I’m starting to see a pattern here. A month or so of incommunicado, a burst of activity, then the quiet again. Hell, I’m becoming predictable. Anyway, it’s been a while….again. And, as per normal and again staying in character as a tortured T-person, I’ve had a down period, followed by a rush (just before my next session of Sarah-time), with a blast of endorphins/oestrogen and, well, an urge to write a blog post.
In fact, there’s going to be two blog posts. This one I’m going to use to vent a bit around some stuff that has been bothering me, and the other will be a Frock Tale. So, if you’re here to hear how much I want to squeeeeee about a dress/combo, pop to the next blog entry.
Still with me? Good on you, hun.
This year has been a set of highs and lows and pretty much nothing in between. The sessions I’ve had, where I’ve been able to express my feminine personality, have been exquisite. But in real life I’ve been suffering from some middle-aged body issues (bad back, weird weight issues, working on an eating disorder and they are not fun in any way whatsoever). On top of that two close friends died – one suddenly, one after a long fight with a brain tumour. Both under 50 years old.
And that’s where the title of this blog comes from – perspective. It’s easy to get tangled up in your own issues – not only easy, it’s the normal human way. You can’t experience anything other than your own life, regardless of how empathic you think you are. Me, I’ve been very internally selfish this year and, hell, it’s been good. I’ve been focussing on me, on doing what I want to do (for the first time in 48 years), but I’ve been aware of and dealing, as best a gender confused midlife crisiser can, with other people’s issues as well. My other half has had health issues, my aforementioned friends have died, the world is genuinely going to hell in a handbasket. And all these things take a toll.
So, the last six weeks or so, which have also been the cold weeks between sessions, have been tougher than normal. And I’ve come close to putting Sarah back in her padded flat in my head. In fact, a *lot* closer to chucking it all in and going back to the grey drab life I had before she re-emerged.
But then perspective kicks in. The situation with my friends has been an eye-opener. Life needs to be lived, every second needs to be productive and guilt free.
So, with that in mind, I’m going to shut up around the ‘giving it all up’ stuff. I’m going to stop talking about my dead friends. I’m even going to try and stop mentioning the fact that my back is extremely painful and unpredictable (I need to lie down on a hard floor after travelling/sitting to stop the spasms – when I do that, the back is normal). Let’s get back to the fun of it all.
I have another one of my mega-session in just over a week. I have some serious plans, as long as Cindy at BWBG is up for them. The sessions will be over three days, the first day a short (3 hour) intro session to warm up where we will, gasp, be trying a passable look. I’ve yet to be convinced that I look like anything other than a tall old fart in OTT drag (engage false immodesty mode) so passable will be…..interesting.
As Cindy wonderfully said, it will involve boring hair, boring make-up, boring clothes and flats. Going to be fun though and, if I look in the mirror and see something more mainstream and feminine I’m not sure how I will take it. I talk about being balanced between Sarah and Mr.Drab but I have confidence issues and never see a convincing woman in my photos – I see me. Passable? That could be deliciously fun.
So let’s talk pre-session logistics. I always talk about the fun getting across London to the sessions, the terror, the fun, the terror, the deflation, the rush of organising the next session. But in the quiet times between the sessions I also have a set of tasks I do that are amusing.
I source outfits. I plan, in immense detail, the looks for the next session and I spend the weeks of drab either in a meta-physical ‘why am I doing this, should I stop’ fugue *or* constantly thinking of what outfits Sarah will try next. I prefer the outfit time.
The next session is going to be a lot of fun, I did a dry run today as my other half was out – I got myself a breastform from the fantastic Russian boobshop.com, my trusty waist cincher, some padded undies (bottom and hip). I put them all on, giving myself an entertainingly feminine form, and went through my ‘other’ wardrobe. I chose eighteen (!!!) new outfits for the next session, including some seriously fun looks. A wiggle latex rock-chick frock, a kinky witch costume, another stewardess uniform, a lovely office combo involving a tight black short skirt and a pink pussy-bow blouse, a classic ‘terrible’ bridesmaid dress (it’s wonderfully terrible, pink, lacy, 1980s peplum style), some lovely retro looks and some modern bodycon frocks. Not entirely sure how I’m going to pack them all into my military style backpack and carry them over London with the buggered back but what the hell, eighteen outfits….
So, I’ve prepared the outfits. Train tickets are purchased, painkillers sourced for the bad back, favourite hotel booked, first class train tickets pre-booked. I’ve got a couple of business meetings, including two days in Edinburgh, and hopefully all the travel won’t annoy the back any further.
In short, I’m more than ready for the next session. All I have to do now is wait and try not to let Sarah bleed out into my drab life. And that’s one of the amusing, and very scary, other things I’ve found lately.
I talk for a living. OK, that’s not entirely fair, I’m a highly skilled technical professional who talks to people. That’s better. But anyway, one of my wonderful characteristics is I get seriously enthusiastic when talking to people – I love what I do, I love the tech, and that comes out in my presentation. But what’s funny is Sarah comes out a little as well. I get effusive, I get kinda emotional. I find myself having to modulate my voice as it starts to rise in pitch and tone – before Sarah came back I spent a long time not being happy, a situation that I didn’t realise I had until I found myself being genuinely happy to my core when wearing full femm, and now being happy, in my career, seems to equate to the other time I’m happy, when I’m Sarah. I find her trying to sneak out in meetings. That’s exciting. And bloody terrifying.
I have to keep catching myself from slipping into Sarah’s mannerisms, the limp wrists, the tight posture. Oddly enough it feels more comfy to cross my arms, cross my legs, hug myself a little. And I’ve found myself doing that in some meetings. At some point in the future I’m guessing she’ll come out completely and that will be…..entertaining.
Anyway, enough warbling. This stream of consciousness has made me feel better, I;ve forgotten the mortality, the aches, the drabness. I can feel her just beneath my skin. Just.
Time tow rite a frocks tale blog post, thanks for sticking with me. See you on the hair-flip side.
Stay beautiful and stay true to yourselves. You’re here once, enjoy it.