Friday, July 21, 2017

Future Retro


Back in '05
Calie, over at T-Central, has been running a retro week, and these have been posts pulled from some of the featured blogs. Anyhoo, Calie was kind enough to ask if I was okay with having a post from 2005 being featured.

Wow, 2005: how much has changed since then? That's before the whole smartphone/tablet arrival, while we still had a Labour government, and before Little Miss was born. Quite a different time!

From a personal/trans point of view, I thought I'd have a look at what I wrote and comment on my original thoughts. People change, after all.

The question will be in bold and my original answer will be in italics. If you fancy a go at answering the questions, I'll provide a summary at the end. If you do, I wouldn't mind a courtesy link back, but hey, if you don't want to, that's cool too.

How long have you been dressing up as a girl?

On and off - for quite a long time. My earliest recollection would be when I was at primary school. What's that? About 8 or 10 or so? I don't know why but I remember getting ready for bed and seeing a pair of mum's tights fresh out of the laundry. I can remember wondering what the felt like and reaching for them... Ahhh, so began a drift to the Dark Side. :-)

After that, wanting to dress up or being interested in girls' - and later womens' - clothes never went away. Sure, you can try and *ignore* your interest, but if you're honest, the want to dress up never goes away.

Not much has changed from this statement. Well, other than adding another 10 years to the clock. I would like to think I've got a slightly better idea of what works for me, and what doesn't. I certainly don't know it all, and through a series of mistakes and some wonderful finds, style-wise, I'm mostly happy with how I look when dressed.

Do you want to be a girl?

In my teenage years I was very, very confused and wondered just where this cross dressing would take me. Would I want to become a woman? After a lot of soul searching, I realised that I didn't. I'm quite happy being a bloke. The wages are better, you get to play with lots of toys and clothing/grooming is soooo much easier. :-)

Wow, that was flippant huh? :-) No, I like being a sort of sort of in-betweeny bloke, and I guess that's around mannerisms and wearing brighter clothes. I am oddly, slightly bolder in my choices, and I don't hide behind the corporate shirt and tie so much: earrings, groomed brows, bright/highly patterned tops, etc.

During the brief visit from the Black Dog, I did think long and hard about transitioning. I wondered if being Richard was the cause of my woes, and yet I thought "what if I'm wrong?". With that in mind, I parked those feelings and told myself that despite the upset and - frankly - the emotional pain, I would wait until I was free of the Dark Woods, and being able to think a little more easily. BTW, I should stress this is only about me, how people who do decide to transition: well, you'd have to ask them.

So, no, I don't think I do want to be a woman. On a good day, I'm okay with who I am, and much as I'd like a little more freedom around appearance (smooth legs, stronger will to shift some weight, etc), I am okay with being a part timer.

Why ‘Lynn’?

I just liked the name. It's as simple as that.

There's a bit more to it than that. :-) Back in the 90s when I first got online, a work mate and I would join a student chat room and mess around using various false names. His did make me laugh, and he got booted once for one a little too close to the bone. Anyhoo, I picked "Linn" as it felt a bit here-nor-there in terms of him or her, and I became comfortable with it. I put the 'Y' in later, but never adopted the E. 90s kids may wish to make their own drug references at this point :-)

Are you gay?

I always find this a bit of an odd question. Why would a guy, who likes to wear dresses and make-up be gay? Isn't the stereotype that gay men are attracted to macho types? If that were the case, I'd not be showing myself in my best light would I?

Am I skirting the question? No, and I will say this: to deny being gay so ardently (as some men - and trans folk - are prone to do) - to me at least, implies that there's something wrong with being gay. This is going to sound awfully PC, but quite frankly, I don't give a sh** if you're straight, bi or gay. Who am I to judge your life? Love is love.

I'll still stand by this. As I told both of our lovely children, it's okay to be gay. It's completely natural, and if you find that you fall in love with someone the same sex as you, all I ask is you make sure they feel the same way about you too.

Does anyone else know?

Yes. My wife, my Mum, two t-girls I've met online & IRL plus an old friend from University.

As I already mentioned, during my teenage years there was much confusion. I came out - so to speak - to my Mum when I was 18. It was horrible. I felt so very ashamed and guilty. The guilt was that I'd worn her and my sister's clothes on occasion without permission. That's kinda creepy, but what's a young trans person to do? We had a lot of tears although she thinks "I quit" when I had a chuck out at University.

After throwing what few clothes I had away, I met a very nice young lady at University - now the Ever Lovely Mrs J - who, obviously, I married. She knew that I had dressed up, but at the time I'd purged everything and was on the *ahem* straight and narrow. That phase lasted about two years. She would go out once a week to visit her folks. That would leave me with run of the house and access to a bag of clothes destined to go to charity.....

I managed to keep the lid on things until I started a new job in the late 90s. That job was awful and I'm afraid to say that I used my cross dressing as a stress valve. I started to collect my own clothes and went out to a support group. I came out to Mrs J. a week later. Initially, she took it well, but it remains an occasional shadow on our relationship.

Not much has changed from that opening. Mum doesn't suspect or mention it. Why would she, I said I'd "gone straight" in '92. As you can see, I'm very much managing to maintain a complete disinterest in being trans :-D

No one at work knows, although sometimes I wonder if a few close workmates should. I also know that the genie can't be put back in the bottle, so I don't say anything. I am always concerned that if where I lived knew, that my kids might suffer for it (bullying). It's a fine line between staying in the closet and living. So far, the balance is working for me.

Perhaps it's an obvious thing to say, but having friends at Chameleons who 'get me', is, well, incredible. I can turn up in Richard or Lynn mode, and it's fine; they really do accept me for who I am. Well, that or they are very good at bluffing. :-D

What do you get from the experience?

Sometimes joy, excitement, or even disappointment, but mainly: peace. I feel happy and relaxed when I get to dress up.

Release, contentment, etc. I no longer feel pent up, but I get to express all of who I am. I'm not passing, but I'm okay with that.

Do you get aroused by it?

I find this question very hard to answer. If I'm honest, I have to say that sometimes, yes I do find it a turn on. It's not the cross-dressing that makes me excited, and this'll sound nuts - it's the actually feeling pretty that makes me feel good. Does that make sense? In my youth, just thinking about stockings was enough to - as Peter Cook would say - "give me the 'orn". In later years I find this much less so, although dressing up - while not sexually exciting - is still fun.

Y'know I still find this a really difficult question to answer. I still get feelings of "this is not normal" or "why aren't I like regular blokes?". These thoughts are thankfully rare, and the mix of transgender and sexuality is complicated.

There are rare times when I see my made-up reflection, and I look at the hair, the slap, and the clothes; and I feel more than pretty. Looking good makes me feel good, and in those rare times, the feeling of looking good makes me feel foxy. Ironic as dressed as a woman means the Ever Lovely Mrs J is not going to be attracted to me. Never let it be said Life doesn't have a sense of humour! But, jokes aside, it's complicated and I may not be explaining this very well, so my apologies.

How do you find out how to dress, how to do your make up etc?

Studying other women; trial and error; watching YouTube, reading women's mags; researching make-up and clothes on the Internet.

Lots of practice, and returned items from mail order. Make-up has taken me a long time to understand. You really have to put the hours in. Yes, there are some shortcuts, namely YouTube or Pinterest, that can help you avoid some basic mistakes. For example, I now know I've hooded eyes, so I understand why the regular smokey eye routine doesn't work for me.

Clothing: well, I follow fashion blogs and keep my eye on what women my age wear at work, or on the school run.

Have you ever been out dressed?

Yes, on a few occasions, but they are few and far between. There's no score card for this and it's not a p***ing contest by any means.

I think Matalan should have a trans discount card, it seems to be a Mecca for t-girls throughout the UK. :-)

Other than twice a month to Chameleons, perhaps once or twice a year. Usually, that's a shopping trip somewhere far away from home. I've been lucky enough to have a night out back in the day. I loved the Leicester meal out, and some of the Invasions have been good too. But, they do make an impact on family life, so I'm careful to try and keep a balance.

Could you stop?

