It’s a miracle I ever find time to write. Between corrupting the young and working towards the downfall of civilization you’d think I’d never have even a couple of minutes to freshen my lipstick. Ah, the trials and tribulations of being a trans woman.

I’m kind of sorry to admit that the truth is a little less interesting. I get up in the morning, brush my teeth, take my meds and eat breakfast before showering. Then I shave the hated stubble from my face, dress in work-appropriate clothes, make a cup of tea and breakfast for my wife.

Once that’s done I can make up my face, tidy my hair and head off to work. Doesn’t sound much, but I can usually stretch it out beyond an hour and a half. By the time I get to work it’s 8:30. Straight in front of the keyboard to check the results of overnight tests and catch up on emails, and then 8 hours of miscellaneous software development.

I’ll admit I do pop off from time to time for a little chat with the girls and an occasional smoke (I’ll have to be giving that up before they’ll sign off on my HRT). Oh, and I do visit the bathroom now and then. I’ve even been known to get a drink of water or eat lunch!

Before I know it it’s nearly 5 and time to drive home. Maybe I’ll call in at a local store for some groceries, or maybe I’ll head straight home. Once in the door it’s time to change into my PJs and take off the makeup. I cook dinner for the two of us. OK, that’s an exaggeration: I usually just pop something in the microwave because I can’t be bothered!

I spend a bit of time with my wife, a bit of time online, and a bit of time watching my current series on Netflix (it’s Luther at the moment; before that was Jessica Jones) and all too soon it’s 10pm and time for bed where we read for a while before lights out.

Yup, that’s my life (and I enjoy the comfortable, regular routine of it). Now I don’t have intimate knowledge of what other trans women get up to in the privacy of their homes but I’d be willing to put money on it being as utterly normal as my own life.

You see, that’s the shocking truth of it: trans people are not any different from other folk. I sometimes (when I get a spare few minutes) wonder what some people imagine we get up to: what I’ve heard of their fantasies seems to suggest we’re some kind of sexual equivalent of Olympic athletes, but with S&M gear and a fixation on teasing straight men.

Well, I’m not averse to a bit of bondage myself but I’m a happily married woman with no desire to seek out any other sexual partner. And if I’d wanted a relationship with a man that’s what I’d have looked for (and hopefully found). As for teasing, I wouldn’t know flirting if I tripped over it on the sidewalk.

Oh, yes, I do sometimes wear a short skirt and knee-high leather boots. Why? Because I like it. There’s a certain confidence and power that comes from dressing in a way that can draw attention, that emphasizes particular attributes of my body. It makes me feel good about myself, which as far as I’m concerned is a damn good reason for doing it. I honestly don’t care what anybody else thinks of it!

When I was still pretending to be male I wore all black, nondescript shirt and jeans, trying not to be noticed. I didn’t think much of myself back then. Maybe I’m compensating for that now, but the way I see it is that at over 6 ft in heels I’m going to stand out regardless so I might as well feel comfortable and confident doing it.

The thing is, as I wrote in the past, I used to feel I was hiding behind a mask. That what people saw wasn’t the real me. I’m not hiding these days: what you see is pretty much the image of myself I carry in my mind. I never realized the strength and confidence I’d feel once I settled into presenting authentically.

It’s not that I don’t feel the same anxiety I always did when around other people. It’s that I am able to handle that anxiety because I’ve not got some secret I’m trying to maintain. I’m free to be myself, and I’m having a whale of a time!