transretrogurl

Yes, that chosen image is real and not photoshopped. For a brief moment on Saturday I was not only transgender but transpecies as well and it was bloody hilarious. And another fun post, as I’m trying to cheer myself up and not be such a ‘Winona Rider in Beetlejuice’ girl all the time.

So last Saturday was my last session before the New Year, and co-incidentally my 50th with Cinders. Yes, that’s a lot but as I said before, no children, no hobby, no social life makes for disposable income. And it was a great session; treated Cinders and her partner to a great meal out the night before as an ‘anniversary/Xmas do’ combo which involved a lot of nice Argentinian steak and wine, and then a ten hour session where, gasp, I didn’t have to get up at the arse-crack of yesterday in order to get to London for 9:00. In fact I had a wonderful lie-in, a slow and pleasurable shave and shower, and a gentle walk from the hotel, via Starbucks, for a day of ‘me’ time.

And I did say me, rather than third-person avoiding the implication. I won’t go through all the looks as there are oodles of gorgeous pictures and fun to make for multiple blog posts, but I thought I’d focus on what I call ‘the Xmas Card’ looks.

I re-bought a beautiful Xmas dress from British Retro; a faux-fur lined ‘Mrs.Santa’ style number, and we did the obligatory set of fun poses, before Cinders mentioned she’d got a fun costume as a laugh and, in an interesting and fun way, asked if I’d ever wanted to be a deer.

She fancied having a bash at a proper ‘animal’ style makeover; crafting the snout, adding darkened colour and white spots, the works. And as it was the end of the session and I was feeling very happy I said ‘why the hell not’. And it was wonderful, if a little odd.

We got the giggles a bit as it was just a little too kinky; the body suit was tight and revealed a lot of upper chest, and we went for a gorgeous OTT wig along with the antlers.

I had one of my moments, which I get rarely but are somewhat of an epiphany, where I looked at the person in the mirror and started to get a serious attraction. It’s amusing when that happens (not for the tucking, nothing is moving down there once I’ve stuffed, tugged and taped) as I find it very hard to look in the mirror without getting the oddest of thoughts, so the photoshoot consisted of me trying to pose without looking.

We did the ‘deer in the headlights’ pose, the ‘hands as hooves’ pose and lots of other silliness, and it felt wonderful to literally let my hair down. The outfit left very little to the imagination in terms of shape and I was chuffed that post-diet I could wear something like this and not look like 14 stone of man in a 10 stone frock, if you know what I mean. Actually every outfit I did on Saturday, bar one from Unique Vintage that I was retiring, was a size 14, and they all fit nicely.

Dressing as a sexy reindeer is an odd thing to do; as a 52 year old man it takes a mind-shift to try and think like a female deer. Plenty of Bambi jokes were made, talk of getting Deer ticks from french kissing Rudolf and the like. But it felt great, sexy and, dare I say it, just plain fun.

The chilly bit came from another little daring experiment. I fancied walking outside a little further; each time I do a session now I try to get on top of my fear of being outside and push myself. It was dark, past 17:00, and we’d done a tonne of looks so I broached the idea of re-trying a gorgeous ensemble we did a couple of sessions ago and, well, going out and being a ‘normal woman’ for a bit.

The odds were kind of stacked against us; I had a lovely little polkadot skirt, a polo-neck jumper, flats for walking and a thick coat on, but the moment we stepped outside the door ‘wow’. -3C wind chill.

I tottered around the corner from Cinder’s establishment alongside her, a man walked down the street and stepped around us without looking twice. A couple of cars drove by. We walked one hundred metres or so down the road, took some pictures in the open doorway of one of the set of flats before my fear overtook me, combined with a brisk amount of ice-cold air blowing up my skirt, before I told Cinders it was enough.

But I’d done it, again. Actually stepped out into the world as the real me; and it’s a lot different, both in effect and stress, than simply dressing up and posing in front of a mirror/camera. The whole process of walking as gently as I could, looking up to catch the eyes of the man walking along the pavement towards me who diverted onto the road, to give the ladies some room, casually looking away as a the headlight of a car cast an obviously feminine shadow on the wall behind me. All those little moments were like sparkling gemstones in my head; I was breathless, not with the cold, but with the thrill of it, the difference of it.

Yeah, I was happy to step back over the threshold and back into safety, but I don’t think people understand just how huge a thing it is for people like me, who have actively and aggressively hidden this side of themselves, to openly step out there. It’s not bravery in the sense that people think it is, but for me it takes a huge amount of effort and I’m terrified, as well as thrilled, the entire time I am out.

Also I was happy because boy, it was so cold in a skirt. No need for intense tucking when an icy breeze of -3C is blowing steadily up your skirt, through the thin lining of your tights and panties and onto your nether bits. Quite hard to take off a coat when your hands are shivering too.

Stay beautiful and remember to enjoy yourself, whatever trans-something, be it gender or species, makes you warm inside.