I doubt it. I've tried and for me at least, it just doesn't work. Why lie to yourself and upset others with your grumpy moods because you're in denial. In business jargon: JFDI - just f***ing do it.

Within the TG community, there is a feeling that cross-dressing is incurable. It *may* be possible for *you* to give up. If you wish to do so, good luck. It won't be easy, but it may be possible. Personally, for all the flack and the fall outs, I enjoy it too much. Selfish b*tch eh? :-)

No. I've tried and the feelings do not go away. I need to be all of me, and by that, I need to express all aspects of who I am. Some of that would be traditionally described as male, some female. I do swing between the genders, although the pendulum doesn't quite swing that hard into the male aspect.

What’s the cause?

The jury is still out. I don't think I've read or heard anything from the psychologists that ring true for all of us. Each of us has a reason that makes sense to them.

For me, I do not think it's genetic, but maybe hormone/birth related. Sure, you can have girly men and macho women, but I don't think being trans fits into that model so easily. I don't blame my parents; it's just a cast of the dice really. I wonder if the strong female role models at home and at school shaped my personality, or was I already leaning a certain way? But all that aside, why can't I stop? Are we truly slaves to our childhood or biological programming? People far more educated than I have researched and written papers on this subject. There's some here and here. If you've got any more, I'd love to read them.

I hope that by being a hands-on Dad, that I'll be a good role model for my son. You want to protect your children and while life isn't easy for straight folk, I'd like to help him avoid some of what I went through. But if he did find he was trans, at least his wife would get nice clothes for Xmas. :-)

There's been quite a lot of research done since 2005, and I think we're on the other side of The Transgender Tipping Point. Programmes like My Transexual Summer have given people the language they needed to express themselves. Sure, there's discrimination, but trans people are so much more out there.

To answer the question, I *think* we have a genetic disposition towards it. Now, that may either be a quirk of sperm meets egg, or variation of hormones in the womb. I'm not qualified to provide evidence, and clearly, I have my own biases. That said, I try not to worry how am I this way, and am trying instead to live, have fun, and help a few people along the way.

Thanks for reading,

PS: here's the questions if you want to have a go yourself:

How long have you been dressing up as a girl?
Do you want to be a girl/woman?
Why the name?
Are you gay?
Does anyone else know?
What do you get from the experience?
Do you get aroused by it?
How do you find out how to dress, how to do your make up etc?
Have you ever been out dressed?
Could you stop?
What’s the cause?

Friday, July 14, 2017

Summertime and the living is easy...


It had been one of those long gaps between meetings, and with the hot weather, I'd sort have warmed myself up to the idea of going in bloke mode. Yet, as the night out drew closer, temperatures dropped, and as I was working at home, I packed a bag during my lunchtime. There may also have been an opportunity to paint my toes, but there's no gap in the company timesheet for that. Shame really, as it does wonders for my mood :-)

Perhaps as I had no expectations of Chams, that it explains why I had such a good time. I'd made fair time through the traffic. Just in time to help Pat and M & Co set up. After wheeling in two rails worth of clothing in, it was time to shuffle off the blokey coil and glam up. Even falling back to my emergency outfit didn't harsh my mellow, man :-) Makeup all worked, outfit felt right and I had a good chat with Diane & Pat as we got changed. I even remembered to hand over a spare bottle of Clinique make-up remover. The fun of passing on freebies!

Thanks to Pat's organisation, M & Co had set up shop downstairs, so there was some traffic as people bought, or tried things on.  We had a chuckle with Paula and Lesley. Back in the main room, it was great to see some of our irregular regulars turn up: Alison and Jake. Cue much discussion about Jake's transition and his fully carpeted legs. Curses! I'd been out Wookied! :-)

There was also a visit from a carer, and, bless she was dropped in the deep end, being involved in a conversation about transition 'surprises' that you don't usually get to hear. She took it all in her stride though. Tell you what, I certainly learned a few things and the was much good natured laughter.

The evening rolled on and it was good to see Dani, last time's new comer back, as well as another new member, Maya. We had a chat about this and that, before helping M & Co pack everything away. What's great to see is a growing number of FTM and younger folk choosing to visit. I'm hoping this continues because it's good for the group's diversity and good for the community. Win win, really.

As the clock struck 11, and it was time to pack up. Cue the usual photos with Val (thanks Mrs), and then a return to Bloke Mode. Still, enjoy things when you can!

All in all, a great night out. I feel rather chipper. Result!


Friday, July 07, 2017



A couple of weeks ago, I popped round to see my folks. They'd been away and while on holiday, it had been my mum's birthday. Now, with the kids being older and all of us being busy at the weekend, I went round on my own. Hello dutiful son points. ;-)

There was the usual chit-chat, cake, and tea business. This is Britain after all. :-) An hour in and my sister and boyfriend - neither of who I'd seen in a while - turned up to much delight. It's fine; I live away and I'm used to being in the background :-)

As she and my mum started talking about who'd said what to who, and how certain - and frankly, unimportant - news had developed, I was reminded how much I just don't give a stuff about any of that.

Now, I find people interesting. I care about what happens to friends, and through some of the stuff I do at work, and at Chams, about the feelings of those, I know only lightly. But.... as the conversation went on, I felt more out of it and frankly, alien. Is this how I was supposed to behave? The grandstanding, the gossip, the bluster, the talk about perceived snubs, etc. Not that my dad does either, bless him. Maybe I'm reading more into it than I should, and I'm more like my dad. He's a lovely fellow.

With the night drawing in and work the next day, I made my excuses, hugged and left. The drive home, as now, had me thinking on what had played out. I'd not felt like a stranger for some time, and yet, older memories resurfaced: false or true, I couldn't say. I wondered, does this make me a snob? Hint: don't answer that ;-) I'll say no, because it's not a case of looking down on them, not thinking I'm better. Judging? The content and their occasional hissing, maybe, yes.

I'm certainly not better, not by a country mile.... just, well, different. The proverbial oddball: a metalhead at the proms, or a suit at an eco-warrior meeting. Being one doesn't stop you being okay with the other. You just, well, don't always quite click.

Families eh? Who'd have 'em? :-)

Take care,

Friday, June 30, 2017



The other day I was talking with a mate about bikes. While the weather's been in a good mood - not too hot, not too wet, etc - I've been cycling between meetings. I should clarify by saying I cycle between sites. Apparently, it's frowned upon to pop a wheelie as you hit the corridor. It startles some of the sleeping staff. :-)

So, H said that being a fairly keen commuter cyclist, that he's - and to use his own words - a bit of a tool tart. That's not a phrase I'd heard before, and it made me chuckle. My Dad would probably use the words Gadget Monster, but that has different and possibly Godzilla style connotations. :-) Tools, meh. But shoes or the ideal mascara? Now you're talking!

I'll leave you to generate your own alliteration to cover those words. :-)

But, before I sign off, riddle me this: do we all have a thing we like to collect? I know not everyone is defined by material gubbins, but is it the gadget or the experience that we're chasing?

Take care,

Friday, June 23, 2017

Tea power


Do you find that you talk yourself out of doing something? Okay, sometimes this is a good thing (do I really want that second pint at lunch?), but if you're anything like me - and you have my sympathy if you are! :-) - there are times when fortune favours the brave.

So it was yesterday. I had the good fortune to be working at home (Yay! No meetings!) and as I worked through my Do List, I wondered about Thursday night out. The weather was a lot cooler and yet, I wasn't quite in the right mood for it. Indeed, in many ways, I was revving myself up for just going along in Bob Mode. Summer can be - shall we said - a challenge to your average bloke in a dress, as shapewear, slap and a wig do not make the best for cooling down. :-)

Hence, this:

If you're British and faced with a shall I / shan't I dilemma, it's best to make a cup of tea and think it through.

The above was then followed by:

A cup of tea later, and I was painting my toes. I thought that even if I do go in Richard mode, at least I can enjoy having a pretty colour applied. It's not for display, it's for me. I've mentioned this before and as the varnish dried, I finished my tea and moved on to pack a bag.

