No Running, No Splashing, No Bombing, No Petting

Well I did it. Today I went swimming.

Its been a strange brew of the rekindled feelings. There was a mix of the nerves and excitement that came with my first steps out in public as Jenny, a pinch of self satisfaction from clearing my hurdle, a soupcon of embarrassment for making such a fuss, and a good dollop of school days nostalgia.

The nerves and excitement are obvious from my previous post and thankfully the nerves didn't last long. The municipal baths were at the grandly named Fenton Manor Leisure Centre. (Fenton is the one town of Stoke that Arnold Bennet missed out in his Annie of Five Towns. I cant ever recall it having a manor though). It had definitely been tarted up from the last time I visited, about 8 years ago. The main difference is that it now has a new shared sex changing room with dozens of private cubicles, each with a token operated locker. This was very different from my time at Cheadle Swiming Baths when I was at school, where we all sat on wooden slatted benches and as a chubby awkward boy I found the whole naked except for speedos changing room experience a real ordeal. Especially being such a gender confused boy. In those days, clothes and effects used to be stowed in small plastic baskets and handed over to an attendant behind the desk. Each basket had a number and I always forgot mine and had  to wait back till everyone else had reclaimed their belongings thereby extending the ordeal.

Well back in the now, I changed in my roomy,warm cubicle and stuffed all my clothes into the locker. Once out, I took one last look in the changing room mirror, tummy sucked in and boobs thrust out I strode straight into the pool area. This changing room led straight out to poolside, without that shallow sheep dip of cold, disinfected water that was a feature of my boyhood swimming pool.

The pool was relatively busy, mainly with the kids. The tricky bit was always going to be poolside, but I remembered that confidence is the biggest disguise so I strode with a purpose. I gingerly made my way down the pool ladder to the sanctuary of the water. Once I had found a lane devoid of child obstacles, after a brief bout of water treading I struck out to do some meaningful swimming.

As I slowly crawled through the water my mind wandered. All the trimmings aside, this was just like that pool of old. There was the same diving platform with a permanent "Temporarily Out Of Use" sign. The same stern lifeguards with their whistles and frowns of authority. That same stinging chlorine flavoured water (man has come along way in the 30+  years since my first swim, what with the internet, mobile phones et al, but we have never found an odourless, stingingless, tasteless substitute for Chlorine) and of course that same sign listing the most serious of swimming pool crimes. Sadly, "No Petting" seems to have vanished from the Do Nots. I guess that's the permissive society for you.

After a hour I was flagging so it was time to get out. That signaled  reemergence of my nerves. How had my makeup fared from the experience? Would I emerge from the pool with that telltale and unflattering stubble shadow. There was absolutely no way to know so I just had to braced myself. I clambered inelegantly out of the water and scurried back to the changing room and stood in front of the full range mirror. I was delighted to see that my cover stick and foundation cover had pretty much survived (Boots No7  Quick Cover in dark and Maybelene Superstay foundation in Cameo). The only problem was that I hadn't used waterproof mascara so standing there, wet through, hair  bedraggled and blackened eyes, I looked like a cross between an Elephant Seal, Meatloaf and a Panda. However most important of all I still looked relatively womanly (I hope).

As I sat drying off in my cubicle, the self satisfaction I mentioned kicked in. I know it sounds smug, but I was really pleased with myself. Although, swimming is a relatively mundane everyday activity, it was the one thing I had avoided since transitioning. Now I've done it, there is no area of my life that I compromise through being transgendered. This was the very last, small missing jigsaw piece of my public Transitioning. So if I ever get round to finishing the Becoming Jen post thread this could be the full stop.

Swimming Against The Tide

Well I suppose the title could be a good metaphor for most of my life, but this post is about more prosaic matters.

