The year turns on

Yesterday was noticeably colder than it has been, now I am sure that most people will have noticed a drop in air temperature, but I was very struck by the drop in soil temperature.   Now I know that not many people spend a lot of time with their hands in the soil, but as a professional gardener that is exactly what I do.

To me this means a few different things, as a gardener I think that the year has turned and we have today entered the next season, call it Autumn or Fall, it is here now, the summer bedding will come out and be replaced with violas and bare soil, leaves will be swept, and grass will stop growing.   The hours available for work reduce, and the amount of work available declines.   Personally it means that it is colder, as I work outside I keep warm by wearing lots of layers. that means a tee shirt, a cord shirt, then a sweater and if needed a fleece, lower down  I wear my tights under my trousers for work.   Now I will admit I quite like this, it is a sanctioned way of underdressing as well as keeping warm.   At one point last year my wife accused me of enjoying wearing the tights, and then went on to say that she didn't like the feel of tights underneath trousers, I was very tempted to say "then maybe I should start wearing skirts more often" but discretion saved me that day.

The other thing with shorter days and less work to fill them, there are more opportunities to cross dress.   The Royal Academy have a Degas exhibition on at the moment, I think that may well be my next major outing next month.

Small things

There are some small things that give me a great deal of joy when I see them.   Of course I am not immune to the kittens and flowers, but in this case I am thinking in terms of my own presentation.   I am quite convinced that the small details are important in our presentation, the whole image can be spoilt - the whole game being given away - by inattention to something that may not appear important.

To that end I recently bought a very nice double breasted ladies wool-mix overcoat, made by Windsmoor.   Normal retail price for this would be between £250 and £300, I bought this one from Age Concern Sidcup for £9.99 I am now looking forward to winter!   Along with a man's overcoat other potential giveaways are wearing a gents watch, wedding ring without an engagement ring, a man's wallet rather than a purse; like I said little detail.   But I started off talking about small things that give me pleasure.

I am lucky that for a man I have quite small hands and feet so although not all shoe styles go up to my dainty size 8 (sometimes I can get away with 7 1/2) mostly I can get whatever I want in a size that fits from normal shops (budget allowing).   Also I do like the look of my hands with some nail polish and rings.   I always wear my wedding ring, as I am always married, but remove a bit of hair, add a dress ring under the wedding band and I feel so very feminine, I give myself a little thrill every time I look down and see my own hands (as in the photo above stuck in traffic on the way home last weekend)

I'm sorry Kevin

I have been thinking about how much has changed in recent years, it is now relatively simple for us girls to go about our lives, indeed even to share with each other through the Internet.   Certainly before the web there was very little chance of finding anyone else to talk issues through with.   Even if we do not join in with the fora, we do at least know of their existence.   Not so long ago most of us were isolated, fearful of talking about our "interest" in case we were branded as perverts, or worse.   I understand that it is not too long ago that the Police would routinely have arrested any one wearing gender inappropriate clothing and attempted to prosecute for indecency.  

With that background it must have been so very difficult for those pioneer transgendered people to go through transition, rejected by society and often family as well.   ARound 20 years ago there used to be a trombone player in one of the pro bands I gigged with, I'll call him Kevin.   Now Kevin was a lovely sensitive musician, and a very fine trombone player, it must be said however, that he could be a little difficult to get along with.   I like to think that I can rub along quite well with most people, I have a pretty broad spectrum of interest so can usually find some common ground.   With Kevin it was different, he was so competitive, his motorbike had to be more powerful and faster, his football team better, his PA louder, I could go on but I think you get the picture.   Typical competitive aggressive too much testosterone young man.

Not us! we can actually play the instruments

Well you would be wrong, I was!   I recently played in an orchestra with an older trombone player with the same surname as Kevin, when I mentioned this it came out that the older man was Kevin's father, that they did not see each other, that they did not talk, and that Kevin had transitioned.   This was not the term the father used, I would rather not repeat some of the language he used to describe his son.   He would certainly not accept that Kevin was now his daughter.

If only I had known before, I don't know what I could have done, but looking back Kevin was clearly in pain all the time, fighting against his own nature trying to show how macho he was.   I hope that if I had known I could at least have offered some sympathy, understanding and compassion, I think he must have needed it.   I don't know what name Kevin uses now, but if you are reading this then now that you know who you are I hope you know who I am, and I'm sorry.

Sunday Morning Ramblings

It's Sunday morning, and I'm just waiting for the bathroom to come free, since that means waiting for both my wife and daughter to use it first I should have a while to wait.   Now I am older Sunday morning have simple pleasures like, a new razor blade; having a shower without having to rush to work; an hour or so peaceful time to myself while the ladies are getting ready.