I think tea is the reason the Brits had an empire. It's only when we switched to coffee and soft drinks that it all went squiffy. ;-) On the plus side, at least we're not invading places anymore. When the ice caps start to go, the tides rise and the planet is less than welcoming; make sure the Brits get extra tea. :-D

So, suitably energised I finished off my report, and before long, Little Miss and the Ever Lovely Mrs J returned home. Skip on a few hours and I was off early to Chameleons.

It was a quite evening, although enjoyable. We had some returning new folk - always good to see - and someone (Dani) visiting for the first time. Sometimes Chams can be quite a hubbub of conversation, so pretty much having a singular group chat (if that makes sense) is a change.

After much laughter, silly stories and occasional forays into more serious topics, it was time to tot up the books, pack up the tables & chairs, before the obligatory photo shoot. This time, Val and I were joined by Diane, Dani and Nicole.

The quieter nights mean there's fewer takings, but Summer is always a lean time for us, but Autumn won't be far away, and the fabulous and faithful will return.

Happy days!


Friday, June 16, 2017



Summer has seemingly kicked in for the fair vale of Nottinghamshire. Hmm, I seem to be mixing dated urban yoof-speak with some hey-nonny-nonny. Y'know, I do hope the latter isn't some weird kink slang. Oh the humanity! :-)

Unavailable fashion choices

As her or him
A few weeks ago I bought a nice summer dress from the Joe Brown's sale. The fit and material are fine. My issue, as per, is to disguise the two hairy tree trunks that I pass off as my legs. Jeggings don't quite work, and the footless white tights I bought (Hello! the 80s called and wanted their fashion back) just about work.

But, what I'd really like is some just about ankle length white leggings. Can I find them? Can I ****. Oh, that's feck, by the way. :-) Cropped, knee length, etc, but no full length. I popped into to check our local outfit and after a quick look about, asked one of the sales staff. "Oh, you know," she said, "You must be the sixth person today to ask for some." Well, I guess there's no demand eh? :-) But, I've seen some on the Debenhams site, so I'm hoping a lunchtime excursion may be doable. Fingers crossed eh?


This week I waved goodbye to my little car. There was nothing wrong with it, well, other than Wee Man is now too tall to fit in the back. I really shouldn't have put those vitamin drops in his shoes. Ah well. :-)

So, there is a now a slightly newer - well, new to me - car on the drive, and, importantly, it does allow all of the Jones Massive to fit in it. Not that that's a regular occurrence, but we leave the Ever Lovely Mrs J's estate car at home for ease of parking. Sometimes I wonder if that estate car is just an oil tanker with wheels. It's rather big!

So, why mention the old car? Well, not to brag on new wheels, but instead to say that I get attached to material goods. Not so much the goods themselves, but the memories that go along with them. Whenever I change my car, and I'll admit that's not very often, I have the same little pang of thinking of the happy events associated with it.

But, on the bright side. They are happy memories. Days out, trips with the family, a jolly for work, the occasional out & about. Much better than being sat at the roadside waiting for the mechanics! :-D

Take care,

Friday, June 09, 2017

Decade: then and now


Sometime last week, I was looking through old family photos. I rather enjoy seeing how the kids have grown up, and also remembering the holidays, trips out, or just general silliness, that, to me at least, go to make up your family history. A shared experience if you will. On a whim, I had a look at my stash of trans photos. Now, I don't like having my photo taken. Or, more accurately, I don't really like my photo being taken when I'm in Richard mode.

Conversely, with the purchase of a digital camera - hey, remember those? :-) - I had the opportunity to take a regular snap of me. If, and I doubt this would see the light of day, I could stitch them together in time-lapse, you could see me change and age. Please, don't have nightmares ;-)

I suppose, like family photos, sometimes I look back at my albums and think about what was going on. They are also, not unlike the snaps my female friends sometimes post on-line. Okay, in motive, rather than comparing myself to a woman. So, yeah, a way to show a look or seek reassurance of the same.

That reassurance thing. When I saw that happen pre-party at a big hotel do with my female friends, that was such an eye opener for me. Previously, I'd thought the outfit doubt and validation was very much a trans thing. Maybe it is, maybe it's not. I can only talk about my feelings and experiences, not yours.

Younger and older
In the above photo - give or take a month or so - the difference is about 10 years between the left and the right. It seems much as I've sorted my photos by year and month - hey, I like a system ;-) - it seems that 2007's photo, did not make it to the blog. I guess that back then,  I was either more paranoid or maybe not as carefree (stoopid?) as I am now.

I think that 2007 was roughly a year after I started going to Chameleons (October 06?). Wee Man was actually small, unlike the giant teenager, he is now (I love him just as much if not more. He's a good lad). My darling Little Miss was soon to be with us so the Ever Lovely Mrs J would have been pregnant then. In terms of history, the left-hand photo shows curtains that are long gone, and likewise, that bedroom is no longer ours either. Outfit wise, I've still got that cardigan and top, and quite probably the necklace too. The wig, not so much, much as I liked it. Funny the things you keep and the things that you let go, eh?

But what of inside? The person within. Well, I had yet to meet - and later beat - the Black Dog, but we've had that story haven't we. Oddly, about a month after the left-hand photo was taken, I had, to quote a film, a moment of clarity. Something clicked in my head - hopefully not brain arthritis :-) - and I found I'd started to feel less, well, freakish. Yeah, stop that laughing at the back. :-) But jokes aside, it was a time when I started to feel okay about being all of me. Sure, I have the occasional wobble and downer, but in the main, nothing like the see-saw guilt trips. I'm sure glad to see the back of those. Self-acceptance was hard to come by, but I didn't get there on my own. It was from the help and care from the good folk at Chameleons and the Ever Lovely Mrs J's patience & kindness.

As to the more recent snap.... I am... content with who I am. Well, mostly. :-) Life is up & down with a lot of middle here-nor-there. How can you have the good, if there's none of the bad or something to strive for? So, yeah, content isn't a bad place to be. It's not settling, or giving up. For me, it's accepting. Learning to accept who you are and much as I may gripe about wanting a little bit more - time, money, holiday,  respect, comments, smoother pins, weight loss, femme features, etc - I think.... I wouldn't want to go back. Sure, I'd be younger, but I feel better now than I did back then. Oh, and I like my hair more now too ;-)

So life is good, all things considered. I guess if I had anything to say to my younger self, it would be to be bold, be honest and keep pushing yourself. You'll not get any satisfaction without risk.

Take care,

Friday, June 02, 2017

Living in a box


How are you all? Me? I'm well rested after a week away from the red tape machines and alpha male yelling. Funny what seven days of late nights, late mornings, regular dog walks and just general chill out time, can do for a person, eh? :-)

The Jones Massive were holed up in a little property in the Lakes. For non-UK readers, the Lakes is in the North West of England, and is both beautiful and mountainous (as much as the UK does mountains).

Our property for the week was a mid-terrace affair, with a room for each of the kids and one for us. It was an updated Victorian property (so an extension at the rear for a kitchen, and the loft space had a bedroom in it). Ignoring the kitchen and loft conversion, it was two rooms per floor and no basement. Oddly, a few of the houses on other streets still had theirs. Personally, I find some charm in a basement room that looks up to the street, but maybe it's novelty. That, or I'm just odd :-)

Funny thing is, it's not a dissimilar design from many houses in Nottingham. It got me thinking what it would be like to live in such a building all of the time. Perhaps the Jones Crew, and particularly myself, are spoiled with our rural retreat. Sure, we don't have a good bus service, gas or fast broadband. But, we do have quiet, space and a big-ish garden.

With space, comes privacy. Take right now for example. I'm sat at my little desk at the back of the house, typing away to complete strangers. Well, some strangers. At the Lakes' holiday home, I would not have had the space to do that. That would really make it a challenge for my own privacy.

Would that drive me being out more, or would I need to come up with alternatives? There's a thought. Still, let's hear it for the good fortune of a space to be me - thought-wise - and room for my all of my trans trappings.

Take care,

Friday, May 26, 2017

To dress, or not to dress?
That is the question.


