It’s  taken a little longer to get round to than usual but, as you may have noticed from this post’s title,  the other Thursday didn’t go quite to plan.

Well, they can’t all, can they? But I figure I owe it to myself (and maybe you out there) to blog the bad days as well as the wonderful ones.

I’ve just had my first dressing up session since then and am currently typing away with my New Look purple dress and New Look 4″ stilettos on. God I love these shoes. They ain’t comfortable and they constantly slip at the heel (something I’m trying to fix), I must have really narrow feet. But they are sooooooo sexy! If they look amazing on me they must be astonishingly so on a GG (in fact, I think a girl at work has the same pair and, yes, they do).

Anyway back to the other Thursday. The plan was two-fold and maybe too brave in retrospect. I was going to drive out to the main shopping centre in Burton, Staffordshire, hit TK Maxx and a couple of other shops and then, if all had gone well, pop in for a glass of wine at a nice, quiet country pub Dee and I had discovered the week before. That would mark my first ever visit to a pub in T-girl mode.

Dressing up went great and I was eventually in full office girl Julia mode, with smart skirt and soft sweater. Couldn’t get the shoes to stay on right so I opted for my stiletto boots which are a tad lower, but still sexy and pointy. With false nails (false everything really!) applied I was off driving round a few country villages to build up my nerve.

But the more I thought about Burton, the more I had my doubts. The car park there needs you to buy a ticket to exit and the only ticket machine i know of is right outside the front door of Asda. To say that is a busy thoroughfare is an understatment. My plan was to park as near to TK Maxx as possible and then make as quick an exit as possible. But the more I thought about buying that parking ticket among the Asda hordes the more panic set in. In the end I simply bottled it and kept on driving, still with the intention though of having a nice cold glass of Dutch courage.

I was getting pretty thirsty by then though, so did brave a tiny post office I’d visited on one of my first Julia outings to buy a Coke. Seemed to go OK although my hands were shaking as I opened my purse to pay. I checked on the way out and nobody  was staring.

I knew the pub I planned to visit opened at midday and i drove past at 11.55, parked up nearby and checked the look when . . . oh, God not again . . . I found I was missing one nail. I’d strutted outside the car for a few minutes so maybe I’d lost it there. Got out to look but it was raining now and there was no sign of it. Got back in the car and . . . on God no, not again, again . . . another nail was missing. By this time, confidence had deserted me completely and all I could do was abandon today’s outing, driving to a country lane to a) strut a bit more b) change back into man mode.

So that’s it. A bad un’ I’m afraid. On the plus side though the make-up was really good and I thought the office look, caught in that Post Office mirror, was a winner.

I’m also conscious  that I still haven’t visited Lea for my make-up lesson yet. I will do, honest, but the opportunities are getting thinner and thinner (unlike me!) and I’d have to go in Bob mode and then walk out in Julia mode. Actually, that’s a fantastically attractive idea . . . but still scary.

I’m still determined to go for that drink but I won’t get another chance for a month now at least.

In the meantime, today’s make-up session has gone well too. Lipstick just the right side of going trout-pout (as I’ve said before, I have very thin lips, so do try to plump them up) and the eyeshadow is the darkest I’ve tried yet . . . a smoky deep purple and black. I thinks it looks great and will try it again next time I go out.

Just got to practice “a large glass of Chardonnay please” in my best Julia voice.

BTW, that second nail . . . I’ve just found it tangled in my wig.

Honestly . . . .

I’ve got my whole “office girl” kit now. A purple, rolk neck sweater from George, a lovely black/grey, smart skirt with a split up the back from Tesco and those shoes – the ones I saw in New Look in London and then couldn’t find up here in the Midlands.

And the reason  I couldn’t find them? . . . Looks like they had been withdrawn to be added into the sale . . . where I got them reducied from £25 to £10. Whoopee!

Now I’ll be honest, they are way too high. Much more stiletto even than my boots. But they are gorgeous and I’m keeping them. I can definitely walk a short distance in them but I may have to swap to the boots again for anything incolving more than 100m . . . or get some kitten heels or something lower and maybe a little clunkier (I have got some Mary Janes but they don’t quite look right)

Oh well, we’ll see.

