With a stretched motorwayed chasm between us and a bottle quaffed it's unwise to type and press return, but Tillie is prone to confessional outpourings and immune to the tuts of imagined outsiders or concerned friends.
I want to be somewhere else and for it all to be easier.
I want to be in our special intimate place, in our silky nighties, where gender is disregarded and we are just lovers and friends, smiling in the half light.
And not here remembering our last meeting and trying to reduce the magnitude of it for other people, to be owned but not disown others.
Who doesn't long to be understood and valued? It's a universal longing, I'm not alone in my yearnings. I want to be conjoined, to be adult and emotionally carefree.
I want to sit beside her, pull her to me and place my temple to her temple and know we are two people together in a vast populous who seek an informed closeness.
There are some bridges that are monumental in there construction and that I am the architect of future designs, for my happiness, that I need to garner every resource. I don't feel tough but know I am.
My ramblings are a chaotic love letter to Angela.
In a world of strange pressures, my fingers will apply weird and irregular pressures to her flesh, and the braille of my touch is a language of tender words that speaks love. I know every love is new, but silly Tillie believes that perhaps you can love and be loved in return. The pads of my fingertips tenderly seek your pleasure and say let me please you.
"We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community."
Dorothy Day
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Birthday celebrations and life's deliberations
It was my 46th birthday on Saturday night and it was arranged that a gang of us would hook up in The Gay Village in Manchester and trip the light fantastic and indulge in some fine dining. Lots of my TV girlfriends were coming along and it was going to be a well needed break from bickering kids, domestic boredom and late night dipsomania.
The day got off to a poor start with me getting fractious and annoyed with my ex husband (Baldprick) on my doorstep. This was my first husband and the only guy I married, it was only due to the fact I got pregnant that I married him. He is the biggest mistake I ever made, after having the kids he evolved into a violent weed smoking pervert who was unable to hold down a job. The only good thing to come out of it was the children.
It had been planned that Angela, myself and the four children (3 of mine, 1 of hers) would enjoy Holy Holly Day in Nantwich which is a very noisy and exciting re-enactment of a battle from the English Civil War and then on for Cake and Ice Cream in a local cafe. The children were all up early and excited! Anyway Baldprick turned up without prior warning, he had not been to see them for two weeks, and is always late, to take my two eldest children out (and to prepare them their Holy Communion in the Summer) and would not relent despite it being my birthday and neither of the children wanting to go with him. Despite my daughter's tears of disappointment, he demanded he take them. I am tired of my 11 year old daughter feeling traumatised about seeing her father and think I will seek legal advice. I should not hate him so intensely but he is an aggressive arrogant little Napoleon. After he left I felt agitated and angry with myself for letting this jerk rattle my cage. It makes me start seeking revenge and engenders feelings in me that I deplore in others. I know this seems vengeful and dark but my hatred and loathing of him is so deep seated I cannot shake it.
Anyway, Angela decided that we would head off at noon with the two youngest children and make the most of it. It was very enjoyable being together, and her boy disguise was nothing short of genius, even with her natural, sandy blond, long hair, pierced ears, smooth face and painted finger nails she looks quite boyish. I'll always love that boy in her, somehow it makes her completely perfect as a human being, so many polars drawn together, male to female, straight to gay, drawn into my beautiful girlfriend, she is many contradictions yet a magnetizing unison to me. My Prism.
Johnny animal, 20 stone of babysitter, was duly recruited, knowing that whilst Angie and I were out clubbing the kids and Johnnie would all be having fun playing video games and eating junk.
We drove to Manchester and were in high spirits, I was feeling a lot of love, optimism and very secure, both of us boppy and upbeat despite tiredness and our loss of sexual activity in recent weeks (Angie has been taking hormones as she starts her physical transition to be a woman). We were being boisterous and playful in our room in The Ibis and generally wrestling and teasing one another,liking each other a lot. A loss of the sex has been replaced by increased affection and sensuality. The sense of fun remaining. Although if her habit of chucking cold water at me in the shower persists I will deploy battle type strategies to thoroughly soak her when she least expects it!!! Tillie Warmbath ain't going to be Tillie Coldbath and rollover!
Angela picked a short youthful black satin Lipsy dress with killer black velvet heels.
I wore a more mature 1940's Pillarbox red A-line Chiffon dress that showed my curves and made the most of the fact my weight has increased after numerous over indulgences with Angela (oh those Nachos are soooo good) and my increased penchant for red wine (slurp slurp yeah). Joking aside I know I have some pronounced dependencies right now but all will fall back into place when I return to work.
The evening started well, with a delicious meal in the wonderful Villagios washed down with several glasses of Pinot Grigio. The conversation was mercurial and witty in the company of JaneG, Abicat, and Louise, three of my favourite people and all trans in one way or another. (I'll post a pic later if I can). I was totally happy with those I loved, and was delighted to get a gift of beads from the girls to add to my burgeoning bead collection. Thank you ladies. I felt special and Angela looked beautiful as usual. The terrific teeny trans girls from North Wales rolled in, with an air of expensive cologne and exquisite girlish dress sense, all of them young and looking a million dollars... "I am so jealous of their youth" commentated Angela, and I saw in her a rare regret that she could not have been her true self when she was younger. Anyway the hours for dancing were looming and we were keen despite our arthritic inclinations and sensitive dispositions!
I did not see it coming but Tillie had a tantrum looming that was born of several niggles that had been accumulating in recent times.