As I write this, I'm sat using the Ever Lovely Mrs J's laptop, far away from Jones Towers. It's half-term, so despite a bit of rush, we managed to get the kids out of school early and up to the North of England. Me being me, I'm using some remote control software to connect back home. I'm always slightly concerned that one day, a holiday home owner will find YATGB. Oh well, plain sight and all that eh? :-)


With the weather turning warmer, I've ditched my usual walking boots and switched to my Converse trainers. Yes, in Richard mode, I have two sets of shoes. Three, if you count some interview / posh dos. Four if you include Wellies. :-P As to m collection of heels, flats and sandals, well, I'm not sure I've got the mental maths skills to count.

But, as I walked up the hill from dropping of Little Miss at school, I found myself having to switch my gait to a more blokey stroll. It seems the tap-tap-tap of basketball canvas shoes is a bit too like that of flats, and some setting flicked over in my head. Bugger. Right. Straight arms. Heavy shoulder movements. No hip swaying :-D

So, what is it about shoes that changes us so much? Clearly heels are very different blokey stompers, but flats? Yes, I'd say different again in that you do have to walk slighty differently. For a start, they're not always as well held on as a laced shoe. Plus, the thinner soul makes you stay away from any pavement gravel.


If I'm honest, Thursday night was a bit of a wobble. It was a case of to dress or not to dress? That is the question.  Given the heat and being tired, I was not in the best of moods, shall we say. Not angry or miffed, but just a bit, well, meh, really.

That mood very kindly fed into the feedback loop of well, this is your last chance for a month. True, given that the Ever Lovely Mrs J is away on business again. Ah, oh well. Val has very kindly locked up and sorted the money from last time, so I owe her - so to speak.

Still, the temperature had dropped a little by the time I got in and I had a good long chat with Pat, as we got changed upstairs. I was pleased to find my recent corset is a bit too large, and thanks to light lunches plus bike rides, I can get back into my old one. That and my size 14 summer cotton trousers - a blessing in hot weather - are wearable once again. Okay, so that's a just about 14, but it's the step in the right direction.

But, I was glad I went  I did manage to remember the jewellery the Ever Lovely Mrs J had wanted shot of. At a quid a pop, give or take, we had a few extra pennies to put in the group's bank account. It all helps, plus folk get something new to them at a song. I do like to see people enjoying things new to them.

Given it was bright outside, we switched the photos around a bit. But, tradition says you do need to have a snap on the stairs. :-)


Happy long weekend!

Take care,

Friday, May 19, 2017

A little respect


Apparently, it was IDAHoBiT the other day.  A day to push back against homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia. Ideally, we wouldn't need a day to remind certain folk not to be, shall we say, a little less accepting of us, than we'd like. But, hey, 50% of the human population is female, and we've still not quite cracked the idea of treating each other equally. Humans, eh? :-)

Skipping back a few months ago, I was surprised to receive an invitation to give a talk about trans people. Or, more particularly, the work - if you can call it that - Nottingham Chameleons does for the Nottinghamshire trans folk. I say surprised because to be invited back means I can't have behaved that badly when I was there. :-) So, reasons to be positive eh?

I managed to juggle some time between meetings and those yes-I'm-still-enjoying-them-training-sessions, to... ummm... give another training session. This time, the event was a little more personal. I did say, as before, that I can't speak for authority for all trans people. Much as I may occasionally want to know what goes on in the head's of others, realistically, I can only say hand on heart, what goes on in mine. I can generalise, but it will always be that.

We were a little late starting, as I was in the crowd of attendees, and the organiser slipped out to see if the guest speaker - Muggins, here - had turned up. After some confusion and some polite laughter, we started. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to make any political gags, given that it's the UK Election. Still, it's not like we have any Right Wing media establishments who aren't in need of polite satire.... :-)

I started with around 12 slides and as the questions came in, I abandoned my planned script, and just improvised through it. I covered some of the terms we use, some of our trans history and how the language had changed, as the trans community had changed.

The audience were engaged and asked some interesting questions. One asked how she could broach the subject with some of her very religious colleagues, but not cause an arguement. Some around not saying the wrong thing, some around clarifying what I'd meant, and also what would I, as a trans person, like to see happen next.

As I heard Erasure sing in the car ride home - really, they should sort out their own transport :-) - my answer would be, A Little Respect. Enough for us to just be who we are. To be able to go about our working and social life as we like to appear, and just be.

I think I was pushing on an open door with this audience, and I hope they can take the message to others and keep the acceptable vibe going.

Maybe one day, we won't need a day to remind folk not to discriminate. Wouldn't that be good?

Take care,

Friday, May 12, 2017



If there's one thing blogging has taught me, it's that I can't predict what people will comment on. You may think that after bashing away at the keys, at least weekly for the last ten years, that I'd have more of an inkling.... But, no. So, I'm curious, when you don't comment, why is that?

Dad Duties

This week gone I've been holding the fort as the Ever Lovely Mrs J has been away on business. Granny J has been over to help pick the kids up twice, as that's really helped. Especially as work has become rather busy. Still, at least the day goes quickly.

So, no visit to Chams this week for Yours Truly. I did wonder if I'd have a bit of a wobble, but no. All seems good, for which I'm grateful.

Luckily, there's another for the other foot
Perhaps my mood was helped by the delivery of some new summer wedges. Reduced in the sale, so it would be rude not to. I did try then out as realised my toes weren't painted.

Seeing as I was on my Tod, I didn't have to rush the removal and it's been rather nice to have a pretty colour on my toes for most of the week.

It's a funny thing, in a way. Painted toes aren't visible, yet knowing I had them done, meant that I somehow felt better about myself. I'm probably not explaining it very well, but there was an element of it feeling right, or natural. Ironic given the concept of covering your nails with bright paint. :-)

Still, you take pleasure where you can.

Take care,

Friday, May 05, 2017

Show, don't tell


Well, I'm knackered. Not that lack of sleep a bit tired kinda gig. But the thought of how long I have before my brain switches off, and....

Oh, it's just gone. :-)

So, this week I've been out of the office and running some training events. Each one is about two hours, and I'm up on my feet for all of that (apparently training people while doing handstands is considering showing off. Who knew? :-) ). So, there's two of those a day, with about an hour or so's travel between venues, plus set up and somehow, getting the all important cup of tea in.

But, I am not complaining. At least, I hope it's not coming across that I am. See, the truth is, I do like it. I don't know if it' a mix of educating people, making them laugh here & there, or just the thrill of the new. Would I like to do this all of the time? Well, maybe if I got over the tiredness, and got that into my stride, possibly yes.

The question is: how to swing it?  No, don't be filthy. :-) Can I maneuver myself at work to land such a role? Well, it's worth a shot isn't it.?Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that.

I think I've another two more weeks of this, and then this part of the project will be over. Still, I shall keep my oar in, so to speak, and see where that takes me.

Oh, and, finger crossed, I may have another trans talk coming up. I think I'll be doing that in bloke mode this time. The logistics conspire against me, so we'll see. Things to look forward to eh?

Take care,

Friday, April 28, 2017

Accepting your weirdness


Some weeks are just the passing of time, whereas some, are more a series of small, but happy events. This time around was one of those. Firstly, I was on Single Dad Duty for the early part, as the Ever Lovely Mrs J was away on a course. This meant early starts (I really don't do mornings) and being organised, rather than loafing about until nearly school time, with a coffee and my smartphone. How single parents manage it all, I really don't know and hats off to those that do. But, the Every Lovely Mrs J has returned and not too tired either, so it's all good. It's a week's respite and then I think she's got another week away.

Work has been going well, which always worries me, in that does Fate's evil vindictive relation have something up their sleeve? It's a worry, but perhaps it's best to enjoy the good while you can. Wow, that's cheerful, isn't it! :-) So, good stuff: I had my performance/development review, which while I won't be getting anything extra in the pay packet (again), I did get some kind feedback from colleagues. It seems I'm helping them, making them laugh and in some cases, inspiring them too. So while there won't be extra pennies in the pocket, there are good thoughts to be had, knowing I'm valued. That did put a spring in my step.

