Tuesday, April 21, 2015

My Dream Wedding Dress

Brides will all tell you (and now me (OMG I'm one too now)) there is SO much planning involved in a wedding. Having managed £12,000 and £30,000 projects for previous employers I thought that this one would be a doozy; not so. Bringing in a 100 guest Wedding for at a prestige city centre location for under £10k is a hard one to pull off, in particular when it's just you and a few select others doing the planning. For me as a Bride, the saving grace of all this is 'the exciting bit' otherwise known as buying THE DRESS (and the accessories!)

I've scarcely ever set foot inside a wedding boutique. I did once as a little girl when a friend of Mum's was getting married. Being small it all seemed very grown up and sophisticated, princessy and glamorous. Sadly I was just simply tagging along with Mummy not being asked to be a flower girl. Hopes of being asked to be a bridesmaid throughout my later childhood and teens were wishful thinking but at least I could draw pretty pictures of fantasy wedding dresses. It was nice to imagine the gown I would choose if I ever did get married and to dream of being a bride.

Inevitably, given the generation I grew up in, glamour and society weddings fed a lot of my dreams. That includes my ideas about a wedding dress. I wish I had kept some of my drawings in a keepsake box: They would be interesting to see now. My dress designs included lots of lace. They started off as ball gowns like Cinderella's: Princessy creations that would have meant a double door entrance just so I could fit through! In time, the sort of retro movies my mother made me me fascinated with clinging, lacy, beaded dresses, beautiful couture and expensive jewellery.

As a grown woman thinking about my dream wedding dress, I realised that most of those ideas were still there. On Pinterest, my 'Wedding Dress Inspiration' board is full of exclusive, high end designer dresses following that 'Hollywood Glamour' trend. Sheath dresses feature very highly, lace and beading, low backs, wide shoulder straps and V necklines. There are very few strapless gowns, little satin and taffeta, no A-line silhouettes and certainly NO ruching.

Total Miss ControlFreak that I am, I did my homework, created a mood board, set a budget, talked to other Brides and took advice. I researched shops and designers, I booked appointments. I was clear in my mind what I didn't want....(as above)...., no train (or maybe just a sweep train), no strapless gowns, no A-line silhouettes and definitely NO ruching....it was a mantra to be recited to make sure I got what I wanted.

So, a recent Saturday saw myself and a very good friend from work, heading to the City of Chester to fulfil this mission.

Chester is across the border in England, almost exactly an hour by train: The county town of Cheshire, pretty much the 'Surrey of the North', Chester's streets are host to a wide selection of wedding boutiques, most of them rather expensive looking! Well the day started well, coffee more coffee and yet more coffee (was that wise? - what about peeing?) then we started on the shops. 'This is going to be easy' I thought' as we started to place coloured bobbins on hangers of dresses I wanted to try. I rejected any dress that was either too expensive or had any of the attributes listed above. In the first shop there were still seven I really liked to try on. The day was stop start bridal shopping punctuated by lunch with wine and then more shopping. I was in seventh heaven. I'd been looking forward to this day for so, so long!

But how was it? Well, forget your existing changing room experiences in New Look or Debenhams. You WILL need help. Nobody gets into a wedding gown unaided. This is the moment when, with an assistant helping you, you are either glad you picked out a nice bra and knicker set to put on that morning....or you feel embarrassed. I was so glad I had bought mine previously, another thing my groom hasn't seen (yet). Choose something you would wear on your wedding day even if you later find something better.

Wedding Dresses either have to be stepped into or go over your head with your arms above your head. Depending on the dress, it will fasten with a variety of lacings, fabric covered buttons or zips. You may need to wear a dress hoop or hoops to hold the dress in shape. You won't be able to do any of this on your own! Putting on a bridal gown is a process that either transports you back to childhood memories of Mummy putting you into pretty party dresses or maybe even the 18th century. Be prepared to feel laced in place, stand patiently while being attended to and become a Princess!