Something struck me the other day. I no longer get sexually excited when I dress up. That used to happen quite a lot.  Now I feel my confidence rising about being outside as Julia the sexual buzz of old has been resplaced by something less tangible but strangely comforting. Does this sound familiar to anyone else?

Oh well, I’ve done my office typing for the morning. Back to Bob mode.

More soon . . . Julia’s going out on Thursday!

x

Yesterday I treated myself to a bargain £10, very smart ‘work skirt’ from Tesco.

Last night I dreamed that I forgot myself and just slipped it on in front of Dee.

She reacted in shock.

I woke up.

This stuff runs deep doesn’t it?!

I must have been filled with confidence after last week’s day out as I ventured out again, to a bigger town, although I kept to the outskirts (that’s a very T word, isn’t it?!).

Unfortunately it didn’t go quite as well as last week, and I only had a couple of hours out as I’d got some Bob duties to fill the
afternoon.

The outfit was the same as last week, purple New Look dress, with black tights and boots, along with my latest accessory, a white glass bead necklace from George at Asda.

It’s my least successful eye make-up session for some time and I’m not terribly happy with the wig. It looks great from the front, but the fact I have to put it on in the car and then drive around leaves it rather straggly at the back. It really is too long too ,so I suppose I will have to consider a replacement at some point.

I park up close to a Co-op supermarket on the outskirts of Stafford. There are not too many people around so it’s off to the hole in the wall machine outside first to draw some cash and then a deep breath and into the shop itself to by some wine. There are two women stocking shelves and a teenage lad on the counter. I pick a couple of bottles of red and pay with my debit card. The teenager looks rather startled unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to know where to look. I can’t get my voice right and I realise that the dress’s long sleeve is revealing a tiny bit of manly arm hair – drat.

It’s then back to the car. I find I really enjoy the sensation of simply striding along a road as Julia, each step filling me with confidence and just the sheer enjoyment of being someone else for a while. It strikes me that it’s an extraordinary thing that we do, regardless of whether we actually “pass” or not.

So buoyed with this new-found confidence I head to New Look at an out-off town retail park. I’ve shopped in New Look many times but always in Bob mode. This is the first time I’ve ever dared go in a store this big as Julia but there’e always a first time. There’s something I particularly want to buy, a pair of shiny, black stiletto shoes I saw in a London branch of New Look recently.

I deliberately park a little bit away from the store entrance for two reasons. One is just to enjoy that striding sensation again, the other is to get up some momentum so that I will actually go ahead with it and carry on into the shop! Thirty seconds later I’ve passed through the double doors and am browsing the new ‘new arrivals’ – blouses,  jackets and some cute boot/shoe combos with killer heels. The main shoe display is right at the back and there are maybe six customers in the store and three or four staff. I pass a tall mirror and check myself out. The figure looks great but the posture is awful, I’m a bit round shouldered and slouching, so I suck my stomach in and push my shoulders back – a bit better. But the wig is doing me no favours. Mmmm.

When I get to the shoes there are three women browsing the shelves. Not sure if I frighten them off but soon there’s only me there. But sadly my shoes aren’t there at all. There are loads of alternatives which look great but there’s a particular look I’m after, an office girl effect with black skirt, stilettos and long sleeve high neck jumper. It seems a shame to leave without buying anything but that’s how it goes.

So what next? I really fancy a coffee. Stafford has loads of coffee houses but they’re all in the town centre and I’m not brave enough to tackle that. But there’s a village nearby with a canalside coffee room so I vow to visit that. I’m driving in that direction when I realise that I’ll be passing the cemetery where my Dad is buried and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to visit and say Hi as Julia, to introduce him to the daughter he didn’t know he had. But driving into the cemetery I can see some workman in the row where Dad is buried and I think I’ll stand out a bit too much so I drive on past.

Next I’m struck with another thought. There’d a luxury housing development nearby with a showhome. Why not look round it as Julia, and see what reaction I get from the salesgirl? But when I arrive I discover that the showhome won’t open for another half an hour. Foiled again.

So it’s off to my village coffee house but when I arrive I discover that inbetween where I’d have to park and where the coffee house is there are two or three workmen taking down scaffolding from outside a house. I bottle it again.