Talking of work, at least two female work colleagues - and then a lady on a podcast - expressed their love for RuPaul's Drag Race. Now, maybe you'd think that comedy, mad cross-dressing and some song & dance would draw me to the show, faster than you can say Size 9 Shoe Sale. Trust me, it's not easy after a G&T, and certainly not with these teeth. :-)

Both H & S extolled the fun of the show and also Ru's occasional wise interjections. Particularly - and please don't quote me on this - "if you can't love  yourself, how can you expect anyone else to." Well, in my head they have Donny Parton's accent around them, but I guess both icons will just have to have a sing off, to see who gets to own that phrase ;-)

I've seen a few T folk who seem to tip towards the showier, flashier end of the spectrum. Perhaps, almost drag. I'm not judging, merely pointing out. But.... it's not really me. I guess I'm just too square to be that fabulous. More High Street than High Drama. But, hey, again, not judging.

But differences aside, I can agree with RuPaul's words about loving yourself. Yes, stop sniggering at the back. I can see you :-P Learning to accept who you are is damned hard. Perhaps slightly more so when you feel somewhat less than standard issue. I've said it a few times, but that doesn't make it any less or more true.

Thanks to Valtography
Talking to a new girl and a regular (Helen) last night, we did all hit on the phrase of "just what the hell am I doing?". That moment when you take a look at yourself and your confidence - or perhaps, whatever it is that drives being trans - creaks or even crashes. So it came to me last night: I was tired and when I looked in the wardrobe, while I could see many pretty tops, trousers, leggings, and dresses... none of them spoke to me of an outfit. Maybe there was an element of that tricky Spring/Winter weather, where it's not yet warm enough for fancy fabrics, but the sunshine means you don't want to be still sporting opaques and boots.

Thing is, I could have shrugged and turned in, but I knew that if I didn't try and pick something, I'd be kicking myself come Thursday night. So, you pick two, hope and turn in for the night. Perhaps, when your confidence takes a knock, you just have to take a moment and do it anyway. Plus, as Jack Burton says: "Tall guy, weird clothes. First you see him, then you don't." :-)

Still, all ends well, I think and Thursday night was a good one. I didn't go with my much loved Desigualnumber, but a pink dress I've had many years.  Plus, I managed to get to the Centre quite early - at least for me - so I wasn't too long getting changed upstairs. I had a good chat with some new and old folk alike. We were quite busy, which is excellent news for the group's funding and it's great to catch up with old friends too. That, also, puts a spring in my step. Reasons to be cheerful, eh?

Take care,

Friday, April 21, 2017



As a kid of the 70s, I read my fair share of comic books. Yeah, in a world with three TV channels and no YouTube, there was a lot more reading going on. :-) As to comics I wouldn't say I read loads, but a fair few and mostly UK ones. For some reason, I never quite got into the American ones. Possibly because they always felt midstory, and quite possibly because our local newsagent's range was fairly thin. Hey, welcome to living in the sticks in the pre-Internet, pre-eCommerce world. :-)

Ignoring the WWII and sports strips, the more fantastic stories were the ones that caught my eye. Superheroes: present and past. Not everyone gets the Marvel or DC treatment, so some I guess are much forgotten.

But if there's a point to this nostalgia, other than I don't remember any trans* specific characters, but this was the late 70s; hardly a time of political correctness, let alone equality. But certainly, the idea of someone with a secret identity struck a chord. Chuck into the mix the idea of said hero (or heroine) having to rush getting changed or be found out, well, I don't even need to say any more on that do I? :-)

The thing is, as someone who does hide who they are, it can be quite tiring. I'm so glad I don't have to pretend when I'm around the Ever Lovely Mrs J. The fact that I can be just me, rather than putting on the mask of male behaviour, is incredibly liberating.

So, if there are any would-be superheroes, if I had one bit of advice - other than when you do meet your nemesis, don't pull your punches and do fight dirty :-) - it would be this: don't spend your regular life pretending. It's really hard, watching what you have to say, and keeping what who you are a secret. Instead, try being all of you, but, do leave the cape and the power gauntlets out of the office. You know how these things escalate ;-)

Everyday Heroes

On a related note, I heard from Sandi that one of our oldest members at Chameleons passed away at the weekend. The lady in question was Jane. She, along with a friend Rhona helped keep the group going through the 80s. I really don't know when she handed the torch on to Tracey & Sandi, but I'd guess it was a fair few years. Still, making a trans group a success, especially in less open-minded times is, at least in my book, quite an impressive feat. Hats off to you, Mrs.

I should add, that if you're pushing the gender envelope. Either by being out, helping others, running a website or keeping a group going; keep on doing that. Please keep on being you and doing that awesomeness that helps makes it easier for this and the next generation of trans people.

Words on an image

Over on social media, Tania made a comment about the complications around running two wardrobes. Sometimes, a line just comes to you and I did say I'd stick the quote as a meme. Well, all the cool kids are doing it. ;-)

Take care,

Friday, April 14, 2017

Time: it makes fools of us all.


As I write this, it's the wee hours, although the schedule option will pop it back to Friday night. I wasn't home late from Chams, although the Ever Lovely Mrs J, who was up reading, wanted to be fast asleep before I turned in.

I could have given the time, rather than 'the wee hours', but there's those odd English phrases. The small hours, still of the night, witching hour, etc. All very colourful and, like much about being British, suitably vague and nonspecific! :-)

So, not late back and not early there either. Hmm..... As I got changed back into my bloke clothes back at Chams, I thought back to the night that had been. Much laughter, stories shared, chocolates snaffled, new people greeted and personal journeys shared.

Cheer up, you old mare
Yet, as I stood half dressed, in full makeup and sans wig, I couldn't help feel a sense of loss. Not sadness, as that's too strong a word, and not quite regret. After all, the night had been a good, if quiet one, numbers wise. Tania popped in too, and despite Facebook exchanges, we'd not spoken in a while. Val was kind enough to take my photo (see right) and later, Nicole did a group shot. I won't be sharing that, as not everyone wants their face on-line.

So why the sense of loss? Honestly, I don't know. I have a long weekend to look forward to and I felt fine as I got ready. Despite much fine food on the recent Jones Family holiday, I've gained 5lbs but lost two of those this week. This meant I could still get into an old red skirt and my pink top was the right side of fitted. All of which is a step in the right direction and again, reasons to be cheerful.

Perhaps there's a feeling that it was all too brief? Piling on the slap and tightening the corsetry around 8ish, and 'turning back' around 11.15.

Yeah, it's weird being trans. I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's all fine.... except when it isn't. :-)

Maybe Val was on the money with her comment about for me, it's a short span of time when I'm in Lynn attire. Thinking on that, 8 to 11ish, that's what? Three hours? I'm not always ready by 8 either, due to traffic and leaving home. Still, better than snatching an hour every other month, like I did back in the 2000s.

Still. Chin up. Face the sun and enjoy the fresh air of springtime in the woods. Onwards.... Oh, happy Easter BTW.

Take care,

Friday, April 07, 2017

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more...


A couple of weeks ago, I was talking with Andrea, a friend from Chams. We were both in bloke mode, and had met up for a coffee and a chat.

We were discussing - amongst? other things - the concept of confidence. That strength of character, that both helps and drives you, to be, well, you. I think confidence, like cool or self-acceptance is that elusive something that's easy to chase, but not so easy to find.

That intertwined with being out & about makes for an interesting ride. There's the whole trans journey: dressing at home, getting online, making friends, wanting to get out, to be out. Out, with others, or going solo.

Whichever it is, there's the nerves. That on edge feeling as you push yourself and go further. Either the controlled risk of being on social media, to being in public. I've heard people talk of a rush: is it the act of being brave, or the survival of the trip?

Ready? Let's go.
We spoke about a long-ago meal in Leicester, where I had to walk back to the car park. Alone. Alone and at just before closing time. Funny thing was, all was fine when I was out with (trans) friends, but as it was time to go... Well, I've blogged about it before and ask you can do, is take a deep breath and step forward. Luckily, nighttime and distance helps a 6' bloke when in a nice pink dress and heeled boots.

Andrea was kind enough to say I was okay at distance. We did share a chuckle about that. The trip back was thankfully uneventful, despite my nerves. Thing is, I'm only a part-timer: there's those of our number who have to do this all the time.