I've looked at many pictures of wedding dresses so why was seeing myself in a beautiful white designer gown for the first time such an emotional experience? There was a wild rush of feelings I had NOT anticipated. Somehow seeing a dress on yourself is when you perceive yourself as a Bride for the first time. You think, OMG this is actually going to happen. It is a wonderful and defining moment.

Once you have tried on at least seven dresses it becomes serious. Fortunately, my friend was on hand to take lots of photos, front AND back (you do want to know how you'll look from behind don't you?). She was amazing. Telling me what she thought, asking me what I thought, making suggestions....I couldn't have done it without her. At the end of the day however, roughly 20 dresses later it was difficult to remember the first ones and the best ones. There tended to be two I had really liked in each shop and one total favourites not each place. I visited 2 shops and was still undecided when I reached the third and last one.

In the last store, Berkertex Bride, we had the benefit of Chris, a knowledgeable assistant who worked really hard to help. Here was where I left my comfort zone and began to think more clearly. Based on my selections, Chris suggested other dresses and more importantly encouraged me to try things I had ruled out. She persuaded me to try on a tea length dress, ruched ones, ones with court trains and yes, even strapless gowns! I confronted many of the things I thought I didn't like. I tried on veils and tiaras, princess gowns and A line ones and was amazed at what I saw.

We often say 'save the best till last' without really thinking much about it. Brides sometimes say, you will KNOW when you find that special gown, the one you HAVE to have. I was a little sceptical about this: I often have trouble deciding on a restaurant or dinner, let alone dresses! Even so, one of the last dresses I tried really captivated me. I asked to try it again after all the others. This was the gown that changed me. It turned on my head almost every idea I had about what I wanted. This was the one I put on and thought, 'this could be IT!'. In all the dresses I tried, this was the design that made me feel right; a dress to say 'I do' in; the one I could imagine myself wearing on my special day and that 'future Mrs Williams' dress!

Pause for thought, something practical and sensible inside made me want to review ALL the possibilities. We retired to a local pub where we'd enjoyed lunch and began to work our way through a bottle of Freixenet. There is nothing quite like cool intoxicating Cava (unless it's Prosecco) for freeing your up mind and helping you make a decision. I came to realise in that moment that although buying a wedding dress is a major purchase it is unique. Wedding gowns are totally special, unlike any other garment you've ever had and meant for a truly memorable day marking the beginning of a new life. This is not the time for 'this one is a little cheaper than the other' or 'this would go better with shoes I already have'....

With that sudden realisation came the admission that I REALLY wanted this dress! Then there was the mad scramble to return to the shop. The door was locked but they opened up especially for us. Was it a sign? I like to think it was.

Returning home on the train I don't think I have ever felt quite such a sense of achievement (and yes I do have a PhD). It felt so good to have found what I was looking for (even though I was looking for something else!)

To those of you who want photos you will simply have to wait until after the wedding. No way am I risking my H2B getting a sneak peak at my dress. Like you, he'll just have to bide his time and be surprised. I'm so looking forward to seeing the look on his face.


Jane xx

(Miss Jane Ward for now - well until 28 October)


Friday, February 27, 2015

B2B, WTB, loving a H2B and searching for an MoH

The moment every girl longs for...

Life is full of abbreviations these days. I seem to live in an LGBTQi community addicted to them. Even my students say BTW, WTF and LOL instead of their spoken equivalents. We all live at a super fast pace with no time or space to do things the way we used to. As a girl whose life had stalled for years I'm as prone to this as the rest of us. Waiting for my life to start for so many years has made me impatient to enjoy it to the full now. I want to taste everything, experience everything, do the things I longed for as a teenage girl, reach for the stars and live life to the full. In the past ten years I seem to have hurtled through adolescence, first periods, first dates, first boyfriend and first steps as an adult woman. I've evolved my style and dress sense. I've had a crash course in how to negotiate working life, relationships, romance and err....yes....sex. It continues to be a roller coaster ride....sometimes it's nice to pause, take stock and have a rest; cue for a break.

