His and hers packing lists

 Thirty years ago I was engaged on a work project in Edinburgh and forgot to pack something vital. I can't remember what it was - a shirt or shoes or something - but it led to a last-minute panic buy. And ever since then I have made a packing list of things to put in my suitcase whenever I leave home.

Obviously, when I started going out en femme, the list became more elaborate, with his and hers items to be included (and a bigger suitcase to match). In the end, I felt confident enough just to pack my female wardrobe and leave his stuff behind altogether. Maybe I'll be able to get back to that one day, health and circumstances permitting, but I'm currently in mixed case mode again, although the change I have made in recent years is that none of my clothes now come from the men's racks, even if I can't present as fully female. I'd prefer to be female all the time but, as I said, health and circumstances are against me.

I live mainly in Italy now but still have a lot of items in Britain so I don't need to pack any skirts or dresses. I'm contemplating whether to buy new makeup in Britain and keep a separate selection for use there rather than lugging my makeup kit there in my suitcase, but makeup doesn't last and I may not get enough chance to use it up before it needs replacing. These things aren't cheap and have limited shelf life, especially things like mascara.

Anyway, my packing lists are always comprehensive and I just cross off items that won't be needed (Sahara? No need for the umbrella, then) and just note how many of each item I'll need before wash day. Some people say I'm too fastidious but I felt vindicated when a girlfriend of mine used to make fun of my lists and only pack her suitcase on the morning of travel, invariably forgetting something crucial. 

I have a complicated itinerary this time and there's a lot to consider, so I'm taking my time to plan and pack.

 

Weight loss

I continue to lose weight slowly. I set a target to lose 50 pounds (22.7 kilograms) by the end of April, i.e. by this time next week. So far I've lost 32 (14.5 kg) and I can see a real difference in my body now. Coupled with consuming zero coffee and very little alcohol and sugar, with careful daily attention to skincare, haircare, epilation and dental health, I think my physical health and wellbeing are improving all the time.

In my favourite London coffee shop, Vergnano's in the Charing Cross Road, in 2010. No more coffee for me from now on! Not to worry, though, as they do an outstanding hot chocolate.

 

Obviously, I won't be able to achieve my target of 50 pounds as planned but achieving even two thirds of that is excellent. It should be easier to get the rest off as summer weather encourages lighter eating and more outdoor activities, although countering that is the fact that the amount you lose each week diminishes the closer you get to a healthy weight. Let's see what happens. Going away now doesn't help because I'll lose some control over what I eat.

When in Britain I'll pick up some of my old summer dresses, the ones that were UK sizes 10-12 (US sizes 6-8) as a promise to myself to slim into them. Like this simple but cute little thing. I'm almost there again.

By the River Thames, London, July 2011. It's supposed to be summer!

Sue x

Travel preparations, and celebrating queer classics

 I'm travelling to Britain at the end of next week and intend to stay for a month, and it's taken quite a bit of planning, hence the silence here. Of course, I used to live in Britain but, having visited twice last year, I now feel pretty alien in such a xenophobic, transphobic, run-down place. Brexit and the extremism that followed killed everything in my life there. But there are residual things for me to complete there so I must go. I shall be spending a lot of time visiting family and friends, too. Sometimes that will be pleasant, like a long weekend with Roz in the Highlands of Scotland; sometimes it may be tense, such as talking to my transphobic sister about her hatred for lugbutts. We'll see how it goes.

I also plan to see some of my old trans girlfriends. It's not easy to organise a meet-up like in the old days since I no longer live in London and will need to have everything packed in a suitcase. I get the feeling that the virulent transphobia in the UK that I read about is mainly directed at the younger generation. I'm not aware of particular attacks on older transwomen. Well, not yet anyway. But it all makes me nervous.

In addition, I hope to see Suki, pen name of the widow of my lovely friend Kate, the anniversary of whose death was yesterday. Suki has always been the kindest of trans allies. I miss Kate so much and I'm crying as I write, which happens every time I think about it, so I hope Suki and I can find solace by seeing each other again. 

 

Frustration

It's been a boring week dealing with accounts and business stuff, too, hence the longer than usual silence here. My attempt last week to get my hair and makeup nice were thwarted by a beautifully warm and sunny weekend that brought people flocking to the seaside and made my rather light and open flat a bit too much of a public viewing gallery. There will be other opportunities.

Commemorating Lord Byron, the queer icon

George Gordon Byron, or Lord Byron, British peer, poet and queer icon, died 200 years ago today whilst on campaign in the Greek War of Independence. He spent a lot of time on the Italian riviera (now the region of Liguria where I live) are there are various commemorative events here today, especially in Genoa where he wrote much of Don Juan, and around the Bay of Poets (or Gulf of La Spezia), where he used to swim the two or three miles of water from one side of the bay to the other. An athletic, aggressive, even wild man, no doubt, with appetites that it's best not to enquire into too closely, but a remarkable poet. 

His satire on the Don Juan legend reverses the classic character and turns him not so much into a seducer but a man easily seduced, one who is at times an opportunist crossdresser, and the details of which hint at Byron himself having enjoyed a frock or two in his time. Try this crossdressing scene from Canto V, lines 609-637, which sounds like a typical trans maid dressing service to me!

And then he swore, and sighing, on he slipped
A pair of trowsers of fleshcoloured silk,
Next with a virgin zone he was equipped,
Which girt a slight Chemise, as white as Milk;
But tugging on his petticoat he tripped,
Which – as we say – or as the Scotch say – Whilk
(The Rhyme obliges me to this; Sometimes
Monarchs are less imperative than Rhymes)

Whilk, Which (or what you please) was owing to
His Garment’s Novelty, and his being awkward;
And yet at last he managed to get through
His toilet, though no doubt a little backward;
The Negro Baba helped a little too,
When some untoward part of raiment stuck hard;
And, wrestling both his arms into a gown,
He paused and took a Survey up and down.

