Showing posts with label makeup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label makeup. Show all posts

Wednesday, 30 July 2014

Harrogate again with Tina and Malcolm teaches Tina some Geordie

I select the same suitcase that I used for a 16 day holiday. It’s just about big enough for a weekend away as Andrea.

Shoes, makeup, wigs, boobs all take up space.

Tina arrives at about 9:45 on Friday morning and we set off at about 10.

The traffic starts off ok. Gets worse. Even worse. Then better.

We pass a few of Eddie’s girls.

Take a detour round about Doncaster.

Pull into the hotel at about 3:20 pm.

A chat with Kay, who organises the weekend followed by check-in and selection of seats for the gala dinner.

The room is large with a nice big bathroom. Nice big mirror.

However.

It is hot.

Very hot.

The sun shines directly into the room.

No air conditioning.

Local legislation forbids messing around with the safety catches on the windows.

After a shower, shaving takes a while.

Foundation takes a whole lot longer.

I guess that most guys have never tried applying foundation cream in a hot hotel room. Whilst perspiring.

However, weather you’ve tried it or not, you’d maybe guess that foundation and perspiration don’t get along so well at all.

Starting on the right, I pat it onto my chin.

Round my mouth.

Nostrils.

Nose.

Eye.

Cheek.

Drip.

The perspiration doesn’t make a sound, really. But it’s there.

On my forehead.

Running down my face occasionally.

In the mirror it isn’t looking too good.

Perseverance isn’t always the better part of valour.

There is a time to retreat and regroup.

I’m going to have to start again.

At which point I discover that my makeup remover is in Windsor, whilst I am in Harrogate.

Tina to the rescue!

The foundation comes off and Andrea starts all over again.

As time passes I learn new things.

The foundation is more robust than I thought.

This time I do the lower half of my face.

Apply the powder.

Brush off the excess.

As the perspiration drips I can dab it off without totally destroying what’s there.

I get into the habit of using tissue to dab away the moisture as I continue with my face.

Eventually it’s done.

Not at all perfect. But I guess that it never is. Even more imperfect than usual.

Unwisely I use two shades of eye shadow as well as  eye liner and mascara.

Rouge.

Lipstick and gloss.

By the time I’m dressed complete with hair I feel as though I am melting.

Time for dinner.

We head for the bar and find seats near an open window in the restaurant.

Slowly it starts to feel cooler.

We chat with Sarah and her partner from Stirling.

Coffee in the lounge.

Andrea:

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Tina:

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We chat with Jean in the bar.

Saturday we have breakfast.

Makeup is much easier.

We look at a few of the things being exhibited in the hotel reception area. Wigs, jewellery and clothing.

A friendly guy from M&Co has a chat with us.

My ankle is sprained from walking on a stony beach on holiday.

Rephrasing that.

My ankle is sprained from falling over on a stony beach on holiday.

We drive into Harrogate and park the car.

At Debenhams we take the elevator to the first floor and admire the handbags. And dresses. And skirts. And blouses. Pretty much everything.

Nothing especially takes our fancy.

We wander around in the summer sunshine.

Superdrug provides me with makeup remover.

We have a drink at Wetherspoons.

A sit down and chat in the shade.

 

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And a stand up in the shade.

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And a walk back to the car park.

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Back at the hotel, Tina buys me a birthday Pimm’s.

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And it’s time to prepare for the gala dinner.

It’s very hot.

But not so hot as Friday.

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The food is great.

The karaoke is amazing.

I’m not planning to dance.

But I can’t resist.

Flats replace highs and we boogie. Ankle holds up well.

The dancing ends and we retire to the bar.

There are a group of golfers from the Newcastle-upon-Tyne area staying at the hotel.

As we sit chatting we’re joined by one of them.

He’s intrigued.

Never seen anything like it.

A hotel half full of of guys who are girls … or girls who are guys?

He has lots of questions.

Tina slowly learns to understand Geordie.

Why?

How often?

Where?

Gents or Ladies washroom?

Who else knows?

How do they react?

How does it feel?

His name is Malcolm.

What does Tina’s lass think of it all?

And my lass?

Children.

Family.

Friends.

Times like this seem important to me.

The whole weekend.

The opportunity to communicate.

To demystify.

To de-stereotype.

Building bridges of understanding and acceptance.

Thanks again, Kay, for putting it all together!

There’s also an account of last years trip to Harrogate here.

Sunday, 22 July 2012

A very special Wedding and a little making up and telling

Friday July 20th was a great family day – the wedding day of Sarah (my eldest daughter) to Paul.

Sarah told Paul about Andrea a few months ago. She told me they were having a conversation about little known things about each others families. She had wanted to tell Paul for a while, but the opportunity hadn’t arisen. So this seemed like an opportunity. She opened a page of this blog and said … that’s my dad.

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Sarah said that she thinks Paul didn’t think she could tell him anything that was surprising. But he was … well … surprised. I don’t know if Paul will ever want to meet Andrea … that’s up to him completely … but it’s good that he knows that Andrea exists and that he isn’t totally mind blown by the concept.

Sarah and my wife Sally had done pretty much all of the organising of wedding things with a lot of help from friends and family and even some from myself and Paul.

And, just as it should have been, it was one of the happiest and proudest moments of my life. Pretty much every moment went smoothly, and even the weather took a turn for the better.

In amongst all of the regular things that happen during the run-up to the occasion and on the day itself, there were a few not-quite-so regular things happened.

Tatyana, one of Sarah’s closest friends, and also a great family friend and a bridesmaid was staying with us.

She volunteers to take care of the camera and take pictures over the coming few days.

Thursday morning we ferry things from home to the venue of the wedding reception. It’s at Beaumont in Old Windsor.

Beaumont is now a hotel, conference centre and venue for events such as wedding receptions. In the not-too-distant past it was a venue for IT (Information Technology)training courses courses and I spent about 21 years of my working life there teaching things ranging from COBOL in the late seventies and early eighties through to database management and XML in the early part of the 21st century, so the place.

Before being an IT training college the building was a school run by the Jesuits.

In the days of IT training, the school chapel housed mainframe computers and had false floors and ceilings hiding the architectural beauty of the building. These days, the interior chapel building is visible again and used for events such as wedding receptions.

On arrival we moved things to Tudor 2ready for the staff there to put onto tables in the chapel the next morning.

Flower vases are unpacked and candles assembled.

The candles have a mind of their own. However carefully and firmly we press them into the adhesive in the candelabra, they insist on leaning over at all kinds of crazy angles as soon as you turn your back on them.

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Jars are filled with sweets (candy) and boxes of cigars are set out. Little blackboards are decorated … one for the sweets and one for cigars.

Sarah points out that the cigars that I’ve drawn on the blackboard look a bit like willies.P1050853_1280x960

A photograph of each guest is attached to a small stand.

