A trip down Memory Card Lane - the Great Drag Race

 I'm not at home this Hallowe'en so it's cancelled. Which is slightly annoying as I'd got my cobweb pattern tights and elbow-length gloves specially for this year's witchy doings. Maybe I'll have to be the Christmas Spider or something instead.

Whaddaya mean there's no Christmas Spider?  

Of course there is! You know, the spider who lives in the chimney and crawls into Santa's boot and bites his toe as he tries to manoeuvre quietly round your living room furniture ... You've never experienced that? It's OK, I'll pop round this year and make Santa wake the kids with expletive-laden stomping about and crashing into things. Merry Cursemas one and all!

So, as there will be no Hallowe'en photos this year, I'll carry on with my posting of rediscovered photos from past years. This time it's the Great Drag Race of 2010, an event I described in Episode 2 of my 2020 series on my First Steps in Trans Living (series here, with links although it's easier if I copy the relevant text below and add to it). This was one of the events that really increased my confidence. Now I have all the photos that my official photographer, Ange, took. She's a professional photographer and came with some impressive kit. Ange is the first T-Girl I ever met and she's something of a sister to me. Thanks, sis. 

Many trans people rely on fancy dress events to get a chance to be out as themselves without attracting undue comment. Events like Hallowe'en or Carnival, the school prom or the local drama club, and similar. So the opportunity I had to be out in public was the Great Drag Race in 2010.

Nothing to do with RuPaul, this was an event organised by Prostate UK and Prostate Action (now amalgamated as Prostate Cancer UK), which are charities that fund research into prostate cancer and look after sufferers and their families. A good cause, not just for men and their families, but trans women too as, even after transition, the prostate may cause problems. The reason it was a race in drag was to acknowledge the high-profile work done by women for breast cancer care with events like the Moonwalk or Breast Cancer Awareness Month. 

I'm not a drag queen and, frankly, neither was any other participant, but here was a chance to be dressed in public, with praise for doing so thrown in. Win-win! I had various sponsors though my contribution was slight as I managed to get time off work only at the last minute. 

It was quite a high-profile event, held in London Fields, a park in North-East London, and the compère was Peter Duncan, best known for his TV shows, notably Blue Peter (a very long-running children's magazine programme). A very personable, down-to-earth man in real life.

So although most of the participants being sponsored to run were just men who'd borrowed something off their wives, some of us like to think we were a bit more like the real thing. In fact, as I applied my makeup, one guy looked over at me and said, "You've done this before!"

This is my official portrait photo from the event:

(c) The X Foundation

 

This is my unofficial photo in the official photo spot:

 

And this is the unofficial photo of the official photo being taken, a metaphoto if you wish:

Stop giggling at the back. I'm entirely innocently holding a furled pink umbrella by my side for this family-friendly event. But, yes, you can see why I've never posted this before! Always check your camera angle, Ange! 

Ange did take a good artistic picture of me applying my makeup, though:

There was a general makeup table to sit at and apply such makeup as might be wanted and it was there that another official event photographer wanted to snap me before I was fully in Sue mode and I refused to allow her to as I was very much needing to be in stealth as I wasn't out as trans at this point at all. I know it's a contradiction to be in stealth at a high-profile public event but then trans living is a university degree course in finding inauthentic ways to be authentic. One day I might graduate.

Here are some more photos, looking neat and fresh before I ran the race:

So after makeup and photos the next thing to do was to break a world record. With pep talks from a professional drag queen (whose spicy thoughts perhaps overlooked that this was a family event - oops!), and from Peter Duncan and organisers, and then ten minutes training from choreographer Lisa Lee, we formed a chorus line of 128 queens and danced (or flailed around) for five minutes to Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero. Guinness World Records considered this activity sufficient to qualify for the title of Longest Line of Dancing Drag Queens and so, dear readers, I am a world record holder with an official certificate to say so, and if Roy Castle were still alive I'm sure he'd tell everyone on his show about our outstanding achievement. Dedication and all that. (For younger and non-UK readers, Roy Castle was a musician, actor and entertainer who had a TV show for children called Record Breakers. "Dedication" was the lousy theme song that he sang at the end of every episode.) This record was broken by a new line of 144 drag queens at the Great Drag Race in 2012.

