I like shopping. I really do. That doesn't mean I have to buy anything, I just like pottering around the shops looking at what they've got. And if it's clothes or shoes, I might try something on. Even after I'd started going out in the big world as female, it was a while before I felt courageous enough to use the fitting rooms, but I quite like trying things on now, especially when it saves me making a bad purchase.
When I last went out, in November (My Resurrection?), I decided to end my day by visiting the shops and headed to Oxford Street where all the main store chains have their biggest outlets. I was really looking for a new coat, but was there any harm in looking at tops and skirts, too? But chiefly it was a joy to rediscover the pleasure of just pottering around among the rails, being treated like any other female shopper and, frankly, nobody paying me any attention as I browsed. I suspect that no-one who isn't trans understands the complete satisfaction of doing normal stuff in one's real gender. It's the banality that's actually the peak of feeling complete.
Debenhams has now been completely refurbished and rearranged. Some bright spark had the idea of installing a piano for customers to play, maybe in the hope of encouraging an undiscovered Liberace to entertain the shoppers for free. Such pianos are popping up all over; the one at St Pancras station is particularly popular and actually gets competent players sitting at it, professional musicians who are waiting for a train. The Debenhams piano, on the other hand, attracts small children. And whilst my trans joy may be unalloyed, I find it hard to appreciate a tuneless ploink! plink! ploink! going on for hours. Best get to the fitting rooms for a bit of peace!
You know, I don't recall ever taking a fitting room selfie before. There are still some firsts.
I got a coat in the end. And a boost to my femininity and self-esteem after two years of being out of it.