After the meal we decided to go for a dance and some more drinks. Me and the girls went into View, a spacious and young venue which is predominantly frequented by young dykes, the atmosphere is young and lively, standing on a balcony overlooking the dance floor, I watched a sea of young girls having great time, I felt too old to be there and a touch uncomfortable... I became aware in the corner of the room, a middle aged woman signaling and grinning at Angela, summoning her to come over, this is not unusual behaviour in the village as Real Women always make a fuss of the transvestites, requesting to have their picture taken with them, as they see it novel and amusing. Angela, checked with me subtly and went over, I watched Angela, laughing and giggling whispering into the woman' ear, her face close to the woman's hair, flirting, one of my friends said to me "What the hell is she playing at?" Several times Angela, came over to me, telling me she loved me and asking for me "permission" to flirt on, I felt really unhappy, it was something I have frequently seen her do. From a distance I watched a group of young girls taking pictures of my TV pals and Angela, she was loving the attention, all drunk laughing at the hilarity of the siutation, one of the group asked me to take pictures but not to join them. I find it annoying that my friends are a tourist attrtaction, or freaks to most of these girls, a bit of cross dressed totty to spice up the evening's pissed up piccies. My girlfriend is not a transvestite, she is transitioning to become a woman in her own right, I am living a more complex life so she can be free, I do this willingly as I love her and no other, but feel annoyed when others treat her like a novelty. Angela is a champion flirt and I felt disprespected and unattractive.
I won't go one but I threw my cards on the table and told Angie, how I felt and became hard nosed and bitchy, I was hurt and felt the heavy weight of all our trans issues bearing down on me. She was sorry and earnest in her apologies and we talked late into the night thrashing out the issues that were so upsetting to me, for me to feel secure and to accept that her flirting is based on a desperate need to be ONE OF THE GIRLS and not to actually bed any of the girls. Old insecurites in both of us die hard. I love her and do not wish her to change from the crazy party girl that I fell for. Sorry hun.
The day got off to a poor start with me getting fractious and annoyed with my ex husband (Baldprick) on my doorstep. This was my first husband and the only guy I married, it was only due to the fact I got pregnant that I married him. He is the biggest mistake I ever made, after having the kids he evolved into a violent weed smoking pervert who was unable to hold down a job. The only good thing to come out of it was the children.
It had been planned that Angela, myself and the four children (3 of mine, 1 of hers) would enjoy Holy Holly Day in Nantwich which is a very noisy and exciting re-enactment of a battle from the English Civil War and then on for Cake and Ice Cream in a local cafe. The children were all up early and excited! Anyway Baldprick turned up without prior warning, he had not been to see them for two weeks, and is always late, to take my two eldest children out (and to prepare them their Holy Communion in the Summer) and would not relent despite it being my birthday and neither of the children wanting to go with him. Despite my daughter's tears of disappointment, he demanded he take them. I am tired of my 11 year old daughter feeling traumatised about seeing her father and think I will seek legal advice. I should not hate him so intensely but he is an aggressive arrogant little Napoleon. After he left I felt agitated and angry with myself for letting this jerk rattle my cage. It makes me start seeking revenge and engenders feelings in me that I deplore in others. I know this seems vengeful and dark but my hatred and loathing of him is so deep seated I cannot shake it.
Anyway, Angela decided that we would head off at noon with the two youngest children and make the most of it. It was very enjoyable being together, and her boy disguise was nothing short of genius, even with her natural, sandy blond, long hair, pierced ears, smooth face and painted finger nails she looks quite boyish. I'll always love that boy in her, somehow it makes her completely perfect as a human being, so many polars drawn together, male to female, straight to gay, drawn into my beautiful girlfriend, she is many contradictions yet a magnetizing unison to me. My Prism.
Johnny animal, 20 stone of babysitter, was duly recruited, knowing that whilst Angie and I were out clubbing the kids and Johnnie would all be having fun playing video games and eating junk.
We drove to Manchester and were in high spirits, I was feeling a lot of love, optimism and very secure, both of us boppy and upbeat despite tiredness and our loss of sexual activity in recent weeks (Angie has been taking hormones as she starts her physical transition to be a woman). We were being boisterous and playful in our room in The Ibis and generally wrestling and teasing one another,liking each other a lot. A loss of the sex has been replaced by increased affection and sensuality. The sense of fun remaining. Although if her habit of chucking cold water at me in the shower persists I will deploy battle type strategies to thoroughly soak her when she least expects it!!! Tillie Warmbath ain't going to be Tillie Coldbath and rollover!
Angela picked a short youthful black satin Lipsy dress with killer black velvet heels.
I wore a more mature 1940's Pillarbox red A-line Chiffon dress that showed my curves and made the most of the fact my weight has increased after numerous over indulgences with Angela (oh those Nachos are soooo good) and my increased penchant for red wine (slurp slurp yeah). Joking aside I know I have some pronounced dependencies right now but all will fall back into place when I return to work.
The evening started well, with a delicious meal in the wonderful Villagios washed down with several glasses of Pinot Grigio. The conversation was mercurial and witty in the company of JaneG, Abicat, and Louise, three of my favourite people and all trans in one way or another. (I'll post a pic later if I can). I was totally happy with those I loved, and was delighted to get a gift of beads from the girls to add to my burgeoning bead collection. Thank you ladies. I felt special and Angela looked beautiful as usual. The terrific teeny trans girls from North Wales rolled in, with an air of expensive cologne and exquisite girlish dress sense, all of them young and looking a million dollars... "I am so jealous of their youth" commentated Angela, and I saw in her a rare regret that she could not have been her true self when she was younger. Anyway the hours for dancing were looming and we were keen despite our arthritic inclinations and sensitive dispositions!
I did not see it coming but Tillie had a tantrum looming that was born of several niggles that had been accumulating in recent times.