The race itself was 10200 metres overall (six and a third miles), representing the 10200 people who die from prostate cancer in Britain each year. It was a warm summer's day and, frankly, running that far in a wig is no joke. The hair I chose was a cheap but light purchase from Doreen Fashions (a shop for trans women that sadly now exists only online). I did wear sensible running shoes but swapped them for four-inch court shoes for the last lap, and waved my pink umbrella too! Frankly, such shoes are not for running in - I bruised my toes! Sadly, Ange had got bored by this point and put her camera away so you'll just have to take my word for it. 

Some action shots now. The pleasant companion on my right kept pace with me most of the way. 

 

 

The whole event raised about £20,000 and was the first of several such sponsored races.

It was exhilarating being out in a very public place in this way and thereby gain more confidence. I spotted another TGirl participating. You could tell because we actually looked different from the rest. It was her first time out in public and, incredibly, she came on the Underground dressed already. I didn't actually talk to her on the day, only subsequently, because of the unwritten rule that you don't point out to a TGirl you may have spotted that she's a TGirl, even if you both are. She has now transitioned successfully. From small acorns like this, mighty oaks grow.

There's not a lot online about this event any more although I did find this on YouTube which gives a bit of the flavour. I'm in the photo at 1:08-1:11 sandwiched between the red dress and the white camera.

Thanks again to Ange for giving moral support and taking the photos and for the people who sponsored.

Thank you again to those who comment on my blog. I'm still having problems replying but solutions are being worked out...

Happy Hallowe'en.

Sue x 

A nurse in autumn

 It's been a strange year this, dominated by the hospitalisation of a relative of mine. He should be returning home today after six months on the wards so I have swapped the dramatic evergreen landscape of the coast for the autumn golds of the big city in order to give him a hand as he readjusts to normality.

Sadly, it's not going to be full-on fem time thanks to the vigilant bigotry and phobias of my family. Nevertheless, my 'masculine lesbian' or androgynous look of women's shirts and trousers that is my everyday attire these days passes scrutiny, and I have some warm tights to mitigate the cooler climate. You may wonder why I would help a bigot and the answer is that he was instrumental in helping me settle in Italy and even made the wise suggestion as to where I should move to, which has worked out very well. So I owe him one.

I'm not sure that I make a great nurse so we have the local visiting one from the hospital engaged to come and change his dressings and supervise his medication but I am here to shop and cook and generally deal with everyday stuff for a bit. 

What's struck me so far, as I hinted above, is autumn. The view from my bedroom window here is nothing but a mass of leaves turning gold.

 

I remember this tree from when I was little and it was just a spindly sapling in the road that people would casually run their cars into when parking. You wouldn't do that now as it towers over the whole house! It's a real contrast with the evergreen pines and turquoise sea of the coast I've left and you'll appreciate the acclimatisation shock.

If you want to see beautiful autumn colours from the Alpine region you could do worse than look at Violetta's fabulous blog: Violetta''s autumn

Milan where I now am is a fashion capital so I plan to use my time out to bring you any attractive or weird outfits and accessories from the designer outlets. 

 

A disturbance in the Force

The arcane powers that run Blogger seem to have hit a patch of instability, eddies in the space-time continuum or something, so once more I am having trouble replying to comments through my usual channel or through the substitute that I found for previous instabilities. Do not adjust your set. I will acknowledge your comment as soon as have found a way or the Supreme Blogging Council have found a fix themselves.

Sue x 

My new jewels

 In the last couple of weeks I've been talking about updating my jewellery collection.

Evidently someone was reading as I had a call from a gentleman in Paris who had a special offer on matching earrings, necklaces and tiaras, for rapid dispatch to discerning customers outside France.

Well, that was a stroke of good timing as these sparklies are going to replace my tired old stuff rather nicely. 

