CHAPTER 30
With Karen and Terry’s help I managed to find things I wouldn’t have thought of, including vegetarian sausages. Terry was very direct.
“Just remember, woman, that as soon as you cook these in the same pan as the meat they cease to be veggie, OK?”
“Got three frying pans, mate. Or with those beasts, probably best to do them in the oven, like. Now, we have the booze?”
Karen held up a case of Shiraz. “Yup! Anyone want beer, sort it yourselves”
I touched her gently on the nose with a fingertip. “This is a sitting quietly and savouring moment, yeah? Just, think I’ll clean my teeth when we get in. Curry doesn’t work with red wine, aye?”
Karen grinned back and waved another pair of toothbrushes. “We know, love! Now, let’s get this paid for and catch the others”
As I opened the front door, I could hear a low murmur of voices in the living room, and when we entered I saw the two girls sitting side by side on the sofa, teas in hands. Larinda just gave me a smile and a short nod.
“Jill, can I have a word?”
She led me to our bedroom, and putting a finger to my lips flicked the light on.
“No”
“Yes, Jill. This is how it starts, yeah? I saw YOU, after the doctor’s, yeah. This is you, and it’s you I love, so it starts, starts now, and we do it, not you alone, yeah? You, and me, and these people what I didn’t realise love you as much as I do, just different, yeah? You, me, our friends. Get changed…”
She had laid out one of my favourite long skirts, and a simple print top, with a reasonably high neck, by chance or keen observation exactly the two garments I wore most often when sitting round the house. As I changed, not really reluctantly, I asked the obvious question.
“You talked to Rachel, then?”
Her face slammed shut, mouth taut. “Sometimes I need people like her, love. People who have really had the shitty end. I mean, what the hell has ever gone wrong with my life? So I married a wanker, but he’s fucked off, and now I’ve got you, so what the hell do I have to complain about?”
She paused, just for a moment, jaw muscles working.
“Jill, did you know she wears a plate?”
“Sorry?”
“A plate, girl, a dental plate. Bastard didn’t just black her eye, he took two of her teeth. How the hell do you get past that one? Not just mental shit, scars, yeah, every time she eats or fucking drinks he’s there again. Fucker. Look…she hides it well, yeah? All tits and hair, and I was almost jealous, but, bleeding hell she’s screwed up. What we gonna do with her?”
I finished changing and took my other half in my arms. “We do what we can, love, we do the best. And I suspect Kaz and Terry will do the same, yeah? So, let’s go out there, pour the wine, let her know she’s with friends, aye?”
She kissed me, as hard as if she was checking for dentures, and then smiled. “Aye, we will that, Jill Carter. Know something?”
“What?”
“I am really glad you are gay. Clean your teeth”
I stepped into my ratty but comfy slippers, and headed off to the bathroom. Five minutes later I walked back into the living room, and it was clear that they had all been prepared for my appearance. Karen nodded towards the coffee table.
“Poured you a glass, Jill, and Terry managed to find some olives and rice crackers while I was getting the good stuff. You look…”
She started to giggle, and I could feel my face burning. Stupid bloody idea…
“NO, no, Jill, no. Pause: I am not laughing at you. It’s just silly words in my mind, yeah?”
I stood, waiting, heat still there in my cheeks, as she found the words.
“It was just the phrase that jumped into my mind: uncomfortably comfortable. You came in, and you were so clearly nervous about us seeing you, all stiff and twitchy, and at the same time, well, you were relaxed in the clothing. More…yourself, yeah? Look, sorry it came out as a laugh. I didn’t mean it that way”
Terry was nodding agreement. “She’s right, Jill; you just fit them better. Your back’s a little straighter, shoulders down a tad. More you, indeed”
I looked at the immaculately dressed woman next to Larinda, and she cocked her head to one side.
“What? I have to criticise? OK. You need to lose half your body mass, grow some hair and tits, and do something with your skin. That better?”
I couldn’t hold my laughter in following that little snippet, and squeezed onto the remaining place on the sofa, next to my lover.
“Yeah, well, the hair I can do something about, but the tits are in the post, I hope. As long as the quack, you know…”
Larinda was nodding herself at that. “And I have already started on her weight, yeah? Getting rid of some of those shag-handles is a priority. I like a live weight, not a dead one, yeah?”