After the meal we decided to go for a dance and some more drinks. Me and the girls went into View, a spacious and young venue which is predominantly frequented by young dykes, the atmosphere is young and lively, standing on a balcony overlooking the dance floor, I watched a sea of young girls having great time, I felt too old to be there and a touch uncomfortable... I became aware in the corner of the room, a middle aged woman signaling and grinning at Angela, summoning her to come over, this is not unusual behaviour in the village as Real Women always make a fuss of the transvestites, requesting to have their picture taken with them, as they see it novel and amusing. Angela, checked with me subtly and went over, I watched Angela, laughing and giggling whispering into the woman' ear, her face close to the woman's hair, flirting, one of my friends said to me "What the hell is she playing at?" Several times Angela, came over to me, telling me she loved me and asking for me "permission" to flirt on, I felt really unhappy, it was something I have frequently seen her do. From a distance I watched a group of young girls taking pictures of my TV pals and Angela, she was loving the attention, all drunk laughing at the hilarity of the siutation, one of the group asked me to take pictures but not to join them. I find it annoying that my friends are a tourist attrtaction, or freaks to most of these girls, a bit of cross dressed totty to spice up the evening's pissed up piccies. My girlfriend is not a transvestite, she is transitioning to become a woman in her own right, I am living a more complex life so she can be free, I do this willingly as I love her and no other, but feel annoyed when others treat her like a novelty. Angela is a champion flirt and I felt disprespected and unattractive.
I won't go one but I threw my cards on the table and told Angie, how I felt and became hard nosed and bitchy, I was hurt and felt the heavy weight of all our trans issues bearing down on me. She was sorry and earnest in her apologies and we talked late into the night thrashing out the issues that were so upsetting to me, for me to feel secure and to accept that her flirting is based on a desperate need to be ONE OF THE GIRLS and not to actually bed any of the girls. Old insecurites in both of us die hard. I love her and do not wish her to change from the crazy party girl that I fell for. Sorry hun.
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
Shifting Sands
Things are changing between me and Angela, from our constant assertions that living 200 miles apart suits our "lifestyles" it is now increasingly difficult to say goodbye when we do part. I crave her at night and for all the love I have for my children, I have a separate more sensual love for her. It's surely not a weakness to miss someone and admit you seek their love and approval? We have decided we need to breach the gap between us and at some point I will yet again relocate... this is a huge life changing decision, but one thing is for sure, this time I am not taking a risk and this time I am not going to screw up.
Angela and I have been exploring options, looking at houses online that would be suitable for me rent in Newcastle upon Tyne. This is a step that needs to be taken as we want to be together as much as possible. It is agreed that we will not live together, this is my choice as I feel my three children would put too much strain on our relationship. I would move tomorrow, but I seem to be the perpetual nomad I have been moving all my life and with the exception of moving to Ireland to study, I always move for love. This time I need to weigh up all the pro's and con's see whether I can afford to pay rent etc, see whether my own irrationality will yet again cost me. I am guilty of being impulsive, I was diagnosed with ADD in my late twenties and need to step back and THINK.
Considerations
My eldest boy, is reluctant to move, he has Asperger's Syndrome and dislikes change, we only moved two years ago from Sussex and he has been through a lot of upheaval. It's a toughie. He says he likes his school here and that he will make me happy, he is concerned his friends will discover his mother is involved in a queer relationship with a transsexual, after only recently learning how to dispel bullies he fears my emotional choices will yet again thrust him back into a Lion's Den of humiliation and bias. (He tells me he is not homophobic, but if he intimates this to his peers he will be skinned). He could live with his Nana and carry on with his studies but my 13 year old son wants me to stay here with him and wait another four years till I move (when he plans to go to Uni). This hurts but whatever I decide it will be a sacrifice either way. Loving Angela makes me feel like a selfish parent. I am not sure how to address this. I love everyone concerned. I have told Josh that no concrete decision needs to be made until late summer.
Patterns
I am repeating an old pattern, I can see it, I am yet again moving for love, is this going to be the last time, where I finally meet someone who is not going to turn into a violent controlling bully? I am not motivated by money I just seek basic levels of love and happiness. I feel afraid of fucking up. I'm not sure. Angela has spent 12 months struggling to find feelings of love and now she is transitioning these emotions seem to be surfacing... what if it is the hormones affecting her emotionally. What if I am not really loved? For now I cannot risk it. I need to see Angela through her transition then, we can decide.
Honesty is a painful thing I have learnt but preferable to the heartache of deception and denials.
I need to be patient
Listen to my head and not follow my heart.
Me and the children deserve acceptance, love and security,
as does Angela.
Angela and I have been exploring options, looking at houses online that would be suitable for me rent in Newcastle upon Tyne. This is a step that needs to be taken as we want to be together as much as possible. It is agreed that we will not live together, this is my choice as I feel my three children would put too much strain on our relationship. I would move tomorrow, but I seem to be the perpetual nomad I have been moving all my life and with the exception of moving to Ireland to study, I always move for love. This time I need to weigh up all the pro's and con's see whether I can afford to pay rent etc, see whether my own irrationality will yet again cost me. I am guilty of being impulsive, I was diagnosed with ADD in my late twenties and need to step back and THINK.
Considerations
My eldest boy, is reluctant to move, he has Asperger's Syndrome and dislikes change, we only moved two years ago from Sussex and he has been through a lot of upheaval. It's a toughie. He says he likes his school here and that he will make me happy, he is concerned his friends will discover his mother is involved in a queer relationship with a transsexual, after only recently learning how to dispel bullies he fears my emotional choices will yet again thrust him back into a Lion's Den of humiliation and bias. (He tells me he is not homophobic, but if he intimates this to his peers he will be skinned). He could live with his Nana and carry on with his studies but my 13 year old son wants me to stay here with him and wait another four years till I move (when he plans to go to Uni). This hurts but whatever I decide it will be a sacrifice either way. Loving Angela makes me feel like a selfish parent. I am not sure how to address this. I love everyone concerned. I have told Josh that no concrete decision needs to be made until late summer.