But, like a ride down the BMX track, a jump from the diving board to the water; you survive. Plus, it feels good... At least, once the nerves have settled. Perhaps that's the rush that pushes us on. Wanting to capture that feeling of being alive. That, or alive or all of yourself.

But, hey, maybe I'm just odd ;-) What about you dear reader, what drives you on? Fun? Adventure? Self-acceptance? Too much caffeine? :-)

Take care,

Friday, March 31, 2017

Rocks and stones


A couple of weeks ago at Chameleons, we had a researcher pop round. Yvonne was asking for volunteers to help, and yes, I did sign up.

So, this week I cycled into to town and we ran through the questions. I won't list then fully, nor my answers. Mainly because I feel they are now part of the research, and also, you probably know most of them. Come on, I've been blogging for a decade or so, so most of these are out there :-)

The thing is, after our chat, and as I cycled back, my mind turned over some of the memories. Sometimes I wonder if the mind is like a river. The fast flow of the everyday. The swirls and currents within. Lastly, there's the riverbed. Deeper things are buried; the rocks and stones of history and self. To turn them over will muddy the water.

Earlier, I'd read an article about grief and, as often happens, two themes can bump against each other. Sometimes, like then, they fuse. As I drew to a halt by some traffic lights, this thought came to me: Do trans people grieve for their body?

Do I now? No. I am mostly okay about it. After all, if I was different to what I am - a 40 something bloke - I'd not have my wonderful family. Mostly? Yes, there are times when being 6', wide-jawed and, well, blokey, do not gel with how I feel. I remember being a teenager, possibly not a dissimilar age to Wee Man, and measuring my height. How I wanted to be as tall as my mates. Yet... Yet, I also didn't want to be hairy; certainly not on my face, chest or legs.

Do I regret not doing something about it? No, and if I had, again, I wouldn't be where I am now. Plus, would I be any happier? Really, much as there's a slight frisson about baldness and Wookie pins, it could be worse. I get out. The Ever Lovely Mrs J accepts me for who I am, and ironically, not having smooth legs, means summer is easier. There's no lies or truth dodging when it comes to going swimming either. :-)

So, maybe, back in the day, my body isn't what I'd have picked. But, that's probably true for people who are ill. Incidentally, Yvonne asked if there was no comeback and, hypothetically, I could live and work as I wanted, what would I be?

That's easy. I'd be me. Just a bit more fancy on some days. Some days him, some days, her.... But always me.

Take care,

Friday, March 24, 2017



The Night Before a Night Out

It's Wednesday night and I've just about packed a bag. I say just about, as I'm not quite sure what I'll be wearing on Thursday. Why do I get this? Why is deciding what to wear so tricky?

I opened my wardrobe and ignoring the bloke work shirts that are on the right, there's tops, pretty skirts, leggings, jeans and the odd bit of sparkle. To my left, there's the tall cupboard, which, if I'm honest, is 60% mine; filled with dresses and my only coat. Well, my only 'Lynn' coat, because I'm not really an outdoors trans person. Okay, mostly. :-)

Instead, I've hedged my bets with an old favourite, a wrap dress that may now be over a decade old. I've also packed some jeans, as I'm sort of in a jeans & top kinda mood. The Ever Lovely Mrs J was kind enough to let me borrow some fancy heels. Again, I've a backup pair of black heels for the wrap dress & opaques outfit.

Is it Spring? It is that temperatures are not quite settled, and that we're in that not-quite-winter-not-quite-spring-colours mood? Or is it that last week, when I'd had a quick post-outing try-on, that I got a glimpse of what could be.

The camera never lies, except when it's in poor light and too far to see Wookie pins. The image to your right is something that's unlikely. Looking beyond the peep of footballer's knee, that's me sporting nearly nude tights and a skirt I've slimmed down to fit into. Yay for weight loss eh?

But... I know I must be practical and bare pins just ain't going to happen. There is, after all, The Agreement, and while it may not always be comfortable; it, like all good peace deals, keeps things settled. Settled, isn't IMHO always bad, even if you occasionally peek over the fence, to look at the slightly greener grass.


Oddly, Chams was somewhat quiet this time around. So it goes sometimes.

Thanks to long walks between offices and watching what I eat, the weight loss has continued. Okay, I've not yet hit my target weight (172), but I'm around 176 at the mo, which is helping me avoid crisps, chocolate and booze. Although the jeans were skinny and the top fitted, I didn't feel to odd, if that makes sense. Using the corset helped add shape, if that makes sense.

Anyhoo, back to Chams: Nicola and Steph from TrendCo came to visit and were kind enough to bring a number of wigs with them. If you're around Nottingham, do give them a call: they are really helpful and completely genuine. Unlike some wig vendors, they 'get' the part time trans market, so while they do stock human hair wigs, and top of the line items; they have some very affordable ones of very good quality.

Much fun was had trying on various styles, including one that made me look like an old school friend. I should add of the female persuasion, I don't need any help looking blokey. :-) Jo invested in a new 'do', which really suited her.

Steph was kind enough to try styling my red haired wig again, and I'm much happier with it now. It needs a wash and conditioning, before being reshaped, or teased even, into the new shape. Something for next week, if I can get some time 'working from home'.

Considering it's been many years since I've been able to have a haircut, rather than just using the clippers, sitting down to have your 'hair' done, is somewhat strange. Not in an unpleasant way, but a connection to the past. Not that my hair was ever styled in a feminine way. I wasn't confident enough for that, and now, it's not like I have a choice. Well, other than grade 3 or 6 ;-)

While I was tempted to buy said 'school mate' cut, I've got three wigs at the mo. The dark long bob with the highlights (my goto number), a trimmed red number and Old Ginger from yesteryear. I pretty much wear the dark one, even though it's not my natural hair colour. Well, what's left of it ;-) It's funny, I was talking to Steph how the brunette number feels right for me. It's something about the cut and the colours, that make it part of how I see myself. Well, when I'm in Lynn mode. My first wig was dark brown, as was the second one; albeit with highlights. Shame they don't last, but at the same time, that forces you to update your look.

Given all the comings & goings, we were late packing up, but luckily not too late for the all important 'quick photo' (thanks Val). Something to help remember the evening by.

Double trouble
Next week I'm meeting with a researcher to talk about what it is to be trans. Hopefully that'll go smoothly. Fingers crossed eh?

Take care,

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Training day


At the last Chams meeting, I was trying out an office outfit. Not because I'm changing jobs, or 'changing' at work, if you pardon the clumsy pun. No, I was seeing if I could manage a day time / office worker look. This is all because a few weeks ago, a local youth charity got in touch, asking if they could have some trans* awareness training. Well, having done some for a legal group not so long ago, why not? And if so, why not in Lynn mode?

Well, given the state of my nerves at 9 AM, the answer would be fear ;-)

But, much as fear occasionally serves as a not-so-gentle warning - you know, second thoughts about cliff diving, or wrestling a hungry tiger - sometimes, I think it's more fear of the unknown. That or it's close cousin, worry. Yeah, fear and worry have a place and they're useful survival lessons. They can, however, also hold you back. To that end, it was time to *ahem* 'man up' by putting on my make-up, and getting dressed for the office. Oh, and the trifling task of making it into town and being out in the daytime.

The Event

I'd been given a short brief around their training requirements and so I put together 10 slides. With the exception of one slide, they were all photos and then I'd talk about the topic each one suggested.

Slide deck
The clever cloggs amongst you will have noticed there's only nine. Well done, have a gold star and a moment to feel all smug. Are you done? No? Okay, a bit longer, then we'll move on. :-)

So, how did it go? Well, it was somewhat of a rush to get from the school run, home, changed, and off to the venue. It didn't help that a little way down the road, I'd realised I'd left my presentation on the printer. B****cks! :-D After a quick turnaround, duck inside and back out, I did reach town and get parked up. It was then a slightly brisk walk (in heels) to the venue. I was a little late given my detour and - duh! - I don't walk as quickly in fancy shoes, as I do in walking boots. Well, give this lady a science award eh? :-)

But, after catching my breath, it was on to plugging the laptop in and getting stuck in. I talked about what it was to be trans, what problems trans youth may face, what employed trans folk may experience, what is it to be in or out, names, how to be an ally, how to seek feedback and then a wrap up with 'Ask me anything'.