Last week was one of those times. It began with Valentine's Day; red roses, a card, wine and chocolates. Come midweek I was whisked off by my boyfriend to one of the most romantic locations of all; Bruges. We had dinner and wine on board ship, walked by dreamy canals, bathed in sparkling Winter sunshine, engaged in sightseeing and shopping and relaxed. The afternoon saw us installed in a cosy bar by an open fire, drinking glasses of Leffe. We sat opposite each other, beautifully warm, toasting our love for each other. Think that it couldn't get much better? It did!

My boyfriend loves photography. Since we met over two years ago I've gotten used to posing and having the most amazing photographs taken of me. His camera lens captures images the way HE sees me. Most of us find it hard to understand the things people genuinely appreciate about us. Seeing myself as others do and through my boyfriend's eyes was a revelation and a surprising one. I've always considered myself unattractive and destined to be unloved. His photography changed all that. So, the beautiful backdrop of Bruges and soft Winter sunshine was a good reason to take more posed shots of me.....Silly girl that I am, I still didn't catch on when he packed a tripod and set it up by the Minnewater to photograph me. Only when he went down on one knee and produced that teeny tiny box did I realise what was happening. It was such a precious romantic moment. It was the perfect place and time to pop THE question and of course, I said yes. I am so totally in love with him.

As a result, I'm on Cloud Nine right now. I left the UK with my boyfriend and returned from Belgium with my fiancé and a ring on my wedding finger. Growing up, I felt sure that I would never find romance, be loved by a man for the girl I truly am and would never become engaged. It wasn't even 'feeling sure'; I absolutely KNEW it would never happen to me......except it has. It is a continuing source of wonder and happiness to me. I'm now planning my wedding with the most wonderful guy in the world and looking forward to being his wife. I'm experiencing the world as I never expected. When we attended a wedding fair last week I was surpised to be asked if I was the Bride and to find myself saying 'yes'. Fiancée, Bride to be, future wife, future Mrs Williams and no longer just the girlfriend is quite a lot to take in all at once. Gazing down at my ring finger I keep smiling and smiling and smiling....how on earth did this all happen? The answer of course is that 'it started with a kiss'. I should blog about that some time.

So what now? Set a date? Check (28/10/15) Book a venue? Check; book a Registrar? Check; plan out a Wedding Budget? Check. There is so much to do, so many decisions to make; that all important dress to find, items to shop for, bookings to be made, an MoH and Bridesmaids to choose. There are only 8 months to do them.....even so, for a few days they can wait: This cloud is such a comfortable place to be...especially with a glass of Prosecco!


Jane <3 xx

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Angst, Bright Lights and Excess Moisture: Manchester - City of my Dreams


Mhairi McFarlane tries to evoke a city and it's micro-climate in her book 'You Had Me at Hello': "that special Manchester rain that manages to be both vertical and horizontal at the same time". When I moved there aged 18, the first thing I did was to go out and buy an umbrella: Wielding one in a Manchester downpour requires skill and dexterity; generally......you still get wet.

In spite of its climate which is famously to be thanked for the cotton industry, I have loved this city my whole life yet only lived there sporadically. As a little girl, my memories are of the days before Christmas, travelling to Picadilly station from Penistone and visiting Kendal Milne's department store. Even for a child who lived not far outside Leeds, the lights of Deansgate seemed spectacular beyond measure and that huge Art Deco store like the biggest shop on earth. Manchester and its bright lights was a treat, a longed for reward if I was good: An amazing day out. Small wonder then that when I chose College, I applied to the University of Manchester. Believe it or not, I turned down a place at University College London to go there, a decision which might seem strange to some.

This year, for the first time, I had the privilege of spending the whole of Christmas here. Here's hoping that it will be the same for many Christmases to come. This year for the first time, I shopped in the Arndale Shopping Mall on Christmas Eve, I attended the Christmas Eucharist in Manchester Cathedral and on Christmas Day I enjoyed the quiet of an almost deserted Piccadilly, wandering warm and happy with my boyfriend. So much has happened since I last lived in Manchester as a teenager.

