Winning a Million

Although I haven't been very active on this blog for a while, I was astonished to find that my hit counter is approaching a million hits. This makes it, by far, the most popular thing I have ever written.

(If you come across this blog somewhere and wonder if it's still active, it is. You can comment on any post, no matter how old, and I will respond. I think some of my previous posts need a little bit of a revisit though).

I had to write a post to commemorate this astonishing outcome. When I started this blog (in 2011!), it was because Vivienne was trapped. I couldn't dress openly; I had never been out dressed; I had never met other trans people. My makeup and dress sense were awful. I was aching to be free, and I was frustrated and miserable. My only outlet for my feminine feelings and identity was the Internet, which is where I really began to understand how many, many other trans people are out there.

One divorce later, and I began to take my first steps as Vivienne in the real world. With the help and support of my partner (who has chosen the name Missy for this blog), I began to try different looks, and to experiment with makeup. I had my first few (terrifying) outings in public. Although I was expecting uncomfortable confrontations, I have literally had not a single problem ever, and this has boosted my confidence enormously.

One in a million: selfie

The other thing which has boosted my confidence has been meeting the lovely people from the local Pride group, and going along to their many social events. I've met a wonderful, funny, quirky, accepting, group of people, and now I have friends who have literally never seen me dressed as a man! I even met Richard O'Brien!

The Look

One of the things which is most important to work on is obviously the look. Coincidentally, one million is approximately the number of selfies I have taken. It certainly feels like that, anyway!

I love to smile in selfies. First, because I'm naturally a smily person. Second, because I think smiling is attractive. I don't always smile, but my attempts to look thoughtful, emotive, alluring, or just deep and meaningful, don't usually turn out well!

I don't use filters on my selfies, although I do use the Portrait mode on my iPhone, which subtly alters the colour balance in the photographs to make the image more flattering (and blurs the background).

And of course, I never used to post actual selfies on this blog; only ones which were incredibly blurry and therefore unrecognisable, such as on this page.

Milestones

This week, apart from my hit count, I have been reflecting on how many milestones I have achieved since I first spread my wings. A few short years ago, many of these experiences would have seemed impossible, and yet every one, both great and small, is precious.

Coming Out. I literally used to keep a spreadsheet of people who knew about Vivienne. It had three columns: knew my real name/job, had seen a picture of me, had met me in real life. This was my way of keeping track (at the insistence of my ex-wife) of the people who knew, so that a tight lid could be kept on everything.

While I'm still wary of coming completely out at work, friends have suggested (semi-jokingly) that I should just turn up for work one day dressed as Vivienne and have fun with everyone's reactions. I'm not there yet, folks! But I do comfortably admit to people that I'm a doctor (something I previously kept concealed) because I was terrified of being outed and the unwelcome consequences this might bring. I'm part of my hospital's Rainbow Network, and I'm a member of Pride in Medicine and PATHA. There are now lots of people at work who know about my double life--and I theirs!

I've even been on the stage as Vivienne, talking about my experiences as a junior doctor.

I'm very nearly at the stage where I would be comfortable encountering someone in a public place who doesn't know. I've already had a couple of near-misses, and my fem social life is frequent enough that it seems inevitable that this will occur. If it does, I will be sure to let you know how it goes!

Clothing. At first, all my clothing was bought at charity shops, or online. It was a bit of a lottery about what would look good and what wouldn't. Obviously I do worry, because my underlying chassis is (let's be honest) a dad body, complete with paunch, and I need flowing, flattering clothes to try to hide it. I don't have any sleeveless dresses. But I do have some trans-specific shapewear to help make my silhouette more convincing.

Now, not only do I have a really lovely wardrobe with lots of options (casual, cosy, glam), but I'm completely comfortable buying Vivienne clothes and shoes (God, I love shoes!) in stores, either dressed or not. And along with clothing, I have actual jewellery; not plastic costume jewellery, but rings, bracelets, necklaces and earrings which I have chosen just for me! Getting my ears pierced was a big step here: I felt incredibly vulnerable going into work with my new, very subtle studs, but at weekends I can finally wear beautiful dangly earrings and enjoy the feeling!

Makeup and Hair. Again, makeup was a journey, and it's one I'm not finished. I have a daytime look which works, and an evening look which works, but I'd like to be able to be more versatile with makeup. I still find my skin gets oily, despite the use of primer, foundation, setting powder and then setting spray. There must be a solution out there!

I've had a couple of makeovers, and I've made a couple of appointments with a makeup artist, who has been really good at helping with specifics like eye liner and rouge. That (plus a lot of practice) has made a huge difference. After many appointments with the lovely woman who waxes my legs, she was keen that I should turn up dressed for an appointment, and so I did, and it was lovely.

I know this might sound a bit strange, but one of the things I noticed about dressing much more often is running out of cosmetics. Previously I dressed so rarely that cosmetics basically never ran out. Only in the last week I've had to buy more lip liner and an eyebrow pencil, because the ones I used have run out. I'm not quite going through a bottle a week of liquid foundation, but it's pretty close!

Along with makeup, I've also been to a wig specialist, who helped me choose a lovely wig (in the pictures) which is a good colour match for me, and is a lovely, feminine and flattering style. I now have a small collection of wigs.

Social Life. This year we had Pride Month, as usual. I went along to the local Pride Pub Quiz, but unfortunately I was late to sign up, so I didn't have a team. I hoped to join in with some other people who I knew, but the organisers were strict that it was only six people to a team. Not to worry, they said: there are other people who haven't got a team, so we'll stick you in a group together.

It was five women and me; we had never met before, but we got on like a house on fire and they treated me like one of the girls. We've had several social events (one just this week) for catchups, dinner and drinkies and general girly gossip. I can't tell you how incredibly affirming this is. At this week's dinner I got chatting to a woman at a neighbouring table, and she just chatted away as if I was just another woman. Pink fog!

This lovely group comes on top of all the other social events, with Pride, Queer Women, and all the rest. Someone hold me back!

Blog Statistics

But enough about me--how is the blog doing? In previous posts I have tried to give information about my popular posts. Let's take another look at the statistics that Blogger provides. It's clear that the global picture of trans awareness and acceptance has changed considerably since this blog was started. It has made general acceptance much easier; trans people are out, and we're not going back in, as the huge Pride events in major cities around the world have shown. On the other hand, the haters and deniers are still there, and they're gaining purchase in some places.