I thought it went okay, and it was a different crowd to the legal crew. I found a few one liners fell flat, but I moved on and just kept going. I had a few questions that had been sent in advance, so we covered those and there was a flutter of applause as we closed the meeting. I'm hoping that was more in appreciation, than "thank f*** she's shut up". You never can tell ;-)

Working the office look
Afterwards I headed back, pausing at Dorothy Perkins to see if they had some fancy shoes in my size. Sadly, they didn't, but it did make a good stop off for the obligatory shop mirror selfie. After all, photo-or-it-didn't-happen and all that. :-) I wasn't really paying any attention to the now lunch-time crowd, and like other times, I got home without incident. As it was still technically my lunch-hour, I tried on a few outfits and tested some of my older wigs. But more on that another time.

A few hours later, I received an email with some feedback. The positives were that they enjoyed it, felt empowered to ask their customers more (what do you need? how can I help? etc) and the Gingerbread Person walk through really helped them 'get it'. As to room for improvement, they'd have liked more on the support of trans people, so, with luck, something for another day. As I've permission to use some of the feedback online, it is:

I suppose until you started talking, we didn’t really realise what our needs were; other than just to start a positive conversation amongst staff and have a whole team approach to supporting our young trans group, really be aware of how their mental health might be impacted differently or not, and to just be more aware – and knowing we can ask questions.  So as far as I am concerned, you met our needs. 
The additional information you have added to signpost people too is the cherry on the cake, so when needs go beyond what we are able to work with in house, we can direct people to others who can support in that area.
You have been fantastic, your openness and humour were just what we needed... you offered perfect balance.  We shall be in touch if that’s ok for refreshers and support for new staff in the future...
All in all, there are worse ways to spend the mid-week.

Take care,

Friday, March 10, 2017

Cutting down


How's things? Hopefully ticking along nicely.

I have, at least for me, some minor good news. Over the last few weeks, a few friends have been saying how they've lost weight. I would usually reply that I'd found it.

Well, it seems I had the tipping point about two weeks ago. I was after some smart trousers (see later) and while trying on my go to size, 16, I realised that unless I started to cut down, it would be sayonara 16, as much as it was farewell 14.

What raised a wry smile was the recollection that as I got dressed (in bloke clothes) each morning, I was snubbing jeans or t-shirts that no longer fit. Instead, plumping - stop pointing at the back! :-) - shall we say, more generously proportioned troos. :-) I guess, faced with having to replace my female wardrobe with new larger sizes, when I've still got a skirt and dress I'd like to wear again, pushed a button in my head. Hence, I started a diet. Nothing too drastic, just no more booze (not that I'm a big drinker), fruit for lunch, lots of tea and avoiding snacks.

The good news is that over the last fortnight I'm down from 185lbs to 180lbs. Yes, this isn't a big number, but for me, there's a few things about it. Firstly, I'm finding it taxing, but not impossible. Previously, I'd be ravenous by the end of the day, and more than a little grumpy at being hungry. Secondly, it's progress in the right direction - not getting bigger! No doubt our Easter holiday will be a bit of a set back, but if I can be good at work, that's more days that are easier to cut down on, than weekends.

So, yeah, while I'll never be a Perfect 10 - if there is such a thing - so long as I can make the best of what I've got, I'll take that. I may have a bloke's build - after all, I'm a man - and all that goes with that. But I think I can, or maybe even have, learned to accept it. Listening to non-trans friends when they talk about their bodies, so much of it is similar. Yeah, maybe we trans folk have extra worries, but I think with work, time and help, we can get by those.

Chams-wise, Pat kindly organised for M & Co to visit, and they certainly seemed both jolly and very busy. We had an academic researcher visit us and Yvonne's questions and insights provoked some interesting discussions. More on that next week.

Take care,

Friday, March 03, 2017

The right kind of weird


Last month the Jones Massive were out for a meal with some old friends, who were visiting from overseas. There was much merriment, hugs, great food and talk about families, getting old, jobs and, of course, the state of the world. Don't worry, I shan't go in to the latter. I'm sure you have your own world views, just as I do.

Midway through the meal, B turned to me and said: "You the best thing about meeting up after all these years? You all get my sense of humour. I don't feel weird with you folks. We can pick up pretty much as if no time as passed."

Usually, this would cause a Brit to do one of two things: one, make a glib comment to defuse the possibility of actual emotion; or two, make their excuses and run for the hills ;-)

Luckily, neither of those things happened. Instead, and B added: "It's not like no-one understands me. It's more like I'm fine, so long as I stay on the well trodden path. If I go off on a curve, like I do with you guys. I'm left with an awkward silence.... It's like, it's like I'm wearing a mask, watching what I say to who."

I nodded, took a large swig of beer and answered: "Yeah, I know what you mean." :-)


So, dear reader, maybe it's not just us weird trans* folk who have to wear masks. Maybe it's those weird nice people who we're lucky enough to have as friends. Maybe, so long as their weird is okay with your weird, it's all Cool & The Gang.

Maybe the best thing about knowing you and your friends are weird, is that none of you need the masks any more. You can drop them at the door, with a welcome sigh and a big smile. After all, we're all strange here ;-)

So, here's to good friends and the warm glow of belonging. May the weekend be kind to you.

Take care,

Friday, February 24, 2017

Seeing Things from the Other Side


This week has, at least, as I type, a mixed bag. Nothing wrong, just a few ups and downs.

The Sting

Me: just a different style.
I'm sat in traffic just after the school run, add there's a large Range Rover wanting to turn right. Do Range Rovers come in any size other than large? They're like the opposite of the perfect shoe in that regard ;-)

As the road clears and the driver sets off, her bob cut hair swings as she double checks the road. A little voice within says "You're bald. You'll not have hair like that."

It's partly right. I'll not have long hair again. I've a buzz-cut, or skinhead, if you will. Sometimes, I miss my long hair. Not because it made me look female, and I don't miss the faffing about washing it, or brushing it. Now, I'm in the shower, a quick dry and I'm good.

But, I think, it would be nice to choose.... Not unlike being unable (or more accurately, unwilling) to pick your gender presentation.

Ah, but it's best, I think, to ignore such barbs, because they do little except rub salt in the proverbial wound. Instead, I try to think that I will not be just one presentation, all of the time. Chams, I guess, is my release to be the other side of me.

The Other Side of the Lens

When it came to packing for Thursday, I really took too many items. This is generally, a good indication that I don't know what to wear. For a day or three, I was a bit lost. Nothing I thought of seemed to work and I didn't want to repeat my lovely wrap dress from last week. Gah, what's an old trans bird supposed to do eh?

Well, to break up the outfit funk I'm having, I thought I'd try some opaque hold ups. Usually, I wear a pair of skin tone tights and an opaque set over the top. That or some thicker flesh tone ones and sheer black on top. It's not perfect, but hey, it works. Such is life in the Wookie zone ;-)

With the would-be shop visiting next month with some trousers and, well, frankly jumpsuits (I find that sometimes it's fun to just try things). I was planning with thin tights and dark hold ups for a quick change. But, having drawn a blank at two supermarkets, and the local Boots, on a whim, I tried my luck at a village lingerie store. Yeah, we're well posh down our way ;-)

I walked in and said hi to the sales lady. There was a wall of tights to my right, although they all looked sheer. I asked if the store stocked opaques, preferably hold ups, and in large. She lead me to a display at the rear of the store. "We only seen to have medium. Will these be okay?" I looked at the back and as the Ever Lovely Mrs J is only a little shorter than me, I knew medium wouldn't work.

"Sadly not. Not as [insert Mrs J' first name here] is fairly tall and size **." After a spot of rummaging, she found some ones in large, bless her.

We got chatting as I paid, and somehow the subject of gents buying lingerie for themselves came up. Now, at no point had I said the opaques were for me, nor was I asked. So, I said "If this isn't an odd question, can you tell when a chap is buying something for themselves?"

The lady thought about it and said that in her experience, gents who do are very nervous. The lurk outside a bit longer than gents buying for their partner. Also, they tend to hover about in the shop, seemingly not fully able to buy.