Paul and his mum and dad arrive, having driven down from the north west of England.

A little later we head for Windsor and a rehearsal for the service at Windsor parish church and meet up with bridesmaids, ushers, best man and priest.

The rehearsal goes smoothly.

Sarah and two of the three bridesmaids head off for a session of nail polishing at a nearby salon. Sally and I head off to help ferry the wedding cake from a friends house to the reception venue.

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Later in the afternoon, Sally decides she’d like to wear some nail polish, though she doesn’t usually. We’d already talked about this possibility a while back and since Andrea has the largest selection of polishes in the household, I’m asked to provide the polish and to do the painting.

My own recommendation was red … I like the colour, it applies easily and seems to dry faster than a lot of other colours.

Sally’s preference was something more dark pink than red. So in the end Rimmel Pure Sin was the selection. Two coats.

Tatyana has some really nice shiny, sparkly red nail polish. Somehow or other I’m asked if I could paint her nails as well. So, with a certain amount of trepidation on my part, it’s two coats of red for Tatyana. So far as we know, Tatyana doesn’t know about Andrea … only that I have unusual expertise in nail polish.

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On the morning of the wedding people arrive to do makeup for Sarah, and also her hair.

The makeup lady has even more makeup brushes than me.

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Just hair for Sally, Katie and Tatyana.

The doorbell sounds. It must be the photographer.

But no … a man to replace a cracked window. This is a bit of a surprise and I explain it’s not a very convenient moment. Sally chats with him a while and in he comes and gets the job done without any hassle and in a very short time.

A glass of champagne and strawberries.

Sally asks what eye shadow I have … and so one of my biggest jobs for the morning include applying shadow and mascara to Sally’s eyes. And then helping finish off applying shadow to Tatyana’s.

sally blinks a lot when having mascara applied … so I’m glad that I have plenty of cotton wool buds.

We come to an amicable agreement not to even attempt doing the lower lashes.

Katie and Tatyana also borrow some of makeup brushes and Tatyana borrows my eyelash curlers.

Sally’s nails needed a third coat.

It was a little surreal. My guess is that most father’s of the bride don’t spend quite so much of their time painting the ladies nails and eyes.

I have to say, though, that it was great fun to do. Much more enjoyable than the earlier job that I’d been given of cutting the grass on the front lawn.

The photographer arrives and begins snapping things.

Katie helps Sarah into the dress.

The car arrives.

Tatyana takes a lot of lovely pictures of Sarah and bridesmaids in the back of the car.P1050954_720x960

The bridesmaids get into the taxi and head for the church.

Sarah and I relax in the back of the car. We wait a few minutes and the driver sets off.

A few people wave as we pass them and in almost no time there we are, walking down the church aisle.

Hymns, a short message on selfless love, readings, songs, rings, registry signing, vows and there they are … Mr and Mrs and a chance to begin to say hello to everyone.

A short walk and then some photographs near Windsor Castle.

Then to the reception.

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Drinks. Canapés. Photographs. Chats.

Introductions. Speeches. Food and wine.

Coffee. Cheese. Dancing and chatting.

The candles have survived.

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And Katie enjoys the sweets.

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The chapel windows are enchanting and change as the lighting changes.

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Part way through the evening Sally says that she hopes that I don’t mind, but that she mentioned the Andrea part of me to a close friend of ours, Rose.

Rose and her husband Brian are amongst our very closest friends. We’ve known them for more than all of our married lives. Rose and Brian introduced Sally and I to each other.

When Sally first found out about Andrea, I said that she was free to tell anyone that she wanted to, and so no, I didn’t mind.

We’d actually been thinking about telling both Rose and Brian for a long time.

The challenge, though, as ever, is never being sure how people will react. Of not wanting to risk a deep and dear friendship.

Sally says that Rose was surprised.

Later in the evening, talking with Brian I mention that I’m a transvestite.

He’s surprised. But I don’t think appalled.

We talk quite a bit about things.

It’s not an easy thing. But as always, being able to talk about things is one more little burden in life less to carry.

Our friendship remains.

For Brian, I understand that there are challenges in all of this. His Christian faith will, I think make it challenging.

We talked about this a little.

I shared some of the things that I find difficult with some aspects of Christian beliefs in some, though not all, parts of the Christian Church.

Things like the idea that maybe almost everyone that ever lived could be destined for an eternity in hell.

The view that gender is a fixed thing … male or female … with no shades of both and no transition between the two.

The subjective way that everyone interprets the Bible.

The way that same sex relationships are viewed to be wrong. Even where people love each other in a deeper and more genuine way than do some heterosexual couples.

That maybe it’s ok to be gay or lesbian and have a partner so long as there is no sex.

That it’s often ok for women to talk in church these days even though once it wasn’t.

The possibility that one day it will be possible for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people to be honest about themselves in church without people in the Church feeling that such people need to be healed from some kind of an abomination.

We talk a little about what my gender means to me. About The Listening Project interview that I’d done with Katie.

Brian mentions that at one time a transgendered person came along to a church home-group that he led and also along to their church.

It was nice to know that that could happen.

Although, there was a sense that the hope of the people at the church was that the person would be healed from a whole series of hurts that they had experienced in life and also from their gender dysphoria.

I mention Brian McLaren and the book A New Kind of Christianity.

I’m glad that there’s been an opportunity to share all of this. Maybe there is something about weddings … this is the second family wedding where I’ve found myself in a similar kind of conversation.

Later in the evening I sit outside with my brothers and we discover the doors have been locked, so we walk back to the main reception to get in and then chat a while with a group of guys that are there for a wedding the next day. And then it’s time to sleep.

Saturday and we meet people at breakfast and say hello to the newly weds.

Back home we prepare for a barbecue. It’s great to see people from our families again for a few more hours.

As the day progresses we say g’bye as people leave.

My brother Pete and his wife Mary, his son and his son’s wife (Paul and Jenni) spend the night so it’s great to see a bit more of them.

A wonderful, wonderful few days.

Monday, 6 February 2012

A trip to Femesque

The Christmas before last Sally gave me a gift voucher for Femesque.

It’s been over a year but ... at last ... I’ve gotten round to using it.

I’ve met Lynne, who runs Femesque (and also a hair Salon), a couple of times before at the Surrey Swans ... you can read all about one of those events here.

I booked a Makeup Training lesson. That’s a lesson on how to put on makeup as opposed to a marriage guidance kind of thing.

I’ve been applying makeup for quite a few years now. But, like many people I guess, I have a tendency to stick with what I know. So I thought it would be useful to pick up some new tips.

I booked for 11:00 am until 1:00 pm and thought it would be a good plan to take the makeup that I currently use and get some feedback on that.

Friday night at about 8:00 pm I begin to prepare.

Collecting together things in my makeup bag.