I always think a tiara is a perfect addition to any shopper's look as they rummage in the frozen food cabinets at the supermarket, don't you? A crown would have been nicer but apparently his employees have been a little clumsy and mislaid it. 

Apparently, I should not take calls from one Inspector Clouseau who is also after these items. Presumably he wanted them for his girlfriend? You've got to be quick, Inspector.

 

Peter Sellers in top form there examining the evidence after a jewel heist from a museum in the The Return of the Pink Panther, probably the best of the Clouseau films. 

Seriously, I hope they catch the rather attractively accessorised thief. But thank you, whoever you are, for getting Trump and Putin and Sarkozy and Prince Andrew out of the top news spots for a bit.

Sue x 

Darn it

 As I wait for a relative to emerge from hospital I've just been enjoying the continuing summer as the weather has been wonderful for months. People are still on the beach and I've been using my spare time to explore. 

Last time I wrote I was looking over my jewellery to see what is worth keeping and what needs replacing, and this week I'm looking at mending some clothes that are worth it. We live in a throwaway society but actually I'm getting a bit disgusted with that attitude we've developed of ridding ourselves of imperfect items and just buying new ones. The quality of material gets worse each year, so that's another incentive to keep things. 

Socks, tights and stockings are probably not worth darning these days, it's true, but a favourite pair of jeans is worth patching even if they're cheap as, frankly, it's actually less hassle, time and, of course, money than going out to find another pair like them. 

Definitely ruined. Tsk! That's the second pair this week!

Outdoor events

My potted plants continue to grow in the fine weather. This little lithops has just put out a flower.

This weekend was the Sanremo rally with fast cars zipping all over the place. Next week is the Tenco music prize contest for the best original singer-songwriter. And harvest festivities continue; there are a lot of roast chestnuts to be had around the place.

 

The best climate anywhere?

I've been exploring the nearby bay and hills of Ospedaletti and Coldirodi this past week. Not a well-known part of the riviera but Ospedaletti on the coast is said to have the best climate in Italy, being uniquely mild in winter and never too hot in summer. The riviera here has a perfect combination of hot air blowing north from Africa, hitting the Alps where they plunge into the sea and creating a subtropical microclimate for a few miles inland that remains springlike throughout the year. Ospedaletti bay is just that bit smaller than neighbouring bays and so it gets the best of this phenomenon. 

I especially liked walking past fruit crops typical of this area - vines, olives, lemons and pomegranates all laden with fruit - but also encountering banana groves and other exotic plants. 

Bananas at Ospedaletti

Pomegranates at Coldirodi

You'll have to pardon me if this doesn't impress you but we never had things like this in damp grey Britain where I used to live. Lovely oak trees, yes, but no bananas!

Ospedaletti was founded by crusaders who were shipwrecked here, as this mural and statues show. 

 

The church they built is a curious blend of religious building and maritime museum.
 

It doesn't rain much here so water for agriculture is collected in round concrete cisterns all over the mountainsides. They're useful but not pretty, but occasionally someone makes theirs pleasant by putting goldfish in or plants around or even painting them.

 Ospedaletti bay:

 Neighbouring Sanremo bay from Coldoridi:

Thanks for reading. Have a good week.

Sue x 

Domestic goddess in need of nail care and jewellery

Not a very fem time all in all this autumn but there's a lull between having had friends to stay and before I go off to help a relative who will be coming out of hospital. As if to emphasize the low fem vibe, I have broken every nail on both hands in one way or another these last few weeks. I take care of my nails as I love having them long and neat, and they're even better when painted, but for some reason I've battered and broken them all. Not at the same time but they've not all been even for a while now. This is distressing. I know the problem will fix itself but that takes time.

Still, as if in compensation, the autumn continues to be glorious with endless sunshine and temperatures in the mid-20s C (that's mid-70s F). I'm still in my summer clothes and nicely tanned. Also, I didn't put on too much weight when my friends were here and we were eating out a lot. Maybe we did enough walking to burn a lot of the calories.

