Dinner, hobbies and personalities

Last Tuesday was the Christmas TV (Transvestite) Dinner at Billie and Kathie’s.

Excellent food and company.

We talked a little about where the transvestite thing fits into our lives.

In a way this seems to be connected to another question that two people have asked me about recently … about the meanings of the terms “cross dresser”, “transvestite” and “transsexual”.

The first time I ever wore makeup, Fiona Floyd shared with me her understanding of this, and I think it makes sense. The definitions are from a male kind of perspective and highly over simplified.

• Cross dresser – a guy that sometimes wears ladies clothing.
• Transvestite – also wears makeup and wig.
• Transsexual – someone that feels that they are a girl that has been born in a mans body.

The truth is, I know, much more complex.

Personally speaking, for much of my life I was an occasional cross dresser.

For the past few years I have been a transvestite – though really, I think, this has always been a part of who I am and that it’s only been in the past few years that I’ve felt the freedom to be able to

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express it.

I don’t believe that I am transsexual.

Of course, everyone’s experiences are different and I can only speak with any authority about myself.

In many ways the cross dressing seemed to be associated with eroticism and masturbation.

The transvestism is different. There are elements of eroticism associated with it, I know. But much, much more of it is about self expression. It’s who I am.

I remember the first makeover … and the sensation of self discovery that was associated with it.

At the TV dinner we talked a bit about that.

Sometimes, I think, it’s useful to look at the transvestite things as a kind of “hobby”.

In a way I can see that from some perspectives, a transvestite could be viewed as a guy that likes to play at being a girl once in a while.

But really, it’s more than that – for me at least. And for other transvestites that I know – Tina, Julia, Laura, Billie and Fiona to name just a few.

Andrea isn’t just a hobby to me. I am Andrea.

The freedom to express the femininity that is a part of me matters a great deal. I also accept the masculinity that is a part of me. Both are more than hobbies. Both are aspects of who I am.

Am I a Trans Femme Addict?

I know. I admit it. It must be an addiction.

Anyway, a couple of weeks back I paid Tracey and Nikki another visit (http://www.trans-femme.co.uk/).

I am improving in some ways. I don’t feel it to be so absolutely essential to take along 5 pairs of shoes, 5 skirts, four dresses, 4 shirts ... I am almost able to plan what I’d like to wear on the basis that I’ll wear three outfits and just take those.

Well almost only those.

But it still needs an awfully big suitcase for a three hour trip.

It’s nice though.

I really enjoy just sitting there and being made up. I remember distinctly the first time that happened at Fiona Floyds. I had no idea what to expect and was amazed! It seemed to take forever. And how hard it was not to blink as the eye liner and mascara approached my eye ball.

The chance of a cup of tea and a chat and the photos are great as well. The experience doesn’t lose any of its magic.

The making up and dressing and photographic experience is, I know, life changing for people.

For me there was, and is, something very special about being accepted as who I am. To be myself and to not have to feel guilty about a part of me.

The photo shoot was unusual for me in that Tracey took some of the pictures and Nick took some as well. The specially nice thing is how easy they make it to pose and enjoy the experience.

Anyway ... here is a small selection of the pictures.

And no ... the ropes were not fastened tightly enough to keep me completely subdued. And it was much easier to smile than it was to put on an appearance of fear and trepidation.

Makeup and Pictures

A few weeks back I was chit chatting at TVChix (http://www.tvchix.com/) and had a conversation with a girl about a makeover service that I hadn’t heard of. Trans-femme is the place (http://www.trans-femme.co.uk/ ). It’s over a year since my last makeover and photo shoot so I thought maybe I’d give it a try. I got round to booking an appointment and it happened last Sunday. So ... here goes with a few thoughts on the experience.

In summary ... I had a wonderful time! And I love the photos ... I’ll post links to some later in this blog entry.

Nikki and Tracey who run Trans-Femme emailed me directions and some background information after I had contacted them.

Sunday morning I begin to think about what clothing I might take. My wife is away for the weekend and has taken the suitcase that I was thinking about packing. I know ... a suitcase seems over the top for a makeover and an hour or so of pictures. But ... you never know what you might wear. The feminine side of me has a liking for clothing choices that amazes me. This seems to be a passion shared by lots of tgirls.

The suitcase that I find first is bigger than the one that has gone, and so I am filled with an urge to fill it.