Foundation. A couple of Kryolan TV Sticks that I bought from Charles Fox a while back as recorded here … and Max Factor that I usually use these days. Max Factor and Stargazer eye shadow along with some unbranded shadow and blush that I bought from Doreen’s Fashions. Kryolan Translucent powder. Rimmel lipstick and Maybelline lip paint. Rimmel eye liner. A small collection of brushes.

And then what to wear?

Short-ish skirt. Blouse. Hair. Shoes. Boobs. Underwear. Cardigan.

Watch. Necklace. Earrings. Bracelet. Rings.

Handbag. Purse. Comb. Shoes.

Still makes me smile thinking of the relative “complexity” of my life as a girl compared with that of a guy.

Saturday morning and it’s time to shower and shave and pack everything away.

An un-lady-like rucksack and a small carry case are loaded into the car.

Femesque are based in Aldershot ... about 40 minutes drive from Windsor. So at a little after 10:00 I set off in male-mode, planning to return en-femme.

The Sat Nav delivers me to the correct street a little before 11:00. I didn’t need the map that I printed out. But I have a suspicion that the day I don’t bother to print a map, is the day that the Sat Nav will all fall apart.

“Road ahead closed” says the sign. It looks like someone is doing some serious digging.

But I only need to get to the house just beyond the sign.

I drive around the sign.

No space in the driveway but no problem ... plenty of space along the roadside.

Collecting my bags I head for the door and ring the bell.

The door opens and I’m welcomed in.

People are very welcoming and friendly.

I take a seat and in just a minute or two Michelle introduces herself to me.

She’s a lovely lady from the Kilmarnock area of Scotland.

We talk a bit and I explain a little of what I’m looking for. A little like Bono and most everyone else I know ... I still haven’t found it.

We talk as I get changed.

I still remember my first ever makeup and re-reading about that brings back many sweet memories. At that time things that then seemed strangely normal in a weird sort of way, now just feel normal.

A new friend of mine, Rachel, has recently visited Femesque a couple of times. I know it was her first visit to such a place and, though she was quite nervous, she was made to feel really welcome and relaxed, just as I was. She enjoyed the whole experience enormously.

Boobs, blouse, skirt, shoes etc. in place it’s time to begin with the makeup.

Michelle is a great teacher.

Because I’m not a newcomer to makeup it’s not alien to me.

The plan is that she will make up one side of my face and I’ll do the other.

When I told Laura about this she thought it sounded like a real giggle:

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“No ... not like that. It was more like ... Michelle applied some foundation to the lower right area of my face then I did the lower left. She applied some shadow to my right eyelid ... then I did the right. Taking it a little bit each in turn.” Well ... a few other things between the foundation and the shadow ... but you get the idea, I’m sure.

“Ah that’s ok then.”

And that was how it went. Unrushed and with explanations as to what was happening and why.

Michelle is a bit long sited and so put her specs on to add makeup to my face and took them off to see me in the mirror.

I’m short sighted so put my specs on to see myself in the mirror from my seat and took them off to see myself close up in the mirror.

I’m not new to makeup, but it was great to see things from another perspective and to get more of an idea about the things that work and the things that don’t work.

There’s a lot involved. These days I understand why ladies sometimes have a reputation of hogging the bathroom for hours before they go out. I know that I do.

Michelle is really good at explaining things though and taking things step by step. Making sure that I have the opportunity to try out everything that she explains and does. Checking that it’s making sense and I’m happy with it all.

The sequence is pretty similar to the sequence that I do things in. I remember in my early days I had a list of what to do and what order to do it in.

She has a whole lot of brushes and cosmetics, but since I brought a whole collection of cosmetics with me says that she’ll make use of them if I’d like.

First, something to help conceal the greyness caused by the beginnings of beard growth that sometimes can be a nuisance to t-girls. She notices that I have some non-shiny red lipstick. Paints a bit of it onto the back of her hand with a brush and then dabs a very thin layer onto parts of my chin and under my nose. The red will help conceal. I do the same on the other side of my face. I look as though I’ve been smooched.

 

And no. That’s not me. And the smooches were more like painted smudges.

Then some powder.

Next some of the TV Stick foundation. Again painted on the back of her hand with a foundation brush. From there onto the lower part of my face. I had two slightly different shades which get mixed on the back of her hand to produce a slightly different shade. It covers the lipstick. Then powder. Then the other side of my face.

Next comes some Max Factor foundation. Applied with a brush. It’s “thinner” than the TV Stick, but blends with it well. We tg’s typically need more foundation lower down on the face, and less further up. All part of the hide the potential beard kind of thing.

I hadn’t realised how easy it is to mix the different types and shades of foundation and have it all still work. Obvious really I guess.

Next it’s the eyes.

Michelle talks a bit about the shape of my eyes, my forehead and my brows. Different shades and patterns suit different shapes of faces. It’s about using the shades and tones to create an illusion. To emphasise some things and de-emphasise others. And it’s different for different people.

Eye shadow. Liner. Mascara. Then blush and lipstick.

The whole experience is a lot of fun and educational as well. I learned things and also was re-assured in the sense that I hadn’t been doing anything too odd myself.

Lynne called in to say hello ... it seems that next week they have a TV (as in television) crew filming a makeover as part of a programme.

At the end of February Lynne and Michelle are making a guest appearance at Surrey Swans ... with a makeover and hair theme. They think they’ll need a volunteer. I promised to be the volunteer if no one else would.

I bought a collection of brushes, so I now have at least one for every occasion.

Having arrived as a guy with a bag full of girl clothes, I pick up my bags of guy clothes, and happily set off home as a girl.

I know quite a few other t-girls that have visited Femesque over the past few years. And like all of them I had a great time!

Thursday, 16 July 2009

Sparkle 09 … Please Miss …

Having settled in to the room the next couple of tasks are selecting what to wear and getting made up.

A smaller suitcase would have made selecting the clothes easier.

After a little humming and ahhing its a medium length denim skirt and a pink t-shirt.

Soon to be followed by a yellow dress that is a little on the short side.

Quite a lot on the short side. But it works with the denim skirt.

Then on goes the makeup.

Usual routine.

I opt for the Maybelline 18 hour lip stuff … a little more like paint than lipstick. But it does stay on and looks ok if it’s dabbed with the moisturiser that is provided with it.

Poor Tina. I still don’t break any speed records when it comes to applying makeup.

A look at the map to check where we are in relation to Canal Street and then we are off.

Right out of the hotel along Lower Moseley Street.

Right at Peter Street.

Left at Portland Street. We walk past the Premier Inn that has no power. It looks deserted and dark.

Right at Princess Street.

Left at Canal Street and into “the village.”

If Manchester were New York I suspect that a policeman or woman somewhere would have indicted us for jay walking. So many crossings showing red for pedestrians and yet with the traffic at a standstill as well.