The ten most popular countries viewing this blog, in order, are:

• The USA, with 367K views. No surprises there.
• The UK, the country of my birth, with 125K hits.
• Russia, with 77.7K views. I'm not sure how restricted the access to the internet is in Russia, but I take these hits as good news. Despite what Mr. Putin is trying to do, there are doubtless many, many LGBTQI+ people in Russia keeping their heads down and trying to get through. To all of you I say: Будьте сильны и знайте, что вы не одиноки.
• Germany, with 40.7K votes. Viel Spaß mit Ihrem Lippenstift, meine Damen!
• France, with 34.1K votes. Cherchez la femme!
• Canada, with 33.9K votes. This is beginning to feel like Eurovision. La Norvège? Nul points!
• Singapore, a surprise entry for such a small country, with 27.1K votes. Hello Singapore! You've done a lot better than my own country, New Zealand, with only 3.11K votes!
• Hong Kong, with 21.6K votes.
• Australia, with 14.5K votes. Kylie, I still think you're gorgeous.
• And bringing up the rear we have Brazil, with 11.6K votes. Is it true that you've all got to do that thing? You know, down below? Is it the law?

The ten most popular pages, in order, are these. It's curious that so many of these very popular posts are among my older work (in fact, none of them are newer than 10 years!!). This possibly represents the fact that the rate of hits (and posts!) is gradually declining (with the occasional uptick), which is my fault because I don't post often enough to keep people coming back!

Feel free to check out these popular posts, although I have to say that I think some of my less well-trodden posts are definitely worthy of your attention too!

1. Women Who Crossdress, with 19.4K hits. It's interesting that this post should be so high up the popularity charts. Back in 2016 it was only in 4th place. Clearly this is a subject which keeps people interested!
2. Emma Ballantyne, with 17.5K hits, and if we add the other post, Emma Ballantyne Speaks, with 7.72K hits, we would have 27K hits, making Emma the absolute winner. This is no surprise; I'm sure her popular YouTube channel (still active, still amazing) has admirers looking on the web for more info about her. Emma is up from 7th position last time.
3. Men With Long Nails, with 15.7K hits. Another long-time favourite, up from 6th position.
4. Jan Hamilton, with 14.1K hits. Now known as Abigail Austen, she was my previous Number One post.
5. Jaye Davidson, with 13.2K hits. Jaye's beautiful androgynous appearance (beautiful as a woman or a man) fascinated audiences, but his disappearance from the public eye seems only to have intensified interest in him.
6. Men in Skirts. 12.6K people are interested in why men would wear skirts.
7. Leah True, with 11.6K hits. She remains perennially popular (number 5, back in 2016), and I would love to do an interview with her. If anyone knows her, please ask her to get in touch!
8. Female Bodybuilding is still popular. In 3rd position last time, it's still going strong (!) with 10.1K hits.
9. Pete Burns, is a new entry with 8.64K hits.
10. This would also have been Emma Ballantyne, but instead I'm giving this place to my interview with the extraordinary Helen Boyd, with 5.88K hits.

If you fancied trying something which isn't in the Top 10, my personal recommendations would be my series on JK Rowling (not even in the Top 20!), Galileo's Middle Finger (trust me), Sex and Gender in Sports, or Rachel Dolezal. But I'm hopeful that you'll find all of my posts to have something interesting to say, and I plan to continue to discuss trans issues in a balanced and scholarly way.

Meanwhile, if you're a regular visitor or an occasional browser, thank you for making you contribution toward my million hits, and let's hope we can manage to get to two million in due course!

Love, Vivienne. XX

Secrets and Lies in Alabama

Fair warning: this story doesn't end well.

On Quora this week I came across the tragic story of Fred L. "Bubba" Copeland, the mayor of a small town in Alabama, in the United States. Copeland, 49, was a local businessman, the pastor of a small Baptist church, and was married with three children. Outwardly, he was a pillar of the community.

Pillar of the community: Bubba

Behind the scenes, things were somewhat different. Bubba led a secret life as a "transgender curvy girl" (his phrase). His fem name was Brittini Blaire Summerlin, and under this pseudonym she posted social media pictures of herself; exchanged flirty messages with other users; and wrote erotic transgender fiction.

Unfortunately Copeland's secret was discovered by far-right Alabama news website 1819 News. They didn't go public straight away, but approached him for an interview.

The original article didn't give a transcript of the interview (although it does give a link to the full text of one of his pieces of erotic fiction), so it's hard to get context around Copeland's statements, and I don't believe the article intended to present Copeland in any sort of fair (let alone positive) light, so we must make some inferences.

Copeland apparently said he's been dressing as a woman since his youth, for relief of anxiety and "getting rid of stress", and regarded it as a "hobby". He told 1819 News that he isn't in transition and isn't taking medical gender treatment. He said he only dressed at home, and compared it to cosplay and "dress-up".

Curvy: Brittini

Here are some remarks that 1819 News has quoted directly from him:

Copeland: Just my wife knows about it. It’s a hobby I do to relieve stress. I have a lot of stress, and I’m not medically transitioning. It’s just a bit of a character I’m playing. I don’t go out and seek solicitation or anything like that. (...) I don't do it in public.

It’s just a hobby that I have inside my own home that has not travelled outside of my home. I have not done anything outside of my own home besides post or publish anything on the internet, and that does not affect anything with inside (sic) my jurisdiction.

What I do in private life has nothing to do with what I do in my holy life. Does this have any effect on me being mayor, that I sometimes put on a dress or sometimes put on makeup? Does that have anything to do whatsoever with me being mayor or being a pastor?

According to the article, Copeland asked 1819 News not to out him, and he immediately deleted his social media accounts. There wasn't much likelihood of them agreeing to keep quiet about this: from their perspective, this must have been quite the scoop, and they gleefully published their article online on the 1st November 2023.

Ironically, the article also briefly discusses Copeland's political career. They quote him describing life as mayor of a small, close-knit community, from an earlier interview (my italics for emphasis).

Copeland: It really is like everybody knows your name. You know, everybody dies famous in a small town. That’s what it is. It is Friday Night Lights. It is mama’s apple pie. Our community is very, very low crime, very low drug abuse. Our number one problem is suicide. It is sad. I think a lot of it has to do with military. I think some of it has to do with social media and the reality of that. That’s the number one problem we have.

Wife's top: Brittini

On the 2nd of November, 1819 News posted a second article in which a visibly distressed Copeland addressed his parishioners from the pulpit about the revelation. They obviously had someone there to film the whole statement, which lasts over 6 minutes. That second article contains many titillating screen captures from Copeland’s social media feed.

Copeland: Yes, I have taken pictures with my wife in the privacy of our home in an attempt of humour, because I know I'm not a handsome man nor a beautiful woman either. I apologize for any embarrassment caused by my private, personal life that has come publicly.

Poor Copeland was doing his best to make light of all this—but there's nothing funny about any of it. Understandably, he then went on to reiterate his devotion to his family, to his city, and to his church. He then read out the biblical passage “The Lord is my shepherd”.