 

Girly wishlist 

Recently, I've been looking out for real Italian leather handbags and belts. Nothing purchased so far but I'm homing in on something colourful rather than the usual black, cream or tan. 

I also need to update, replace and expand my jewellery collection and I've seen some nice items this week. I never buy anything too expensive, just something to decorate and catch the eye. This is my favourite ring which I bought about fifteen years ago in Kingston-upon-Thames and I've been wanting something similar since but have never yet found anything that appealed quite so much. 

 

It's also the season of perfume samplers in the run-up to Christmas so I'm on the look out for a new scent. 

More news if I bring something home. (Oh, and obviously presents along these lines are welcome, Santa!)

 

Domestic goddess 

I've been doing a lot of gardening as everything is growing like crazy and I've planted new cactuses and succulents, which are really cheap at the market. I've found that a pine tree and a palm have started growing in my herb pots. Presumably the seeds were dropped by birds. So I've repotted them and, since forested blocks of flats are all the rage, I shall join that trend and they can join Arnold the Olive, who continues to thrive.

 

It's harvest season and I'm into mushrooms. I got some nice fresh porcini which I straight away made into a tasty stew and pasta sauces, with my own home-grown parsley and chilli thrown in. 

I haven't taken any photos of myself in domestic goddess mode so far because I don't do my hair and makeup properly every day and I do like to look right for a photo. But I do love my home life in a dress or slacks. It just feels completely right and normal.

 

Local events 

This weekend is a local holiday here - yes, they have local and regional public holidays here in Italy as well as national ones - so, given the wonderful weather, I'm planning a barbecue on holiday Monday.

Yesterday, a whole line of Morgan open-top cars rolled into town. I have no idea why, although classic cars and rally cars are a feature of the area with several rallies and gatherings every year. I have little interest in cars - insufficient masculine enthusiasm for sport and engineering, I'd say - but my fem mind observed that there seems to be one rule for owning a Morgan: the driver must be male and wear a cloth cap and the passenger must be female and wear a headscarf. Complete that requirement and presumably any model and colour is yours to purchase. 

Have a good weekend.

Sue x 

More tour guiding

 Another quick post as I have had friends to stay for two weeks and they went home yesterday evening. So now it's time to catch up with the blogosphere. If I haven't answered your comment or email yet or seen your posts recently, I will do very soon.

In my last post I described some of our travels and eating experiences on the riviera. Let's do the same again.

Last week we went to Monaco old town so this time we went to Monte Carlo to look at the highlights of the Formula 1 circuit, drink a very expensive coffee at the famous Café de Paris outside the casino, and enjoyed the new Mareterra complex with its peaceful terraced woodland, blue grotto and extraordinary meditation space covered in coloured glass crystals and globes (video below). 

The pretty Larvotto beach area was also pleasant but didn't do my gender dysphoria much good as all the locals seem to be young women with perfect tans and skirts so extremely short yet without revealing anything that you wonder if their buttocks actually start under their shoulderblades. Evidently a well-disguised mystery of the well-heeled. 

We had a perfect day in Nice, where I was earlier this year. The old town with its winding streets contrasts with the elegant boulevards of the newer city and the high hill of the original ancient Greek settlement. I love the mosaics they've made up on the hill and find more every time I visit.

The views from the top of the Bay of Angels and the famous Promenade des Anglais are amazing. Here they are in moody light.

 

We also went to Bordighera with its date palms, ancient pilgrim path and old walled hilltop village centre with its views along the coast.

 

Sanremo and its crazy tangle of walled, gated, steep, stepped streets, large harbour, baroque churches and elegant shopping district was a must, too. 

We varied out food choices a bit, too. Very good Thai in Nice, Mexican tacos and an amazing margarita in Monaco, Neapolitan style pizza in Sanremo. But freshly made ravioli and huge tiramisù pudding in Bordighera may have topped the list of perfect meals. It's hard to beat fresh local food anywhere. At home we enjoyed local Taggiasca olives, local lavender honey, mountain cheeses, hazelnut spread and lovely, fruity rossese, pigato and vermentino wines. And, of course, pesto, the sauce for pasta that this region is famous for made with basil, cheese, pinenuts and olive oil.

