Thursday, 28 February 2008

Becoming Jen (Part 7)

The Sun Always Shines on a TV”

I was by now settling into a sort of pattern. When at home, I would pretty much dress all the time. Caroline became used to this and we carried on with our separate lives. However,I was firmly in the closet with the rest of the world. I didn’t really have any great plans or expectations; I was just taking baby steps as the opportunity came along. I would have still laughed at you back then, if you had said I would eventually transition to be full time.
After my first Tesco’s adventure had passed off without any great disaster, I became a regular at the 24 hour supermarkets! I ventured further afield (Asda at Woolstanton!) and slowly started visiting at a more reasonable hour, until I was eventually going before midnight (under the cloak of darkness, though). I was still self consciously avoiding other customers, or any interaction wherever possible. I had by now, started to improve on my look. I bought another wig, which was curly shoulder length and a darker brown. I liked it but Caz said it made me look like a Primary school teacher (not sure what’s wrong with that) I also needed to tackle the tricky issue of my breasts. Previously I had been stuffing my bra with rolled up tights. This was wholly unsuccessful in achieving a realistic look. I scoured the net for other options. All the artificial breast forms I found were either too expensive, or too small. Being a big gal and built like 2 normal sized people stuffed badly into one body, I needed breasts large enough to compensate. I eventually came up with a cunning plan. I filled, the two cut off legs of a pair of tights with a kilo bag of rice each (Uncle Ben’s Easy Cook Short Grain Rice, for all you fans of pointless detail) When knotted and kneaded around a little, these took on a pleasing shape and weight. When placed inside my bra they actually looked ok. The weight also gave them a respectably believable bobbing motion. Obviously the illusion was shattered if you actually touched them, as they felt like... errr, well, a bag of rice! I wasn’t unduly concerned though as sadly there was no chance of anyone wanting to touch them. These “breasts” came to serve me well, and I wore them for over 4 years (I did occasionally undertakeo a 10,000 mile rice change). One other bonus was that they made perfect pin cushions, if I was sewing (not a common occurrence), which did freak people a bit when I appeared to be stabbing myself! It was also comforting to know that if a natural disaster hit Stoke I had a ready made supply of survival rations. Unless of course the disaster was a flood in which case I would drown under the weight of 2 rice puddings!