The only tiny light of hope in any of this is that, during his address, Copeland mentioned that he had received many messages of support, despite the news only being public for a short time.

Copeland: …again, I’m sorry for what my actions have caused, and I’m thankful for the hundreds and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people who have reached out to me today, in love. And I know that there are others that have not. But just know I love you, and Jesus loves you as well.

Tragically, on the 3rd of November, 2023, only two days after 1819 News published their article, Bubba Copeland shot himself in the head with a pistol. According to internet sources he is survived by his wife, Angela (a teacher)  and a son and two daughters.

Not ashamed: Brittini

This story shocked me when I came across it, and it has prompted me to write a post about it. The news has gone worldwide, with many news outlets reporting what has happened. A Wikipedia page about Bubba Copeland has appeared. The editor-in-chief of 1819 News is a man called Jeff Poor, and he has been the subject of considerable social media outrage after Copeland’s death. Newsweek.com reports that Poor gave a message of condolence in a radio interview.

Poor: Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of Smiths Station, the parishioners of First Baptist Church of Phenix City and the victims and family of Mayor Copeland.

Just a minute: “victims”? What victims? There has never been any allegation—not even by Poor’s own news agency—that Copeland had any “victims”. This is an especially ill-chosen form of words, and makes what could almost have been a gesture of apology—however late, however vague—into an insult.

There are so many aspects of this whole business which are worthy of commentary.

Responsibility

I hold 1819 News fully responsible for the suicide of Bubba Copeland. There’s nothing to suggest that he was suicidal before their article outing him. By their own admission, they contacted him before they went public, and he asked them not to publish. They did anyway. If they hadn't gone public, he would likely have been able to continue living his double life.

Happier times: Bubba and Angela

They must have known that this would cause outrage among the local communities in Alabama. They must have known that Bubba Copeland would receive a great deal of hatred. I don’t think they intended him to actually take his own life, but I'm certain that they wanted him to feel named and shamed. They wanted to stir up ire among those people who believe in Republican Jesus, who they knew would be vocally critical of Copeland's lifestyle. They wanted a boost to their ratings—and no doubt, they've got a much bigger boost than they expected. Without this story, nobody outside Alabama would ever have heard of them.

Nothing to be ashamed of

This point lies at the heart of this issue. Copeland said that he had nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing to suggest that he was a bad mayor; a bad pastor, or a bad husband or father. How he dressed in his spare time is literally nobody’s business but his own.

I am still carrying decades of internalised transphobia, although gradually this burden is getting lighter. I have struggled to come to terms with my feelings, and tried to suppress them, before finally coming to embrace them, and I’m sure that Bubba Copeland had a similar journey. But that shame was still in there, and I'm certain that shame, that dissonance between who he was, and who people thought he was, is what caused him to take his own life.

I have republished the photos of Brittini because I think she looks really great, really happy, and because I think that dressing like that is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I am absolutely certain that there are loads of other people secretly doing exactly what Copeland was doing. Some of them are undoubtedly very similar to him: Republican, prosperous, prominent in the community, God-fearing. Some of them may even have openly condemned Copeland, from their pulpits, or even just to the good ol’ boys in the pub. This behaviour is called signalling theory, and it's something that we all do, without exception.

Not amnesic: Dawn Ennis

Coming out at a time of your own choosing is extremely stressful. US Broadcaster Dawn Ennis (formerly Don Ennis) came out as transgender in 2013. Despite apparently considerable support from her colleagues, after only 3 months, she de-transitioned back to Don, and blamed the whole business on amnesia, of all things. I'm sure that she found it just too difficult, in a personal sense, to transition so publicly.

Of course, I didn't believe her, and I'm sure the excuse sounded pretty flimsy to everyone else too. However, less than a year later, she re-transitioned, and has been Dawn ever since, and seems to be doing quite well.

So if that was Dawn Ennis, who presumably thought very long and hard about coming out the first time, how much more difficult must it have been for Bubba Copeland, who had no time at all to deal with the fact that everyone he knew had seen his pictures and knew the secret that he had carefully guarded (as I did) for his whole life?

Hypocrisy

There's a lot of hypocrisy in all of this. How did 1819 News find out about Bubba? Did some other guy who likes wearing female lingerie and enjoys that sort of social media content recognise that Brittini looks a lot like Bubba, and decide it would be a good idea to out him publicly?

It seems Bubba's dressing had his wife’s knowledge and approval. That brown top with the large leopardskin pattern belongs to his wife—or at least, 1819 News found a social media picture of her wearing it.

Did she know about the flirty, sexual social media messages? I cannot say; it's between the two of them. I'm inclined to think she probably didn't. I definitely think it’s not a good look, but again, it’s his private business, and surely everyone has their various private sexual fantasies. Did he act out those sexual fantasies with other people? I'm inclined to think not, based on his speech to his parish. If there had been evidence of this, I'm certain 1819 News would have published it, and Copeland would likely have apologised for it. Again, it's not our business, but again, I'm absolutely certain that there are plenty of Republicans in Alabama who have broken their sacred marital vows.

My main question about hypocrisy though, is this one: did Bubba Copeland preach against trans people? I don't know; I cannot know. After his death, it seems to matter little, but Baptist preachers in the Deep South of the USA are known for their intolerant style of preaching. Perhaps Bubba was preaching that there's plenty of room around God's table for everyone. Perhaps he just avoided the topic entirely. But if he openly spoke out against gay and trans people from the pulpit, then I would be disappointed.

It has been reported recently that the gay dating site Grindr has been so disgruntled by the rise in anti-gay legislation in the US state of Florida that it has threatened to publish the names of every Republican legislator and party official who secretly uses their app. Unfortunately, this has turned out to be a hoax. But the very fact that this report went viral demonstrates that there are a lot of people out there who think that the Republican anti-gay agenda is deeply hypocritical.

There but for the grace of God

One of the things which shocked me most was my own realisation that Copeland and I have quite a lot in common. We’re nearly the same age. I’ve got kids. I’m not a pastor, or a mayor, but I am a doctor, and I do have a secret fem identity, which has been there my whole life, and has an online presence, and provides me with pleasure and fulfilment and relief from stress and anxiety. And, while I'm more out than Brittini, and my various interactions with people have been incredibly positive and affirming, I am absolutely certain that there is an element within my community that would love to report, with feigned outrage, that there’s a cross-dressing doctor looking after vulnerable people in their local hospital.

As a result, I’ve been extremely careful. I had kept this blog for about seven years before I posted a clear photo of myself on it—even now, there are only a few. My Facebook account is private. There are only a couple of photos of me on Quora. (You’re not going to find flirty or erotic social media messages or photos out there from me—because that sort of thing isn’t my cup of tea).

