I was going to do a gushing, femm-tastic review of 2016 until I remembered that other than Sarah coming to life in her retro-glam way, 2016 pretty much sucked donkeys. And then I also realised that New Year always gives me the blues, regardless of how in touch I am with my oestrogen (according to my anatomy, not much, but my mind seems to be delighting in pseudo-periods, flushes, urges to sub and the like) or not as the case may be.
I have no idea why New Year always seems to feel so down for me. Maybe it’s the passing of another figure on the long, flailing journey to the afterlife. But this year felt a little more poignant.
2016 was a radical shift for me. My urges, sometimes suppressed, sometimes unquenchable, seemed to subside when I outed (partially) myself to the people I love. Yeah, the guilt is still there at the back of the mind, tutting and asking such piercing questions as ‘can you really still think of yourself as a man?’ (yes, of course, pass the lipstick) and ‘does this make you less of a person?’ (of course not, it makes me more of a person. Two people of differing genders at the very least). Yeah, I still get that white-hot flash of worry and anxiety if I think I’ve mixed up my Facebook accounts, or revealed myself unknowingly – had a massive one over Xmas when I last-minute ordered myself some very cute frocks from LindyBop and I got an email from the courier saying they had been delivered to my house. No sign. So, twenty-four hours of wondering which of my neighbours, who have no clue as to the existence of Ms.Sarah, had the pink and black polkadot wrapped parcel clearly marked ‘LindyBop’ (I love their packaging but it was definitely not designed for T-Gurls trying to remain hidden consider yourselves warned).
I checked the website for the courier and the parcel was listed as ‘placed through letterbox’. Cue worry, a little bit of panic (this was the day before Xmas eve) and a little girlie-frustration (why can’t I have my frocks *now*, with a little stamp of my pink patent heels). 12 hour later the status changed to ‘out-for-delivery’ and at 18:30 on Xmas eve a guy in a van drove up the lane in the dark and handed me the pink parcel. Relief is the word I’m looking for. Plus I got to sneakily try the frocks on and *wow*, there’s a couple of stunners in there. One I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life in, so comfy and really sexy in a satin, high-collar, floral mid-thigh kind of way. I would put a link up but I’m frocking up in a couple of weeks and that one will definitely be on my list. Then wrapped around my feminised curves and posed in many delicious ways.
But I digress as per usual. I still get those white-hot ‘discovery’ worry moments, which are like a flush, that leave you breathless and with the heart pounding. Why the hell does it still do this? All the people I care about know about Sarah. I work for a very T-sensitive company that would probably life me on their shoulders and parade me around as a demonstration of just how sympathetic to the T-plight they are (I kid, they are great). It’s just a remnant of that old hard-coded guilt.
So 2016 went, leaving me with a load of exquisite memories and some fantastic pics. In the period of a year I’ve been a 40s housewife, a 60s swinger, a hotel maid, a princess, a beer hall waitress, Alice in Wonderland, an 80s power-dresser career woman. Not bad for 12 months and a 47 year old mid-life crisis-er.
And 2017? Let’s wait and see. I had a couple of dodgy moments at the end of 2016 where I had to decide whether to slink back into the shadows again or let Sarah stay and have fun. Fortunately I decided she’s too much fun not to have around. What I’d like to do this year is embrace her more fully. I’m still not fully relaxed as her – excited, thrilled, but still awkward – in some of the earlier pictures it is very evident (I don’t think I smiled much in the first session with Cindy, not because I wasn’t enjoying it but I was terrified). I want to know what Sarah is really like – is she a flirt? Is she one of those smart girls you see in a bar, overhear her intelligent conversations and crave to have the guts to talk to?
So, Sarah’s 2017 resolutions:
1: To find a look she loves and stick with it. Not at the expense of trying on new styles and the like, but Sarah needs a signature look that is hers.
2: To go out on the town *sober* and not scared. Big ask this one…..
3: To tick the rest of her bucket-list off. Yet to do a proper 1980s Wedding Dress (you know, put sleeves, lace collar, massive flowing skirts). Yet to do a slinky little black dress.
And my resolutions? To let her do hers.
Stay beautiful, have a safe and wonderful 2017, and be yourselves.