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| And yes, that extends (ooh-er!!) to even the poor ugly cows who would like to be me - I love you all! I am totally transgender positive, so here's a tip for all you dogs: you may be less fortunate than me - we can't all be stunners - but don't let anybody give you a WOOF time!!!!! Just be sure to stick with your pack - you'll be safe there - and don't try and rub yourselves up against me.
Ooh, gurlz, I'm wearing my new fairy outfit and I'm simply desp-R-8 to sit myself atop a six foot lodge pole, and not just at XXX-mas!!!!! I'm shortly off for a shimmy round Safeway - oh my, I've run out of 'feminine hygiene' products, or 'muff mice' as I call them - and I just KNOW my wings will cause a star: they're guaranteed to get the fellaz in a flap!!!! Not to mention my flaps.
Aaaah, dear, dear, me and my virtual vagina: it exists in my mind, therefore it is real.
Enough of the philososophy! How can one be serious when one is a gorgeous, glamorous, glittering gurl, born to mince around in mules and goose the beautiful bums of those supermarket shelf stackers with one's fairy wand? Listen lads: that sound advice from Occupational Health to bend at the knees when lifting boxes is never more pertinent than when I'm around!!!!!
When you're a gurl, everything is glamorous. I daresay even major surgery or childbirth is terribly glitzy - I hope to experience both one day. Oooh, they'd better give me a dishy doctor! Should I go private? Damn my diamundz, of course: those NHS tramps would be too knackered to flirt with me. Oh me oh my, oh Wincey oh why, what WILL I call my little gurl? Nectarine, I think. And my new tits will be Tracey and Tina.
REMEMBER: WHATEVER EXISTS IN MY MIND IS REAL.
Which brings me nicely on to my gurlfriendz. Last week me and the gurlz, cheekee monkeez that we iz, donned our dizzy dresses and danced off to Doncaster Races - it was this month's annual day out. There was me, Misty Mornin', Looby Lurid, Glitzy Wonder and, of course, Georgina Bernadette Shaw.
Oooh, golly gosh sez my garish gash, didn't we have a snoggingly sooper time? Well yes we did, you crazee lil virtual vag! The local lads swooned, the ladies were in awe of our femininity - women have lost the art of being feminine - and every one of our horses won at 500-1.
I also got to practice my flirting on a young stable lad - he wasn't very stable when I'd finished with him!!!!! I reduced the boy - a very BIG boy! - to tears with my charm. And persistence. Oh baby, do I ever persist.
But this cad deserved to be Winceyed: he would not believe me when I recounted, at great length (ooh-er!!) the story of my struggle to participate in last year's Miss World - did you know that I was denied entry (gulp!) to the final stages by a prejudiced (and short-sighted) Argentinean offical?
"Wincey Wednesday?" that stable cad said. "Wayne the Wanker, more like."
Oooh, did I ever put him straight! Hey though, gurlz, wouldn't you just LOVE to have a job like his: tending stallions all day! Oooooh, snickers and knickers, giggles and wriggles, Mincey Wincey is such a Minxie!!!!! In fact, I'm so outrageous that I've just landed a writing job at Cosmopolitan.
Aaaaaaaah. My head (REMEMBER: ITS CONTENTS ARE REAL) is now filled with all that matters in life: buttercupz and daisychainz, bunnyhopz and fluffy kloudz, pretty flowerz for pretty gurlz, skipping ropez and hula-hoopz, leotardz and pig-tailz, games of tig and playing house, roller skatez and two-ballz up against the side of our house, cheerleaderz and Teletubbies.... Wincey say: eh-oh!
I EXIST IN MY MIND, THEREFORE I AM REAL.
Don't you doubt me, you lil devilz: as I said to the stable lad, I'LL THCWEAM AND THCWEAM AND THCWEAM UNTIL YOU THAY I'M A CHICK!
Hugz, kissez & brutal roddingz,
Wincey Wednesday.
Kiss kiss! Pout pout! 
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