As seems normal, no one seems to notice us much or to mind.

We head for the Rembrandt Hotel on the corner of Canal Street and Sackville Street where the Sparkle Welcome is at.

However, it is 5:45 pm and the Welcome ends at 6:00 pm.

There are purple Sparkle balloons at the door.

In we go.

But the place seems to be bereft of tgirls.

We order a couple of drinks at the bar.

“Are you going outside?”

“Yes …”

The drinks come in plastic containers.

We go outside and look around a while.

No obvious signs of a Welcome.

Later we discover we are actually not looking in quite the right place.

We dawdle along Canal Street, sipping and chatting.

“Please Miss”. I hear a voice.

“Can I go to the toilet?”

A rather sozzled (as a newt as the saying goes … a Google search for the term “as a newt” will give you the general idea of what I mean) young man is standing beside me.

“Of course you may” says Andrea. Somewhat confused.

“You look just like a teacher” says the newt.

Andrea thinks … “a pity I left my cane at home. My skirt must be way too long”.

The young man looks at Tina.

“And so do you.” he says.

We smile and chat a little.

And dawdle a little more quickly as we pass him.

Still, there are much worse things that a person could be mistake for than a schoolteacher.

Tina at the Rembrandt:

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Miss Andrea near the Rembrandt. Complete with plastic container.

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Walking along the street we meet a very colourfully clad girl at one of the many restaurants.

 

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Wandering along we try phoning my daughter who is a student at Manchester University and Jay, a friend of Tina’s. The plan is to meet for dinner.

So … it’s back to the hotel for a change of clothing and to try to work out where we’ll all meet up.

Saturday, 6 June 2009

Lipcote and topcoat

A couple of nights ago I thought I would practise lipstick. I keep meaning to practise makeup more.

The aim was to see how well lipcote works. The idea is … first the lipstick and then the lipcote. And then when you take a drink you don’t end up with a glass coated with lipstick and naked lips.

That was the theory at least.

In practice it didn’t quite work out that way.

First was the lipstick.

Then I fumbled around in the drawer. Of course … the exact word lipcote wasn’t running through … just the shape of the bottle and the word coat.

So … out it comes … topcoat … bottle is the right shape and the name sounds about right.

“Shake before use.”

I shake it.

The bottle, that is.

It reminds me of an observation that a lady work colleague once made. She thought that after filling a tank full of petrol, guys were much more likely to shake the nozzle after they have finished than girls were.

Then, the topcoat is applied to my lips.

Andrea thinks … “this tingles more than I remember it doing last time”.

Ten minutes later I place a glass to my lips and nothing much rubs off.

The next phase of the experiment is to try lip gloss as well. I have memories that it was the gloss that ruined the coating last time.

Looking for the gloss.

And … omg … I discover a bottle that says lipcote.

What did I put on my lips?

It takes only a few moments to discover that topcoat is a coating for nail polish. The bottle says nothing of this … but the smell is a giveaway.

I’m reminded of a story I read about a lady that accidentally super-glued her eyes shut after picking up the wrong tube of stuff for her eyes.

The thought that “it could be worse” passes through my mind.

All of a sudden I am thinking a lot more about how to get this stuff off rather than how well it stays on.

Makeup remover.

Cotton wool with a little nail polish remover … yuk … but it works.

Slowly.

Ah well … it could have been a lot worse.

Monday, 16 June 2008

A pictorial year in the life of ...

OK, at last, here are some links to some pictures.

I know ... I went a bit crazy and ended up posting way more than I was expecting to.

Part of it is to do with posterity. I thought that maybe one day it will be interesting for me to chart the life and times of Andrea in pictures. To see how the wrinkles develop ... how long I keep wearing skirts that are way too short and who knows what else.

So here goes.

The pictures you reach when you click
were, in a sense, taken on the day that Andrea was born. They were all taken by Fiona Floyd in Portsmouth at the affectionately named Trannie Towers. As I've written earlier in this blog, May 6th 2007 was a really special day. It marked the beginning of a process of self discovery and self acceptance that has made a big difference to me. I'm still at the beginning of the journey and am meeting many, many lovely people along the route.

Fiona has been very influential in the way that I view the whole transvestite thing as it relates to me. For that I will always be grateful to her. Having moved on from Trannie Towers Fiona isn't doing the makeover, dressing and photo service that she used to. But hopefully she will get back into it again in the not so distant future.

I still remember a lot about that day very clearly. The amazement of how seemingly complex makeup was. The surprise at the idea of earrings and a necklace. And that first glimpse in the mirror. I was totally taken by surprise at the emotion that was invoked by this. The surprising sadness that I felt when the makeup came off. The release in meeting other guys that weren't ashamed of the fact that once in a while they like to dress up and go femme. A whole new world.

My favourite pictures in this set are definitely in the short black dress and blond hair . I keep on looking for something just like it in a shop somewhere so I can get one of my own. I posted some of these at TV Chix and someone did comment on how happy I looked. And I was ... and I am.

My wife was very brave in looking at these pictures the same day that I told her about them. I think she was kind of taken aback by the shortness of the dress ... and preferred the ones in the white top and not quite so short black skirt. Preferred is probably the wrong word here.

The photos at
were taken on May 26th 2007, again at Fiona's. These were the first pictures of me in hair and boobs of my own ... well OK ... a wig and falsies of my own. I'd spent a long long time scouring the Internet looking for something that I liked. Kind of predictably I like the short denim skirt and black top best. I think you can tell that in the last few pictures I was fairly precariously balanced on a cupboard. I did manage to not quite fall off. I love the shoes. I'm not sure what it is about the flash of stocking tops ... it must be the heat of the spotlights.

The day was special because it was the first time Andrea ventured outside the walls of Trannie Towers. We spent a few hours round at a local pub. I spent quite a lot of the evening metaphorically pinching myself to check that I wasn't dreaming it all. I wore the denim skirt and black top.

Not long afterwards, the photos
were again at Trannie Towers on June 9th 2007. I like the first few best. There's a St Trinians theme evening due at the Surrey Swans at the end of June and that kind of look would be fine for it. I know ... I am showing far too much underwear in the pictures later in the set. It's kind of strange how the photographic moment takes over leaving me surprisingly unselfconscious. And normally I am an extremely self conscious kind of a guy.

My wife still struggles a little with the way I behave. She says I am like a teenager. Well ... that I act like one at any rate. I know that I don't look like one! A lot of the TVs that I know are the same.

The last few pictures are fun ... well OK ... funny. But O like them.

That evening we went to a pub in Southampton (the London Hotel, I think). I wore the outfit from the last few pictures. This was the first time I got to talk with non-TV's whilst en-femme, so to speak.

