It means the world is seeing her as a woman, in spite of her being born a male and having gone under the name Jared until it was legally changed two months ago.

"That's the main thing you strive for, not to look like a bloke," Jasmine said.

"If I can walk down the street and have no-one pick it, which 90 per cent of the time they do, that's the main goal.

"I go into clubs and have guys hit on me everywhere and grab my arm and stuff like that, it's not ideal but it's what you aim for.

"They're treating you the same as every other girl that is in there."

Growing up in Wodonga, Jasmine, 23, always suspected she was transgendered but it is only since the start of the year she has gone public with her identification.

"Until late last year I was completely in denial about it," Jasmine said.

"I used to go to the gym and lift weights and try and do all that guy stuff to tell myself that I wasn't happy, until I got the partner I am with now and she said 'you can't do that to yourself'.

"She encouraged me to be who I am supposed to be.

"When I was in the closet I had a fake Facebook page with a few friends in Melbourne, it was under a female name and it had photos of me how I am supposed to be.

"When I first made it I blocked everyone that I know from up here.

"I had a regular Facebook page as well which I had all my friends on."

While living that double life Jared met Leah Zurek when they were walking their dogs in Wodonga's Sumsion Gardens.

They became a couple before she accidentally discovered her partner's secret.

"When I found the make-up I thought this person is cheating on me and then she explained it and I thought that's a lot better than being cheated on," Leah, 20, said.

"She's just exactly the same person, she just wears make-up and looks a bit hotter."

Leah, who described her sexuality as straight previously, now identifies as pansexual with personality more important than orientation.

She has encouraged Jasmine to embrace her female persona, giving her fashion advice and cuddling her in public.

Jasmine's taken female hormones for the last three months, with $50 worth of pills ingested monthly to help reshape her body.

"Fat starts moving around, you get a bit of fat on your cheeks it softens your jawline," Jasmine said.

"Your fat moves from your belly to your hips, there's breast growth.

"Your hair gets softer and you have less body hair."

Jasmine is saving to have $35,000 worth of gender reassignment surgery in Thailand.

"They do multiple operations, so most people will go over there for a couple of weeks and then every couple of days they will have one," Jasmine said.

The surgery gives her great hope.

"Life will be worth living again," she said.

"The main thing that gets me down about it though is that I've already lived what 's meant to be some of the best part of my life.

"Then I'm probably going to be 30 before I could afford it and I've only got a few years to experience and enjoy it."

Katherine Cummings, 80, is one of those that has gone through the transition, but she was 52 before she had surgery.

The former Navy member is an information officer at Sydney's Gender Centre, which was formed in 1983 as a refuge for young transgendered.

She described Jasmine's path as a "standard journey" for the estimated 5000 transgender residents of Australia.

"People have all kinds of questions, a lot of it depends on their situation," Katherine said.

"Are they married, are they employed, do they have a place to live – all those things have an impact on the difficulty of transitioning."

Katherine says the community is pushing to have Medicare cover the cost of gender reassignment surgery.

However, she believes life in general is improving for the transgendered.

"It's definitely changing and it's still changing through legal, social and medical aspects and they've all become better in the last 20 to 30 years," she said.

"You've got to remember gender reassignment surgery is new, you can only really date it back to Christine Jorgensen in 1952, she was the first widely publicised one.

"There was no protection for transgender people under the law until the Anti-Discrimination Act in 1996, before then people could say I'm not giving you a job or say 'get out of my house because I'm not renting to you'."

Jasmine suspects her auto electrical job of six years would not have gone to her if she had been out when she applied.

"They know my legal name because obviously they pay me into my legal bank account and it's all on the pay slips, but they still use all the male pronouns and the male name," she said.

"The boss' wife she is catching on I think, she has words with them every now and again, they've gone from using my birth name flat out all the time to try and avoid using my name.

"You don't realise how much people use your name until you hate your name.

"I feel sick every time I hear it.

"I look at girls who are born with the right name and….the envy is just ridiculous."

The rally car navigator chose her new name through a website which linked her male moniker with a female equivalent.

"Jasmine popped up and I've always liked the name and I thought that will do," she said.

The process of selecting a fresh name was easier than convincing her family to tolerate her status.

"My parents are still well behind the times, they are very set in their ways and old-fashioned, so they don't want anything to do with it," Jasmine said.

"They still go my birth name, it's legally been changed, but they still go by my birth name and they still use all the male pronouns."

Day to day, Jasmine says her deep voice, to be altered with vocal chord surgery, is the biggest obstacle to acceptance as a woman.

"It makes it hard just ringing the energy company, I say I'm this person and they don't believe me," Jasmine said.

"I've got to go through all sorts of crap and speak to managers and lodge complaints because that's my name and they don't believe me."

Jasmine says while out and about she is aware of being stared at, but believes the Border is generally easygoing in its approach.

"It's in the big city where I've received the worst response, I've had knives pulled on me and all sorts of stuff," Jasmine said.

"When I was down there for trade school I had a knife pulled on me out the front of the Richmond police station.

"They called me an 'effin trannie' and told me to 'f off' but they were the one who held a knife to me.

"Everyone's been that supportive, it's been insane up here except for my parents."

Leah said she tended to react when she and Jasmine were stared at while holding hands or cuddling.

"I'm very aggressive in that situation and say 'have you got a problem?'," Leah said.

"They just say 'okay' or 'no' and walk away and mind their own business."

Jasmine hopes telling her story will help community understanding.

After all, if 90 per cent of bystanders see her as a woman and she does herself, why can't the rest of society?