Aged 18, I arrived in Manchester to live in Fallowfield, the student suburb. I was young and impressionable, in emotional turmoil and doubtIng my gender identity and sexuality. In my dreams, Manchester was the big City where I could finally confront my problems and just be me. I had spent my childhood and teen years as a girl inside yet accepted as the opposite by those around me. I asked my Mum to teach me how to knit and sew. In summer when I walked into town (Wakefield) via Thornes Park, it was in cut off jean shorts embroidered with flowers and homemade tops. I stitched my check blouses up to bare my midriff and tied my long dark wavy hair up with a ribbon. When I was in that place, life seemed simple and I was happy.


By the time I attended College, life had gone sour, I began to lose a grip on who I was and what might become of me. Much of how my life unravelled is already covered elsewhere in this blog. It was probably too much to expect Manchester to sort out my problems. Leaving home only created more of them. I was in a relationship with my best (girl)friend. With hindsight it was a same sex relationship. To onlookers it looked like a straight one. It was an entanglement that didn't help. In my room I was myself; a girl working hard to get her degree; to my College friends I was gay, to my parents and girlfriend I was the exact opposite. A mirror image in terms of gender and sexual orientation. Something had to give, maybe it had to be me. Messing up an overdose before Christmas lead me to believe I was a failure and a disappointment, especially to myself. I ran home and retreated into what others around me expected: someone who seemed like a boy and was supposed to act like one....

So much for the angst. It removed much of the shine from Manchester's bright lights. It was long enough ago for Canal Street to seem like a sordid and unrespectable place. It wasn't the Gay Village. The Village had not yet come to being. It was a place for cruising and meeting, bordered by dank dark canal and a convenient distance from Piccadilly station. I preferred just being out in the city with friends; in Albert Sq, Piccadilly, Princess Street and the Student Quarter around Oxford Rd. The memories were good ones even though the personal experiences were bad. I salvaged that much from my past.

Periodically I've returned to the City. For so many years I've lived within 2 hours by train. As I've grown and changed so has the city. Once austere and northern, Manchester is now more like a modern European city. Trams thread the streets. It has a wonderful juxtaposition of high rise and neo gothic. Piccadilly is a busy thriving commercial hub full of great bars and hotels. Chinatown has the most amazing shops and restaurants, the Northern Quarter is bohemian and quirky, the Village just plain fabulous. Everyone has there favourite district, I just love it all. As I came out and became myself Manchester has redefined its place in the world and grown more stylish.

This year, just before Christmas, I took my boyfriend to visit the John Rylands Library. The last time I visited that amazing building, I was 19, perceived to be the opposite gender to what I really am. At High School and in College I had so many crushes on those dreamy guys around me. It was an truly upsetting and frustrating time. Knowing that I could never be who I needed to be publicly led to distress, anxiety and frustration. With no outlet I turned it all on myself both mentally and physically; self-harming my body and my mind. Hurting 'helped'. It became a punishment for having a body that had let me down and a mind that would not do what I wanted. Forcing myself to be what others expected was only what I deserved. Seeking sex in ways that got me hurt felt appropriate too. Denied the dreamy romantic love from guys which I secretly wanted I felt I deserved no better than the abuse I actually received.


Now, the John Ryland's has changed and yet it hasn't. It's beautiful interior is enhanced by a new plate glass foyer; a tastefully designed modern addition. The two complement each other perfectly. Through modern changes you can see that inside, the library is as it always has been. The new enhances and showcases what truly is a gem of architecture and a visionary inspiration to those seeking knowledge. I too have changed without changing. People around me can see who I properly am now. My clothes and how I present myself are how I've always truly been. They just enable others to see clearly what I've known all along.

Returning to the John Rylands with my boyfriend's caring arm around my waist and his loving kisses when no one was looking, was the most improbable and impossible reversal of fortunes. We were treading in my 19 year old footsteps, following a despairing teen. A teen who tried to deny what she would finally become. I'm glad it turned out that way. Thank Manchester that it did.