It has crossed my mind that if Sunday was a dressing day that I could spend with my family, then  the bathroom would never come free, and we would all end up rushing rather than the relatively relaxed time I now have.   As they say everything has it's advantages.    Earlier in the week I wrote of some of my new purchases, well yesterday I did have a little time, just enough to try on my new undies, and check that my boobs fit, and I have to say everything fits very nicely and I am very pleased with my purchases.

Now I am looking forward to spending the afternoon in front of the TV watching the sport I have recorded, there is the second semifinal of the Rugby World Cup and the Korean Grand Prix, I hope to see victories for Jenson Button and New Zealand, but most of all a good contest in both cases.

Halloween

Most of the time I post pretty lighthearted reports on Paula's activities.   There are plenty of other places on the net which do the in depth analysis stuff, and plenty more that do the - err - less tasteful stuff.   My aim is really just to share the experience.   However now and then there are some slightly heavier musings.   I have been trying to prepare a post or two in advance and see that the two I have prepared fall into the slightly heavier category.   This is the first, unless I get inspired this afternoon you will get the second tomorrow, since I will be spending the morning running a work party at my church clearing the gardens, I doubt if I will have any cross dressing experiences to relate, so here goes.

I can't help but notice that all the American bloggers are getting very excited about Halloween, how it gives them the license to dress however they choose, to go out in public and not be questioned about their choice of clothing.   I have never been to happy about the concept of celebrating Halloween, maybe this is just a reflection of my early upbringing, I went to a Church school, and sang in the Church choir, the Church in question being All Saints, so for me it was always All Saints day that was celebrated not the day before!

In the UK we basically don;t celebrate Halloween, although it has been slowly catching on over the last few years.   Therefore latterly I thought it was just my natural anti American bias that prejudiced me against Halloween, you know the whole, cultural imperialist bit "We don't celebrate Halloween, we're English" was very much my attitude.   However now that I am a Christian I find the whole thing rather distasteful.   The idea of celebrating evil, is well, wrong.   I know a lot of you will say that it's just a bit of fun, but maybe that is the clever, bit, making us think that it is not important.

But the real problem for me is that I really like the idea that for at least one day each year everyone has the freedom to dress and behave how ever they like, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else.   There are people whose actions and opinions I respect who are going to dress up for Halloween, Stana of Femulate fame, Meg from call me Meg, Vanessa at Crossdresser Haven, all of whom talk about the joys of dressing on Halloween.   I can only surmise that it is very different in America.   Although I no longer work in an office, I could not imagine any circumstances where it would have been acceptable for me to go to work dressed, on one day a year while appearing to be "normal" the rest - like they say "only in America"

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I have been cross dressing now for more years than I care to admit, over the last year I have been fairly serious, as in trying to make a reasonable presentation, a decent "Femulation", but up till now I have never had any proper help in the boob department.   I have some heavily padded bras, and some "chicken fillet" breast enhancers which have got me by up till now.   I finally bit the bullet and ordered some, they came today and I am now just waiting to try them out, well that's the good, the bad, my wife took in the delivery and is very disapproving, I shall have to work very hard to make up some brownie points now.

The ugly was a mistake I so nearly made this morning.   I had to send an e-mail to a friend which included a link to a church website, instead of copying across that link I copied one to a post a made on CrossDressersforum.com if I had not noticed this in time I think it would have caused me quite major embarrassment.   It just goes to show the importance of checking everything twice!

New Boots and Panties

Well as you may gather it was quite a weekend, starting with the Croydon Trans group meeting on Saturday night, then quite an extended bit of Paula time on Monday.   I was more or less dressed under my drab when I left my mother's house in Cardiff, so it was only a matter of moments to put on my make up and wig, and get underway as Paula.   I only stopped once in Cardiff for some fuel, and then again at some services.   I think I just got the timing very wrong, there was a long queue for the ladies, and that would definetely have taken me outside of my comfort zone, although I suppose it would have enhanced the real experiece of being a  woman.

I have already posted about my hair do at Sunbury, and mentioned going shopping in Kingston. what I didn't mention were my purchases, I bought a pair of bronze killer heels, and I popped intop BHS and bought the bra and pantie set I wrote about http://paula-paulasplace.blogspot.com/2011/09/animal-prints.html I have not had an opportunity to wear them yet, but am looking forward to trying them out.