After twenty minutes or so I realise that I really do need to exercise some discretion here. I mean ... do I really need to take 5 dresses, half a dozen skirts, 10 tops, 6 pairs of shoes? Not to mention an insane number of pairs of panties, bras and stockings.

I spend a while putting things back in the wardrobe ... but in the end it’s still a bit of a struggle to close the suitcase.

At about 11:30 am I begin what is maybe the least feminine thing I need to do in preparation for makeup as I start to shave my face. Then it's a shower. Scent. Suspender belt. Stockings. Panties. Trousers. Shirt. Socks. Shoes.

The drive to Swindon takes a little less time than I was expecting. Just about an hour.

The suitcase is soooo big!

Nik and Tracey are lovely people. We have a cup of tea and chat for a while. An opportunity for them to explain to me how things work and to talk a bit about each other’s experiences. Very informal and nice. I feel really welcome.

I head out to the photo studio and makeover room with Tracey. It’s a separate building from the house. Although it’s a hot day, it’s fairly cool inside – though once the lights are on in the studio I know it will get warmer.

We chat as Tracey begins with the foundation. The atmosphere is relaxing. She’s happy to explain everything that she’s doing and if I like I can have a list of everything that she’s using together with typical prices and where they can be bought.

It brings back memories of the first makeover that I had at Fiona Floyds. There are similarities and differences.

The similarities include things like the friendliness, the sense of acceptance, the informality, and the knowledge that it’s ok to be myself here.

The differences are mostly in me. There is now a sense of familiarity in the feeling of makeup on my face. The eye liner and mascara don’t feel weird. Just over a year ago at Fiona’s it was as though I was meeting a new person in Andrea – or at least a new part of me. I think I had always been aware of the feminine side of my character, but with the help of Fiona the femininity was able to take on a whole new dimension.

That very first time I was unsure of myself. I didn’t really know what I was doing or why I was doing it.

In lots of ways I still don’t understand why. But I am happy that it is an expression of me. I am happy with myself. I enjoy the girl that is in me. I enjoy the man that is in me as well. I know that I don’t need to be afraid or ashamed.

It means that as Tracey applies powder, and blush that I can enjoy the experience without having the burden of the worries that I used to have.

We talk a bit about the different techniques that she uses compared to my own and about common experiences.

I also get the feeling that if this had been my first ever makeup then this would have been a lovely time and place to experience it.

I know this may not make any sense at all to guys that don’t do makeup. But, there seems to be something special about someone else taking the time and trouble to do it all. It’s a relaxing kind of experience. And there is ... ok these days I’m not the kind of person that is into “spirituality” ... a sense of transformation that is spiritual, if the term spiritual includes a sense of peace and meeting oneself.

For me, the makeup is something that helps me feel in touch with myself.

It’s nice to not be in a rush. It’s nice to not worry about making a mistake. It’s nice to talk.

There’s a sense of familiarity as eye shadow, liner and mascara are applied. Lipstick and gloss.

Once that’s all done, Tracey leaves me alone for a while and I begin to select what to wear. I brought my collection of wigs – all three of them. There are also loads and loads of wigs that I can try out of I feel like it. During our chat I’d decided to go for photos in 4 different outfits with different hairstyles for each. The pictures show what they look like.

Once I’m all ready Nik drops by with the camera. The lights go on in the studio and the photos begin. Straightaway I like Nik a lot. Full of encouragement and helpful suggestions. He
explains things that are likely to “work” and also why. He’s great ... full of advice but not at all a dictator. I really am convinced that what he wants is for me to really enjoy the time and to get some great photos. And I did.

This is another thing that I suspect will make no sense at all to a person that has never experienced it. And I guess it doesn’t work for everyone. But, honestly, if you still feel like adding anything to the list of things that you’d like to do before you die then, unlike contact lens trials, having a photo session really is something you should go for.

There is something I find liberating about the experience. It’s a strange contradiction somehow. There I am in front of the camera. Posing for all I am worth. And yet ... the posing is deliberate and it’s obvious. Yet, the smiles are real smiles. So different from the posing that can be part of everyday life. The kind where the posing is done in secret and the smiles are fake. Does that make any sense?

It’s so strange. The rolling on the floor, the sidelong glances, the lifting of the hem of my skirt are very un-me. And yet, they help me to relax into being myself in a way that doesn’t happen nearly often enough.

