More Than Just Admiration: The Complex Emotion of Envy

 

"the desire to have for oneself 

something possessed by another"

I first shared this post back in September 2022 on my previous blog, but as I revisit it now, I find the emotions are as raw and relevant as they were then. The feelings I captured in that moment still echo through me today, unchanged by time, and I wanted to bring this reflection here because it still holds such a powerful truth for me.

 

Sue from Sue's news and views wrote on her blog at that time about a transgender film called "Monica" (you can read it HERE). 

After reading this I immediately felt I needed to write about what I had experienced whilst reading Sue's post. It wasn't the content about the transgender film that had affected me, it was the following photo she had posted:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trace_Lysette

The photo was of the actress Trace Lysette, and as I studied the image, her poised stance, the confidence radiating from the fabric of her outfit, the perfection of her hair and makeup, a strange sensation began to stir within me. My heart picked up pace, caught between admiration and something else I couldn’t quite define.

On one hand, I was captivated, she was undeniably beautiful, and her ensemble was a flawless blend of elegance and glamour. But on the other hand, a deeper, unspoken longing crept in. I found myself wishing to look like her. I wanted her body, her curves, the confident way she wore her cleavage, her hair, the way that outfit draped around her. And most of all, I wanted to stand there, in her shoes, and exude the same kind of effortless grace.

There was something more than envy in this feeling, something elusive and hard to name. It felt almost like a quiet, nervous excitement, a fluttering inside me as I imagined myself, not just as a reflection of her, but as her. The thought of transforming, of embodying that same beauty, was both exhilarating and overwhelming, like standing on the edge of a dream.

When I discovered she was transgender, my feelings grew even more complex. There was a surge of envy, not just because of her beauty, but because I saw in her the possibility of something I had long desired: the chance to truly inhabit a female form, one that had once felt so out of reach. It made me wonder, if she could do it, could I? If she could evolve from a place of being male to this poised image of femininity, could I ever find a way to do the same?

But I must admit, the envy isn’t exclusive to transgender women. It extends to cisgender women as well. There are moments when I see a woman with a certain body shape, long, flowing hair, or breasts that seem so effortlessly natural, and I can’t help but wish I could possess those features. When I see an outfit, a silhouette, the way a dress falls just so, I ache to wear it with the same ease, to look as if I’ve always belonged in it. I long for a body that fits those ideals, not just for the sake of external beauty, but for the sense of wholeness that would come with it.

It's not simply a desire to copy or imitate, but a longing to feel at home in my own skin, something I see reflected in every person I envy, whether they were born with the body they have or had to fight for it.

The Trace Lysette photograph above is another vivid example. I look at her, and without a doubt, I’m attracted to what I see, her beauty, the confidence she exudes, the way everything about her just seems to fit perfectly. But alongside that attraction, there’s a much more intense desire buried inside me: a yearning to be like her.

I want her breasts, her hair, the way her femininity radiates effortlessly. I want to slip into the outfit she’s wearing and feel as captivating as she does in it, to carry myself with the same allure, the same magnetic charm. It’s not just admiration; it’s wanting to step into her skin, to occupy that space of beauty and confidence.

But those feelings, as intoxicating as they are, also stir something unsettling in me. They confuse me, twist me up inside. They make me feel small, inadequate, as if I’m constantly falling short of something I can’t quite reach. It's like I’m standing at the edge of what could be, but I’m paralysed, unable to take that leap. And worst of all, it doesn’t just fade away quickly. The feelings linger, making me feel low, as if I'm trapped in a cycle I can’t escape from, and it takes forever for my mind to reset, to feel normal again.

I’m sure I’m not alone in these feelings. In fact, I can’t help but believe that other crossdressers experience something similar. There’s a sense of kinship in the struggle, an unspoken understanding that maybe, just maybe, others are grappling with the same emotions, the same longing.

So, I wonder, do other crossdressers look at these photos the way I do? Do they, too, see a woman with flowing hair, a confidence that seems to come so naturally, and wish for just a moment that they could be her? Do they imagine their own hair cascading in waves, like the one in the picture, and feel that familiar ache of desire? That longing not just to admire, but to embody?

There’s something powerful about these images, not just the beauty they capture, but the way they stir our own sense of possibility. And it’s in that quiet moment of wishing that I feel a connection to something deeper.

Do they look at the photo below and, like me, wish they could slip into a strappy dress, feeling it hug their body just right, and have that same confident, sculpted cleavage that Trace has? Is there a moment, a spark of desire, where they picture themselves in her place, owning the look, owning the feeling, and owning their own sense of femininity?

 

Thanks for reading,

 

Lotte x