And that’s it really. By then I’m running out of time so I abandon my trip and head home, a little  frustrated that today hasn’t had quite the same sparkle as last Tuesday. I suppose they can’t all be magical but I was hoping to catch some of that flavour again.

Back in the house I reapply my make up, making a much better job of it this time and manage to enjoy a further Julia hour catching up with some work on the computer before I have to take it all off and head off elsewhere.

Oh yes, the London visit. The plan had been to spend a couple of days there, giving me the opportunity to pamper myself with a dressing and make-up session in my hotel room before seeing if I dared hit the capital’s streets. Sadly plans had to be changed so it was an entirely male visit for one day only and I never did make it to Camden, which is really annoying as I read afterwards that T-girl blogger Helena Love was in that area on the Saturday and we could have said hello.

Drat, and if you’re reading this, then sorry about that, Helena (Mind you, I wonder what people would have made of the male me striding up to blonde Helena and saying ‘Hello Helena, I’m Julia’?!).

No more J-time for at least another month now but that will give me time to sort out my office girl aquisitions . . . and maybe that new wig.

Till next time.

J  x

I’ve just had the most wonderful day. Julia even made a friend!

But even more incredibly . . . Julia got beeped by a white van man!!! Now, as I’ve said previously, I (like most T-girls) am not gay. That’s not what any of this is about. But it sure was one hell of a confidence boost.

The day starts, as it always does, with a defuzz and foundation application and then a proper eye make-up session – I’ll be leaving the house in shades. As usual I get fully dressed and then cover that with baggy sports trousers and fleece top. With my boots, wig and make-up in a sports bag I don those shades and make a dash for the car. It’s the first day of school today and the street is deserted so off I go to my usual transformation spot out in the countryside.

I’m spooked though when a dog starts barking, getting louder and louder. The mutt and his owner appear in the car park and my hands won’t stop shaking. I’m about half way through my ‘Bob’ to Julia conversion and I don’t know how much he sees. But luckily he’s not there for long.

Finally made up as best I can I step out of the car to pop the sports bag in the boot.

Today I am mostly wearing my black body shaper and the DIY padded panties, a brand new (bargain £12) purple sweater dress from New Look, black tights and my trusty black stiletto boots. It’s a little bit windy so my wig is somewhat out of control, blowing across my face. Maybe I need yet another one, slightly shorter than this one but longer than the first one I bought. We’ll see.

Anyway, I walk around the car park and I feel great. So it’s part one of today’s adventure. I’m off to the jewellery shop when I bought my clip-on earrings last week. I saw a gorgeous chunky pearl-style necklace which will go really well with this dress. The neck of the dress is a tiny bit low and I’ve had to shave the top of my chest,  which Dee won’t be happy with if she spots it – she likes me hairy (I’d love to totally defuzz but her line on this matter is ‘There’s only room for one woman in this family’).

The shop is part of a craft centre attached to a farm and garden centre, quite a tourist attraction but I’m counting on it being quiet at 10am on a cloudy Tuesday. There are a couple of families getting out of their cars as I arrive so I let them move off before I get out and head to the shop.

There’s an open courtyard to negotiate  and with my new Boosted Butt (trademark applied for) I practise a confident stride with a hint of wiggle. Last time I visited there was a chap in the shop, this time the counter is staffed by a young lady (just realised I didn’t say ‘manned’ as Bob would – crikey, I’m even turning into a feminist!).

We say hello and she doesn’t appear to bat an eyelid at my appearance. Unfortunately I can’t see that necklace I was after and so am forced into striking up a conversation. This (apart from the general nerves of being out in public like this) is one of the hardest things. I’ve no idea of how to mimic a convincingly feminine voice – I try for something higher in pitch than normal and a little softer but without mincing – it’s a tough ask.

But that necklace was sold last week and hasn’t been restocked yet. I’m a little downhearted but the shop lady has been great with me so I ask if I can look at rings. There are all sorts there and one silver almost paisley design catches my eye. The assistant even measures my finger to see what size I should choose (note for future reference, it’s a Size S). Don’t quite know how she manages it as my hand is starting to shake quite a bit with nerves. Luckily the ring I like is indeed an S and it slides on beautifully, sparking away alongside my false nails. I am lucky to have very non-blokish hands, with long, slender fingers – ideal for piano playing, except I can’t.