France Part five - the last

This is now more parts than I had days on the trip, but this last day was eventful, rest easy this is the end of the story.   My plans had already gone out the window as it was so late when I eventually left Bar-le-Duc.   I now had to use the motorway all the way, and make decent time of it as well.   Fortunately being empty I could keep a pretty good steady speed up, and just had one quick stop to but fuel, for both Gloria and me, and to get rid of some of that coffee.

I had travelled all the way from London to St Etienne and most of the way back in a van, I had been walking around small provincial towns in a foreign country dressed as a woman, through all that I had not had a single contact with officialdom, I had not even had my passport checked between Britain and France, and other than at the ticket control nobody had shown any interest in what was in the back of this rather old, and not overly smart van.   Of course now I was in a hurry that all changed.   Leaving the last payage section of the Motorway there was a Police check point, specifically stopping and checking British vehicles heading for Calais.   Anything that they thought might be a suspicious was stopped and searched, so of course I was pulled over.   A smartly dressed middle aged woman, driving a van, on her own, if I was the Police I would have stopped me!

I had to wait while a couple of youngish lads in a BMW convertible in front of me were getting the full treatment, carpets up, tool kit spread out, everything was being checked including what looked like a pretty thorough personal search of the passengers.   I will be honest I was worried!   Although I had been treated well everywhere I had been I didn't know if I was breaking any sort of law, or how liberal minded these Gendarmes might be.   Well they were thorough, they were very polite with all the officers speaking decent English (again I was addressed as Madame until they had checked my passport and Driving documents then I was addressed as Madame G&*%$£n) the back of the van was checked, they looked under the seats, under the bonnet (hood for the Americans) and underneath the floor.   Went through all the documents and some bags I had in the back.   As I say they were thorough, polite and friendly, and I was saved the body search, I’m not sure who would have been most embarrassed.  I was then left to get on, with a wish for a pleasant journey home, (the lads in the BWM were still there when I left it looked as though the seats were about to be taken out).

My Sunglasses

Now I was really behind schedule, and it was a toss up as to whether to stop for some shopping.   I decided on a quick stop a mad dash around the supermarket, chuck it in the back and high tail it to the ferry port.   I was just in time to catch the ferry.   Off course I was checked through ticket control, then French border control wanted to check my passport, and then British border control wanted to check my passport.   Needless to say my passport and driving license and all my papers are in my male name, and show my title as Mr. while here I was fully made up, dressed as a smart middle aged business woman with all the appropriate jewellery and accessories.   The only slight query was the British Passport officer looked at my photo (which shows me with a beard!) and asked me to remove my sun glasses so he could see my face better – MY SUNGLASSES!

A ferry

I drove straight from the controls onto the ferry without any waiting as they had already started boarding while my passport was being checked, I certainly wasn't going to get changed now, I was just going to enjoy the crossing, spend some time and a little money in the Duty Free shop, and relax.   After all I only a short journey home from Dover, even taking it steady I could be back in the bosom of my family two hours after landing.

So much for my plans, all that journey – nothing, now I was stopped and searched again, by British customs.   I don’t know what they thought I was hiding, or whether they just wanted a closer look at me so they could have a laugh later, but once again all my bags were gone through, this time with the added shopping, under the bonnet behind the seats, again a pretty thorough search, and mercifully again I was saved from a body search! At last I left the port feeling as though I could use some of that duty free booze I had in the back, still not long now.   Or so I thought, now for the only time since I have had Gloria I am pulled over by the Police!   This time they just wanted check my documents, and by the way what’s in the back – NOTHING!   By now it was getting quite difficult to keep my cool, somehow I managed as I really didn't want to draw any more attention to myself than necessary, I eventually made it home over four hours after the ferry docked; and yes I did sit down and hit the duty free.

As it had been such a full and trying day I was more than happy to collapse into bed.   It was only the next day that the post outing blues hit me.   I always have such a good time when I go out that it is a real "downer" going back into drab, after an extended period exclusively as Paula the down was that much bigger.   I don't know whether I will have another opportunity like this but I do have the memories, now I wish I had more photos as well.

Hair today gone tomorrow

I am always impressed by how nice people are to Paula, very often much nicer than they are to him.   I had am instance of this yesterday.  

Now for me one of the problems of trying to look reasonably convincing as a woman is my hair.   As I am past a "certain age" I am going grey, and more to the point my hair line is try to escape to the top of my head.   So far I have been wearing a wig, initially a rather cheap but not too bad grey wig I picked up on e-bay. recently I bought a much better, much more realistic wig from the excellent Mary of Fosters Wigs in Streatham.   The trouble is that I am not particularly comfortable, I am always conscious that I am wearing something on my head, and always worried that it is not straight, or that my own hair is showing making it obvious that I am wearing a wig.

