Eighty Eight Claws

I think I speak for all us Tgirls when I say that one of the most infuriating things about spending time in stealthy man-mode is that it's sooooo easy to damage your nails. It forever happens that when I switch from drab man-thing back to delicious femme I'll discover one of my nails has chipped. Now Lucia is a surprisingly stoic when it comes to displays of gratuitous emotion but, ridiculous as it sounds, a broken nail is one of those things that can quickly have me in floods. Why? Mainly because broken nails always seem to pick the worst time to arrive and so long to fix.

Typical example - the tip of your forefinger nail ruptures the day before that date with the guy you're desperate to impress. Aaaaaaaagh!!

I expect, like me gurls, you keep a couple of packets of acrylic nails handy in your big make up box for just such an emergency- but aren't they the devil to remove without leaving the surfaces of your own nails looking like they've been bulldozed by a psychopathic construction crew!
Last year a GG friend suggested I try Nail Envy natural hardener.. made by OPI. It's really really really good stuff and while it hasn't prevented every major nail disaster, it's a great way of side-stepping the little ones. Take good care of those claws, gurls....Miaowwww!

Passing Out

Going out to your fave Tgirl club, which should be the highpoint of the week, can also prove to be the most stressful time of the week. You spend the days beforehand deciding on a look and, if you're as silly as me, daydreaming of the perfect man you hope will sweep you off your feet! Come the day you take all afternoon getting ready. So much to do! Getting your make up right - styling your hair - fussing over WHAT NOT TO WEAR teehee. The only lasting solution to the latter problem is to go out and spend enough money on a new outfit that you feel obliged to wear it. Believe me, whatever outfit you wear will feel like a disastrous mistake the minute you step out the door. Know what I'm talking about. gurls??!! Then, there's taxi's to deal with, perhaps neighbours to dodge while you try to remember what you've forgotten. I'm so air-headed that I've developed an empty bag routine. It's the only method that works for me. I tip the entire contents of my handbag out and make absolutely sure I've checked everything. If you've ever smeared your lipstick (keep working that little mirror gurls!), rushed to the ladies to do a quick repair job and found you've somehow left the shade you're wearing at home... agggggggh! My advice.. however late you'e running, never rush out that door! Eeeeeeeeeek.

imaginings of the mind and body

It is said that the great Greek man of medicine, Hippocrates, once presented the Temple of Apollo at Delphi a perfectly proportioned human skeleton made of gold. He might have made Lucia a pair of gold earrings while he was at it! Creep! It was the least he could have done. All he had to do was bury them next to some geophysical landmark and 2,000 years later I could have waltzed up in my working gear (headscarf, Gap dungarees) and began scratching away at the earth with my sweet mini garden trowel.
Gold, when buried deep within the earth, retains it's all of it's charms even if it does come out looking like a dead cat turd and squashed as a boxer's nose. Eeeeeeeek!

boys in blue

Yum yum. Managed to get away from work a bit early by slaving like a demon all morning. Mornings are absolutely the best time to get your money's worth out of Lucia. After that, the silly old cow goes into a slump!!

Wow, incredible autumn sunshine when I popped my head outside so I caught the bus and decided to walk back through the park. Wandering up a leafy path I passed two bobbies out doing their foot patrols. I looked over and both of them smiled and I smiled back - only in a blokish way mind. Yes, I was in full on male mode and a coquettish T-girl wave might not have gone down as intended. One of the policemen was rather handsome.. what am I saying??? He was an absolute dream!! I walked away fantasising him stripped out of that silly hat and uniform. I could picture myself breathless as he laid me out like his lovedoll and ran his hands across my belly and hips, then flipping me over and giving my bum a good hard squeeze... eeeeeeeek!

I wonder what he'd have thought if he'd met me in T-girl mode?? Well, if he'd had an active pair x-ray eyes (like superman) he's have got a surprise teehee. I may go to work looking like a fella but rarely go to work without wearing at least bra, nikks and hold ups under my male drab. And I always keep my little girlycock tucked up nice and firmly up between my legs. Also, I try and wear as much femme clothing as I can. Truth is, when it comes to clothes, I've always fitted much better into a female cut. Jeans especially! Next are cool in this regard. Sensibly, they do most of their jeans in long and extra long sizes.. which suits a tall Tgirl like myself.

Mmmmmm.. the sunlight was still just about warm. I so so wanted to sit under a tree in a light cotton dress and breath in the rich autumn air. Maybe that nice policeman could have bunked off work and laid his head in my lap while I stroked and weaved and tangled his hair with my fingers..sigh.

T-girl neologsm

I had an enlightening chat with an admirer at the Way Out Club a couple of years ago. I'd gotten chatting with this slightly worse for wear guy as you sometimes do and the drink having addled his brain, he decided to start telling me everything that was wrong with T-girls!!!

Just fer a laff I played along, feigning complicity with his most learned opinion teehee. Essentially, the basic thrust of his argument was this:
Because T-girls aren't 'real' women, men are not under any of the normal obligations that qualify man/woman relationships. OH YEAH?!! Because T-girls are 'fake', they should be happy to take whatever a man has to offer them, entirely on his terms. OH YEAH??!! T-girls spend way too much time bitching about men and each other and are usually self-obsessed. OH, I SUPPOSE MEN AREN"T LIKE THIS AT ALL??!! T-girls should empty their heads of all notion of romance and love 'cos no way is a fella ever gonna bring a T-girl home to meet mommy. Instead, they should get real, make themselves available to service men and generally be thankful for whatever falls from the plate. REALLY??!!

Perhaps it's time we girls insisted on an entry in the shorter english dictionary similar to 'misogyny' but specific to T-girls. Wonder what the word would be... Teeogyny?? But that wouldn't work because the root of the 'gyny' part refers only to women (Greek 'gune' = woman). Hmmmmm.. I can see I'll have to think deeply about this one....

beneath the planet of the panty clash

Is there anything more annoying than losing items of lingerie? Somehow, between here, there and everywhere I managed to misplace my red suspender belt. Even more annoying, I had a big clear out of my undie drawer early last month. You know that thing, girls, where you practically have to assume another identity and become this hard-assed being who can say with certitude, 'Right.. if I haven't worn it for a year it's going in the charity bin shop'.

Sidetrack: there's a big Oxfam clothes bin near me where I recycle bits and bobs. But I've never seen any of the undies I've donated on sale in the local shop. Do they throw them in the bin or do the shop girls grab them for themselves I wonder? Or is it the fellas? So many fellas wanna be girls these days... I blame the hormones in the vegetarian lasagne!

So, having thrown out two old red-hued bra, suspender, panty combos, it's an absolute pain to have lost my last one. Is there anything uglier in life than a panty vs suspender clash? If there is, do let me know....