POSTSCRIPT: if you ever have the privelege to visit the John Rylands in Manchester, be sure you visit the loos. The Victorian lavatories are a work of art and well worth a visit. As a 19 year old I used the wrong toilets because I was expected to. This Christmas, I could finally use the right ones :)


Jane xx


Wednesday, October 15, 2014

It's been almost Ten Years

This is me now. Ten years ago I could not foresee this image or what would lead to it. Let me deconstruct it for you:

I'm posing in a romantic location I'd been visiting since I was seven. The photo is being taken by my boyfriend who loves me very much. This was our first proper holiday together. I'm wearing hotpants and a cami with confidence. I've got my legs on show. My hair looks lovely. I'm wearing next to no makeup. I feel pretty. More important I feel confident and happy....How on earth did I get there?.....

.......with great difficulty!

As an educator I'm always trying to teach students the importance of planning before you act. For years I've been endeavouring to show why it is best to think clearly and research before completing that assignment. 'How are you going to approach the task?'. 'How will you make your meaning clear, back up what you say and justify your position?....' It is ironic that while I was dishing up this advice (over many years) I failed to communicate to others who I was. I felt unable to plan the moment when I would reveal who I actually was or felt I was inside.

Almost ten years ago, on my birthday, I came out to my best friend. It was a momentous decision, one that completely changed my life. It was a decision that had been so long coming. When you have hurt inside for so many years you get used to the pain, it's your constant companion: You learn to endure and suffer in silence because you think that is all you deserve. How do you research and plan to emerge from all that? From the dawn of the World Wide Web I read blogs, consulted Trans awareness sites and the few support networks. While I waited, in fear for the moment when someone would discover I was Trans I read wistfully about the journeys of others, their path to Transition and beyond. Like Sam watching Frodo and the Elves sail away to the West, it seemed like transition would never happen for me. I would always be left behind.

Coming out to my friend was the first step. It happened in a rush with NO preparation save for years of fear and indecision. Maybe coming out is so personal that it can never be properly planned for. In the final event, not all the planning in the world could help. It was just something that had to be said and like an explosion, or a plate glass window smashing, there was a moment of absolute quiet afterwards. It was one filled with all manner of thoughts, fear of rejection, condemnation and losing it all. I needn't have worried: She was in fact incredibly accepting. It turned out that she had suspected as much for years. It was one of the greatest moments of relief in my whole life.

My friend had the privilege(?) of listening to a history of all that had gone before; the sorrows and hurts from years of being bullied, upset, depressed and forced to keep silent. I had the privelege of a bottle of wine, chocolate and (fortunately) a box of tissues. Telling the story of how you hid and ran away from your problems means you end up reliving them in your head. You end up a tear stained and sorry mess but at least you have told someone.

Since that day I've had to come out over and over again. Many of those times were a good deal more difficult. Some ended with a total parting of the ways. There is no ONE definitive coming out. Even so, for me, each disclosure to a new person got easier and I never found any as traumatic as the first. You find ways of answering the inevitable questions and in telling your story more coherently. By the time seven years had elapsed I was out proud and happy to talk to anyone about who I am.

I'm a songwriter and it seemed fitting then at that point, to put it all down and condense. Here are the lyrics from my iPad:

Okay, 'Daring to be a completely new person?' I'm not sure. Let's face it. I am who I've always been; a girl. However the person people thought I was is no longer me. Indeed it never was. I simply tried to fulfil other's expectations. Maybe coming out is so hard because it involves shattering illusions. Illusions are just that; constructs that have no real substance. Life is too short to live hidden behind one.

This has been a really personal account of my coming out. It was prompted by the occasion of International Coming Out Day. I'm aware that others experiences might be very different to mine. I'd love to hear them.


Jane xx

Note: A demo recording of the song above is here on my Reverbnation page: http://www.reverbnation.com/robynjane/song/11079212-journey

also on Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/retrobassgirl/journey


Thursday, July 10, 2014

To those of you about to SPARKLE.....