And finally ... the pictures
... were taken by Nik at trans-femme on June 8th 2008. Tracey did the makeup. A lot of the pictures are just slight variations of each other. I guess that I like the subtle differences. I like the ones with the black hair best. This surprised me a lot! You also get to see the little message on the panties included in the Anne Summers school uniform set. I didn't get spanked, by the way.

So ... that's it for now.

Let me now what you think.

Wednesday, 11 June 2008

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.

Sunday, 8 June 2008

Making up with contacts?

A while I had a conversation with Julia, a friend I met at the TV dinners that I go to in Reading. She was wearing glasses, like me. She used to wear contact lenses and was thinking of giving them another try. It made a lot of sense to me at the time. I mean ... we girls spend a long time learning how to apply eye shadow, liner and mascara. To then hide it all behind a pair of spectacles seems a little illogical. OK ... I admit that the very concept of a guy going to all that trouble to make his eyes look pretty is not what everyone might view as being eminently logical. But ... well ... to a transvestite it maybe makes perfect sense.

So ... for months and months I had been planning to give contact lenses a try out.

A couple of weeks ago I called in at Specsavers in Slough to check about making an appointment. I needed to have an up-to-date eye test – but the good news was that they had a special offer so that the contact lens consultation was free.

Last Saturday I called in at the shop to keep my appointment.

Step 1 ... I look through a thing at a scene with and a hot air balloon. First one eye and then the other.

Step 2 ... the man blows off air onto each of my eyeballs. A test for glaucoma.

Then I sit back in my chair and wait a little while.

Step 3 ... a lady checks my eyesight. Looking into the eyes and seeing what I can read on the charts.

The good news is that my current prescription is fine ... no change at all. With my glasses on I have great vision. The bad news is that it cost me £20 to find this out. And ... I was pretty sure that this would be the case ... they haven’t changed at all in something like ... well ... more years than I care to remember.

I’m back in the chair and waiting again. But not for long.

Step 4 ... a man starts to look at my eyes. This is the beginning of the contact lens consultation.

I’m not really sure what is happening or why. I think he’s checking the state of my eyeballs to see if they are likely to work ok with lenses. He asks me if I’ve given any thought to the type of lenses I’d wear and how often I’d be likely to wear them. I tell him maybe once a week or so ... and I’d been thinking of the kind that you just wear for a day and then throw away.

It was kind of funny ... I’d been wondering how I would answer the question “why are you thinking about trying contact lenses?” and how I would answer it. I think I would have mentioned the eye makeup thing. But I never was asked anything too specific.

Step 5 ... a lady shows me how to put the lenses in.

Oh ... wow. I suspect that most people that haven’t worn contact lenses never know what it os like to press a finger against an eyeball ... especially when it is their own.

I guess I can now add this to my list of “things to do before you die” that I have done. But take my advice ... don’t add it to your List if you can help it!

The right eye went in almost easily. The left one ... definitely more of a challenge.

Step 6 ... a lady takes me into a room to check my eyesight with the lenses in and to check how they fit my eyes. It feels weird. I don’t remember the last time I could see things clearly at any distance further than a foot or so (about 30 cm). I can see just about as well with the lenses as I can with my glasses.

Step 7 ... I get taught how to take them out. This makes putting them in seem like childsplay. The right eye wasn’t so bad, I guess. But the left one was a real struggle. Eventually I got them both out. But my eyes were so bloodshot by this time they thought it was maybe a good idea not to put them back in again.

I booked a review appointment for the following week and was given 6 pairs of lenses. The idea is to wear them for 3 hours the first day, 4 the second and so on until the appointment.

It’s Sunday night at 8:00 pm. I sit by the mirror and start to poke at my eyes. The lenses go in with now to much hassle. I’d spent a while that day watching a guy on a website demonstrate how to do it.

Now it’s 11:00 pm. Sitting at the mirror. The right lens comes out pretty easily. But the left one? Days later I noticed that the left lens is actually just a tad bigger than the right one. At least I now have some kind of idea as to why it was more of a challenge.

11:15 pm and I take a break.

11:30 ... I still have a contact lens in my left eye.

11:45 and I take a break.

Sometime a little after midnight my left eye has unfocused vision and I think that the lens is out. But if it is I don’t know exactly where. Being a naive kind of contact lens wearer I need the reassurance of knowing where the heck it has got to.

Eventually, after a fair bit of scrabbling around on the floor my wife finds it.

By a quarter after midnight I have vowed that mascara isn’t worth it.

By Monday morning things don’t seem so bad.

Tuesday I give the lenses another go. It’s still a struggle ... but not so bad.

By Thursday I need to put them in at work to avoid having to stay awake until 1:00 am to take the things out. . For some reason the left eye takes a record breaking length of time to sort out. At one point the lens just disappeared. One moment it’s on the tip of my finger. The next, it’s nowhere to be seen. After a while it turns up and after an even greater while I manage to get it to stay in my eye.

Thursday night I begin to think about things. Do I put the lenses in before or after the makeup? I can see a lot better close range without the lenses in. But getting them in after I have makeup on would likely mean I need to redo the makeup to fix up the damage that I’ve done.

And do I remove the makeup before I remove the lenses?

Out comes Google and I do some research. And now I discover that eye makeup and contact lenses may not actually be the best of partners. And so, after a while I decide that maybe I should put the whole concept on hold for a little while. Predictably enough when I sit down in from of the mirror, even the one in my left eye pops out without a fight.

Of course, not long after cancelling the appointment at the optician’s I’m discovering that maybe contacts and makeup go better together than I had thought, so it’s back to the drawing board!

Sunday, 18 May 2008

Sore feet but smiling




After delays and complications I at last got to visit Pink Punters (http://www.pinkpunters.com/) on a Friday night – on May 9th. The place caters especially for the gay, lesbian and transgendered community.

I first heard of it at TVChix (http://www.tvchix.com/) almost a year ago when people would mention they were (or weren’t) headed for the BNO ... Big Night Out. At the time I was a long way from feeling able to head out for somewhere like that.

A couple of months ago a few tgirls at the Surrey Swans mentioned they were going and asked if I was interested. It sounded like a nice idea ... pity it’s so far from home. But there is a hotel just across the road and one Friday a month it seems that it gets fully booked with tgirls out to party.
Of course, organising such things is a kinda hit and miss affair.

“Hmmm ... who is Laura ...” my wife asks one evening. Laura is a regular at the TV Dinners and Swans. My mobile phone is slowly filling with similar names and numbers.

At the get together at the end of April things began to take shape. The hotel works out a lot more affordable if you can share a room. When I said that I reckoned that I’d be able to make it, Nikki had also decided to give it a try. I offered to try to book in at the hotel. On the way out Nikki said ... “Ohhh ... and make it twin beds!” Made me smile.

As the day approached I began to have misgivings. I’m not a natural born dancer. I have always pretty much hated discos. On the other hand ... Andrea hadn’t ever been to a disco.