Fascinated, I asked if she had many and she said she had a regular number. She then went on to say she tried to help as best she could, with suggestions on sizes, fit and the returns policy.

I said that a sale is a sale, but helping people is what makes good customer service. Just like what she'd done for me. As I handed over the cash, she added, that some of those gents - "cross dressers, is that the right term?" - attended a group, and they'd sometimes go out in public.

I nodded, smiled and said "So long as people are safe as happy, eh?".

As she handed me my change, she added: "It must be awful having to lead a double life. Don't you think?"

I said, with hopefully a good Poker face, that I'd not given it a lot of thought, but I could see how that would be a worry. I added that I hoped people wouldn't mind, but I knew that some folk can be funny about being accepting.

The conversation drifted to Storm Dorris (English translation: the wind is a little brisk ;-) ) and she was glad the fallen tree had been removed. Luckily, I'd not come that way.


Given the above lady's comments, what can we learn if we want to be a bit more stealth?

  • Confidence, seems key. Walk straight in, smile, be polite and don't lurk about.
  • Help: Don't be afraid to ask for help and do accept it if offered. No need for excuses, just say "Hi, I'm after bra/corset/tights, in size blah. Could you help please?" Don't add in it's for my girlfriend or wife, I mean; why else would you be there? ;-)
  • Do I tell? If the assistant asks directly, don't cook up a story. Just say yes, chances are they already know. After all, why risk upsetting a customer?
  • Be polite: Don't be a perv. I don't want to hear from my female friends about how their undies may them hot, and I sure as spit, don't want to hear it from you either. Does the sales person need to know? No, no they don't. 

At least, those four are my take on things. What about you dear reader? Any pearls of shopping wisdom to share?

Take care,

Friday, February 17, 2017

The Art of Normality


Due to a dreaded Health & Safety audit - apologies for any shock or distress, this may have caused UK readers - at the Chameleons venue, we had to dispose of an old stereo. I say old, it had a CD and possibly a tape deck. I guess it's my age, because that feels quite fancy. :-) Hmm.... I'm now wondering how many years ago, the Jones family recycled by old stereo separates. It may well have been before Little Miss was born, and she'll be 10 this year.

So, while I was in town, I dropped said stereo system off at British Heart Foundation. They're one of the few charities I know of, which, admittedly, isn't many, that will accept and sell on old electrical goods. Hopefully someone will snap it up, and it'll be a few more quid in the charity's bank.

Talking of banks, I paid the subs in and as I did so, the cashier spotted the title on the paying in slip. To keep things safe at home for me, and our other signatories, we picked a vague name. It's not 'social group', but for t'Interwebs, that's what we'll call it. "So," she asked, "What do you get up to at your social group?"

I could have lied, I could have been economical with the truth. It wouldn't have been outrageous to have said, "chat, drink tea and look after each other." But, no, I said we were a social and support group for transgender people, hence the vague community account name. "Do you get many visiting?" and we had a short chat about it, while the cash machine argued with the new five pound note. The new fivers won, should you be curious ;-)


While I was handing over the old stereo, I noticed an old CD in there. Erasure's Pop, no less. I remember them fondly from the 80s, and certainly Clarke's twinkly electropop, coupled with Bell's sometimes coded lyrics. Why coded? Well, much as Gay Rights were on the move in the 80s, our dear old Tory government oh-so-kindly responded with Clause 28.

For those of you overseas, or too young - and let's be honest, too lazy to use Google right now ;-) - this lovely bit of discrimination forbade teachers from 'promoting homosexuality'. Despite a few numpties, the UK has moved on from such, well... frankly, shite.

So Mssrs Bell & Clarke would cast their tunes and songs about love, regret and not-quite-fitting-in across the airwaves. All four channels, as that's all we had back then. Yes, kids - shock! horror! - no TV on demand, no YouTube nor Spotify. :-) Clearly, the not-quite-fitting-in struck the proverbial chord, and despite me hiding behind the front of heavy metal and rap, I always enjoyed Erasure.

So, how does this fit in with being out? Well, by happy circumstance, the BBC ran a news story about a teacher, Daniel Gray, who decided to come out to his school. Given some teenagers' (and parents') lack of empathy around the subject, I thought this was incredibly brave. The story is here, BTW and this is the bit that brought a tear to me eye:

One student came up to me after the assembly who I didn't know. I have never taught him before. He looked very nervous and a little shy. But he had something to say.
"Sir, your assembly has changed my life." 

Looking for answers
Like Mr Hanks' comments about solitude against loneliness, those simple words from that student went through my soul. What an incredible thing, as a young kid, to have a teacher like you. 

Sure, there's people in the paper, in the news, or - being modern - on the Internet. But, they are remote and don't always match the normality of your existence. Perhaps, I'm really typing about my history, rather than speculating what the student felt. Apologies.

So, yeah, the normality of existence. Normal, much as it's another word for average. To me, normality is something else. It's the day-to-day, it's the regular and routine. No drama. No excitement. No, you can just be you and dare I say, people accept you without any fuss or bother.

That, for me, is what I hope being out is. To just be part of the every day. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again, if just one person reads these prattlings of mine and thinks that there is hope, that things will get better, I'm good.

Do I think of the false platitude around "hang on in there?" No, because I do believe that things get better, if you do hang on. If I look back at the fear - yes, fear - that I had at school about what it meant to be trans, I can say, that I couldn't wish for more. I have a dear wife, the Ever Lovely Mrs Jones, who loves me, two incredible kids and I have the good fortune to be part of Nottingham Chameleons. A group of people who 'get' who am I and as there for me, as much as I'm there for them. 

So, yeah, things did get better.

Take care,

Friday, February 10, 2017

Lessons through life


Ah, Winter's treating us to a last hurrah, with a flutter of snow. I'm surprised the UK hasn't shut down. We don't do well with anything other than mild rain and slight wind. Stop that giggling at the back. :-)

I've had the pleasure to be mostly working from home today and Little Miss was stopping over at Granny's. Yeah, an early half-term for some lucky folk eh? :-) With all that in mind, that meant less rushing and waiting on the school run, a chance for a brief lie-in, making coffee for the Ever Lovely Mrs J and, in the gaps between work emails, carrying out a few admin duties.

Today's was updating the forum for Chameleons. That took longer than I imagined, but it's done now. Phew! Funny, even with back-ups and off-line copies, there's that little frisson of fear that you may suddenly get a visit from Mr Cock-up. Older readers may wish to ask if the spare room has been prepared. ;-)

Faulty Goods

Talking of cock-ups, my phone decided to start to play silly buggers last weekend. So, I took it in for repair, I got the usual "nothing we can do here, guv" - which is odd, considering this is Nottingham, and not a place you usually encounter Dickensian wheeler-dealer ne'er-do-wells. ;-)

Deep, calm breath.... :-) A week later and after four lengthy telephone calls, I now have a replacement phone and I'm not going to be charged nearly 70 quid for a new switch. Like much in life, a right foul-up usually starts with poor communication and that's when the problem starts. But, it's all sorted now (I hope), and I'm back in the on-line world. Odd, while I know I do spend a bit of time using my phone, this week has really driven it home, how much I rely on it. Not just texting the Ever Lovely Mrs J, but taking photos of every day life, finding out when my next appointment is, to checking anti-social media.


Last night was Chameleons and it was great to catch up with people I'd not seen in a while. Val was back from her travels and Sandi had recovered from a bad dose of flu. We're making headway with the funding. That's working its way through the banking system and it looks like we're on track for Muggins here, to start dealing with a more of the organisation. I would like to say a heartfelt thanks to Sandi and Tracey for the work and love they've put into keeping group going. So, no pressure eh? :-D

After last year's 'big want', I finally found something - well, two dresses - that went with the little boots I bought. Do you get this? A want for a particular look, some shoes or make-up? Actually, why am I even asking this? If you're reading this, you're trans, so probably yes! :-)

I should say a quick thanks to Val for her handy camera work. Oh, and Nicole for explaining the basics . Funny the things you learn eh? :-)

The outfit for
the evening
Road testing for
another day

So, it seems that little boots need a higher hemline to work. Again, another school day.

Take care,