavy that I looked
like Coco the Clown), along
with dress, stockings and heels.
Before I left my room I felt fear
- as I do every time I abandon the comfort
of my privacy for the open glare of the
big wide world. A deep breath and then
I entered the busy hotel reception.
'If anybody looks at you funny I will
do them - don't forget,' roared Jeff from
the bar, followed by a chorus of 'Hello Tina,'
from everybody else in the room.
Blushing furiously I bolted for the
safety of the telephone booth from
where I could call my much loved and
uncomplaining partner Helen, and
report on the days happenings.
More frank and revealing
thoughts from Tina's diary
in the next issue.