Rachel suddenly laughed. “Too much information for a good girl like me! Shit, Jill, you do scrub up almost decent, but you’ve got a long way to go”
I smiled at her. “Is this the traditional bit of the plot where the girlfriend offers the makeover, or the girl lessons?”
I suddenly realised I had four blank stares to choose from.
“Sorry; look, I read a lot of fiction, like, about people like me, and there’s a sort of tradition in some of them, aye? Where the plot goes, like fairy tales, where you have the wicked stepmother, the frog prince, sort of thing. There’s always one or two good female friends, and the new girl always looks better than anyone else, and the friends give lessons in walking, and make-up, and they spend hours shopping for clothes, all that sort of shit. It’s like, I don’t know, like the authors seem to think that it’s like learning a part in a play”
Rachel was totally absorbed. “And it isn’t? You step out one day, knowing how to be female, all that jazz, just like that?”
“That’s the point, Rach! I AM female! That’s the whole shitty bit about my life, aye? I read stories of sex-changes, about men who become women, and it’s all bollocks. I mean, I could go on about what sex is, and gender, but sod that. Look, the whole point is that there is no bloody change. I am what I am, always have been, always will be. I’ve said it before, it’s not about clothes, and earrings, crap like that, it’s about ease in my body, being in a state where those things are available if I want them, aye? You know what? I think the doctors agree with me on this. They’ve called it a lot of things, like ‘change’ or ‘reassignment’ surgery, aye? But now, I keep reading the word ‘confirmation’…that’s what it is. Girl lessons? Like teaching me to breathe…sorry, I’m ranting, aren’t I?”
Karen was open-mouthed. “Bloody hell, what a difference from that day in April! What brought that on?”
“Probably time of the month…”
That broke the mood, and we were back to laughter, but I knew the real answer to Karen’s question: impatience. The session with Alec had brought it out, but right then, right there, sat dressed as I liked among friends, I needed to make it my default state. Why couldn’t I just be myself all the time? It wasn’t the time of month, it was the time of life. I tried to put it into words.
“Look at it this way. Lots and lots of changes for me, right now, but while they’re too fast, they’re not fast enough, aye? Are we nearly there yet? Is it Christmas morning yet?”
Terry laughed, pouring some more wine. “Got you, Jill. You finally broke loose, and you want it all, right now. You did the brave thing, but it’s all stalled, right? It hasn’t, though, really. Here you are, as you should be, among friends, and I won’t say ‘nobody cares’, because that is exactly what we do, we care, we care about you. And that is why we two, here, we have been worried”
I realised how transparent I must have been, how my plans must have shown through. Karen nodded in agreement as Terry continued.
“You’ve turned that corner, though, haven’t you?”
Larinda squeezed my leg. “She has, most definitely. That day, in the office, when we met, she’s a different girl now. I can see her for what she is, yeah”
I looked around the room, at four friends. “You plan this?”
Rachel piped up. “Plan what, girl?”
“All this ‘girl’, ‘woman’, ‘she’, ‘her’ business”
“Would you prefer it if we didn’t?”
I looked at her, the beauty of her form hiding so much damage, and I couldn’t reply for a minute or so.
“Rach, all of you, yes I appreciate it, and I am really grateful to you for making the effort. It just knocks me sideways a little, it’s all I ever wanted, almost, and here we are…”
She settled further into her chair, and smiled, and it was gentle, and sweet, and the pain that had been written on her face took a bow and an exit.
“Odd, that. When you told me, I looked at you, and thought ‘fuck me, no way’. You hid it so well. And yes, here we are, and you are so relaxed…no, Jill, no effort at all. It just fits”
Larinda gave me another squeeze. “And all spoken for, as well, Rachel”
She laughed. “Told her, I did, I’m straight, me. Only fancy men. Speaking of which, I seem to remember we have one here, so why is my glass empty? Garçon!”
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It just fits...
...Terry laughed, pouring some more wine. “Got you, Jill. You finally broke loose, and you want it all, right now. You did the brave thing, but it’s all stalled, right? It hasn’t, though, really. Here you are, as you should be, among friends, and I won’t say ‘nobody cares’, because that is exactly what we do, we care, we care about you. And that is why we two, here, we have been worriedâ€.
