If you were to see me walking with my family and friends, you might
think that my life was wonderful. The life of what is known
unofficially in this country as a Government Princess. More beautiful
clothes and accessories then you could shake a handbag at, my monthly
pocket money has increased tenfold from what it used to be, a father
who loves me, although the same is not true with my so called mother
who put me in this position.

If you saw me, you would probably think that I was a beauty. I have
brown eyes, long brown hair, small but attractive-looking breasts. I
wear the finest clothes, and always a small amount of tasteful and
expensive jewellery. A small gold and amber ring, an amber necklace on
each wrist, amber studs in my ears, and a flat gold necklace, and it is
the necklace that I hate.

I can write all this down and get away with
it, but if I were to try and say it out loud the necklace would choke
me, even kill me if I really rebelled. It might seem like magic but in
fact it is merely one of the marvels of technology that our unlovely
government keeps coming up with.

My eyes really are brown, and the jewellery and accessories are real
enough, but my looks are a fake. My hair is a wig, a very real looking
one, but a wig. My breasts are pads inside a bra, and my body has been
padded expertly inside these clothes that I wear to make me appear
female. And I dread what my *mother* will want done to my body in the
long term.

I wonder what my friends would think if they knew that
everything I say and every move I make is all an act? That I hate
talking about boys and other girly stuff with them and that I long to
wipe the lipstick from my lips, shed my girl disguise and get back to
my parents so that they know that I didn't die after all.

I don't hate the boyfriend that I'm lumbered with. He's never harmed me
or hassled me or tried to make me do anything that I don't want to do
and he is content with kissing and the odd grope of my fake breasts,
which is just as well, as I have a penis. I feel very sorry for him,
because his real girlfriend is dead and I've been forced into the role.

He's shown me in a hundred different ways that he truly loves me, but
he loves somebody else, somebody who lies in a grave under another name
whilst I waste my own life living hers for her. If he knew the truth he
would be horrified and I would not blame him.

Enough moaning about my fate, I suppose you want to know how and why I
became Eleanor when I was born a male and never wanted to change my
gender in the first place.

The Program.

My so-called mother is calling me to supper now. If she knew I was
writing this diary, I don't know what she would do to me. I will
explain about the Program tomorrow.