Photo shoots like this have given me the most feminine and girlie kind of sense of self-awareness that I remember. Makes me think of a Doris Day song that I remember from years ago – “I enjoy being a girl”. I just looked up the lyrics ... and well, it doesn’t all apply, but it gives a sense of the feeling. It’s that kind of feeling that I have as the camera shutter clicks.

Nik mentions that they also do all kinds of other types of photo sessions. Maybe one day my wife would like to sit in and watch – or even be made up and give it a try. I’d like that a lot. I guess it is more out of the ordinary to be photographed with your husband when you are both wearing skirts and makeup than it is to spend an afternoon playing golf with him. But honest, I am a lot better at putting makeup on than I am at putting a golf ball.

Another three outfits and hairstyles and over 300 pictures later it’s time to change into something a little more discrete for the drive home. I put on the long black and white polka dot dress that I started the session with together with shoes that have a smaller heel. I manage to fit everything back into the suitcase.

We chat unhurriedly. Tracey has the pictures copied onto a CD and we have a look at them on the computer. I love them. Tracey says which she likes best ... and yes ... I like it a lot as well.

We carry on talking and I know that I’ll be visiting again.

And now for some of the pictures. I’ll add in my next blog entry ... and I'll post some links to a wider selection in another blog entry. At the time of writing, there are also some at http://www.trans-femme.co.uk/page_1191079685531.html - I’m Andrea June 2008.

Well ... ins summary ... the experience was totally wonderful ... delightful ... and way more than highly recommended! Give it a try!

Thankyou Tracey and Nikki xxx.

Hobbies and being myself

I wonder if one day I will understand myself. I suspect not. But that doesn't worry me most of the time.

Taking my almost regular lunchtime stroll today I was thinking about the place that cross dressing has in my life. At times it's helpful to think of it in terms of being a kind of hobby. That seems to be especially so in terms of dealing with the urge to buy shoes and clothes. Seeing it as a hobby and setting a budget helps manage that.

Having said that, Andrea isn't a hobby to me. Andrea is me ... an aspect of me. I don't know how to express this really. I don't understand how it all fits together.

There was a time when cross dressing meant black lingerie and sexual arousal. That was the reason that I did it. At least that's how it seemed at the time.

The transition from that to wearing skirts, blouses, dresses ... and the eventual sharing of that with my wife led to the discovery of something different. It's not about sexual arousal. It's about being myself.

And yet I don't feel a need to dress or wear makeup all the time. It's more of a desire to just express something sometimes. About being free to do that sometimes.

It's nice to be at a place in life where I feel more free to be myself than I ever remember being before.

We have afternoon tea at work on Wednesdays. A new lady just joined the company and during the chatting over tea R suggested that over the coming few weeks everyone takes a turn at sharing something new about themselves. I'm not brave enough to stand up and say to everyone ... "Hello ... my name is Andrea and I'm a transvestite". But who knows ... one day!

Self inflicted makup

In retrospect ...

My hair has arrived. And I like it.

My head is too big ... but I can get it on.

Today I tried my first self applied makeup.

I watched the DVD twice. I kind of wish it showed someone putting on makeup for themselves rather than a makeup artist applying it to someone else.

But at least it gives me the general idea.

I sit at the computer ... watch step 1 then do it. Then the next bit and do it. It takes quite a while.

On the whole ... well ... it could have been worse.

My wife arrived home ... and was ok seeing Andrea for the first time. Uneasy about kissing me in lipstick ... but OK. Thank you ... this could all have turned out so badly ... you're helping me hold it all together.

A beginning ...

So ... June 19 2007 and here I am.

I'm not sure as to where this blog is heading ... nor even what I would like to achieve from it. Mostly, I think, I'm hoping it will give me a chance to stop and think about things. Things being whatever is on my mind at the moment. I'm aiming to write it for myself ... but who knows ... maybe someone else somewhere will find some interest in it.


OK ... the date of this posting is April 30 2007. This is because there's a way in which this date represents the end of something and the beginning of something. Everything mentioned in this post happened on or before April 30 2007.

To begin ... maybe I should set a little context.

At the time of writing I'm 52 ... not far from being 53. Andrea, however, is much younger than that.

I'm married ... for years and years and years. In a strange way I'd say we are more divergent in our beliefs and thoughts than we have ever been. Yet, in another way, we are also closer.

I have two daughters.

I'm a transvestite.