I have crumbled in the face of much urging and rejoined a local Slimming World Club (its not a typo slimming as in diet club). I first joined the club the same time last year for about 3 months and did pretty well. However my arrogance kicked in and I thought I could do without the club and save myself five quid a week, but I have just spent this year deluding myself that I was on a diet plan and pretty much failing. So now I am back on the diet club wagon. Me and an old friend Heather went along last Wednesday. Now before I used to just do the weigh in and then go, but Heather rightly wanted to stay for the meeting that followed. The meeting was taken by a tiredly chirpy lady called Vicky and involved her reading out the results of each member to either applause if they had lost, and brief sympathetic silence if they had put weight on, before they were probed softly about this week on the diet and how they were going to continue or improve the next. Each comment passed was complemented by knowing nods and mummers of agreement from around the room. Anyway whatever was said worked because I left the room enthused at the challenge ahead. I do have another motivating factor in that I will need to get down to a target weight of around 16 stone before I can have that crucial rewiring surgery, I need

I started to think that if I was going to make real progress towards my target then I need to add some meaningful exercise to my diet. The one form of exercise that I has worked for me in the past is swimming. Now going to the swimming baths is almost the Holy Grail of post transition passing. For 99.87% (always a stickler for accuracy) of my life now I don't really pay any thought to my gender identity or even worry if I pass or not (I have worked out that I now pass totally at a minimum distance of 7 m), but passing in public in a swimming costume!! well that will need some thought planning and a smidgen of courage. However once I had started to think about it I would have been disappointed to bottle out. So....yesterday I went out and bought my first ever swimming cossie. It was a struggle to find one as there are few shops that stock my size and most of the swim wear has been put back in the stock room to make room for Christmas party frocks. My new Costume is black (always a plus) fairly low cut with black and white print straps that go across the neckline. I have, after much deliberation included the pic right. Now my real worries on wearing a swimming costume in public are 7 fold:

1. Clingy swimsuit material is never going to make me look anything but lumpy.
2. Have my hormones given me some sort of passable shape
3. Without a bra pushing my boobs up will they just disappear compared to my tummy.
4. Any unwanted unsightly overlooked hairiness
5. Can I find any makeup cover that can survive the dipping
6. Duh duh duhhhh...Can what's left of my, shall we say, frontal furniture, be at all noticeable.
7. I think 7 fold has a better ring than 6

Well I decided I needed some advice so yesterday afternoon I went around my closest friends and made them view a brief Miss World style Swimwear Round. Thankfully the general response is that I looked okish. In fact I looked kinda like a normal overweight woman, which although is not flattering in itself, is the look I was going for. Although from the pic on the right this swimsuit make me look miserable! The important thing is, that it was felt I be able to pass. To be honest I was surprised at the results. I have never really looked at my shape post hormones but my figure definitely has a degree of femininity about it. My fat deposits have tended to go south, and I would definitely be described as pear shaped (Actually more like a bag of pears shaped), but it is defiantly more female than male. The biggest concern was that the costume flattened my boobs, so I am debating whether I can secrete some form of bra support underneath. All that taken in I have committed myself to visiting the pool this week, and am genuinely excited at the prospect.

Goodbye Blackberry Day

* A short reply sent from a handheld blackberry thingy *----- Original Message -----From: Harvey, JennyTo: 'jenny.2000@hotmail.co.uk' Sent: Wed Sep 17 00:49:17 2008Subject: Goodbye blackberry day

I now have a new toy in my collection. In their wisdom unison have provided be with a blackberry smartphone thingy, so today I am practicing my mobile emailing skills or "Blogging on The Go"

7.30 am. Sitting on the car park of the north staffs hotel killing 20 minutes before my train. Even after 3 years of full time womanhood I still can't accurately gauge how long it will take me to get ready in the morning. 3 still swing between being annoyingly early and very annoyingly late for morning appointments.

7.53 am sitting in my reserved seat in the last carriage of the train. On the plus side there is nobody shoehorned next to me. Its not that I don't relish company but I always feel sorry for the poor sod who is stuck on with my left shoulder an inch from their nose for 200 miles. Mind you its not as bad as when I walk down a plane to the frightened stares of 'I hope she's not next to me' . Second plus is that I am travelling backwards which I always feel is safer in the event of a head on crash! On the downside this carriage has the resigned despondent air of a Lehman Brothers (or insert latest banking giant to go bust) staff party . 2 hours so its headphones on for an episode of the genius ''down the line '' and remember I am from a military background

9.45 am walking from euston I have discovered that walking and emailing at the same time is both diffiklut and <screech of brakes> dangerous.