Everybody dies famous in a small town

Seeing what happened to Bubba Copeland made me very upset on a number of levels. How awful that a decent family man was driven to take his own life, because he had the same feelings as I do, but lived in a society which is so intolerant of those feelings and behaviours. How awful that a "news" website found something about a person's private life, and deliberately chose to publish it, knowing it would ruin him. Bubba received "hundreds" of messages of support. How awful that he found he couldn't cling to those, and the love of his family, to help him weather this storm (was his wife's reaction part of his decision to commit suicide?).

Everybody dies famous in a small town—but Copeland's story has reverberated around the world, and drawn a lot of attention to his fate. There has been a backlash against what happened, which is obviously too late for Copeland, but might possibly help the next person this happens to. Ultimately, though, I don't think that backlash will be strong enough. Jeff Poor and the 1819 News will not be brought to account. And the secrets and the lies and the hypocrisy will continue, in Alabama, in the rest of the Deep South, and in other parts of the world where being trans is forbidden—until the next time.

Let me close by hoping that Bubba Copleand and Brittini Blaire Summerlin rest in peace.

Edit: my thanks to Lynn Jones for pointing out the tragic suicide of primary school teacher Lucy Meadows in the UK, in 2013. Meadows was hounded by the right-wing UK press; in particular the Daily Mail. She eventually took her own life at the age of 32. You can find more detail here.

What a year!

While it's still my intention with this blog to write articles exploring aspects of gender, I still want to write about my personal experiences in 2022, which seems to have been a watershed in my life as Vivienne.

Let me take us back to 2012, when I posted this article, which was about trying to evaluate the place of crossdressing in my life. At that time I was married, closeted, and dreadfully miserable. The article contains this paragraph:

Another symptom of need is that crossdressing haunts my dreams. These are frequent; at least once per week, and for the Freudians among you they are simple, straightforward, wish-fulfilment dreams. I am in some situation where crossdressing is OK: out with my friends, speaking in public, in a job interview, meeting new people. In each case, I am lavishly and wonderfully dressed: I draw compliments and warmth and enthusiasm. People find it interesting and cool. And then I wake up, and that lovely warm rosy glow fades pretty sharply in the face of the alarm.

Fast-forward a few years, and things got a lot better. I started to go out dressed; to interact with people in shops and restaurants, and to express my gender more openly. I started to tell people I'm a doctor rather than hide behind the term "academic", and to blog about medical issues.

Selfie Queen

But things were still a bit slow on the Vivienne front. Dressing was unusual. I know exactly how many times I've dressed, because I take a million selfies every time I do. I'm a complete selfie queen--and now I've become quite the expert on the various photo edits I can do on my phone, my tablet and my laptop, to make the images as flattering as possible.

About 0.00001% of my selfie collection

Part of the selfie thing is to try out various looks and see what works: and there's a lot to think about if you're trying to take a male chassis and turn it into a womanly body! Part of the selfie thing is a long-standing habit: I would use my selfies during those long periods of dressing drought, to soothe my yearnings and remind myself that lovely fem times would reappear. And part of the selfie thing is that I really, really like to look pretty, and seeing nice pictures of myself gives me a real burst of euphoria. (And for the record, while I do adjust the colour balance for the most flattering look, none of my pictures have been enhanced with any image filters, such as FaceApp).

So I know that the number of times I actually dressed enough to take selfies over the last few years is about 4 or 5 times--a year. Part of the problem was that I never quite felt like I had the look together properly. I had to have a huge lead-up to getting dressed: just getting the body hair under control was a mission. And then I didn't feel like my wardrobe was up to much, so I never quite felt the outfit worked. I had one or two go-to outfits, and a whole lot of other garments which just weren't quite right.

Another part of the problem was (and is) that we have busy lives. We both work long hours, including night shifts, and we have a cartload of kids and animals to take care of. So opportunities were quite few.

And what I wanted, most of all, was a social life. I tried to make contact with some trans people, but for various reasons I didn't really get any momentum. The turning point was making contact with the local Pride network.

Out for Coffee

I'd already had the experience of experience of going to a party at a friend's house as Vivienne, and meeting people there. But everyone there was a friend of a friend--this was a bunch of complete strangers I would be meeting.

A car selfie!

The event was called Out for Coffee, and it was a simple enough idea: turn up to a local coffee shop, meet a bunch of Pride people, and make new friends. Although I have been Vivienne my whole adult life, it's a very unusual experience to introduce yourself to someone by your fem name. At first, it felt really powerful and meaningful--I knew this was something new. Vivienne's identity was becoming more real.

On this first occasion, I brought not just Missy but my stepkids, one of whom is quite rainbow themself. It was a family-friendly event (as many Pride events are). At first I was quite nervous and we all just sat and ate together. But after we'd had breakfast, I started to mingle--and everyone was fantastically lovely.

One woman said I should join the local Queer Women group. I was delighted by the invitation--but also cautious. Would they be OK with members like me? I asked. I know that not all women's groups are welcoming to trans people, and I would hate to make anyone else feel uncomfortable--or even encounter hostility.

So I messaged one of the moderators of the Queer Women group expressing my concerns, and this is her response:

Thanks so much for reaching out with your concerns. You will be most definitely welcome in our group and if anyone makes you feel otherwise please let myself or (other moderator) know, we would hate for you to feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. Our group is about diversity and acceptance for all queer women whether you express this full time or not, it doesn't matter to us. If it makes you feel more at ease, we do have other M2F people in the group who regularly come to our events too. I hope we get to meet you at an event soon 😀 PS: that's a great photo! 

Vivienne becomes a Person

And so I started going along to social events with the Queer Women. The moderator was right: everyone is absolutely lovely, and totally welcoming and inclusive. Vivienne's identity has become completely real: I've been to so many events that I get recognised by the regulars, and I now have friends who have literally never seen me dressed as a man. That is an extraordinarily powerful feeling.

I need all the help I can get!

There have been coffee meetups, board game meetups, meals out, drinks out, social events at people's homes, book club, you name it. There have also been some outdoor things I haven't gone along to: walking trips and boating trips and cycling trips. For me, it's unbearably hot just wearing my wig and shapewear, even before there's any exercise involved!

There is a fantastic mix of women in the group--including a few M2F transwomen. There are women of all ages and backgrounds. The thing they (and I) have in common is an enjoyment of good company, and having fun. To be accepted without question and treated just like one of them is extremely affirming. Some of them even work at my hospital!

Meanwhile, as my wardrobe has expanded, and my makeup skills have improved (practice, practice!), getting dressed has become a lot easier. It still takes an hour from a standing start--but it used to take half a day! And having makeup and clothing just there on the shelf or in the drawer makes the access much easier.