Because today has been warm and sunny I’m sitting in the garden typing this and have decided I dislike laptop computer keyboards even more than I thought I did. It’s really nice though to sit in the open air in a nice blouse and a skirt. The garden is hardly overlooked at all. And I guess that by now I’ve decided that eventually, if people begin to notice my dressing preferences then both I and they have gotta learn to live with it.

So ... Friday arrives and I set off from work early. Well, actually it’s at normal end of work day, which is about 2 hours earlier than it has been for a while. Unusually no one asked about “what are you all doing this weekend” at the lunch break.

I set up the sat nav ... waited for it to acquire its satellites and was off. Hoping it would take maybe 90 minutes.

Thoughts passing through my mind as I drive along are mixed.

Why am I doing this?

It would be so much easier to just drive home.

Did I select “suitable” clothing?

I wasn’t worried about shoes much ... I took them all. And, to be honest, 4 different skirts and four blouses was more than enough to choose from.

The traffic news was good, for a Friday... unless you were driving out of London ... or into London on the M40. Thankfully I wasn’t.

I listened to some Simone White. Lovely voice, tunes and lyrics. Makes me smile and cry.

I get to the hotel and find a parking spot.

Get the suitcase ... I know ... a big suitcase for just one night is a little over the top. But what’s a girl to do?

Start walking through the car park towards the hotel reception.

Then walk back again to the car thinking things through.

In the end Nikki had booked the room. I have a reference number. But ... what is Nikki's name? What do I say at reception exactly?

Too late to worry.

At reception I stand in line.

The guy in front ... do I recognise the voice?

Well ... maybe.

I sure don’t recognise the person ... but ... it’s possible.

I step back a bit. Get my phone out. Try Nikki's number. Hoping to see the guy in front reaching for his pocket.

“You have reached the voicemail service of ...”

It tells me a number. Not a name. I know the number already.

Ah well.

Now I’m at the front of the line.

“Can I help you sir?”

“Yes ... thank you. I have a reservation number here.”

I show her the text message.

“What name is that for?”

“Mmm well ... a friend booked it.”

She doesn’t ask me the friend. I think she knows that I don’t know.

She checks the reference on the computer. Asks my name.

I’m feeling a lot more at ease with this than I expected.

“Sorry sir ... perhaps you can wait for your friend.”

I step back from the desk and get my phone and phone the number again.

It rings.

It stops ringing!

“Hi ... Nikki? This is Andrea.”

This kind of scenario still makes me smile. Andrea and Nikki with such husky voices.

It turns out Nikki is in the room!

“It’s room 119” I say to the receptionist. She hands me a plastic electronic key and tries to sell me breakfast.

I knock at the door and Nikki opens it. And yes ... Nikki had been standing just in front of me at reception ... and had been listening to my voice when I was there checking if I sounded like Andrea.

I smile again.

It’s about 7:00 pm.

We chat a little. The journeys had been fine.

Unpacking and talking.

It’s a strange place to be at. Metaphysically I mean ... the geography is easy. Girls together. Neither of us having seen our complementary selves before.

Nikki heads for the car to collect a few things. I begin to shave.

Nikki showers. I brush teeth.

I shower, Nikki brushes teeth.

We talk.

It feels less oddball than I thought it might.

Now time for the makeup. For the first time this week I think cooler weather would have been nicer. I’m not so sure how well foundation will cope with this. But I’ll know soon enough. The routine of makeup is less daunting than it used to be. But still slow.

Foundation. Max Factor applied with my fingers.

Powder. Kryolan translucent. Brushing off the excess.

Eye shadow.

Nikki wonders what’s going on as I get this out. One of my favourites of the moment is a Startgazer thing. Sparkly white. It’s in a little plastic pot and I kind of smear it on with a little felt tip shaped spatula ... the kind that is included with a lot of eye shadows that you buy ... well ... if you buy eye shadow that is. I get some onto the felt tip and smear it on the back of my hand a little so there isn’t too much loose powder. Then I start dabbing it onto my eyelids.

The voice of Nikki. “Wow ... I thought you were gonna start snorting something for a minute.”

Creases me up.

The lighting in the room by the mirror isn’t so good ... so off comes the lamp shade.

I’m reminded of scenes from “The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert” ... guys applying makeup at a mirror.

Darker eye shadow.

Eye liner.

I must have blinked too soon ... big black lines across my eyelids!

Cotton wool buds to the rescue.

Mascara.

Blush.

Lip liner.

Lipstick.

Gloss.

Now what to wear? Decisions, decisions ...

Black holdup stockings, panties and bra.

Pop in the boobs.

Short black skirt. Black shirt.

New hair ... it arrived on Thursday. But it’s too warm ... the hair will have to wait.

Earrings. Watch. Bracelet.

Nail polish in a hurry is a risky thing to do. But I can think of a lot riskier things. So on it goes. Bright red. The left hand isn’t bad. The right one is a bit of a mess.

Everything seems too fluid in the heat. Eye liner and nail polish especially.

Now I have to waft my hands around and wait for it to dry a little. Wishing I had put my shoes on before I started the nails.

After a while I reach down and try to fit a shoe without taking too many risks with the nail polish.

In moments I am wishing I hadn’t put the bracelet on yet as it grazes softly along my leg ... leaving an unfriendly kind of line along my stocking.

But ... I did bring a spare pair. I take the bracelet off.

Skirt off and I manage to get the old stocking off and a new one on without doing anything terrible to my nails.

I know ... my perspective on life at this moment is rather oddball. But little things ...

Skirt on. Shoes on. Hair. As Nikki mentions ... the hair seems to have a mind of its own at times ... rather like a small furry rodent.

But it goes on.

I’m wondering if I should revert back to my other one ... but no ... I’ll get used to it.

We meet up with Laura and Dianne in the hotel bar.

Quite a sight if you were just passing through unawares. The most number of tgirls and transsexuals I’ve ever seen in one place at one time.

We sit and chat a little. A drink.

Laura decides to change while Nikki gets a bite to eat.

So many different people. Different looks. Different styles. Different hopes and fears.

It’s almost impossible to not look at some people and wonder ... is she a tgirl ... a ggirl ... a transsexual. None of this really matters – just labels. The atmosphere is one of acceptance. Can you guess?





Time to head across the road. We take the longer route to avoid the grassy ditch.

A few girls lean out of a hotel room window and wave. A guy calls out to us. Just friendly things.

I have 4.5 inch heels on ... so I’m glad there isn’t much traffic. I’d have hated to have to try to hurry across the road.

The cameras come out and we pose in front of the sign. Laura, me and Nikki.





Laura, me and Dianne.









I discover that walking down a fairly steep hill in high heels is trickier than it looks. In the end it feels like I am trying to crisscross a piste with skis on.