'She had everything; the looks, the clothes, the job, the apartment, the wonderful daughter and now the tall handsome boyfriend......but Jane Ward still wasn't satisfied.....'

Oops, yes, you've seen right, Jane is breaking her promise she wouldn't post to THIS blog again and saying 'hello'. I'm writing this to send greetings to all you girls and guys heading for Sparkle in Manchester this weekend. I've met so many of you over the years and have some truly happy and amazing memories of times spent with you. It seems strange therefore that I felt ambivalent about heading off to Sparkle again this year. Maybe it's because over one year post op, a happy woman with everything I ever wanted (well maybe just a few more shoes then) that I wasn't sure it was even for me any more. There is a huge amount of truth in the quote at the top of this post.

Over the years I've talked to so many Trans women and a few Trans guys. Of those fellow travellers; most have now fully transitioned; some have gone stealth and dropped off the radar. I never really wanted to do that myself yet it has begun to happen. Over the past 12 months I have been so overwhelmingly accepted by those around me; clocked as just another female friend, date, mother or co-worker. Acceptance has been so complete that I've started to feel I've always been this way. When I occasionally talk about the past and let slip the words 'when I was a little girl...' I know that they're essentially true. I grew up that way in spite of a few embarrassing bits that didn't belong to me...I feel whole now and it doesn't seem as though it was ever any other way.

I've also met many lovely and wonderful cross dressers, especially through the Unique network. As a Trans woman though I never really understood them. I grew up from a very young age feeling always a girl. The clothes I wear are just clothes, I'm a woman simply because I am one. I deliberately cross socialised myself as a teen, refusing to interact or integrate with guys on their level (I secretly fancied many of them anyway). The idea of someone 'dressing' and behaving as a woman for only part of the time was totally beyond my comprehension. I guess it still is in spite of the great respect I have for anyone that is CD and the wonderful times I've had with them.

Here however is the real reason my my returning to Sparkle.

Those of you who know me well will be aware that when I fell in love it was with a guy who I'd first met when he dressed as a woman. I'll be attending as just another supportive girlfriend and Trans Ally this year. A proud SOFFA (significant others, friends, family and allies). Come up and say 'Hello'. I'll be with my best friend Tina (pictured with me above). Tina is the alter ego of my gorgeous handsome boyfriend Mart. She is a Sparkle Virgin (oops, I shouldn't have said that!) so be really kind to her.

Here's raising a bottle of WKD (Vodka Red please) to that wonderful, colourful, crazy and fabulous weekend that is Sparkle. Let the fun begin :)

Hugs, Jane xx



Friday, June 13, 2014

Fancy a Romp?

I said that after 'Moving On' I wouldn't post to the blog any more. I have moved on and now blog at 'Jane's Essential Addictions' In case you haven't checked it out yet, here's the second post: Enjoy :)

OMG it's warm again, the Summer is finally here and you might get to leave those tights off for once! A girl gets kinda restless this time of year and longs for something different. I’ve been spending the Winter rocking black tights, shorts & block heeled ankle boots. It’s a look I love but the rising mercury makes me want to leave that behind and reach for something sassy and cool.

Enter the Romper (or Playsuit as we prefer to call it over here in the UK). Dare you wear one? Not sure? For some of us, the last time we wore Rompers was when we were little girls. They had handy poppers underneath for when Mummy needed to change you LOL.

For those of you old enough to remember you might also clock that like most things fashion wise they’re a vintage idea recycled. Do you remember these?

Kinda cute and carefree or at least that’s what the fashion plate wanted you to think. I have to confess, my last foray into playsuits was in a period of my life obsessed with vintage clothing. I bought a retro inspired one from VOH. Somewhat like the one below. (Vivien of Holloway online http://www.vivienofholloway.com/women-c70/trousers-c14/playsuits-c44 or from their store in Holloway (£59.00))

These days however when you think of playsuits, something more like Rita Ora’s gorgeous red snakeskin number springs to mind. Doesn’t she just totally rock on the cover of ‘I will never let you down'?