I've also come out to lots of other people, including my hairdresser (who has helped with hair) and my lovely beautician. I get a full leg wax every few weeks, and of course I have been telling my beautician about Vivienne from the first day. She's always wanted to meet Vivienne, and this week we finally made it happen! She introduced me to the other staff members as Vivienne, and of course it was lovely to get pampered in a beauty salon. Another bucket list item ticked off!

Up on the Stage

One of the Queer Women events involved an open-mike evening in a local rainbow-friendly venue, where audience members would get up on stage and read some of their own writing. I decided that I had to get up and give that a go.

Is this thing on?

This time, the audience wasn't just Queer Women, but members of the public, although clearly everyone knew what the themes were going to be. I was struck by the material from the other writers. There were agonising coming-out stories. There were unrequited love stories. There was poetry, and prose. It was raw; it was real. And then there was me!

I've written quite a lot of medical stuff under my male name, and this includes a few anecdotes about inspiring patients I've met on the journey. I chose three: an inspiring one, a moral dilemma, and a funny one. They seemed to go down really well, and afterwards lots of people came up to talk to me.

So let's come back to the wording of that first paragraph:

I am in some situation where crossdressing is OK...: check.

...out with my friends...: check.

...speaking in public...: check.

...in a job interview...: we'll let that one slide!

...meeting new people: check.

In each case, I am lavishly and wonderfully dressed: I draw compliments and warmth and enthusiasm. People find it interesting and cool. Check check CHECK!

It was astonishing when I reviewed that article to discover that so many things, which were once completely unthinkable, have not only happened, but have happened joyfully, triumphantly, and there's every likelihood they will continue to happen! It goes without saying that I could never have achieved that without the love and support of the wonderful Missy.

I've already started off this year with more of the same: four outings so far, including the waxing. Who knows what will happen next?!

Prohibition Party!

It’s one of my favourite things to get an invitation where the person says “Vivienne is welcome too”. A few weeks ago I got an invitation to a friend’s birthday party. It was to be fancy dress, with a Prohibition theme. While I could use this article as an opportunity to show more pictures of myself (and I will!), there are actually other aspects to it which I’ve been reflecting on since.

How do I look?

As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t normally enjoy “dressing up”. It feels like pretending to be something I’m not, while dressing as Vivienne feels like doing something that I am. But this was an opportunity to do the latter while pretending to do the former—I don’t know if that makes any sense at all!

There were several obvious problems. I don’t possess the elegant willowy figure of the 1920’s flapper—or the gangster’s moll. But secondly I had no idea where I would come up with any sort of costume to wear.

Missy’s mum came to the rescue and had very nearly everything. She’s extremely fond of rummaging in flea markets, op shops and charity shops, and has a huge collection of all sorts of amazing stuff. She provided the dress, the wig, the fascinator, the feather boa, the pearls and rings and necklace. Even a vintage black clutch bag (foreground).

The white gloves and choker came from a dress-up shop, and the tights and shoes (which you can’t see) were model’s own. I had to take the gloves off for the mirror selfie because my phone screen wouldn’t register my touch when I had them on!

I spent ages getting ready. Among other things, I had never worn stick-on false eyelashes before. I took an hour to put them on in any sort of reasonable position, and I had to take them off and reposition them several times!

Meanwhile Missy decided to go as the gangster: the fedora, the black shirt and white tie, and a plastic gun from the dress-up shop. It was a great outfit and she looked fantastic. In fact, everyone did; it was like walking around in a scene from Bugsy Malone.

Flapper girl in a Gatsby world.

As we walked in, I realised, for the first time, that aside from a few people that we know, most people would be strangers--and not necessarily expecting to see me turn up in a frock. There were a couple of dozen people there, including teenagers, and everyone seemed to react positively. One or two of the men looked slightly taken aback when I introduced myself, but after that nobody showed the slightest discomfort. One of the women asked me where I got my tights, and I asked her where she got her corset. (Interestingly, two of the women were also dressed in male gangster gear, and looked fantastic).

The house had been done up beautifully as a speakeasy with darkened windows, decorations and soft lighting. There was a very well-stocked drinks table, and plenty of nibbles. There was even someone "on the door" and we had to pretend to give the password. But the most impressive feature was a full-on gambling den, with a full-sized roulette wheel, a blackjack table, and a professional croupier to run the whole thing. No money was won or lost--we played only for chips, though there were prizes for the biggest winners.

The croupier kept referring to me as "the gentleman with the green chips". I wasn't in the least bothered about this; I really just found it funny. In fact I joked with him: "What have I got to do here to get treated like a lady?!"

The chat and the company were outstanding. We mingled and met some lovely new people. We played roulette and blackjack. We enjoyed the nibbles and drinks. I felt wonderful. From time to time, I was suddenly struck by the realisation--all over again!--that I was out, dressed, and feeling fabulous.

Baby needs a new pair of shoes!

Looking back on this splendid evening, my first impression is how far I have come. An evening like this one--glamorously dressed and having a wonderful time with a group of lovely people--would have been pie in the sky only a few short years ago. Every time I've looked back on it, it's given me a little emotional boost.

My second reflection is that, perhaps in some sense I was also being an ambassador for trans people in company. Perhaps the people at the party hadn't come across someone like me before, and perhaps having a laugh and a chat with me might make them feel more comfortable encountering other trans people in their lives.

But the third boost it gave me is that I had told quite a lot of people, including people at work, that I was going to be going to a party "in drag". And naturally they wanted to see the photos afterward. And so I've had the experience of showing people who don't know about Vivienne some photos of Vivienne! I've had nothing but positive comments from them; many of them said they thought they were looking at a woman in the photos, although they obviously recognised it was me.

All of this makes me feel just that little more confident in myself, a little more confident about coming out to more people (slowly does it!), and a little less nervous of future encounters. How can any of this be a bad thing?

Now, let's blouse. I gotta go iron my shoelaces. Don't take any wooden nickels!

Opening the Closet

In the last couple of weeks I've finally come out to all my children.

This was a surprisingly difficult thing to do. Not because I didn't want to, but because there were significant obstacles in the way. Those of you who know me (and followers of this blog) will already know how much my ex-wife loathes cross-dressing, and how manipulative and obstructive she can be.

Without going through all the exhausting and tedious details (and there are many!) I managed to navigate the worst of her obstacles and finally do the Big Reveal.

Having been very careful in making this move has allowed several things to happen. It has allowed me to contemplate seriously, and for the first time, what my life might look like if I didn't have to hide who I am. For many years, I had to deal with a wife who told me how disgusting, how shameful, how unacceptable it is to enjoy wearing feminine clothing. This was very corrosive to my self-esteem.