As I finish paying and as she has been so sweet to me I pluck up courage and say: “Thank you ever so much, you’ve been very understanding. How do you think I’m doing?”

She checks me over and replies: “Very good, well done.”

It turns out her name is Lea and she has developed a healthy “anything goes” attitude after living in Holland. Once, she told me, an absolutely beautiful full post-op transexual came into the make-up studio she was working in over there.

My confidence really must be soaring because I hear myself saying: “I hope you don’t mind me asking but how would you feel about giving me a make-up lesson?”

Incredibly she says yes (in fact she genuinely seems delighted that I’ve asked), although she says I’m doing very well already and seems to be impressed by the fact that I’d put mascara on without going totally panda-like. We arrange that I’ll call her about that in a few weeks from now and with that I’m off, back to the car and  heading to the Staffordshire town of Eccleshall.

This is where I spent part of my childhood and although I left 30 years ago I know that it’s a relatively quiet, genteel place and  shouldn’t be full of chavs (my nightmare would be to be spotted and outted by such creatures). I must be feeling brave because I park up right in the middle of the high street, outside the old fire station, step out and gather my nerves as I look in the window of a dress shop. Then I turn and head to where the main shops are.

There are a few people about but nobody shouts or stares. I’m well aware that I’m being noticed – who could ignore a gorgeous brunette in stilettos after all   ?! But that’s fine with me at the moment.

I cross the road and take a look around a small art gallery. The man behind the counter is very polite.

I then see, in the window of a women’s clothes shop over the road the most gorgeous long-sleeved, purple dress. It’s just about exactly what I was looking for before I got the New Look dress I’m wearing now. So into the shop I go and find myself chatting to the shop owner. She asks me what size I am and, finding a size 16 in that design asks if I’d like to try it on. Yes. Me, Julia the tranny, in a very posh clothes shop in Tory-voting Middle England has just been asked if she’d like to try on her new dream dress in the changing room.

As Meg Ryan would say, yes, Yes, YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I do explain that I can’t possibly buy it today but the owner says that’s still fine (did you notice I tried to give her a get-out clause there?). So I’m led to the changing room and left to my own devices when I realise I may have a problem. The wig’s going to have to come off and I’ve left my hairbrush in the car so will have to rearrange it by hand – not at all easy. I almost change my mind but that dress is so nice I can’t resist. So off comes the wig and I swop over the dresses and make a half decent attempt of getting the wig back on. It’ll do . . . just.

Girls, I’ve never had this feeling before. Today is the first day I’ve ever been out in a dress in public at all (it’s always been skirts and jumpers up to now). But this is a DRESS. I find myself stepping back out into the shop to admire myself in the mirror. It looks and feels utterly beautiful, accentuating all ‘my’ curves – I feel like squealing! The owner is still quite unfazed and we even chat about possible accessories.

Now I told you this was a posh frock shop. You’d better believe it, especially when I tell you the dress would have cost me £105. Wow! And I was seriously tempted but somehow managed to resist. Maybe I’ll see it in a charity shop sometime!

Changing back again I say my farewells and head off down the street. I catch sight of myself, top to toe, in a mirror and I think I look great. I sure feel great. I’m aware of a few heads turning. Two men stop their conversation completely as I stride past, head up, one young guy checks out my boots.

And then it happens. Two blokes in a white van drive past and the driver beeps his horn twice. You will let me accept that as a positive gesture won’t you, an automotive wolf whistle? That’s how I’m treating it anyway as I sit here still dressed up to the nines after a record-breaking (for me) six-and-a-half hours as Julia.

I want to stay like this for the rest of the day but junior is due home from school in an hour and so I must make the journey back to Bob-dom. But what a fantastic day Julia has had.

P.S. Lea, if you’re reading this, I could mention the name of the place you work at if you were OK with it. Who knows, you could start attracting a whole new glamorous line of TG customers!

A big week this week. Dee’s away with work and I’ll have three days all to myself, so plenty of Julia time. Tomorrow I plan to go the furthest afield I’ve ever been in Julia mode, back to a town I was brought up in.