Then up the stairs ... pay at the desk ... and there we are.

There are three levels. Very loud music in the basement. Loud music on the first floor. Seats upstairs.

On BNO nights, so I’m told, the upper floor is mostly populated by the transgendered community. And so it was. A few drinks and a seat. We spend a while chatting and meet a few new people. It’s interesting, in an odd kind of way, working out which is the shortest dress of the night ... which is the most see-through.

The people though are just regular kind of folks ... in an irregular kind of way.

A trip to the ladies. Then down to the first floor.

There are a few people dancing. The music is loud.

After a few minutes L nudges me and nods to my side. I look round and a young lady is standing there ... mid twenties I guess. It’s not at all easy to hear anyone speak, but we manage. She’s travelled 3 hours to get here ... a friend’s birthday and they decided to drop by. Sarah. She’d decided to have a chat with a tgirl and I happened to be there. The kind of questions that I’ve been asked a few times now. And still I don’t know all that many answers. So nice to talk with though. And very sensitive ... interested but not wanting to intrude. She also says some nice things. That she thinks I look pretty ... and that the makeup is good ... not overdone. And here she is holding the camera ...




She heads back to her friends and I go to the dance floor. Not being a natural born jive bunny I stand and wiggle a little. Way too self conscious.

Back to the bar for a while. Then the dance floor. Perched on the edge of the pool table for a while.

The party of birthday girls is dancing. Handbags in a pile on the floor. A guy comes along with a mop and asks them to move the bags so he can clean up a spilled drink. They make the most of a photo opportunity and he seems to enjoy the experience.

A girl with blond hair is obviously feeling the heat and it takes her just a couple of seconds to take her shirt off. Nice black bra. None of us can remember the colour of the shirt that she was wearing. Ahhh ... now I have a photo just before the couple of seconds it took ... her shirt was black! There she is a little to the left of Laura.




The party girls are busy taking photos. Sarah takes a few of Nikki and me as we perch on the pool table. Asks if I’m on facebook ... but I’m not so I guess I’ll never see the pictures other than the mini versions at the back of the camera.

As she dances past a little later she takes my hand and we dance a little. Still self conscious, but very much enjoying the moment.

A little while later, another member of the birthday group walks over and draws me onto the dance floor. And now begins something totally new for me. Well .., I know ... the evening has been full of totally new things! She tells me to relax. Not to think about what I’m doing. Not to move my feet for a while. Just to sway and move. Then to watch her feet and do the same. Hands clapping together. She says such nice things, telling me I look great, to enjoy just being myself, to smile. And, for the first time that I remember, I am on a dance floor and not at all feeling self conscious or embarrassed or worried about what anyone else is feeling. As we sway and bounce around a bit, A walks past. This is a mistake ... our hands move out into the air, and all of a sudden, Dianne has no hair ... or at least quite a bit less than she had a few moments ago. My dance partner is so apologetic, and Dianne is wonderful. Not at all flustered, and smiling even. One of the nicest moments of the evening. Here are a few stills from some video footage.


My teacher and me ...









Laura dancing with Sarah.














My legs begin to show their age as time passes. And the heels don’t help to decrease the level of pain. I take a little break and then back onto the floor again for a while.

A lovely and liberating experience. I don’t know the name of my dance teacher ... but anyway ... thank you xxx.

Back to the bar for a while. I make the mistake of leaning just a little too far forwards. My bra is front fastening. And also it is front unfastening and has a mind of its own. Now, it’s one thing for a ggirl to have her bra come undone. But, when your boobs aren’t actually attached to your chest it’s a completely different experience. My second trip to the ladies, with my arms kind of pressed in towards me in an attempt to make sure I don’t lose any parts of my tgirl anatomy. I get there and back with no major mishaps. Though, at the top of the steps a security guard kind of waves at me. He points down towards my feet. There’s a trail of paper tissue following me, attached to the sole of my foot. I try to detach it by stepping on it ... but it sticks to my other foot. A couple of girls help out ... taking a-hold of me and stepping on the paper. After a few moments of playing footsie I’m free.

And there's the moment where a young guy wanders through the bar asking for a kiss from all the tgirls. So funny, but also kind of sweet.


The walk back to the hotel was nice and short – though the ditch was a challenge in heels.

Everything is a challenge in heels.

The foundation survived better than I expected. And, as ever, it was with a hint of melancholy that the makeup was removed.

So ... Andrea does like to dance, and even though my feet are a little on the sore side, I am smiling.

Sunday, 15 July 2007

Of lipstick and life

I have a makeover lesson booked at Charles Fox next Saturday. The web site says:

For many years now, FOX has been one of the premiere suppliers of make-up to the Tranny Community. Whether you need to create the look for an outrageous Drag-Queen or wish to blend happily into a crowd FOX has the right look for you.

For a relatively small fee, you will be taught all the tricks-of-the-trade by professional artists, experience a full makeover and get 10% discount off anything you wish to purchase in the shop that day

I have chatted with someone that gave it a try and they found it really helpful. So I'm expectant and hopeful. But also realistic. I think. I'm aiming more at the blending into the crowd look ... I think!

Maybe I'll get some hints on kiss proof lipstick. It's not the kissing I'm bothered about. It's just that the possibility of finishing a glass of wine with more of the lippy on my lips than on the glass would be kind of nice. Maybe also my wife would risk a kiss proof lipstick coated kiss. So OK ... I am bothered about the kisses as well.

My weekday lunchtime walk on Friday had me noticing all of the big fruit berries that are falling from bushes along the roadside at the moment. It seems to take so many berries to make a single bush. Got me to thinking again of how wasteful some processes seem to be.

Somehow, some convoluted chain of logic had me thinking about the entire meaning of life. There's a definition that I've heard that talks about being to Glorify God. Google provides lots of information on this. It goes something like:

It’s the stereotypical “deep” philosophical question. You’ve probably heard characters on TV shows ask it with the assumption that it cannot be answered. It’s the question, “What is the meaning of life?”

By God’s grace, the Reformed believer is not stumped by this question, for God’s Word has given us an answer for why we are here, and this answer is the first thing a child learns when receiving a Reformed education. So, to answer the question, “What is the meaning of life?” or, “Why are we here?” the response immediately comes: “To glorify God (1 Corinthians 10:31), and to enjoy Him for ever (Psalm 73:25-26).”

The above was taken from:

http://strangebaptistfire.com/2007/07/10/the-opposite-of-glorify-godlighten-up/

Once, not so very long ago, I would have sympathised with this view. Though I find it hard to believe that it really is the first thing a child learns when receiving a reformed education.

These days I don't see it that way. The reason is that either I've backslidden or I've become enlightened. Actually it's more that I just don't know. I mean I don't know about the meaning of life any more. Actually I don't know if I've backslidden or grown in enlightenment. Maybe a bit of both.

