Sparkled

Well that was a fun weekend, big shame about the numbers of people but it meant that my resolution to spend quality time with a few groups instead of my previous scattergun effort was easier. Quite a good flight over, I liked my outfit, I liked my makeup, think my hair needs changing tho. No probs, train to Basel, flight to Manc, big mistake getting to basel airport too early - dullllsville. At the gate I offered my passport for the last minute check, whereupon he started shouting my name down the line, 'errr thats me' I said, oh his little face 'oh' he managed 'you must understand, this is difficult for me' he managed eventually before looking shamefaced and waving me through. 'It's not that easy for me either chum!'

Sparkle itself passed me by a bit, I didn't see anything in the park, I was mostly spent socialising, although I had to take a morning off to go buy a rubber suit (long story but you wont be seeing pics of that!) in general, there were, hmmm theres no way to say it without sounding judemental, but there were more inappropriate outfits on show, there was a lot of sniggering from members of the public, a lot of bollocks on show,a lot of stupidly short skirts. Having dinner in Velvet on Friday, the general feeling around the table was that we were embarassed. Sigh. I know that makes me sound like a bitch but it makes me unhappy because I could see the great british public sniggering at them, and by extension, at me. A friends wife said she was shopping in the Arndale centre and some girls were sniggering at two trannies on the escalator, then took pictures of them to show their friends so they could have a good laugh too.

Does that reflect badly on the girls or the trannies?

Oh well, I'm still glad I went, just not as glad as I wanted to be.

Untucking

Well THAT hurt!

Oh and I did take a couple of pics after all regardless of what I said earlier.

Nothing like a good tuck

I havent done any tranny firsts in a while, today I did two. I went shopping again - yayy me. No piccies, hmmmm why not? cos I can't be arsed at the moment. I fancied a pic outside but you do scream 'look a bloke in a skirt' when you get all self timering. Anyway it just didn't seem that important. Now I'm back at the appt having a well deserved glass of wine and lamenting that there was only one glass left in the bottle and I am sooo hot (not that way - sigh) I really can't be bothered taking pics.

Anyway, my firsts, well as I was getting ready this morning reflecting on how much fun it was to have hours and hours to get ready if I wanted, I came across some micropore surgical tape, tucking for the use of. So I decided that what I fancied was a good tuck and set to it. It was a long process, I've never got this right before, and extended manipulation of the boys and their dad did result in a degree of ahem 'interest' that required a fair bit of lying back and thinking of Margaret Thatcher before proceeding. Two reasonable tucks had to be abandoned after said interest showed no signs of being not-interest no matter how much Thatcher thought was applied, basically I twice managed to make a cock ring out of surgical tape. However! eventually it worked, it seemed secure enough and proper honest to goodness girls pants looked ok, away with security pants and their excess elasticity and hot sweatiness.


So I went out, all tuck-ed away, wearing proper nice pretty girls pants, as a precaution nasty sweaty support pants were in the handbag incase of undercarriage problems but weren't needed - hurrah, The tram to town was a sensation, I hadn't checked sitting with my tape-manacled member and there was discomfort there but all worked well, back at the appt now I am still taped up and awaiting an experimental toilet to see if I can wee like this.

2nd first, not so triumphant,; first time I had a boob fall out under the bra strap, it was hot, it's damn hot this weekend and standing in line to buy a top in Esprit I felt movement, from the girls not the boys, quick as a flash I've got a boob at my waist. Figuring thats not going to help my chances of passing I wandered away from the queue clutching said stomach boob hoping any casual observer will assume the clutching is period pains. Boob was duly extracted at the waist line and fumbled into my shopping bag, 'maye no one will notice?' I think, 'oh you stupid tranny of course they'll notice. So much bending over and fumbling I managed to get the missing mammary back in situ. I'm amazed I didn't have security over checking my bags with a amount of furtive fumbling I was doing.

ooo this wines gone right to my head you know.

Oh status report I guess, all shop assistants were fantastic as I've come to expect here, Mexx being the top of a very good pile by acting like I was an idiot for asking if it was ok to use the changing rooms, 'oh course it is, why wouldnt it be?!?'

Ooooo i got whiskey......

Hoopla

At last I did some shopping for Sparkle, I had a whole list of stuff but in the end I only found a dress and some earrings, must must must get shoes next week. (really cute dress btw)

So I bought some nice hooped earrings and some eff off huge chav hoops that I am wearing right now. I don't think I'll ever wear these out but they are fun. Why is feeling vulnerable such a kick? whether it's not being able to walk properly because of skirt or heels, or move properly because of a corset or in this case, be careful not to catch my massive hoops in something, such as my feet (ok not that big but not far). I'm sitting here on my sofa watching battlestar gallactica swishing my head about and loving the feel of how dangerous it feels having these in my ears. Even the slight twinge of pain if they catch on my neck (I said they were big) tickles me.

Vulnerable, vulnerable vulnerable, it's got me wiggling my toes.