It’s the biggest place I’ll have visited all booted up.

Dare I walk past my old house as Julia? I do hope so.

If that goes well and I don’t get too many adverse comments or looks (and if various other plans fall into place) then I’ll be packing my suitcase for a whole weekend in London. Now the idea isn’t to spend the whole time flitting around in skirts. I’ve got other things to do in bloke mode (including possibly seeing the new Shawshank Redemption stage show) but I really fancy the idea of seeing if I’m actually brave enough to step out in a city of millions, maybe browse around a few shops and have a glass of wine (Dutch courage required!) somewhere.

The simple fact that no-one knows me there help quell the fear . . . a little bit. I’ll be based around the Camden area and I know that’s a sometime haunt of fellow tranny and top blogger Helena Love, so I’ll be keeping an eye out for her just to say ‘Hi’. That would be cool. I’m hoping that Camden will be boho enough to accept/tolerate/humour a man in a skirt, high heels and lipstick.

Of course this may all be a pipe dream and I’ll simply bottle it but you never know. Fingers crossed . . .

Looking forward to dressing up tomorrow morning. I invested in a rather sexy black 36C body shaper with silicon inserts a few days back at Peacocks and with a little nipping and tucking down below plus my DIY butt boosters have achieved my most feminine form yet. I popped a little dress on and, if you don’t mind me saying so my bust looked bloody gorgeous – couldn’t take my eyes off them!

More tomorrow . . .

A bit Blue Peter this, but I’m here to extol the virtues of recycling. A bra which I ‘broke’ a couple of weeks back is enjoying a new lease of life . . . as ‘butt pads’ to give me a more feminine bum! All the strapping has been cut off and the padded cups sit inside my knickers and do the job perfectly (and to think I was going to spend £40 on some butt enhancers I saw on the internet).

I’ve just come back from a Julia shopping trip to test them out. I went to a small jewellery shop at a craft centre I’ve visited previously and bought my first earrings – the screw on type. They are three dangly hearts, all sparkly, blue and girlie and they look great on. Wasn’t aware of any strange looks from anyone there and the mature gent who served me was very nice and didn’t flinch!

This was also a test run for a solo trip down to London in a couple of weeks, where I’m determined to hit the street and shops in full Julia mode. On the basis that no-one there knows me I just think, what the hell, it’ll be scary as anything but what a thrill. Today I dressed quite conservatively, bu my screaming inner tranny is insisting on wearing my denim  mini skirt (and I do mean mini) in London. Wearing it now with my black boots.

One more test run next week when I’ll dress up and spend the morning at a small Midlands town I used to live in.

Keep watching this space.

Julia x

It’s been very quiet at work, my boss has kindly sent me home early and it’s a lovely, warm sunny day.

So do I:

a) Soak up the sun in the garden?

b) Soak up the sun in a beer garden?

c) Rush home, do my best eye make-up yet and prance around in super-high heels,  stockings and leopard print dress?

Thanks boss!  

Three months since my last blog? Wow!

Well,  did wonder if Julia wold ever come back to be honest. I never did make it to the town of my childhood. Didn’t chicken out . . . circumstances just wouldn’t allow it. And then summer comes and I can’t go out as Julia. Would love to – would love to completely de-fuzz and go out bare legged or in the sheerest of stockings. It’s a crying shame as I adore the ultra strappy, high shoes that are all the fashion. Oh well.

The thing with not being able to go out is that I find it then dims my tranny appetite. I just haven’t cared to dress up at all . . . well, from three months ago.

And then  this week it sarted to cme back out of nowhere. A few moments in ankle boots and dress here and there. Yes, I still want this.

So payday comes and I make a few purchases. A new bra (38B and looking magnificently buxom, since you ask!), some totally irresistible, leopard print. high-heel. cork platform sandals from Peacocks (just £9 in the sale) and a thoroughly tarty and unsuitable strappy, leopard print mini dress in the British Heart Foundation shop (£4.50 but I rounded it up to £5).

Just finished my first make-up session in three months. Eyes, not brill. But the best, fullest, poutiest lips I’ve ever managed. Wearing my new dress and sandals, suspender belt (bloody expensive but beautiful and a treat after I ‘came out’ to Dee) stockings and flimsy knickers. Peering through long black wig and typing with difficulty in plum red false nails . . . but feel utterly wonderful.