Patterns
I am repeating an old pattern, I can see it, I am yet again moving for love, is this going to be the last time, where I finally meet someone who is not going to turn into a violent controlling bully? I am not motivated by money I just seek basic levels of love and happiness. I feel afraid of fucking up. I'm not sure. Angela has spent 12 months struggling to find feelings of love and now she is transitioning these emotions seem to be surfacing... what if it is the hormones affecting her emotionally. What if I am not really loved? For now I cannot risk it. I need to see Angela through her transition then, we can decide.
Honesty is a painful thing I have learnt but preferable to the heartache of deception and denials.
I need to be patient
Listen to my head and not follow my heart.
Me and the children deserve acceptance, love and security,
as does Angela.
Sunday, 17 January 2010
Zapping Mama!
There was I bored and skint, last Thursday, feeling morose to say the least ! Ah poor Tillie-No-Mates! Anyway Angela suggested a sponsored trip to hers, I was to organise the babysitter and jump on the affectionately called Trans Pennine Sexpress- she would treat me to a little Rest and Relaxation with her in the penthouse! So after a quick call to Nan to take my youngest and my babysitter the caring adn reliable Uncle Ernie aka Johnnie Animal, albeit ex LSD and ecstasy fiend and occasional hedonist for my eldest Hobbits, I was all set to be on my way. The plan being that I would kill two birds with one stone, as Angie's boobs are growing nicely now and and are in urgent need of de-fluffing with her Intense Pulse Light Machine. I could zap all her inaccessible places (and I am referring to her back and not her bollocks before you get carried away) I'm more than happy with her imminent breast development - but hairy mammaries, NO way!
Last Summer Angie went to great time and expense to buy a state of the art IPL machine. as she had been flying from Newcastle upon Tyne to Southampton to have her beard treated by this remarkable laser therapy. it was very very expensive, especially with the additional hotel and travels costs. Although never one to miss an opportunity she would combine the trips with a chance to explore the new magical world of a born again Angela....clubbing and exploring the nightclubs of the South Coast. Hence to save the time and cash she bought her own IPL machine - it would pay for itself and would be a nice little business opportunity when she was smooth all over!
There's nothing like the smell of burning hair and stale dandruff to have Angela and I brimming with optimism for the future.
So we had a very rewarding albeit hurty session on Saturday where, goggles on and Angela prostrated on her blue treatment coach i would smear her with ultrasound gel and get to work, I feel no apprehension in inflicting the pain of it on her as I know she longs to be feminine and hairless. It's such fun, in my huge green goggles, high heels, yellow bikini, laser in hand, to feel like the beauty therapist from Hell!
It was a special two days, of connecting and looking to the future together and look at ways to start a business opportunities. On the journey up to my private Nirvana with Angela I had met two enthusiastic guys on their way back from a business conference where they had been planning the UK launch of a new eco friendly health product MOnvaVie that was a Multi Level Marketing opportunity. I was interested in this antioxidant drink (made from Acai berries) as normally with businesses chances like this they are normally well established in your country so you cannot get high enough up in the tree to really financially benefit from the distributors you recruit and the products like Herbal life aren't that hot. I decided to arrange a meeting with the guys with me And Angela at a hotel in Newcastle as we are always looking at ways to increase the frock fund! We decided after a lot of research that we would run with it and get involved! The next twelve months was starting to look a lot more challenging!
Also on Thursday morning I had had a phone call out of the blue offering me a job interview- finally another chance for me to escape my fevered cabin.
Although a price was to be paid for Tillie's life in the fast lane!
My mother is inclined to the odd psychotic episode and had decided to blow a gasket on the afternoon of my return, ( my crime being that my train was delayed by poor weather and my mobile was out of order..) just the normal stuff, telling the babysitter I was the whore from Hell, swearing in front of the kids and making false accusations of prostitution and parental neglect, she also foolishly insulted Angela over the phone (who she thinks of as a boy and who she has not yet met), She has a Ph.D in Martyrdom and self-flagellation and like most sociopaths is a good Catholic Woman filled with a forever burning Fire and Brimstone- Poor Johnny Animal was so traumatised that in the course of his later afternoon nap, taken after quaffing too much cocoa and caffeine that my Mother in a Cape Fear-esque type scenario appeared in a nightmare as a female Michael Ryan with a sawn off shotgun in hand and was stalking him in the name of The Lord! Her intent to make Johnny beg forgiveness for his role in my moral degradation. Waking with a jolt poor Johnnie was truly quite alarmed!
Angela was so annoyed by my mothers profanities and threats that unbeknownst to me, she got in the car and was driving down to Cheshire to confront her get an apology and face to face and to tell her She was transsexual and Tillie and her good self where planning a lesbian Wedding that would be on the front page of the local Chronicle! The shock would hopefully render my mother permanently speechless. Luckily I managed to dissuade Angela from her confrontation, but I suspect storm clouds are gathering over my mother's bijoux Bungalow of Hate.
Last Summer Angie went to great time and expense to buy a state of the art IPL machine. as she had been flying from Newcastle upon Tyne to Southampton to have her beard treated by this remarkable laser therapy. it was very very expensive, especially with the additional hotel and travels costs. Although never one to miss an opportunity she would combine the trips with a chance to explore the new magical world of a born again Angela....clubbing and exploring the nightclubs of the South Coast. Hence to save the time and cash she bought her own IPL machine - it would pay for itself and would be a nice little business opportunity when she was smooth all over!