During this time, hiding and pretending felt normal. It felt safe. It felt like a boat I didn't want to rock, because I was still very fearful of further negative consequences, and I didn't think I had the strength to weather them.

But the idea of no longer having to hide was beginning to take hold. Looking ahead, I could see light for the very first time--a light which I didn't dare to dream would ever shine on me. When my ex-wife's protests began to mount, the thought of moving backward was intolerable.

The Big Reveal

I've always found it amusingly ironic that a common metaphor for facing up to something difficult is to "put your big girl panties on". This was definitely one of those moments!

The star of the show was the eldest boy, in his late teens. He accepted it immediately and completely, and was so mature. He was the one I was most worried about, as he’s grown up believing his dad was an ordinary guy (albeit a geeky, scholarly one), and I wasn’t sure how he would take the news.

The one I expected would be no trouble was the eldest girl, in her middle teens. She’s very “woke”, very pro rainbow people, and has often made statements in support of minority causes. Although she also wasn’t expecting this announcement, I thought she was the one “primed” to be accepting. Instead she was quite upset, and took herself off to her mother’s place immediately.

The younger two have been fine, especially the one who is already a bit rainbow.

What I told them all is: this isn’t a secret any more. I didn’t want to pull them into the closet with me, but instead to open the door a lot wider. What that means (for me) is no more hiding. While I’m not going to wave Vivienne in people’s faces, nor am I going to be hiding away and hoping I don’t meet anyone who might recognise me.

Aftermath

I’m still processing all this. My daughter’s reaction hit me especially hard. Instead of feeling relief, or satisfaction, or triumph, I felt deflated and disheartened for a couple of weeks. It made me wonder whether I had done the right thing at all: did I push it too hard? Should I have waited longer?

I’m gradually feeling slightly better, and early indications are that she is coming around a bit more. But I still feel it’s too soon to be celebrating.

The person who has made all this possible has been my amazing partner, Missy, who has unfailingly supported me, gently coaxed me away from my tendency to catastrophise everything, and used wisdom and gentleness to help me reframe my feelings more positively. I still wonder how I’ve ended up being so fortunate.

Out, and Proud?

The word Pride is often used by rainbow people. We have Pride parades in many cities every year. They have gone from being protest marches against oppression to being (in the main) colourful parades suitable for the whole family, which is a wonderful thing. The struggle isn’t over, of course, and in some countries things seem to be actually going backwards.

It's nice to finally meet you!

But the notion of Pride is a powerful one. It’s retaliation against the sense of shame and exclusion that many of us have felt. (I know that what I’ve experienced is a drop in the bucket compared to what others have experienced!). The concept of Pride is for rainbow people to be able to say: here I am; I am a worthy person; and I am proud of who I am.

As of today, I’m not feeling proud of myself--yet. Perhaps this moment will come. And, as one person after another learns about Vivienne and responds with warmth and acceptance and curiosity, rather than revulsion or scorn, my self-image is gradually changing. And my wardrobe is improving and my makeup is looking better and I’m feeling more comfortable and natural when I go out. The overall trend is upward.

When I started talking to my trans friends and acquaintances and Facebook groups about coming out, several of them clearly saw it in very different terms from me. They saw it as a thing to celebrate. Have a party, they said (a gender-reveal party!). Make it a special day! Enjoy it!

This had never once occurred to me. Until recently, coming out has been something I dreaded, and was not looking forward to it at all. (Missy spoke of “ripping the plaster off”). Having a party to celebrate? It’s definitely something I’m thinking about, and it might make a turning point.

So what is the future going to look like? That light in the distance is beginning to look a whole lot closer. And the face that I'm going to show to the world is going to look like this one a whole lot more often.

Ten Year Anniversary, but Still Not Brave Enough...Yet!

Since I started writing this blog, almost exactly ten years ago, so much has changed.

When I first started writing, I was unhappily married, with two small children, to a woman who despised everything to do with crossdressing. We had some counselling, but nothing changed. What really made a difference was coming out to a close friend. My ex-wife was determined that nobody should ever know--I mean, what would people think?

It turns out that people wouldn't mind very much at all, as I found out when I continued to come out to close friends and family members. Then there was the divorce, which was unbearably awful, and then a period of readjustment to my life as a divorced person.

Bluestocking Blue: Ten Years On

Then I met someone, whom I call Missy on this blog. I told her very early on, and to my delight and astonishment, she was completely supportive. We moved in together, and blended our families, with the usual bumps along the way.

Since then, my life is completely transformed. We go out together when I'm dressed. Admittedly, with a bunch of kids who have swimming lessons and sports fixtures and music lessons and all that, there isn't an abundance of opportunity for us, but it's unfailingly amazing and never gets old. We were invited once to a friend's birthday party, and I turned up as Vivienne to meet a houseful of strangers--who were all lovely.

My fem clothes hang in the wardrobe, next to my drab male clothes (not hidden in the suitcase in the attic). My heels are next to my man shoes. My makeup is in the drawer. She borrows my nail polish remover; I borrow her foundation brush. She helps me pick out what to wear.

Once a month I go to a very nice beautician (recommended by Missy) who does my leg waxing. We gossip like she would with any client, and she's super lovely. And I've been getting makeup tips from a local makeup artist, who had never had a trans client before but again is super lovely.

I'd love to say that I can be Vivienne whenever I want, but this isn't true. Overall, though, I could not have envisaged the direction my life would take. Where will it lead? I do not know, of course, but I am reminded of a line from the theme song of Ally McBeal (remember that show?), which resonated with me at the time: One by one, the chains around me unwind.

I even "came out" on this blog and admitted I'm a doctor, having previously pretended to be something else. I've been exploring the situation of transgender doctors, and have now made contact with several, as well as other professionals (an artist, a statistician, a novelist).

Which box should I be ticking?

I've also seen an increase in rainbow awareness happening around me. The other day, I met a medical student who was wearing a name badge which said "<Name>, Medical Student, Pronouns she/her". Formerly I'd always assumed that people who put their pronouns up front like this were either trans themselves, or had a close friend or family member who was trans. But no. Apparently there are lots of students wearing these badges now.

Once a year, however, my hospital sends around a staff survey. It asks for lots of details, such as what your hours of work are, what mode of transport you take to get to work, whether you feel safe leaving in the dark, and so on. I assume they are trying to make sure that the requirements of staff to get safely to work are met. They also ask about ethnicity, and I'm assuming that they're trying to make sure that the ethnic makeup of the staff is a reflection of the ethnic makeup of the community.

But they also ask about gender orientation.