I'm not sure, but it feels like disappointment after waiting for so long to want to see things move along without hindrance? But things still move at their own pace, feeling like they've stalled, but Terry and others care, which I expect means the world to Jill. Always excellent if too familiar, dear! Thank you!
Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena
Love, Andrea Lena
missing the "traditional bit in the plot"
I smiled at her. “Is this the traditional bit of the plot where the girlfriend offers the makeover, or the girl lessons?â€
I suddenly realised I had four blank stares to choose from.
“Sorry; look, I read a lot of fiction, like, about people like me, and there’s a sort of tradition in some of them, aye? Where the plot goes, like fairy tales, where you have the wicked stepmother, the frog prince, sort of thing. There’s always one or two good female friends, and the new girl always looks better than anyone else, and the friends give lessons in walking, and make-up, and they spend hours shopping for clothes, all that sort of shit. It’s like, I don’t know, like the authors seem to think that it’s like learning a part in a playâ€
Rachel was totally absorbed. “And it isn’t? You step out one day, knowing how to be female, all that jazz, just like that?â€
“That’s the point, Rach! I AM female! That’s the whole shitty bit about my life, aye? I read stories of sex-changes, about men who become women, and it’s all bollocks. I mean, I could go on about what sex is, and gender, but sod that. Look, the whole point is that there is no bloody change. I am what I am, always have been, always will be. I’ve said it before, it’s not about clothes, and earrings, crap like that, it’s about ease in my body, being in a state where those things are available if I want them, aye? You know what? I think the doctors agree with me on this. They’ve called it a lot of things, like ‘change’ or ‘reassignment’ surgery, aye? But now, I keep reading the word ‘confirmation’…that’s what it is. Girl lessons? Like teaching me to breathe…sorry, I’m ranting, aren’t I?â€
Giggle. Well, I cant speak for any other girl, but I sometimes feel like I need a few lessons ...
Great chapter.
Dorothycolleen
Lessons
One might need lessons in how to put on, say, a pair of tights, but the whole thing is that the soul needs no lessons to know who it is.
feel good
this is beginning to be a real feel good story for me ,and i cant get enough of it ,would't it be niece if we could come out like Jill and have friends that except us for who we are and rally around to love and support us.
Hugs Roo
ROO
Thanks Steph,
ALISON
'beautiful,as always. Dorothy pointed out exactly what my thoughts were,ably supported by 'Drea
and my old friend Roo.I so need those girl lessons,but it does not happen overnight so I won't
go to the Mall today!Apart from all else,I look like everyone's Grandma,so can I get Grandma
lessons?
ALISON
Running over the same old ground
Not you Steph; this story is so new and refreshing. Your comment about "is this the traditional bit of the plot.." is what sparked off this thought process.
The thing is we all live our lives on autopilot to some degree or another. We speak in cliches and preformed phrases - "How are you?" "I'm fine" sort of thing. We take on what other people tell us is truth and we accept it as our own. We hear and read stuff and expect life to follow the same sort of path, hence the traditional bit of the plot. Soap opera thinking drifts into our lives from all sorts of directions, and I wonder just how many of the thoughts we have are really our own.
A concept that seems to be entering the same autothink mode within the trans community is the one about being a woman inside a man's body (or visa versa) - I mean I use it myself in my tagline - but what exactly do we mean by it? What exactly is a woman inside a man's body?
When I was younger, I let the girl peak out so other people could see her; I told a few people, a few other people found out, and in each case the reaction I received was so extreme, I'm not sure whether it was me or them that was the most freaked out. In the end I gave up trying to find acceptance and understanding, and buried that part of me, trying to pretend it didn't exist. But it kept growing and festering, and occasionally leaking, until I reached a point where I couldn't ignore it anymore.
I didn't wake up one morning, shave my legs and go max out my credit cards in Dorothy Perkins. Instead I took the amazingly brave leap (for me) of setting up a profile here at BCTS and I started writing. it's proven to be highly carthartic, acting as a safety valve, or the needle that lances a boil, and it's brought me back onto a much more even keel. I still have a long way to go before I find a way to live as me in this world, but for now I'm in a much better place than I was just over a year ago. For that, I would like to extend my heartfelt appreciation to all those of you who have shown me such encouragement and acceptance. I think having someone else see me for who I am (even if I am hidden behind a false name) has done more for me than anything else.