There's nothing like the smell of burning hair and stale dandruff to have Angela and I brimming with optimism for the future.
So we had a very rewarding albeit hurty session on Saturday where, goggles on and Angela prostrated on her blue treatment coach i would smear her with ultrasound gel and get to work, I feel no apprehension in inflicting the pain of it on her as I know she longs to be feminine and hairless. It's such fun, in my huge green goggles, high heels, yellow bikini, laser in hand, to feel like the beauty therapist from Hell!
It was a special two days, of connecting and looking to the future together and look at ways to start a business opportunities. On the journey up to my private Nirvana with Angela I had met two enthusiastic guys on their way back from a business conference where they had been planning the UK launch of a new eco friendly health product MOnvaVie that was a Multi Level Marketing opportunity. I was interested in this antioxidant drink (made from Acai berries) as normally with businesses chances like this they are normally well established in your country so you cannot get high enough up in the tree to really financially benefit from the distributors you recruit and the products like Herbal life aren't that hot. I decided to arrange a meeting with the guys with me And Angela at a hotel in Newcastle as we are always looking at ways to increase the frock fund! We decided after a lot of research that we would run with it and get involved! The next twelve months was starting to look a lot more challenging!
Also on Thursday morning I had had a phone call out of the blue offering me a job interview- finally another chance for me to escape my fevered cabin.
Although a price was to be paid for Tillie's life in the fast lane!
My mother is inclined to the odd psychotic episode and had decided to blow a gasket on the afternoon of my return, ( my crime being that my train was delayed by poor weather and my mobile was out of order..) just the normal stuff, telling the babysitter I was the whore from Hell, swearing in front of the kids and making false accusations of prostitution and parental neglect, she also foolishly insulted Angela over the phone (who she thinks of as a boy and who she has not yet met), She has a Ph.D in Martyrdom and self-flagellation and like most sociopaths is a good Catholic Woman filled with a forever burning Fire and Brimstone- Poor Johnny Animal was so traumatised that in the course of his later afternoon nap, taken after quaffing too much cocoa and caffeine that my Mother in a Cape Fear-esque type scenario appeared in a nightmare as a female Michael Ryan with a sawn off shotgun in hand and was stalking him in the name of The Lord! Her intent to make Johnny beg forgiveness for his role in my moral degradation. Waking with a jolt poor Johnnie was truly quite alarmed!
Angela was so annoyed by my mothers profanities and threats that unbeknownst to me, she got in the car and was driving down to Cheshire to confront her get an apology and face to face and to tell her She was transsexual and Tillie and her good self where planning a lesbian Wedding that would be on the front page of the local Chronicle! The shock would hopefully render my mother permanently speechless. Luckily I managed to dissuade Angela from her confrontation, but I suspect storm clouds are gathering over my mother's bijoux Bungalow of Hate.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Dull Days and self encouragement
"once again, can't figure out how to post a comment on your blog without signing up for another account of some sort. So, here is my comment to your blog:
Thanks, Tillie. You've pulled back the curtains to your very intimate boudoir, and allowed me to witness willingly but using mindfulness and without a sense of empty voyeurism. Teaching and enlightenment. You have a gift. love A (in Canada).
It is comments like this that make me think that writing the blog is of use and will help others make sense of what is in essence the nonsense of life. It is of importance to me to let people know that my queer love is very very normal whilst I know seemingly very exceptional.
The snow fell heavily again last night, it makes the carless Tillie in me reluctant to leave the house, as I only own footwear of a frivolous or chilly kind. I spent the entire day in bed. Ignoring all the practical and domestic jobs I need to attend to. The harsh weather a cold symbol for my insularity and lack of outward expression. Stuck in a cold stasis. I need to get tough and get out there. The book business is slow right now, and my role as sole provider is lacking a glow of warm and loving domesticity as the bills fall through the door and all three children crave the gadgets and designer clothing of their wealthier peers. Just as Angela tired of going through the motions of acting like a man, I need to become the energetic, creative woman I used to enjoy being. I feel like a half a person and I want to buck myself up. Being maudlin and miserable are characteristics I detest in my self and it is going to stop!
I have been tired and in the doldrums for weeks and need to seriously galvanise myself into action, my only focus at time seems to be Angela's tran-journey and the kids. I am insular and feeling horribly drained... I've been hitting the bottle late at night and I'm all run down again. A plan of great intent and magnitude is called for... it will involve seriously getting my finger out.I need an external focus outside of the home. Other people.
Lets face the major issues here:
Issue: Tillie is bored and wishes she was apple pie Mom... but she never will be.
Action: Go to the job centre and check out the local college website / Go utterly mad and contact Keele University about doing her Ph.d (Continuing her interest in Gender and sexuality).
Issue: You drink too much too often:
Action.... stop again...and again? I know Iam in the company of numerous other women who drink way too much but they won't articulate that or like me struggle to resist that most delicioous of coshes. I think i need to go into rehab (as my GP suggested) to be honest but who will look after my kids. This a real tough one for me and some real support and soul searching needs to be done and probably over a large class of Pinot Grigio when all the kids are safely asleep. The wine late at night is making me fat- this could be a real morivator to stop or seriouosly cut down.
Make a list of your priorities and do a to do list. These actions work. Focus and look to your blessings.
An internet comnnection will be taking me for walk in The Peak District on Sunday and this feels like a good oppurtunity to blow the cobwebs off and recall how fucking beautiful this planet is and to be here seems as good a reason as any to love others and be true unto myself.
The alcohol abuse really makes my writing dull, the words cloying and tacky, I know my full potential is being severly hampered by my own exhaustion and sluggishness.
I'll bounce back.