This seems to mean quite different things to different people. One dictionary version is ... someone who adopts the dress or manner or sexual role of the opposite sex. Some of that is part of what it means to me ... but not all.

It seems that being a transvestite is a different experience for everyone that experiences it. Just like everyone's experience of being a human being is different from every other persons. This being the case I can only speak with any authority about Andrea the transvestite. So ... that's what I'll do.

The first time I recall wearing stuff not usually classed as masculine attire I was a teenager. The attire was lingerie and it belonged to my mother. So far as I remember the attraction was the clothing rather than the owner of the clothing. But it's far enough back for me not to really be sure of the motivations. The experience was initially pleasant ... pleasant enough to repeat from time to time. Until one day an unexpected returning home on the part of my brother led to some seriously embarrassing moments. It was with great satisfaction that I returned home unexpectedly one day not long after this and returned the favour.

After that ... I'm not sure.

I don't recall cross dressing at all as a student.

Sometimes ... in my mid twenties when I worked away from home occasionally ... I bought lingerie and took occasional opportunities to wear it. It wasn't regular ... but it happened. It wasn't easy. I'd become a born again Christian during my first year at University. Cross dressing isn't something that born again Christians typically find an easy thing to accept. So it was generally accompanied by feelings of guilt and followed by pleas for forgiveness and attempts at repentance.

My involvement with the Church pretty much came to an end a few years ago. I don't have bitter feeling about it. I'm not sure that it is all wrong. But I am sure that for where I am at in my life at the moment it's not the right place for me to be.

Towards the end of the twentieth century (omg that does make me feel mature) I began to discover the Internet. It provided opportunities, once in a while, to tell people that ... "by the way ... sometimes I like to wear lingerie".

Usually I was careful that whoever I mentioned this to was likely not to freak out. I do remember one of the first people I mentioned it to asking pretty early on about what happens if I walk under a bus? What would the people at the hospital say? Strangely enough, at the time, that kind of thing was more of a worry than the damage that the bus itself might do to me. I have things in better perspective now.

Once in a while someone or other would ask if I wore dresses and blouses and things. Or did I wear lipstick? Eventually I began to think ... "well why not"?

I didn't buy my first skirt and blouse until towards the end of 2006. It was a trip to Primark. I also called in at Anne Summers ... well ... I needed stockings ... and I couldn't resist the basque.

I did try lipstick once ... mmm ... well ... that's enough said about that!

At this time my wife had no clue. Keeping a few pairs of knickers, a bra and stockings hidden away isn't all that difficult. Add a couple of skirts and blouses and it begins to get much trickier.

Near the very end of 2006 someone asked me "does your wife know"? Internet people had asked me this before, but the circumstances seemed different somehow. In a way I was maybe different.

As a result of that conversation I decided that I wanted my wife to know. But I didn't dare tell her. I didn't know what she would say. I was afraid of how she would react. But I was tired of having to hide.

Having no idea how to broach the subject I stopped wearing Y-fronts and began to wear panties. I know ... not the bravest of all possible approaches. But I wasn't feeling brave. Just tired.

It took a few days ... and the unusual mix of clothing in the laundry caught the attention of my wife.

She asked me. I told her. It wasn't easy. Explaining:

• no ... it's not something that just happened ... it's been a part of me for years
• no ... I don't know why I do it exactly
• no ... I'm not thinking about having a sex change operation
• Why had I never said anything before?
• Where was it leading to?
• What difference was it going to make?

A place that helped a lot is http://www.ladylike.org.uk/. It gave us something to talk about.

It carried on not being easy for a while. The first time she saw a bra under my shirt led to a long, long discussion about what is weird, what is acceptable and what isn't.

There were other issues as well. Bad tempered. Over-critical. Under appreciative.

One day, though, she said that if it would help then it was OK for me to "dress" in the evening and sit in the lounge.

So ... a few days later I did. For the first time she saw me wearing a skirt.

I know it wasn't easy for her. But ... she handled it!

Over the next few weeks she says she began to notice that I was different.

And yes ... there is a sense in which the fact that I was prone to wearing a frock after getting home from work made me very different.

But it was more than that. Less angry. Better tempered. Less critical. More appreciative.

I've read that for many transvestites, the act of dressing is something that relieves stress.

Whilst all this was happening I'd never really applied the term transvestite to myself. I was just a cross dresser.

Then ... in April 2007 I discovered http://www.fionafloydtv.com/