But what about the rest of us? Take a look out there and Playsuits are everywhere. From pretty florals to bright summer neon prints and denim, Playsuits are everywhere, with a variety of necklines and fits from boho to chic. As for me I fell for this totes adorbs AX Paris one in the label lounge section of Liverpool ONE's New Look store.

Okay I know that there's a price to pay and I don't mean the tag lol. Going to the loo means getting undressed...err....totally: Once my boyfriend closes the back zipper on this one and fastens the hook and eye at the top I'm utterly captive and can't even go to the loo without his help! If you're going to a Festival and have to face portaloos or worse you might want to choose a front zipper or something else. Even so I still love the playsuit.

So what is so special? I totally adore them when summer comes because you can get away with a hemline way shorter than any dress or skirt in your closet. You can bend over or sit down without showing all you've got and there's nothing that says summer street style more than a playsuit.

If you want to buy it AX Paris number also comes in a gorgeous neon pink print as well....should I have bought two?


Currently a steal at £25 online or 10% off with an introductory first offer discount, what are you waiting for?

Jane xx

Friday, April 11, 2014

Moving On

When I was a child I routinely had to walk up the slatted staircase of the church where my family worshipped.  It was a modern design and you could see the floor beneath as you climbed ever higher.  I used to shake with fear.  I hated it.  On a bad day my father would have to carry me.  Yes, I’m scared of heights, I hate looking down and seeing what’s below me.  For someone who’s felt female for the whole of her life but has the wrong body parts, looking down is something you hate doing. That’s been my experience since I was three years old: Before that I can’t remember. When you look down you see that you’re different to every other female you know.  Why was I different to my Mommy? Why was I different to my friend Julie across the road? Why was different to every other girl in the street? It made me feel like a freak.

I came to realise 10 years ago as I came out that I also hate looking back.  Looking back reminded me of having to act a part that was never me, of having to battle through life as a woman with facial hair and the wrong genitalia; filled like poison with the wrong hormones and desperately unhappy.  Looking back was just as painful as looking down and I had an extreme aversion to doing it.  My therapist sought to change all that. He guided me through the process of confronting my past and facing it.  He also encouraged me to write this blog; almost one hundred posts filled with a chronicle of my experiences: Experiences and feelings that I had locked away and needed to face before moving on. Writing the Blog and looking back gave me perspective.

How would you define perspective? A mental attitude or viewpoint? one allowing you to see things in their true proportions and accurately?  That’s how it has been for me anyway and the sense of perspective I shied away from so long has finally lead to a resolution:  12 months on from surgery I’m feeling very different. So much has changed and I’m now in a very different place.  A year ago, everything was quite literally raw and sore; an open wound that had been painful throughout my whole life. If I take the long view and look back I see the same thing over and over, dwindling down until it becomes a distant pinpoint: I see nothing but a girl who was forced to act a part. So where does that leave me?

It leaves me where I am now with a (belated) realisation that I’ve never been anything else; a girl with a difficult beginning in life; an unhappy young woman who did her best to fit in at college and failed; a woman who found solace and fulfilment in motherhood but never fell in love; a woman who found herself in the end and came to realise her dreams; all of these, always female.  If I you want to consider me a T-Girl I’m a natal one.  An NTG if you will.  However, I hate categories and sub-categories.  I’ll just go with what’s on my birth certificate and that’s ‘Girl’. 12 months after GRS I know longer feel Trans.  Gender Dysphoria has long since gone to be replaced by Euphoria.  I’m happy with my female gender as it is. My history may be a little different to most girls but I grew up one and I am one all the same, period.

So that’s it.  This is the point where this particular blog comes to an end and this is the final posting.  I will keep the “Retrobassgirl” Blog up online.  Please feel free to continue to comment and I will respond. In the meantime I’m starting a new one: “Jane’s Essential Addictions” I want to write about where I am now as a woman, as a girlfriend and about the things a girl can’t do without; everything from sex and love to food and fashion.

So here goes :)


Jane xx