I know that with everything else this is a minor point but it worries me.   Well while driving home from Cardiff yesterday I decided that it was time for a hair cut, there is something about my hair that means men can't cut it.   Well they can cut it just not well.   Over the years the good hair cuts I have had have been by women, so as well as deciding to get a hair cut I wanted to make sure that it was cut by a woman, as I was dressed I also decided that I would try a ladies salon.   Now I am aware that for a lot of CDs this is no big deal, but for me it was a first.   I did not want to go locally so I stopped in Sunbury, and went into the http://www.sunburyx.com/ salon.   As they weren't to busy I only had to wait about 15 minutes, while waiting the other customers engaged me in conversation, talking babies all very nice and very relaxed.


All mine



 I saw Dionne and explained my problem, i.e. my own hair was too long so I needed it to not stick out under the wig, or if possible to cut it so that it could be styled in a more fem manner so that I didn't have to wear the wig at all.  



She decided that there was not enough length or body at the front, and too much at the back, a wash cut and blow dry later she had transformed my hair more than I would have thought possible.   I was so pleased that I asked her to take a photo for me, that's it on the left.   I liked the look very much and did not put the wig back on before going shopping in Kingston.   As I was out and about I was not conscious of getting any more attention than I would have 

Bought from Fosters

if I had a wig on, and certainly felt more comfortable.   At the moment I don't think this can be a long term solution as by this morning most of the extra body had had to be combed out, but with a little more length at the front I think I could go for this for special outings.

Dionne and the others were really nice to me all the time I was there, treating my just like one of the girls, I did ask her permission to use her name and details on this blog and she was very happy, so if you are around Sunbury and need any of the treatments offered I am more than happy  to recommend popping in.   That having been said, next time I will be making an appointment.

So here is the question, which looks better, my own hair styled by the lovely Dionne or the wig?   This is not a rhetorical question I would like answers please, either add a comment or e-mail me.   I will try to answer every e-mail so feel free.





France Part 4

So this was to be my last day in France, and my last day of this extended Paula time.   I was determined to make the most of it and have a full day.   My plan was to make my way north to Calais mostly by N roads, this is nicer and saves the tolls.   I would stop at St Omer for lunch in a restaurant I know there before a quick stop at a supermarket to stock up on booze.   Although France is no longer much cheaper than the UK there is always a better selection at my end of the price scale, along with one or two things that just aren’t available at home.   After shopping I would get changed back into drab and take my face off ready for the ferry back to Dover and any dealings I may have to have with border control officials, immigration, customs etc. So a good plan for a nice day.

I showered, shaved, and got myself presentable.   I had a solitary pair of trousers with me and this was the day I wore them, however as they are black slacks with a high waist and no pockets they are obviously fem, especially when coupled with fishnets, court shoes and a black satin blouse, my grey M & S jacket finished off this outfit nicely.   Though I say it myself I thought this was quite a classy look, just the little bit of the fishnets showing on the top of the foot and the odd glimpse of ankle, really making it a little bit special (dare I say sexy), rather than all plan black and grey.

After a good breakfast I was all set.   Unfortunately this was Gloria’s cue for a sulk.   All loaded up and ready to go, apart from a flat battery!   One of the hotel staff tried to give us a jump start but we could just not get enough power across to start the van engine ( a big old diesel can take quite a bit to get it going).   So they called a local garage to come to my help.   I was all packed away and the room had been cleared so the staff invited me to wait in the restaurant area, where the breakfast buffet was still laid out, after a couple of pints of coffee the truck eventually arrived.

I think they were probably pretty quick but when you are waiting these things always seem to take ages, add to that a certain nervousness about dealing with mechanics and garage staff in a language I am uncertain of dressed as was.   I have to say that the chap who came was fine, we just about managed to communicate, and the staff at the garage did there best.   At all times I was addressed either as Madam, or after they had checked the log book etc. as Madam G*&#$%n   While I was waiting I was seated in a pleasant waiting area, given more coffee, and even shown the new season Ford cars.   All that coffee took a bit of a toll and had to be lost, for once I was very glad to be able to use the ladies, French loos are rarely the best and I hate to think what the gents in a garage would be like!   It seemed like I was there for an age, eventually they told me that the alternator was OK so I would need a new battery, I acquiesced, a new battery was fitted, paperwork completed and I was on my way. YEH