10 am Sitting in meeting room just found out that the meeting is not until 11 am. Clearly the secret of my success is not attention to detail!I am debating whether it is rude and bad form for me to have half an hours power nap (snooze)1 pm meeting done and dusted. Sadly snooze never happened due to others arrival. I have rescheduled snooze for the train journey home

1.35 pm the train has just left (thankfully with me on it )I have just scoffed an oversize cheeseburger and managed an incredible feat of self justification and downright delusion that it is in fact fits in with my diet.

2.17 rooting through my handbag I have just realised I am carrying 3 separate camera devices. My own mobile (5 mega pixels) by blackberry (2 mp) and my camera (10 mp). Modern living is clearly mad! I have a ridiculous 17 mp at my disposal, but the sadly photographic skill of a blind chimp with an inner ear balance problem.

2.45 pm I am now feeling very dizzy. This is because I set myself the pointless challenge of photographing myself through a camera, a camera phone, a Blackberry and a mirror. This proved more difficult than first envisaged due to an insufficient number of hands and a train that wouldn't keep still. As you can see (when I upload pic) the fruits of my endeavour are very poor to say the least, but there is a blurry bit of me showing.

4.30 pm On vickys sofa. Taking a hours break before returning to the office. Dizzy head has now been replaced by a stress headache caused by the night to come. Indulged in some dog fighting (literal not aviatory) with the part canine part Graboid from the film Tremors that is Spartacus, Vicky's dog.

6 pm back in office 'preparing' for monthly branch meeting. This is my ritual battering on behalf of our members. As usual my preparations involve frantic last minute photocopying. Just realised my carefully applied makeup of 12 hours ago was now looking tired (absolutely knackered more like) so some last minute plastering takes place.

10pm home on sofa trying to eat a diet kebab while gammo vainly tries to nick the 'meat '. All that lies between me and a degree of sanity is 500 pages of documents for a hearing that I am representing at tomorrow. I should probably get a good nights sleep but my head is still spinning from my meeting so I am going to indulge in some Wentworth Miller therapy, and watch the last 2 episodes of Prison Break.

* A short reply sent from a handheld blackberry thingy *

The Silence Of The Kittens

A survey of the subject of my posts that have elicited the most comments on average, has produced the following.

SUBJECT	AVERAGE No COMMENTS
My Transgender Struggle	10 (sadly also my shoe size)
Cute Cats and Kittens	92
Dating Disasters	68
Trade Union Stuff	1 (and that was me)
Fun With Physics	6.626 x 10(-34) or h
Blogging on Blogging	3
Moaning about Rail Travel	20 (minutes late)
The Mighty Stoke City FC	3-2 (vs The Villa)
vck43e6t2t26tttttttttttttttt	3332www (kitten on laptop)

On this basis I should now concentrate solely on dating and cats (please note the important and). However, since my dating and cat owning history still stand at 1 apiece this may amount to a very short and dull blog (obvious self joke to be inserted at readers discretion). Well today's post will be cat based anyway

Well this weekend I am menagerie sitting for Victoria, who has so wisely chosen to go camping in North Devon during the rainiest late August since records began (don't know if its true but you get the point).

Well I have just completed the morning roll call.

Duncan Rabbit & Dave Guinea pig, check; Spartacus the huge and stupid puppy, check; Mildred and indeterminate no of kittens (5 is best guess), check. As yet unnamed bathroom based spider, check.

So far so good. However there is one downside to sharing a house with such a menagerie and that is the incessant noise. I have just spent all night sleeping in the same room with the whole feline contingent of the household who have all insisted on mewing constantly or in the case of Mildred purring loudly. Some of the kittens are also getting more confident so when I awoke I had the 3 bravest perched on various parts of my body. They also seem to be multiplying. There are supposed to be 5 but I swear at one stage there were double that. I am begining to think that Mildred has actually mated with a Tribble. All said, the kittens are still annoyingly, achingly cute it's hard to stay mad at them for long. They are each developing different characteristics the 2 biggest and darkest are the leaders and will venture as far as the front door at the bottom of the stairs. The next 2 in size and courage generally take station half way up the stairs. I think these may be cleverest of the bunch and the smallest and timidest will usually stay at the top of the stairs with mother Mildred. My biggest fear this weekend is avoiding any squashage either underfoot or rolling in bed. So far I have thankfully avoided this....so far.

A failed attempt by the kitten clan to recreate the Bohemian Rhapsody video

Join My Campaign

Save The Mildred Five. Don't let the kittens be parted!