Many thanks to Jan and Alex for their lovely company. And for getting me to take them round all these attractive places in lovely warm weather, all of which was a reminder to me of why I moved here in the first place.

Port Lympia, Nice

Monte Carlo casino from the Boulingrin gardens. (Boulingrin is a corruption of English "bowling green".)

The world's northernmost date palms at Bordighera overlooking the coast

The cascade at Nice

The tangled vines of a Moreton Bay Fig. These grow all over this area. This one's in Sanremo.

High-rise Monaco (left) and Roquebrune, France (right) from the stunningly beautiful railway that runs along the coast.

Greek-style mosaic in Nice of an ancient Greek ship. Hard to get it all into one photo but the French reads: "Happy is the person who, like Ulysses, has had a good trip."

And a link to a video of the Mareterra meditation space with its pinkish light and thousands of glassy crystal and sphere shapes.

 

Sue x

Life as a tour guide

 This is a quick post - a bit of a postcard, in fact - as I have two lovely friends from Britain staying with me this week and next and I've been showing them the beauties of the riviera, which are many. And we have, of course, been sampling the local delicacies. Apart from a shower the other day, the weather is perfect.

Yesterday, for instance, we went to the huge Friday street market in Ventimiglia and looked at the fascinating old town perched on its clifftop. 

The view from a café table in Ventimiglia: palms, clear sky and blue, blue sea.

Ventimiglia old town from across the Roja river

Real leather handbags at the market catch my trans eye. The guy on his phone with a doggie in a wheeled basket is a typical sight, too.

We've also been to Monaco old town with its pint-sized palace and government buildings, pretty little parks and yacht-filled harbours. You may remember I went there earlier this year. Two national symbols here, the carob tree and a racing car made of flowers.

We've also explored some of Sanremo, the "flower capital", and its botanic gardens.

Bananas in the sun at Villa Ormonde, Sanremo

 

As for the local foods, well, there's beautiful fish - my baked bream at Maison di Nat in Sanremo was second to none -; the wooden oven at Barbecue in Ventimiglia made a super crispy, smoky pizza with aubergines; the stuffed courgette flowers at U Cavagnetu in Monaco are special; and the freshly made tagliolini pasta strips with porcini mushrooms at Quattro Stagioni in Sanremo are seriously the best thing ever. At home we've been enjoying almond cookies, lovely mountain cheeses, squidgy chocolate biscuits (known locally as baci, "kisses") and today I hope to get a local shortbread made with olive oil and lemon, not the usual butter. Yes, I know I'm supposed to be losing weight and somehow I'm not (!), but it would be rude not to offer my guests some local goodies, wouldn't it? ;-) 

Next week we'll likely go bigger cities like Nice and Genoa.  

Love from the riviera.

Sue x 

An empty wardrobe? We can't have that!

 I have friends coming to stay next week. I've known them a long time, they are wonderful trans allies, and I'm looking forward to it. 

As they'll be staying two weeks, I've emptied the wardrobe in the guest room completely of my things and put all my clothes in the other bedroom. Amazingly, everything fits there, something I never expected or even tried before. This means that when my friends leave I will have a completely empty wardrobe in what was their bedroom. And that means .... more frocks will be needed to fill the aching void. 

Yes, this is how the minds of trans women work. (Did I say trans women? ;-) ) 

I've been replacing furniture this summer bit by bit and I got a new shoe rack - an expandable one (always think ahead!) and I'm rather liking the collection of cute shoes I see there.

 

Robert Redford

My tribute to a great actor and director, of course, but also to a significant supporter of the LGBTQIA+ community. In addition, the New Queer Cinema movement emerged partly through his Sundance Film Festival that promoted lesser known film makers. 