When that question comes up anywhere else, in online applications, or other form-filling, I click on "non-binary" or "other" or whatever third option they give other than "male" and "female". But at work, I don't. I still click on "male".

I've found myself reflecting on why I do this, but basically, it's a form of cowardice. I know other people, more out than I, who have experienced real difficulties created by their gender identity. Yet, they persist, driven by courage, or determination, or the desire perhaps to blaze a trail for those who follow. Like water on stone, eventually the stone will be worn away. Why don't I click that third box, and prepare myself for whatever follows?

Because a close friend once warned me that our city is still quite conservative. You can only come out once. There could still potentially be adverse consequences of being open. She would know; it's happened to her.

And so, for the moment, I don't click the box. It turns out, that, even ten years on, I am still worried about what people would think.

===

While my input to this blog has dwindled a bit since I started writing (far too much!) on Quora, I'm delighted to find that I'm still ranked at number 55 on the Feedspot Top 60 Crossdressing Blogs and Websites, updated on 11th December 2021, so I suppose I'm still allowed to have my gold medal displayed on the home page.

Vivienne at large!

In the last few weeks my desire to express Vivienne has risen enormously, culminating in a series of public outings over the last couple of weeks, which have been unbelievably successful and affirming.

Having Vivienne time isn't easy. We both have full-time jobs, and between us we have a bunch of kids that have all sorts of things on: school, sports, music, social lives, you name it. However, there has been a series of days where I have managed to get some completely free time. It was time--it was past time--for Vivienne to get out and about.

My partner Missy could see that I had been getting cranky because I was feeling increasingly feminine, but had no opportunities to express it. So she asked me what I wanted to do. The top item on the bucket list was to go dressed to the cinema, so that's what we did.

Please turn your phone to silent.

There were a few matinees which I wanted to see. Normally I like thrilling action-adventure blockbusters--but as Vivienne, I feel much more comfortable to watch more emotional, dramatic or historical films, and in my town there is a cinema which specialises in arty-type films. We settled on a historical costume drama, which had no lightsabres or giant robots to be seen anywhere.

Missy helped me to pick out an outfit which would work. My tendency is to do more. More makeup! More nails! More shoes! She suggested that I tone it down to an outfit which a woman would actually wear, and she had a really good point. I've pointed out before how I tend to become voracious when dressing after a drought.

I am naturally aiming for a compromise with both my outfit and makeup. In one direction, there is too much, and I look like a clown, or a bad drag queen, or a caricature of a woman. In the other direction, there is too little, and I look like a man. Somewhere in the middle is a sweet spot, where I can look, if not exactly like a woman, at least like someone who is trying to make a go of looking like one. Previously I only had my own frame of reference to guide my choices; now I have Missy's sensible viewpoint.

Day One

I felt completely comfortable until we got to the mall and I got out of the car. Suddenly I was aware that everyone's eyes would be on me. This wasn't a frightening sensation, but probably the sensation that the meerkat has when out on the Kalahari desert. We walked into the cinema. Missy ordered the tickets, and I stood behind. The attendant (a woman) spotted my nails, and said they were lovely. I was taken aback by this sudden compliment, having been out for a total of about ten minutes. "Thank you!" I responded. Then she looked at me, having not really looked at me at all. She must have clocked my man-voice, and I braced myself for some sign of discomfort, but there was none. (Missy chided me jokingly for my deep manly voice, but I don't have a fem voice, and I was totally unprepared!)

We made our way into the cinema, which of course was dark and quiet. We got the luxury seats and watched the film. I couldn't believe how lovely it felt. I wanted to pinch myself. None of the other people paid us the slightest attention, though I felt as if I had a huge flashing neon sign above my head.

I came out of the cinema floating on air. This is the sensation some people call the pink fog; others gender euphoria. I drank it all in. I wanted to absorb as much of it as I possibly could.

Still getting used to the handbag thing.

Missy had an appointment for about an hour. I could retreat home, or I could go to a cafe and wait for her. Cafe of course! This meant two new things: going somewhere on my own (already!) and also visiting the ladies' room. But I felt pretty comfortable and pretty confident, and I walked into the cafe. The ladies' room was near the entrance, so I went straight in. It was empty, so I just used a stall, straightened up my clothing, checked my makeup, and came out. I took a table, ordered a drink, and sat looking out of the window, unable to believe this was actually happening. My interactions with the wait staff (male and female) were pleasant and ordinary; again they must have clocked me instantly, but they seemed completely comfortable with me for a customer. When Missy came back to pick me up I was still happy and floaty, and this feeling lasted for the rest of the day and into the evening.

Day Two

The following day, Missy was at work. I had the option to dress again--or I could do ordinary stuff (as if!). I decided to dress and go out on my own. I wore the same outfit as I had before, and I went back to the same mall. It was much more crowded than the day before!

I was so nervous at first that I decided to just stroll around. I was extremely self-conscious! There were so many things to remember, including a whole new way to walk and carry myself. I had, of course, been practising, but it's one thing to practise when there is nobody looking, and it's a different kettle of fish if you feel like everyone is looking at you!

At first I jumped at every noise. As I passed a sports store, I heard a burst of male laughter from within. At the time I was sure it was directed at me, but in retrospect, there is no reason at all to think it was. I began to look up and take notice of the people around me more. A woman coming the other way caught my eye, and smiled. I smiled back. Was it because she clocked me, and was being reassuring? Or was it because women sometimes smile at one another when they make brief eye contact in the mall? I was especially fearful of large, muscular men. I fear that, of all people, they are the ones who would express their discomfort most vocally.

I braced myself for strange looks; for weird expressions; for expressions of distaste. Nothing. Nothing at all. Nobody seemed to pay me the slightest notice. Was that, I wonder now, because they were silently sniggering and pointing behind my back? Maybe. Or maybe I just didn't stand out enough for people to notice me (and I am sure most people are wrapped in their own business, so that if you mostly blend in, you become effectively invisible). Or maybe (and here's the kicker) they did actually notice, and clock me, but were not bothered in the slightest?

Hot as any Hottentot?

My self-imposed task was to buy sunglasses for Vivienne. The weather has been bright and sunny lately. I could hardly buy sunglasses for Vivienne in male mode ("Do you think these would look good on me if I was wearing a wig and a frock?"). And sunglasses add a layer of disguise.

I went into the sunglasses shop, and approached the counter. The assistant, a young woman, said "Can I help you?" I smiled and said "Yes, I'm looking for sunglasses to go with this look," and indicated myself. She didn't seem fazed in the slightest, but asked me how much I wanted to spend, and then showed me lots and lots of frames, several of which I tried on.