I guess it's this that I want to say here. In this story, Jill buries and hides her inner self so well that no-one knows who she really is, but it grows and grows until she has to respond. it's something I would dare to say is at the heart of most of our lives. I do wonder though, if having true friends who love and accept us for what we are is what we need more than anything else - more than that new dress, or those hormones, or that plane ticket to Thailand. I wonder how much the drive to chase after such things is a symptom of burying half (or maybe more) of ourselves until it bursts inside us like a pustulant wound, and if we could spend time with people who would embrace us, girly bits and all, we would find it to be enough.
I know if I were in Jill's shoes, having loving and accepting friends and a Larinda in my life like she has, especially if they looked deeply enough to see the girl inside and encouraged her to make an appearance, I don't know if I would need much more. As I say though, I know there are others out there who feel the difference so much more acutely than I do, and I understand that you may well need more to find your peace.
This has been massively long for a comment, for which I apologise. I think it belongs here though, rather than as a forum message or a stand alone submission of sorts, as it relates directly to this story. You make me think, and for that I'm grateful. I said in an earlier comment that some stories show us how to live, and they do that by jogging us out of autopilot so that we have to address the issues in our lives with our own genuine thoughts and feelings rather than using off the peg, one-size-fits-all arguments to respond to them.
PS - it's three thirty in the morning, so I may wake up tomorrow and discover this to be utter drivel. If it is, I will owe you all an additional apology.
Replies
...lock comments, and yours is worth locking. I said above, in a short reply, that we might need lessons in some practicalities, but not in being who we are. Jill's position is exactly as you so eloquently describe: she's over 50, and the need has been festering away inside all her life. Dressing in Mam's clothes since childhood, in her own since she could first obtain them, that need to be seen never goes away.
By seen, I don't mean walking out of the house in a nice frock from DP (they do do some, nice ones; I have a favourite summer dress from there, and my best shoes). I mean being seen by those who matter. It's why I have the friends here stress words that mean so much: her, she, girl, woman. It's why I have Jill stress the concept of being, always having been, not changing.
The school-age stories here cover the other end of the scale, where changes are made quickly and relatively freely and easily. This story is about how life is for so many women, where so much baggage has piled up, so many connections made as life rolls on, that there is minimal prospect of all those things you list. Just being called by one's chosen name....
Once there is a crack in the dam ...
The water soon bursts through and before you know it, you are innundated with reality.
Good story Steph, (as always.)
Bev.
Growing Old Disgracefully
I Have Always Relied On The Kindness Of Strangers
If only. Jill is very lucky to have found the way through inner fortitude and outside help. I don't have that trust in the innate goodness of people, or the courage to put it to the test.
Remember the doctor's shingle in the Peter Sellers film...."B.A.Cantab (failed)".....yeah, well....been there, done that, got the tee-shirt.
Still, I'm cheering Jill on from the sidelines,
Joanne
dont give up hope for yourself hon.
look at me. Not much younger than Jill, and slowly trying to make my way out of the hole I dug for myself by hiding. Hugs.
Dorothycolleen
Hiding....
Well, I am off to a conference on trans issues next month, and one of the points I have had issues with is exactly that, the hiding. There is a swell of pressure for the workplace to be 'diverse', and have lots and lots of different types of people. I have reservations about that, and one of them is the idea that people should be hired who can 'bosst' the diversity. Discrimination in employment, in other words.
A more fundamental difference is between myself and my LGBT rep, who is now my LGB rep because the T has been dropped. She, a very, very out lesbian, is of the mind that all people should not only not be afraid to be 'out', but that it is a good thing if they are 'outed'. I do believe that if the world worked in such a way, it would be wonderful, but she misses the difference between LGB and T; three are about whom you like, one about who you are. The depth of change is far greater for us, as we run the risk of family rejection, in this country* than it is for other sexualities. My own work difficulties are deep and painful, because no matter what I was to do, I am incapable of passing as a GG and will always be 'legible'. And so, I understand the need to hide, but also the pressure cooker effect that is brought to one's life by forever playing someone you never have been.
*We are far more tolerant of L and G these days, in the UK, than is the case in many other countries, or, indeed, than was the case here only a few years ago.