This is my last dress up chance this month. Off on holiday soon. Then it’s a long wait for the days to turn chillier and I can think about treating myself to a long sleeve, high neck dress, some new boots (you can never have too many)  and a trip into the outside world again.

Oh, and Dee says The Rocky Horror Show is coming to town and a friends wants us to go. Would LOVE to do that, I could go completely OTT. Just two things – Dee still hasn’t seen me in full ‘mode a la Julia’ . . . and I would INSIST on going completely hairless from neck to toe. If I’m going out in stockings, my legs (and they are very nice, shapely legs in stockings) have to look their best and that means I  have to be a total smoothy.

I suppose that’s it again for a while. Nice to be back in the trannyverse though.

Till the next time,

Jules xx

Had myself a two-hour Julia-time treat a couple of weeks ago that I haven’t got round to blogging until now (it’s 3 in the morning and I can’t sleep).

All happened after I spotted a size 14 yet tiny, distressed denim mini skirt in New Look. £20. Bought.

It fits like a dream (although I tend to need size 16 for dresses), so it was off into the Derbyshire countryside to change and strut down an empty country lane, the look completed by a black high neck sweater, big black and silver belt, flowery necklace, handbag and and 4″ stiletto boots. Who cares if it’s a bit OTT – I wanna be glam and practise walking with a wiggle!

On a budget so no forms . . . I stuff my black, lacy bra with socks and pad my knickers with, er more knickers to give myself an ass of note.

An excellent make-up session and long black wig looking good, so I decide to brave some populated streets. I drive through a town I don’t remember the name of and stop in a quiet street to pop my bag full of ‘Bob’ clothes into the boot. Sun’s out, I feel great. GG with a gorgeous bum walks by but barely registers me, although elderly fella in a bungalow does a double take.

Back in the car and I arrive at Sudbury, a little village with a shop a pub and a National Trust hall. I’ve been here before, on one of my first ever tips out and it’s a pretty safe bet for strutting but not getting bothered. Park up in the village car park, pop on black, leather opera gloves (like I say, OTT but I’m up for it and my furry hands wouldn’t pass muster) and off into the fresh air.

I feel bloody wonderful! Try walking like a model, you know as if on a straight, painted white line, one high-heeled foot in front of the other, throw my  arm out and wiggle my ass a little. Peer in a shop window and then decide to brave the grounds of the country hall. But there’s a 20-something bloke hanging around the entrance and that dashes my courage somewhat. Decide to turn round and visit that shop instead.

The steps up into the shop take some negotiating in those heels and the place falls silent as I walk in. But no bother from the three folks inside. Spend a couple of minutes ‘looking at  greetings cards’ and then exit. Steps even harder on the way down.

Strut back to the car, head held high and on the journey back stop to read the notices at a nearby post office but arrival of white van man sees me scurrying for the safety of my car and home. A great afternoon out though, although my necklace gets caught up in my wig as I de-tranify and snaps. Drat! The wig loses a few strands too but should survive. If not, a good excuse to try a blonde one perhaps?

Since then have tried on a couple of blonde wigs at a shop in Wolverhampton but it doesn’t seem to suit – brunette for me I guess (although I’d like to try Dana Scully red sometime). Went to a size 16-plus shop and bought an off the shoulder, long sleeve, grey mini-dress, another black belt and some wet-look leggings which are wonderful.

I plan another outing next week and, possibly to a town I was brought up in. A perverse challenge, I guess although I don’t expect there’s anyone there who remembers me. I might even strut past our old house.

To complete the look there’ll be a Primark visit for a new pair of opaque control tights, cleavage enhancers (no more socks!) and a new necklace. Then, inspired by the ultra-glossy lips of a rather glamorous GG colleague, off to Superdrug for some dual layer, ultra gloss lipstick.

So, if you’re see an OTT, 6ft tall brunette strutting the streets of a certain Staffordshire town in a tiny denim mini, wet-look leggings, black top and black boots, and with the deepest, glossiest lips ever, say ‘Hi Julia’.

I’ll either say ‘Hi’ back . . . or scarper!