Saturday, February 18, 2017

Fresh as a...


That's my name, as of a couple days ago.

For thirty years, I've thought of myself as a guy who likes wearing women's clothes. Having a feminine name never felt useful or necessary. I thought about it from time to time, but no particular name ever felt right. As much as I fantasized about becoming a woman, having a proper girl name was somehow inconceivable. I called myself Swim Tran online, to describe my interests, but without any pretense of being feminine.

Ever since my wife discovered my secret, I've had to curb my cross-dressing habit. Even before then, I had started realizing that the thrill has become more about becoming a woman than merely wearing women's clothes. While bikinis and lingerie and heels certainly help me feel more feminine, they're more an accessory to the fantasy than the goal of it.

With my fantasy time greatly reduced, but with the worst of my secret now out, I have felt much more free to embrace my feminine tendencies. I'm not hiding my interests like I used to. I'm posting on cross-dressing forums, while I used to avoid them for fear of discovery. This has brought on a level of introspection that I've somehow missed all these years.

All the other sissies online have girl names. Why don't I? Up until a few weeks ago, I was happy being a guy in a bikini, and nothing more. Or so I thought. I was convinced that because I hadn't found a feminine name for myself, it simply wasn't that important to me. I reflected on names I had considered before, and again found them somehow a poor fit.

Angelique. Bethany. Isabelle. Lovely names, each, but not for me.

Rebecca. Robyn. Bobbie. All based on my own name, but not for me.

Bronwyn? Siobhan? Isolde? I'm not Irish. Cute, exotic, but not for me.

Nora. Anna. Emma. Ella. Bella. Fiona. Tina. Not for me. Nothing for me.

Some ridiculous names that are hideously unfashionable: Bertha. Matilda. Mildred. Not for me.

I kept going back to my own heritage, and my strategy for naming my own children. I like having an element of French, but having it work in English as well. What would my mom have named me had I been a girl? She told me once: Melissa, I think. What does it say about it that I don't even remember for sure? Not for me.

Girls from my school days: Chantal (ugh, never liked that one.) Karine. Constance. Kimberly. Natalie. Not for me.

Girls I had crushes on our dated: Jean-Marie. Vanessa. Kim. Brigitte. Nikki. Not for me.

Some classic names: Catherine, Katie, Kitty, Cathy. Elizabeth, Beth, Lizzie. Victoria. Hmmm, I pondered that one for a while. Valerie. I considered that for months. But in the end, not for me.

Nothing stuck. It just felt like I was picking at random. Even though I like a lot of these names, I just can't attach them to myself. They're somehow not meaningful enough. Which is weird because I didn't choose my given name, and it has no special meaning to my parents, so why should I expect anything different from my girl name?

On the drive to work the other day, I thought of Marguerite. It's good: French, works in English as Margaret, kind of, but even better is the translated English version oh my god DAISY!

Instantly, somehow, my mind opened up like a blooming flower. I AM DAISY! I always have been! Suddenly, I could discern my taste in feminine clothes as having a coherence to it that could only come from a girl named Daisy. It evokes everything that my feminine soul aspires to. It's simple and pretty. It's unequivocally feminine. It's somewhat uncommon, yet completely unpretentious. It's sexy, in a girl-next-door kind of way, and sweet, and charming.


I'm updating my online presence now with my newly discovered name. It's liberating! I'm not just a guy who wears women's swimsuits anymore. I'm a woman called Daisy, and I like certain styles of clothes, certain styles of art, music...

It's like my feminine self has finally broken free from the prison I've kept her in all my life. She has always been part of me. At last, I acknowledge her, by name: her name is Daisy.

MY name is DAISY!