 

Autumn festivals 

Well, the outdoor swimming pool has now closed for the season, which is a real loss as I love the location and miss the benefit - it's helped me lose five kilos (11 pounds) this summer. I love the sunlight dancing on the water as I move through it, and the greenery surrounding it. Personally, I've never liked the chlorinated rectangular starkness of a normal swimming pool and much prefer to swim in rivers, lakes or the sea. This pool, with its guitar-like outline, is a great compromise between a managed, hygienic venue and a natural body of water. Till next summer, then. Now my quest to get back into those cute dresses must rely on my diet.

We're into local food and drink festivals now. Villages dedicating weekends to beer, wine, sausages, codfish, edible snails... I like it on the riviera; there is always something going on. My slimming voice suggests cod and snails are better than sausages and beer ... just possibly not quite so fun!

Additionally, the protected nests of loggerhead turtles on the beaches here have each been disgorging dozens of baby turtles to the delight of beachgoers and nature lovers. There is something endearing about a tiny hatchling flippering its way through the sand to the waves as fast as it can. Well, I guess its instinct is to do that or get eaten, so maybe the reason is not so endearing, but here they ensure they make it to the water.

 

Sanremo Bay in autumn

 

Growing like fungus

Ever since I posted about Kew Gardens and mushrooms last month, I have had a huge increase in interest in this blog from the most diverse and unexpected places; thousands of views a day, in fact. Fungus is the trigger, folks. So to that lovely bloggerette who was wondering how to boost her viewing statistics, this might be the answer!

Sue x 

Gods and movie aliens

 Did you see the lunar eclipse a few nights ago? It's always an amazing sight. Here the sky was hazy at first and I couldn't see anything until a brick-red ball emerged eerily from the murk. Later, when the eclipse was over, the sky was totally clear and the full moon was very bright, illuminating everything in its characteristic milky light. 

For thousands of years the moon was associated with femininity in most cultures. Then Galileo had the idea of pointing a new-fangled device called a telescope at the moon 400+ years ago and realised that the features were mountains and craters, not some arcane pattern of patches with divine significance, and so we entered the age of science, which was great for reducing superstition. Yet I couldn't help recalling the association between the moon and femininity, and as it was a warm night and I was dressed just in a T-shirt and light skirt, I imagined how a MtF trans person in an age before Galileo might have appreciated the moonlight shining on them. Maybe as a divine endorsement or spiritual uplift or blessing for their femininity. Ah well, science has many benefits, but maybe we have lost a little mystique in the process. 

Not to mention some amazing dress sense!

 

This lady, painted in in the same decade Galileo first looked at the sky, may be trying to emulate the full moon! And that's one statement frock she's got. Do you think we've also lost something in the intervening eras now that we're into sweatshop-made tee-shirts, cheap leggings and imitation leather accessories? Possibly.

 

Rocky horror

A news feature this week reminded me that the Rocky Horror Picture Show was first released fifty years ago, in the UK in August and in the US in September 1975. 

It flopped. 

But like a lot of initial flops, it gradually became a cult. Midnight screenings, attracting a more alternative audience, became a phenomenon, with audiences turning up dressed as the characters, bearing props and with their own well-rehearsed heckles. 

Yes, the musical was a tribute to horror and sci-fi B-movies and the glam rock of the early '70s, and the crossdressing/trans element was not initially supposed to be that prominent, but the message of tolerance and freedom to be who you are was always clear. A weird way to celebrate personal authenticity and autonomy, but hey, there's hardly been a more popular stage show or film. The film is the longest continuously running film in history, and arguably the biggest cult movie.

I have the DVD and it's one of my favourites. I've never seen the film at the cinema, but I did go to the stage show with a girlfriend. I wanted to dress as Magenta the maid but this was frowned upon as my girlfriend at the time had her own intentions that way ... and very sexy she looked, too. But no, I had to go as a male - but I thought it was a suitable twist that my role in a crossdressing audience, when I dress as a woman every day, should be to dress male (a sort of vampiric one - she chose my outfit).