Every time--every time--I looked in the mirror, it was a surprise to see Vivienne's face looking back out at me. The assistant was lovely. I told her I wanted large round lenses, but she suggested a few alternate frames. Some of them didn't work at all, but some of them looked really good. Eventually, I settled on a pair, and bought them. She asked me if I had shopped there before, and I laughed and said "Yes, but I didn't look like this!" and she laughed too.

When it came time to pay for my parking ticket, the attendant smiled and asked if I was having a nice day, and I said "Yes, it's lovely, thanks!"

In the afternoon I went for a long stroll round the park. With my sunglasses on, nobody looked at me at all, and I seemed to blend right in. I went into the little cafe next to the park and ordered a drink, and sat writing my journal with my lovely fountain pen and its lovely sparkly ink. Other patrons came and went, and nobody seemed in the least troubled. I once wrote in this blog I considered this simple activity to be pie in the proverbial sky, and here I was, doing it and loving every moment.

Reflections

You would think that no human being could stand this amount of pink fog, and perhaps you would be right. There is a definite sense in which Vivienne time seems to stand apart from ordinary time; no work, no commitments, no obligations. It's probably the same sense of "getting away from it all" that some men enjoy when golfing or fishing--but surely it's much more pleasurable than either of those activities? In any case, after a couple of days, I had to come back down to Earth.

But my reflections are these. First, going out as Vivienne seems to be OK. That is, nobody seems offended or horrified. The people of my town seem very tolerant, which is extraordinarily gratifying to me. Why should this come as a surprise? Perhaps because I've had about 20 years of being told how disgusting crossdressing is (by my ex-wife), and though I knew that her view was very skewed, some of it had inevitably sunk in. To discover that it isn't right; that people are apparently totally fine with it, has come as a revelation, and a delightful one. My biggest goal, in all of this, is simply acceptance, as I have written before.

Second, I think for me, the key is to not pretend to be a woman: I shall surely fall short. Instead, I can simply be myself, and let people make of me what they will. The woman in the sunglasses shop didn't seem remotely uncomfortable with my attitude or presentation. I am hopeful that with time and practice the anxiety will fade and the pleasure and comfort will grow, but even if it doesn't, where I am right now is fabulous.

So far, everything has been completely wonderful. I fear that there may yet be an event, which in my mind I am calling The Puncture, where I have a truly unpleasant encounter with someone, or some other experience which really puts me off going out like this. The reason I think such a thing will happen is that a part of me thinks that moments of bliss must be balanced out somehow, for the universe to keep turning. But the reason I think it might not, is that very few people (and I've read a lot of stories) mention events like this.

In any case, for each time I go out, and meet smiles and acceptance, it adds to the store of goodwill and optimism in the bank. As these experiences accumulate, it will become harder and harder to demolish the pile, and easier and easier to accept that an occasional uncomfortable encounter represents the exception, not the norm.

Vivienne-- The Next Steps

It's been a little under three years since I wrote this post, about the end of my marriage. During that time I've been going through a tremendous reframing of my life. There were several things which happened which were quite surprising, and I wanted to put them down here.

Meeting someone new

It will come as no surprise at all that I adore women. I always have. I'm more comfortable in their company, and I just feel better being around them. It was therefore inevitable that I would start dating again.

To get a few things out of the way, this was not about "sowing wild oats". I've never been that person before, and I am not that person now (even though one of my male friends, with the best of intentions, but without much delicacy, told me it was time to get shagging). So I was just looking forward to dinner, wine, and pleasant company.

Actually neither of us drinks coffee!

To my surprise, on one of my very first dates, I really clicked with a woman from work. We found we had a lot in common, and we were texting each other constantly. This presented a problem: to tell, or not to tell?

On the one hand, Missy was lovely, and funny, and had a host of good features. I was enjoying feeling attractive again, and I was looking forward to spending more time with her. On the other, I had escaped from a previous relationship which had been ruined, in large part, because of cross-dressing. I didn't think it was fair on this woman to take the relationship further without her knowing. I didn't think it was fair on me, to have to keep hiding who I am. So, on our second date, I told her there was something important she needed to know.

She blanched immediately. If you ask her about it now, she will tell you that the expression on my face made her think it was something dreadful, such as terminal cancer. But I slid my phone across to her, and showed her some pictures of Vivienne. She was surprised, of course, but her response was basically "Is that all?" And she was completely fine with it.

Having got that out of the way, the relationship blossomed. We moved in together a year ago, and things are looking great. I am enormously fortunate.

Vivienne went away

Missy wanted to meet Vivienne. I was incredibly nervous, but again, it was a lovely encounter. She didn't laugh. She didn't wince. She gave me makeup tips and bought me thoughtful gifts, including perfume, and a lovely handbag.

Vivienne in the kitchen

We went out together for a stroll round the town. I was unbelievably nervous, but I can't tell you how much I wanted this experience. I wanted to know what it would be like--for me, for her, and for other people. Amazingly, it was completely fine. We hosted a dinner for friends at home. It was bliss.

Having spent nearly 20 years being told that Vivienne was grotesque and perverse, I struggled to process all these feelings. I couldn't believe, at first, that being Vivienne was suddenly OK. One night I was in the bath, with lots of bubbly foam, and shaving my legs. Missy texted me to ask what I was doing, and I told her, and she responded very positively and said she hoped I was enjoying it. I was!

I found myself dreading, at any moment, that she was going to turn round at some vulnerable moment and say "Ha! Fooled you, you horrible tranny freak!" And of course she hasn't done this. After 3 years, it's beginning to sink in that she isn't going to. The trust is building, and it's a feeling which doesn't get old.

But the next part was another surprise: the compulsion to dress nearly vanished. I didn't change who I was. I continued to be Vivienne online. I continued to buy nice Vivienne things when I saw them. But the drive to dress, to express myself openly, seemed to go away nearly completely.

I wondered why this was. Was it because Vivienne was forbidden fruit, which, when suddenly available, lost some of its sweetness? Was it because I was so wrapped up in a new relationship that Vivienne was forgotten? Was it because there was so much else going on, with kids and work and school? Was it because all of us wax and wane with time; that we are not constant in our feelings and wishes?

There have been times when this has happened before, and I reasoned that Vivienne would return in time. Meanwhile, I wanted to be ready! I had new clothes, cosmetics, accessories. Not grabbed off the rail in the back of gloomy charity shops, but carefully considered to be part of a look that works well; these shoes would look great with that skirt.

Vivienne came back

And then, Vivienne came back. I gradually became aware of an insistent nagging feeling, which became more and more prominent with time. I realised that the feeling was unstoppable, and that it was time. So I've just gone with it. And there has been an explosion of experiences; more Vivienne time in the last month than there has been in the past three years put together. It's been amazing, and intoxicating, and it's still going on. Where will it lead to next?