When I read the Bible verses quoted it seems that they aren't saying that the meaning or purpose is to glorify or enjoy God. They say people should do these things, sure. But they don't say it's the purpose or meaning of life. Well ... it depends on how you read it and the emphasis that you place on it and on the words around it.

That's the thing about the Bible I guess ... and all the different branches of Christianity that believe the same book but do different things. Each part deciding what emphasis to place on what parts. Which parts should be interpreted and understood literally ... and which parts need interpreting in a modern context.

Should Sabbaths be holy and work free?

Is the Sabbath on Sunday?

Is the virgin birth a critical concept?

Why was genocide OK in the Old Testament but it isn't now?

There is an interesting attempt to answer this from a group of Rational Christians at http://www.rationalchristianity.net/genocide.html. And yes, once I would have kind of agreed. But reading it now it just doesn't add up. I don't think that it ever did before really. I just went along with the philosophy of:
  • God is good
  • Everything that God does or says is good
  • If God tells you to do something it must be good
  • Even if it seems pretty bad
  • But no way would God want people to kill people now ... even though at one time He certainly seemed OK with the idea

The Rational Christians say:

Can the genocide in the Old Testament (OT) be used to justify genocide or mass destruction today?

Genocide, murder or any killing that is not necessary to defend another person's life is not justified. God alone has the right to take human life in cases other than defense. The only reason the Israelites were right to destroy cities in the OT is because they received a clear, direct command from God to do so. Any reason short of that, including humans deciding on their own that God wants them to kill others, is not enough to justify it.

Rational? Reasoned? Well ... lets say that I grow more skeptical.

Why is it OK for a modern day Christian to have two coats whilst there are lots of people that have none?

Why is it wrong to be gay or lesbian?

It seems to be all a matter of interpretation. How people choose to understand what the Bible says ... or how they interpret the world around them.

Really I guess my problem isn't that people believe different things. It's that some people selectively believe things and then condemn other people that make a different set of selections. And sometimes they do this in the name of God.

I feel an Indigo Moment arriving.

Emily Saliers: http://www.lifeblood.net/songs/lyrics/deconstruction.html

we're sculpted from youth
the chipping away makes me weary
and as for the truth
it seems like we just pick a theory
ah it's the one that justifies
our daily lives
and backs us with quiver and arrows
to protect openings
cause when the warring begins
how quickly the wide open narrows



Maybe we all do it. Pick the theories and don't even notice it?

This has moved a long way from the meaning of life.

My thoughts as I walked down the path on Friday had me wondering about what the meaning of life is. Why am I here?

In the end I decided that meaning isn't just about being useful or fulfilling a purpose.

Once upon a time I did think along those kind of lines. That the meaning and reason for a things being was all tied up with its purpose and usefulness.

This takes me back to the berries on the pavement. The purpose of the berries is to make new bushes. But they don't ... well ... almost all of them don't. Only a tiny tiny, tiny number do. Maybe their purpose is to feed the birds? But mostly they don't do that either.

I thought of sperm as well ... so few of them do what they seem to have been designed to do.

And if people are designed with the purpose of glorifying and enjoying God. Why do so few achieve it?

In the end, and for the moment, I decided that if I need to know why I am here than the reason isn't to be found just in purposes, usefulness and function.

At the moment I feel that the main thing is for us to just be. And there is purpose in being. This is, maybe, what people refer to as a leap of faith. Why should there be a purpose in being? And the answer is ... I really don't know. It just helps me to get along.

Maybe the most useful philosophies and thoughts and feelings are the ones that help us get along.

Monday, 2 July 2007

Makeup, Global Warming and Divine Judgement

It's strange how sometimes you don't know how much you are missing something until you get a chance to try it again.

It had been a week since I had a chance to dress. And not until yesterday did I realise how much I missed the feeling.

I don't understand why that is. The feeling of release and peace that comes with it. But it does. It makes a big difference to me.

I'm not sure that I'm getting better at applying makeup ... though mostly I have the general idea. There's still a lot to learn. I guess I should try making a note of the techniques and taking photos. I think, though, that the way that lighting effects work the photos might not actually show what it really all looks like.

Mostly, I'm trying to enjoy the learning of it. Though it's definitely more perplexing at times than it is fun. And it takes soooo long.

There's still something special about that moment when the makeup is finished and the wig goes on.

I've not ever tried the hair without the makeup.

Ahhh well ... there are more important things to be concerned about than makeup.

Some interesting comments about the UK weather from Church of England Bishops according to the Daily Mail:

Although scientists say it is impossible to blame a single weather incident on global warming, senior church leaders have said the floods were almost certainly the result of man-made climate change. The Church of England bishops said the recent floods which claimed seven lives and deluged thousands of homes were the result of "moral degradation".

Rt Rev Graham Dow: believes the extreme weather is the direct consequence of mankind's lack of respect 'for each other'.

While stressing that those affected were innocent victims, they claimed the devastation was the consequence of the West's decision to ignore Biblical teaching, with an "arrogant" world "reaping what we have sown".

The Rt Rev Graham Dow, the Bishop of Carlisle, whose district suffered horrendous flooding two years ago, believes the extreme weather is the direct consequence of mankind's lack of respect "for each other, for the planet and for God". He said: "This is a strong and definite judgment because the world has been arrogant in going its own way. "We are reaping the consequences of our moral degradation, as well as environmental damage."

The Bishop of Liverpool, the Rt Rev James Jones, said people no longer saw floods as an "act of God". "However, we are now reaping what we have sown," he told the Sunday Telegraph.
"If we live in a profligate way then there are going to be consequences."


It's interesting that some Bishops are more certain about the consequences of Global Warming than are some scientists. And interesting that they see a need to bring a divine judgement slant onto a thing.

It seems kind of obvious that if people do bad things then there's a fair chance that bad things might happen. There's also a kind of justice in the concept.

What's not so easy is that often it seems that the people that do the bad things aren't the ones that suffer the bad results. In fact the people that suffer most often seem to be the innocent victims. It's not so easy to see the justice in that.

I'm not sure how Global Warming can be seen as a strong and definite judgment. If it's happening it's happening as a natural result of scientific processes. There are discussions to be had about the causes and the morality of it all. But the strong and definite judgment perspective doesn't seem to help. Can it be right that strong and definite judgement should directly result in innocent victims? They always seem to.

This logic isn't so far from the Andrea is an Abomination kind of theory. A logical conclusion of this kind of thinking is that God could get so upset by a few guys putting on makeup and wearing frocks that He needs to pick on some innocent victims to make Him feel better.

Nahhhhh ... I don't believe that for a moment.

I'm having problems and doubts about God ... but if He's there then I think that he's a lot more Godly than that. I think that the Bishops think that as well.