Thanks, Tillie. You've pulled back the curtains to your very intimate boudoir, and allowed me to witness willingly but using mindfulness and without a sense of empty voyeurism. Teaching and enlightenment. You have a gift. love A (in Canada).
It is comments like this that make me think that writing the blog is of use and will help others make sense of what is in essence the nonsense of life. It is of importance to me to let people know that my queer love is very very normal whilst I know seemingly very exceptional.
The snow fell heavily again last night, it makes the carless Tillie in me reluctant to leave the house, as I only own footwear of a frivolous or chilly kind. I spent the entire day in bed. Ignoring all the practical and domestic jobs I need to attend to. The harsh weather a cold symbol for my insularity and lack of outward expression. Stuck in a cold stasis. I need to get tough and get out there. The book business is slow right now, and my role as sole provider is lacking a glow of warm and loving domesticity as the bills fall through the door and all three children crave the gadgets and designer clothing of their wealthier peers. Just as Angela tired of going through the motions of acting like a man, I need to become the energetic, creative woman I used to enjoy being. I feel like a half a person and I want to buck myself up. Being maudlin and miserable are characteristics I detest in my self and it is going to stop!
I have been tired and in the doldrums for weeks and need to seriously galvanise myself into action, my only focus at time seems to be Angela's tran-journey and the kids. I am insular and feeling horribly drained... I've been hitting the bottle late at night and I'm all run down again. A plan of great intent and magnitude is called for... it will involve seriously getting my finger out.I need an external focus outside of the home. Other people.
Lets face the major issues here:
Issue: Tillie is bored and wishes she was apple pie Mom... but she never will be.
Action: Go to the job centre and check out the local college website / Go utterly mad and contact Keele University about doing her Ph.d (Continuing her interest in Gender and sexuality).
Issue: You drink too much too often:
Action.... stop again...and again? I know Iam in the company of numerous other women who drink way too much but they won't articulate that or like me struggle to resist that most delicioous of coshes. I think i need to go into rehab (as my GP suggested) to be honest but who will look after my kids. This a real tough one for me and some real support and soul searching needs to be done and probably over a large class of Pinot Grigio when all the kids are safely asleep. The wine late at night is making me fat- this could be a real morivator to stop or seriouosly cut down.
Make a list of your priorities and do a to do list. These actions work. Focus and look to your blessings.
An internet comnnection will be taking me for walk in The Peak District on Sunday and this feels like a good oppurtunity to blow the cobwebs off and recall how fucking beautiful this planet is and to be here seems as good a reason as any to love others and be true unto myself.
The alcohol abuse really makes my writing dull, the words cloying and tacky, I know my full potential is being severly hampered by my own exhaustion and sluggishness.
I'll bounce back.
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
Good times in the Penthouse
... look through my magic telescope, Angela has just collected Tillie from Newcastle railway station, they have been apart for ten days, they live 198 miles apart. See them, there! They look like two hippy chicks. Tall aren't they? They are returning to Angela's penthouse flat, they are an attractive and very striking pair of women. "
In the lift Tillie is deliberately body echoing Angela's aloof unaffectionate body language. It is a process that Tillie learnt from studying NLP, Till leans again the wall with her hands behind her back, copying Angela's stance, she looks away from her, Angela looks a little nervous and by the 6th floor grabs Tillie, she does not like her being even slightly stand offish, Tillie has shown her silently what others feel when they experience her, she grabs Tillie and embraces "It's so good to see you Till" Three months ago Angela would not have been so loving. But she is learning.
Entering the flat, there are large cardboard boxes, unhung pictures, stacks of china, she has never properly unpacked with the exception of her girl apparel which is beautifully arranged and carefully hanging in the huge mirrored wardrobe that Angela built to protect her hundreds of beautiful feminine dresses. Her boy clothes are unkempt and unironed thrown about the place- there is a complete disregard and disinterest in what she deems to be her Drab. The flat is total chaos, TIllie gave up trying to tidy it months ago, "Welcome home Hun" Angela pushes Tillie up against the sink, her pelvis squared to Tillie, hse feels Angela's cock stiffening beneath the blue satin of her skirt, an anticipatory frission of lust, swells within "It's so mega to have you back" She feels small and owned within Angela's long smooth warm limbs. They look into each others heavily made up eyes and scan each others faces, She adores Angela's perfect features and large, long lashed blue eyes. They are both looking to remember what may have been forgotten of each other in their absence "I need to zap your 'tache Tillster" They both laugh "Your 'orrible sometimes Meanie pants" in mock offence says Tillie.
Angela earns herself a playful slap on the arm. They will stand and hold each other just smiling.
The sink is filled with unwashed pots and pans, every surface in the flat is dirty and covered with make up costume jewellery, odd stockings, bills, receipts, an assortment of jazzy expensive handbags. It is a complete example of Angela's ability to only focus on what she enjoys doing. Tidying and being orderly are an alien concept it would seem.
"Now you sit down, I'll pour you a drink, you know you want one Subby" she mocks, she moves a pile of crumpled laundry and places it precariously on a pile of what is hopefully clean ladies lingerie and underwear. "Let me show you what i bought" Together they love to look at Angela's new clothes fresh from that endless shopping Mecca Ebay, Angela will give a TIllie a fashion show, much to Tillie's obvious glee......They say they are not in love but I think they are.
After dinner they will put on their matching red satin nighties and snuggle under a duvet watching Battlestar Gallactica and they will be in their favourite most treasured zone... two girls cuddled up on the sofa just happy to be together. Tillie's dipsomania disappears when she is in her caccoon with Angela,
In the lift Tillie is deliberately body echoing Angela's aloof unaffectionate body language. It is a process that Tillie learnt from studying NLP, Till leans again the wall with her hands behind her back, copying Angela's stance, she looks away from her, Angela looks a little nervous and by the 6th floor grabs Tillie, she does not like her being even slightly stand offish, Tillie has shown her silently what others feel when they experience her, she grabs Tillie and embraces "It's so good to see you Till" Three months ago Angela would not have been so loving. But she is learning.