One difficulty still remained: his hair
Was hardly long enough; but Baba found
So many false long tresses all to spare,
That soon his head was most completely crowned,
After the manner then in fashion there;
And this addition with such gems was bound
As suited the Ensemble of his toilet,
While Baba made him comb his head and oil it. 

And now being femininely all arrayed,
With some small aid from Scissors, paint, and tweezers,
He looked in almost all respects a maid,
And Baba smilingly exclaimed, “You see, Sirs,
“A perfect transformation here displayed;

Always remember, dear TERFS and alpha males, that being gender queer is as old as time. Byron's poem is intended as a challenge to your supposedly established order.

Here's a photo of the Bay of Poets I took when looking for a home in 2019.

And the beautiful, dramatic headland at Portovenere on the opposite shore where the jumble of rocks marks what remains of Byron's Cave, where he used to meditate and draw inspiration. It was a cave until the roof collapsed after a storm a few years ago.

 

It's a beautiful part of the world. Other poets and novelists writing in English who lived in this bay are Percy Shelley and his wife Mary Shelley (she of Frankenstein); D.H. Lawrence who lived here in 1913; Virginia Woolf (whose novel Orlando is an LGBT masterpiece); and Baroness Orczy, whose Scarlet Pimpernel character is also an opportunist crossdresser.

Sue x

Working plushie

 I was delighted to receive my Coco Peru doll all the way from Canada. She comes with a glow-in-the-dark alien friend. 

 

I've always liked Coco Peru with her disapproving look and catchphrase "This bothers me". Although she identifies as a drag queen, my T-radar senses there may be a lot more going on with her than mere entertainment. Her shopping trips on YouTube, for example, are enjoyable - just like any TGirl vlogging about Walmart, but with added dry humour. She's touring the UK right now.

Anyway, I now have a bit of modern culture in my own home.

And the glow-in-the-dark alien lives in the bedroom and now gives me the heebie-jeebies if I wake up in the middle of the night.

I never used to have soft toys but a tit-for-tat good luck soft toy exchange with a friend a few years ago spawned four dragons and a cow. The dragons here are not ancient fire-breathing magical creatures who sit upon hoards of gold but modern radiation-spewing jerks who normally guard my ill-tempered printer, my mobile phones and other electronic junk that we have to have these days. Given that this afternoon my banking app failed, my printer wouldn't print and my email was down for maintenance, I am trying to avert a nuclear explosion. Meet Rosa Chernobyl, Skye Fukushima (with bunny), Spike Windscale and Sapphire Threemile.

 We met Raimonda de Ray and the whale last week. They were bought to act as unusual cushions as Raimonda's colours matched the cushions I already had.

Thank you for ideas for a name for the whale. One commentator here suggested Moby, another Marina. Thanks, I shall consider those (along with an unrepeatably crude name from some other person elsewhere).

There's also Cuthbert the Snake who lives in the spare room but he's meant to be a draught excluder.

So no toys here unless they work for their upkeep! I'll have to find a job for Coco now.

 

Weight loss and makeup

I continue to lose weight. Another pound off this past week. It's all good and I can definitely see a difference in my figure.

I hope to have another fully made-up photo session soon. My epilation is good, my nails are good, my brows are tamed and I'm feeling more positive. I think the illness (2022) and death (2023) of my friend Kate, who gave me and others so much encouragement during lockdown, really took its toll, with so many other things, on my wish to look after my appearance. 

One friend has just reminded me of this song, and I certainly don't want to be just a boy named Sue, so makeup is back in my life.

Sue x

Slim, sexy and ... windswept

 Today I reached another milestone in my quest to lose weight: two stone off since November 1st. For those who work in metric, that's 12.7 kg. If I were still in the UK at Slimming World, where my current food optimising plan comes from, I'd get a shiny sticker for the achievement.

This week, I spent two days fully made up and took lots of photos (see previous post for Sunday's). Monday's pictures were of a more contemporary look with silver-grey lace-sleeve top, leather-look leggings, ankle boots and darker hair.

Although very sunny in this outdoor picture, the wind was strong and my hair was really getting blown about most of the time.

I still think I'm beginning to look old :-( ...

... but at least I can see the weight has come off, although there's still a  way to go (or is that a weigh to go?)

This is very much a current look among ladies in later middle age here and I have always been one who believes that blending in with what other women are wearing is best.

I didn't get out in the evening of Transgender Day of Visibility in the end. This is because of a torrential downpour and high winds that soaked my legs the moment I tried to step outside. Although there were high winds and rain/snow all over the Alps over the easter weekend, this was odd in that it came from Africa, bringing sand first, then precipitation. I found this fantastic photo to illustrate it, from Alessandro of Natural Mind Professional taken at Lake Lod at Chamois in the Italian Alps, north of where I live. The red layers of Saharan dust were blown in on March 30th and the snow on top fell on Sunday 31st. That translated to the rain where I was.

I was supposed to go away in the second half of this week but that plan fell through so I'll be getting my nail polish back on and trying out a few new outfits over the next few days. I hope there'll be more photos, too, as it's been a very long while since I was last willing or able to take some.

 

Feedspot

Thanks to Feedspot for continuing to feature and promote this blog among its Top Transwoman and Top Transgender blog lists, and for recently updating some of the info. 

Do check out some of the other excellent blogs they recommend:

Top Transwoman blogs 

Top Transgender blogs

Sue x