Let’s put my breasts aside (back them I could do this literally!) I wasn’t being fulfilled by my nocturnal outings to supermarkets. It was so false a concept, and not the normality I craved. The buzz I'd had from my first adventure also faded. The drug analogy was that I now needed a bigger fix. I used to whinge on to Caroline that I was stuck in a rut and getting nowhere. Eventually one Saturday afternoon she said, “Stop moaning, why don’t you just get yourself out to the shops”. I faltered “I can’t go out in the daylight” she replied “Why not, what’s the worst that can happen. You honestly look ok, you will be fine” Either she was being very kind and encouraging, or she was just fed up with me around the house, who knows, or cares? I started to get that rising tide of confidence that had first led me to step out. I internally agonised “I shouldn’t’ do it...I could do it, couldn’t I...No I can’t...Why not?, I can...No I can’t, what if I get seen?...I can do it if I am careful....I am going to do it”. My mind was made up. My heart racing as I prepared for my adventure. I put on my reliable long denim skirt, a pink roll neck sweater and brown suedette boots. I was green to go! But how to get out of the house without the neighbours spotting? We lived in a terrace, so I got Caz to park the car directly in front of the house, engine running driver’s door open. I was like a very bizarre bank job. I went for it, and pretty soon I was driving away. In the daytime! Oh my good god above! I was convinced that every passing driver and pedestrian was staring at me. In actuality they were probably just fearing for their lives due my erratic driving while in such an heightened and agitated state. I soon calmed down after a bit. I decided to go to Stafford, our county town, about 15 miles away. I thought I would run less chance of bumping into anyone I knew. I pulled onto the multi story car park in the centre of Stafford. For a few exaggerated moments I sat in the car plucking at my courage. I was safe in here. Outside, peril lay ahead, but the rewards to my psyche would be worth it. As the car door thuded shut, there was no going back. I walked through the dimly lit echoey car park. All I could hear was the clip clop of my boots and my thump thump of my heart. The car park was busy on a sat afternoon, so there were plenty of people about. I looked downwards and headed onward, not giving anyone the chance to make eye contact. Out of the car park I was instantly in the brightly lit shopping arcade. I had arrived, as a Diva when the curtain raises! I was "crossing that floor". Why was no one staring at me? I felt like I had that big "Tranny" sign above my head, yet only I could see it. I carried on walking, concentrating so hard not to walk like a man. As I passed people, I did detect some looking at me, but no one said anything. Most people were just wrapped up in their shopping. I got more and more confident, but never relaxed. I kept looking back at people after they had passed me, to see if they were looking back at me and talking. I estimated about 1 in every 10 people looked back or remarked. But so what! I didn’t know them, and what could they do to me anyway? All this sounds quite a stressful experience, but the truth is I was on cloud nine (possibly even ten or eleven!) I was having a ball. I was just like all the other girls out shopping on a Saturday afternoon. With my confidence and mood at an all time high, I had the best afternoon of my life ever. I was doing normal stuff. I went into Boots the Chemist to buy same makeup. I queued up with everyone else, and although I must have looked like a giant at 6 foot 2 plus heels, no one seemed bothered. I got a drink and sandwich and sat on a bench. It was the absolute mundane-ness that was so hugely thrilling. The sun was shining, even in a Staffordshire November. This Diva was in her spotlight! The afternoon was a joyful blur of normality After a couple of hours the pain from my slightly too small boots pierced into my consciousness so I headed back to the car. As I sat there I reflected... I didn’t kid myself that I had passed as a woman, but the real success was that no one shouted at me, or laughed at me, or pointed at me or worse. Most people either did not notice me, or if they did they just didn’t really care, they had their own lives and problems. It was somewhat arrogant of me to think otherwise. I sat there and felt at absolute peace, for almost the first time in my life. For a brief moment I dared to consider that the impossibility of my dream, of living as a woman, could one day come true.... This time I did not sob...I had no need.

Back home, after a quick scout for neighbours, I got back into the sanctuary of my front room. To Caroline’s absolute credit, she listened intently while I rattled on about my afternoon. She seemed genuinely pleased for me. From that moment, even though our marriage was in name only, we got on much better. She was so supportive and encouraging. If she hadn’t pushed me that day, I might never have stepped out. I will always be grateful to her for that.

next time..pride comes before a fall

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Other uses for your Rice 'n' Tights© Breast forms

Pin Cushions
Ear Muffs (thanks to Eddie Izzard)
Extra protection in a head on car crash
Emergency rice based meals (please remove tights first!)
Bird feeders
Ugly paperweights
Travel pillows


brad said...

When you started the bit about the rice, the weight thing occurred to me. That was a smart idea of yours.

That was a great shopping outing for you.

Billy Whizz said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Billy Whizz said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Billy Whizz said...

Other culinary uses for tights. When we had our BBQ party last year I was making Koftas. However I forgot to de-frost the minced lamb and pressed on regardless (don't recommend trying to make Koftas with frozen rice as it kind of gives you frostbite).

Anyway, the extra water content made them a little soggy therefore they wouldn't stick to the skewers. After an epiphany we decided to cut the legs of a pair of tights (unused) and stuff the meat mixture in and squidge them about a bit. No end of water came out and thus the Koftas were made

Jenny Harvey said...

kebabs in tights!
I think me and vicky will pass on the barbeque when we come down

Billy Whizz said...

They weren't served in tights, jsut helped with the preparation

Victoria said...

Im just testing this.....i have got myself a google acount just so i can leave comments....i have no interest in your breasts

Jenny Harvey said...

Well done you!