Entering the flat, there are large cardboard boxes, unhung pictures, stacks of china, she has never properly unpacked with the exception of her girl apparel which is beautifully arranged and carefully hanging in the huge mirrored wardrobe that Angela built to protect her hundreds of beautiful feminine dresses. Her boy clothes are unkempt and unironed thrown about the place- there is a complete disregard and disinterest in what she deems to be her Drab. The flat is total chaos, TIllie gave up trying to tidy it months ago, "Welcome home Hun" Angela pushes Tillie up against the sink, her pelvis squared to Tillie, hse feels Angela's cock stiffening beneath the blue satin of her skirt, an anticipatory frission of lust, swells within "It's so mega to have you back" She feels small and owned within Angela's long smooth warm limbs. They look into each others heavily made up eyes and scan each others faces, She adores Angela's perfect features and large, long lashed blue eyes. They are both looking to remember what may have been forgotten of each other in their absence "I need to zap your 'tache Tillster" They both laugh "Your 'orrible sometimes Meanie pants" in mock offence says Tillie.
Angela earns herself a playful slap on the arm. They will stand and hold each other just smiling.
The sink is filled with unwashed pots and pans, every surface in the flat is dirty and covered with make up costume jewellery, odd stockings, bills, receipts, an assortment of jazzy expensive handbags. It is a complete example of Angela's ability to only focus on what she enjoys doing. Tidying and being orderly are an alien concept it would seem.
"Now you sit down, I'll pour you a drink, you know you want one Subby" she mocks, she moves a pile of crumpled laundry and places it precariously on a pile of what is hopefully clean ladies lingerie and underwear. "Let me show you what i bought" Together they love to look at Angela's new clothes fresh from that endless shopping Mecca Ebay, Angela will give a TIllie a fashion show, much to Tillie's obvious glee......They say they are not in love but I think they are.
After dinner they will put on their matching red satin nighties and snuggle under a duvet watching Battlestar Gallactica and they will be in their favourite most treasured zone... two girls cuddled up on the sofa just happy to be together. Tillie's dipsomania disappears when she is in her caccoon with Angela,
Monday, 11 January 2010
Sexual Identity, hormones and body-morphing.
There is a path it runs from A to an uncertain letter of the Alphabet, Angela and I (and her daughter) are following this path. Everyday she becomes slightly different in her appearance and in her social and sexual expression.Her beard is history, her natural dark blonde hair is long (and ready to be highlighted and styled Miss Messie Jessie!), her skin is softening up and becoming less furry, her boobs are slowly taking shape, her gestures and speech patterns are more womanly, she can and does cry like a woman... With each shift - I also have to adapt, both of us keenly analytical and vigilant to the changes. Hence this blog, so I can track and diarise these changes and my own emotional growth. As more and more of her true gender is revealed and authenticated so I too have to change.
About five or six months into our rather sexually charged but emotionally reluctant and hesitant relationship, we were very aware that Angela was not a mere transvestite or humble cross dresser, that with increased opportunities to dress as female, she felt she was psychologically female. her real self was stripping off all the defensive layers that had she had accrued, her male self was the construct around Angela and not vica versa. It was he who was the artifice, only Angela was real. When we originally forged our bond, our connection was really based on avoiding loneliness and highly charged lesbian flavoured hetero sex, (she would be en femme when we made love), but the mode would be in essence based around penetrative sex and oral sex. I feel a weird guilt now looking back admitting it was the best sex I had ever had... it stills feels taboo to say as a woman you like sex. As that part of our "love" has now subsided as she becomes increasingly feminised through the use of feminising hormones and anti androgen's, I have to take charge and negotiate the mazes of my own passions.
It is critical i share this, immense range of feelings and my response to these changes, as my whole identity, my self labelling has to shift.
As our relationship commenced, I saw her as a perfect package of male and female, but in those early days the boy in her was more prominent, she was more boyish in her mannerisms, as well as her interests. I adored the man who had come to my home and told me I was worth more and who had never been disloyal to me and my constant cylonesque companion. For all I gained each day in my beautiful Angela I lost the special boy who had touched me so deeply with his honesty. This was truly a sacrifice for me, willing made but still a perceived loss.
When we discussed the imminent use of hormones and Angela transitioning, I would be dutiful and encouraging, but felt fear, at the loss of her sex drive and erectile functioning, I did not know any other real women who would be able to share this experience with me, I was pleased for Angela's happiness but was suppressing my own disappointment, that something like sex was critically such a self definition to me, there is something shameful as a respectable female in admitting that you love sex, and have deep physical desires for someone, that it is cruel to say to your lover. "Can we not keep this one thing"? People who I confided in, well meaning transsexual women, would talk to me about sex toys, plastic cocks, extended foreplay, a surrogate (yeah right that's helpful... stand in line boys, it's a tough job but someones got to do it!) but what I grieve and fear is the loss of an intimate and mentally involved love making process, that has been the norm for most of my life. The process not a singular act. Thoughts of leaving her over the issue of sex tortured me, but the more they came, the more I knew I could never ever leave this woman who somehow was deep inside of me and such a support to me. I could not bear to be without her in my life. As she became more female the more we loved each other, the more she seemed able to emotionally love me, (her boy mode is emotionally autistic I think). I am sure I can adapt but it will take time, intelligence and love, but it is difficult to push away a physical longing. It as been suggested to me that the desire for penetration is not the same as the desire forheterosexual sex...this suggestion is a mantra of hope for me, and one for me to contemplate.
