transretrogurl

Yeah, I’ve been quiet lately. Been working on some work-related stuff, plus a funeral and related not-my-family soap-opera behaviours, and I’ve been constantly busy and, to be honest, bloody hot. I don’t like the heat and sadly it looks like the green and pleasant land I call my home is getting yellow and toasted. In September. That’s just wrong.

I have another session at the end of this week with the sublime Cindy, and this one should be *epic*. Seven hours of frocked-up fun, concentrating on Stepford Wife and Maid looks, six outfits and accessories chosen and purchased, kept to my promise of not booking too far ahead and it all seems to be working.

Except.

Turns out my body is actually pretty stressed at the moment. And I’ll let you into a well kept secret about the human body. It deals with stress in very, very odd ways.

I’ll take a step back – the last session I had was the two days one that culminated in the, to be honest, massively stressful night out (all my own fault). But wind back a couple of days and you find me in Edinburgh on work duties, doing a couple of very hard and long session by myself involving standing and talking for five hours and thinking on my feet. While in the back of my mind all I could think about was the Princess costume hanging, hidden though it doesn’t need to be, in my closet at home.

And I found my eye starting to itch.

Not much as first. A little squinting, a little wincing. Waking in the morning with a needle-like pain on the lid which went quickly, nothing of merit.

Until the second day in Scotland. Getting up, knowing that I was going to have a couple of epic sessions at the end of the next week, and looking into the mirror of the bathroom in the nice hotel room to find a large yellow lump *right* on the eye-lash line.

A stye. Cue two days of worrying and trying to work out how to get rid of it. It would spoil the make-up and you can hardly hide the damn thing. Cue five hours on the train trying desperately not to touch it, even having the thing occlude sunlight so I could see it all the time.

I get home and after unpacking I’m staring into a different mirror in a different bathroom, a sink full of near boiling water and a flannel which I was copiously applying to the lid. Under strict instructions from the other half not to go at the thing with a pair of tweezers I spent forty-five minutes padding the eye with near boiling water and *bang*, it burst. Tonnes of relief and clever make-up application by Cindy and you can hardly notice that I couldn’t quite keep my eye open.

So why mention it? Two days ago my eye starting throbbing again.

I’ve come to the conclusion that my subconscious is actually trying to derail my Sarah-time. I can think of no other reason, other than underlying stress, as to why a stye would pop up *only* in advance of a session.

Why be stressed? The people I love and trust all know about her-upstairs, and their acceptance has taken a massive weight off of my internals in terms of accidentally revealing myself to the world. I don’t see myself as twisted or wrong any more, it’s just another aspect of the genderless entity who is wearing this meat-suit for the duration.

But that’s not quite it. I can feel myself approaching one of those times. You know, the binge and purge? It’s always like this, the rush of the transformation, the quiet guilt, the re-establishment of the masculine persona, the hiding of the girl within.

And that’s why this is getting hard. I no longer have the black and white of him-time and her-time. Now she’s almost out I find him to have softer edges, and her to not be an on/off switch in the head. They’ve blended.

In the break I’ve taken from the last session until this week I’ve been completely him, intentionally, and there’s a high degree of stress going on inside my head now that I am dealing with as best I can. But bits leak out. In the form of physical ailments. Notably bloody styes.

So I’ve spent the last four days routinely padding my face with a hot flannel, waking every morning and dreading the feel of weight on the eye-lid. So far it just looks red and I only have to make it until Saturday. Then the whole face can breakout as far as I am concerned.

But why on earth does it do it? Is it really a subconscious way of interfering? I don’t see why – I’m happy with my time as her and happy with my time as him. Dammit body, get with the program! 🙂

On a lighter and more fun side, I have some wonderful outfits and accessories lined up for the session. I treated myself to a Viv of Holloway patterned tea-dress that just feels expensive, plus floral jewellery and a pink flower for my hair. I have a blue swing-dress made for dancing, an outfit that I think will work as a 50s diner waitress (with an apron bought specially), a Downton Abbey style chambermaid ensemble and the reappearance of my house-keeping uniform.

And I’ve got something a little different. Yeah, I’ve always had a thing for goth-girls so I bought a proper gothic mini-dress, black-rose headband, black lace gloves and choker. That should look really cool and I’m hoping it will work enough to give me confidence to try going out again – the goth look is nearer to him, even though it’s beautifully femm, so I’ll be really interested to see what my inner-psyche does with that.

Anyway, must go to the bathroom and wrap a hot flannel around my face for the umpteenth time…..

Stay beautiful and stye-free you wonderful people….