Anyway, thanks to fifty years of musical whackiness for helping to get the message across to so many.

 

Another old crossdressing comedy 

In the unique repository of crossdressing history and culture that is Stana's inimitable blog, Femulate, she posted a still the other day from the 1909 short film, How Percy Won the Beauty Competition, a seven-minute music-hall style romp typical of the era, directed by and starring Alf Collins as Percy, which you can watch here:

 

There are innumerable films, plays and stage entertainments from the first half of the twentieth century that include crossdressing and female impersonation, and I have often wondered if the phenomenon was as much connected with trans people finding an outlet for their needs through stagecraft as audiences merely wanting entertainment. 

Anyway, this short movie caught my eye more than most because the second and third scenes show Percy outside the Charles Fox wig and makeup theatrical store in central London, where many of us TGirls have got our supplies such as foundation, beard reducer, makeup brushes, etc. I knew them when they were in Tavistock Street but since first being established in 1878 they have had many other addresses in London's theatre district. I think in this film that this is the shop as it was in nearby Wellington Street. And what a bold frontage and display it had at the time! 

 

There's a characteristic Renault taxi of the era in this still, too. 

Percy doesn't seem to be the only CD in the beauty contest, which has none of the swimsuit and talent rounds that bedevil such competitions nowadays! Percy therefore wins through elegance, femininity and charming the judges, a lesson for every aspiring CD! But then ... The Benny Hill style chase scenes - which the actors and actresses are obviously enjoying a bit too much for realism - are shot in Dulwich, rather a new suburb at the time. 

If you like period costumes and huge bonnets, this is the movie for you. Bring back big hats, I say! For a history of Charles Fox, there's this item online, with photos: Layers of London.

(Ah well, I guess you can take the girl out of London, but you can't take London out of the girl! The theatre district of London was very much my old stamping ground.)

 

Riviera life

Back to nowadays and the riviera where I now live, where we've had a near perfect summer. It's been a wet and horrible summer elsewhere in the Alps but Sanremo Bay is very sheltered and the cool air from the rain-sodden mountains has tempered the heat of summer blowing up from Africa to make the last couple of months a real treat. The official "summer seaside season" traditionally ends on September 15th when the last holidaymakers have returned to work and school, so I'm making the most of the last few days of the outdoor swimming pool. 

I'm glad I rid myself of body hair to be more feminine this year. Despite the maintenance, I've felt a lot happier for it. Tomorrow evening there should be a little party at the pool, although the weather gods feel like spoiling it by scheduling a thunderstorm at the same time. I shall have to get some more bubbly wine and some nibbles for it. I don't keep wine in the house these days because it makes me fat! And after that, when baring my feet in public is no longer a thing, I shall repaint my toenails. I love having painted nails.

The other week's Creature Feature mentioned a gecko who'd moved to my ceiling for some days. I met him, or an identical friend, scuttling under the front door on my return from Milan, and several more outside the back door since. It's either the same one getting about a lot, or there's a whole bunch of them. They're welcome, though. Bugs don't stand a chance!

Have a good weekend.

Sue x 

Surgery sucks

Today I decided to start a new career as a surgeon so I put on lots of makeup, selected a suitable wig - an untidy red one - got my loud pink polka dot dress with the wide collar on, my extra big, long shoes and, most importantly, I put my big red nose on. 

I turned up for work at the hospital and immediately they put me on the wards.

"Mr Stump needs his left leg amputating, Mr Aicheson-Paines has water on the brain that needs to be sorted, and Mrs Boggis needs a colonoscopy," the Head of Surgery told me.

So I got to work and at the end of the day I reported back to him.

"I took Mr Stump's arm off, Mr Aicheson-Paines got a direct hit from my squirty flower right on his head and Mrs Boggis got the custard pie you ordered. I also had time to pull an endless line of handkerchiefs out of Mr Sniffer's nose, tripped up several nurses and put Mrs Tumble in the collapsing bed."