We have a scenario we paint, a vision of the future that we sometimes giggle about, where our rather straight laced, sensible and serious daughters are driving us out for the night, whilst we are in the back of the car being tut tutted by them - as their two eccentric lesbian parents from Hell. I never envisaged myself as an elderly dyke, the nice old Lezzer next door? I have had lesbian relationships in the past but I lacked a commitment, I hurt the women I was involved with (I'm sorry). it was a side to me but not my identity, I never felt like a proper lesbian. When I talk to strangers, i am conscious that it is disloyal to Angela to refer to her as HE, and on a train recently struggled to tell two chatty and effervescent young people that I was going to meet my female partner. For the first time in many years I hid my queer nature, in my mind the lesbian self-label was sticking, but I felt closeted about it in the company of heterosexual people, I do not want to explain myself but I also do not want to feel social discomfort.
Angels' transition forces me now to ask "Who am I now?"
I am forced to adapt, re-channel my sexual energies and develop a new socio-sexual identity. My love is transforming me as she transforms.
We are chameleons.
Whispers
May i say quietly to you
as you lie in my arms
tall and satinned
long limbed
and the moonlight on the snowy lawn
lights my study
and the books bear witness
to us
as queer women.
I run my fingertips over your spine
then theirs
may I say quietly to you
that "Angel, the sacrifices hurt me
but the boons of love make me rejoice"
closing my eyes just breathing
less of you is more of you
We are inside looking out
I will say quietly to you
"thank you Chikka
for our beautiful contradiction"
About five or six months into our rather sexually charged but emotionally reluctant and hesitant relationship, we were very aware that Angela was not a mere transvestite or humble cross dresser, that with increased opportunities to dress as female, she felt she was psychologically female. her real self was stripping off all the defensive layers that had she had accrued, her male self was the construct around Angela and not vica versa. It was he who was the artifice, only Angela was real. When we originally forged our bond, our connection was really based on avoiding loneliness and highly charged lesbian flavoured hetero sex, (she would be en femme when we made love), but the mode would be in essence based around penetrative sex and oral sex. I feel a weird guilt now looking back admitting it was the best sex I had ever had... it stills feels taboo to say as a woman you like sex. As that part of our "love" has now subsided as she becomes increasingly feminised through the use of feminising hormones and anti androgen's, I have to take charge and negotiate the mazes of my own passions.
It is critical i share this, immense range of feelings and my response to these changes, as my whole identity, my self labelling has to shift.
As our relationship commenced, I saw her as a perfect package of male and female, but in those early days the boy in her was more prominent, she was more boyish in her mannerisms, as well as her interests. I adored the man who had come to my home and told me I was worth more and who had never been disloyal to me and my constant cylonesque companion. For all I gained each day in my beautiful Angela I lost the special boy who had touched me so deeply with his honesty. This was truly a sacrifice for me, willing made but still a perceived loss.
When we discussed the imminent use of hormones and Angela transitioning, I would be dutiful and encouraging, but felt fear, at the loss of her sex drive and erectile functioning, I did not know any other real women who would be able to share this experience with me, I was pleased for Angela's happiness but was suppressing my own disappointment, that something like sex was critically such a self definition to me, there is something shameful as a respectable female in admitting that you love sex, and have deep physical desires for someone, that it is cruel to say to your lover. "Can we not keep this one thing"? People who I confided in, well meaning transsexual women, would talk to me about sex toys, plastic cocks, extended foreplay, a surrogate (yeah right that's helpful... stand in line boys, it's a tough job but someones got to do it!) but what I grieve and fear is the loss of an intimate and mentally involved love making process, that has been the norm for most of my life. The process not a singular act. Thoughts of leaving her over the issue of sex tortured me, but the more they came, the more I knew I could never ever leave this woman who somehow was deep inside of me and such a support to me. I could not bear to be without her in my life. As she became more female the more we loved each other, the more she seemed able to emotionally love me, (her boy mode is emotionally autistic I think). I am sure I can adapt but it will take time, intelligence and love, but it is difficult to push away a physical longing. It as been suggested to me that the desire for penetration is not the same as the desire forheterosexual sex...this suggestion is a mantra of hope for me, and one for me to contemplate.
We have a scenario we paint, a vision of the future that we sometimes giggle about, where our rather straight laced, sensible and serious daughters are driving us out for the night, whilst we are in the back of the car being tut tutted by them - as their two eccentric lesbian parents from Hell. I never envisaged myself as an elderly dyke, the nice old Lezzer next door? I have had lesbian relationships in the past but I lacked a commitment, I hurt the women I was involved with (I'm sorry). it was a side to me but not my identity, I never felt like a proper lesbian. When I talk to strangers, i am conscious that it is disloyal to Angela to refer to her as HE, and on a train recently struggled to tell two chatty and effervescent young people that I was going to meet my female partner. For the first time in many years I hid my queer nature, in my mind the lesbian self-label was sticking, but I felt closeted about it in the company of heterosexual people, I do not want to explain myself but I also do not want to feel social discomfort.
Angels' transition forces me now to ask "Who am I now?"
I am forced to adapt, re-channel my sexual energies and develop a new socio-sexual identity. My love is transforming me as she transforms.
We are chameleons.
Whispers
May i say quietly to you
as you lie in my arms
tall and satinned
long limbed
and the moonlight on the snowy lawn
lights my study
and the books bear witness
to us
as queer women.
I run my fingertips over your spine
then theirs
may I say quietly to you
that "Angel, the sacrifices hurt me
but the boons of love make me rejoice"
closing my eyes just breathing
less of you is more of you
We are inside looking out
I will say quietly to you
"thank you Chikka
for our beautiful contradiction"
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