"Ha ha ha, the collapsing bed is always a good one!" he chortled, big red lips agape and nose flashing. Well, done Dr Richmond, you've qualified. At this rate you'll be head of surgery when I retire at the end of the year. Put it there."

I shook his hand ... and watched him convulse. Ah, the good old palm buzzer! It gets them every time. 

"Aargh, my pacemaker," he gurgled as he expired from the literal shock. 

Hey, at this rate I'll be head of surgery by tomorrow. 

I write this because I have had a very stressful week dealing not so much with medical matters but with financial ones for a relative of mine who went to have supposedly straightforward hernia surgery in May ... and is still in hospital. I did his tax return with the help of a tax accountant but you can imagine that it's not easy compiling details from someone else's unfamiliar paperwork that I had to hunt for, using forms that I don't use myself and that I've never seen before because my tax affairs are very different, for a tax system that I have only be party to in very recent years. That and dealing with his bank have left me pretty strung out. I'll be glad to get home tomorrow ... after the rail strike is over. 

I'm pleased to say that he himself has made a lot of progress in the last couple of weeks and is now able to get out of bed and even walk a bit - he was told he might never walk again. In fact, we went together down the hospital corridor for tea from the hot drinks machine which, rather like the Nutrimatic Drinks Dispenser in the Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy, gave me a cup of liquid that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea. 

I will be up-front and straightforward with my own experience of other people's surgery (I've never stayed in a hospital in my life and I intend to keep things that way), but the large majority of people that I have known to go and have surgery have not come out that much better off for it. Your mileage will vary and you and yours may be delighted with your surgeons' efforts. As I say, though, just about everyone else I know has had botched jobs, from my father and the ten operations on one eye to repair a common problem, to my mother and sister whose surgery wounds opened, soaking their beds in blood and requiring transfusions, to this relative of mine whose botched hernia job has resulted in his living for four months with an open belly and several more interventions to go, and this from the same comedians whose routine endoscopy perforated the gullet of the patient in the bed next to him and who then spent 15 days in intensive care as a result. I knew only one person who had worthwhile cancer surgery; the others all died anyway. And in all cases we're talking about hospitals that are deemed high quality or specialist, not some medical tent in a refugee camp in a war zone. 

I have professional indemnity insurance in my line of work in case I mess up. But I would lose my professional status altogether if I messed up this often. Why do surgeons get away with it? It's complicated work, sure, but then so's my work and that can have serious consequences for people, too.

For the girls who have vaginoplasties, I have always been sceptical. In my experience, about three quarters of the ops do not go properly to plan. Someone who has had GRS, and who had complications herself, says she thinks 95% of GRS is imperfect. That is a horrifying figure. 

I have written on GRS before: So you still want that surgery? and witnessed yet another disaster first hand in 2013. These are two of the most read posts on my blog.

You do what is right for you. This is just my view and my choice. I have no spouse or family, no-one I feel I should be around for and therefore I am not prepared to go through the aggravation of serious surgery. I joined the Dignitas organisation some years ago, have a 'living will' (as well as a legal one) and relevant documentation for doctors and lawyers so that if or when they diagnose me with cancer or tell me I have a life-threatening problem or I get squashed by a tram, I am very unlikely to go through with surgery as it's not worth it. Your situation is different and you make the choices that are right for you in your circumstances. If being undead is important to you and your only way out of the alternative is surgery, then go for surgery; but you may have to live with a greatly reduced quality of life. Similarly, I'll not go in for gender surgery as I don't trust it to work. If your dysphoria is so severe that GRS is the option you feel you need most to help you, then I will fully support you in that choice. You choose for you, and I will choose for me. I'm not trying to sway you, just telling you why I won't do it for my part. Virtually all the trans people who have GRS say they are glad to have had the surgery, and that's the important bit; it's a pity, though, that few of them get the promised part in full. Of course I'd love to be fully female in every possible way, but life is so often about weighing the odds, about pain management, about avoiding trouble and my scales therefore tip differently from others.

Thanks for reading. Stay well and look after yourself. 

 

Sue x