A needed change - Part 1

I sat there and looked at the surprise on her face. I think she was expecting me to be nervous, not do what I just did, but I wanted to show her I was serious and it was the easiest way I could think of to prove it. I took hold of the end, pulling it back and looked at her, then I did it again, taking my hands away and waggling my eyebrows at her. I hoped she could see I was smiling, but instead I saw the door open and her boyfriend, Rich stand there looking at me.

I suppose I ought to start at the beginning, there’s a lot to tell before I get to that part and explain what was happening and why.

My name is Beck, my mum said I was named after the singer but would always blush when she said it, and as I got older it wasn’t hard to work out there must have been some connection to the singer and my name. My sister Jane would tease me that I must have been conceived during it. My mum and dad split up not long after I was born, Jane was already two by then, and a couple of years after that he moved to Australia with his new wife. I think he wanted to be closer to his parents who has moved back to Japan, although I’m sure it’s still a very long flight from there, but we were never close so I never really asked. He always paid child support to mum, always said we were welcome there, but the distance and being so young meant he wasn’t really part of my life. Mum had a few boyfriends, some serious, some only short term, but I always felt loved, always looked after.

I don’t want anyone to think what happened later had anything to do that, I always had positive male influences in my life, my mum’s parents were always there and always supportive of everything in my life. Even the ‘phase’ I went through as so many put it, yes, I would like to play dress up with my sister, and her being older it must have been fun having a living doll to play with. No one batted an eye about it, even if sometimes it was my idea to play dress up. I’m not sure when it stopped, I guess I just lost interest as I grew up, peer pressure and all that, but I stopped wanting to wear my sisters dresses.

Life went on, school life and got my exams, a couple of girlfriends, all the usual heartbreak and heartaches, but maybe pleased that my slightly exotic looks thanks to a half Japanese father giving me light brunette hair, but getting my mums blue eyes. My sister got the blue eyes and blonde hair, but maybe one thing that I became so much more grateful for now is that I’m not tall, only 5’7” and not big. I’m quite slim in fact, petite as my sister would say. It used to bother me, but when I got to university I met the most amazing woman in the world, and we were together all through to graduation, and moving into a really tiny flat as we tried to get jobs and stayed in the area.

I was lucky, she not so much. I got a good job in a graduate programme with a finance company and six months later they took me on and I was very well paid, enough to get us a great flat with a balcony overlooking the harbour. Sadly, she found it harder and ended up temping for a while. I should have paid attention to how she felt and I take a lot of the blame for it, but there’s not a lot of job opportunities for marine biologists who hated their degree and just stuck with it.

A year and a half after we graduated she said she wanted us to go travelling, but I didn’t want to walk out of my job. She told me how unhappy she was, was still trying to find her place and something worthwhile and fulfilling to do, and now I understood. I tried to help her, see what I could do to help her be happy, but six months later she said she had to leave, needed to get away and I didn’t fight to make her stay as I knew she needed it. She packed up some things and sent them home to her parents, filled up a backpack and left me, leaving everything else behind. I told her it was here for her when she wanted it, but after three months the fortnightly calls became once a month, after six months the postcards stopped. At the end of the year I stopped reacting to her social media, the only way I had to keep in any sort of contact.

I’m not sure when I stopped liking her posts, but it was clear that a year and a half later we were over.

Anyway, aside from the depressing state of my non existent relationship, at work I was having a great time. My work wife, Steph, well, she was just so much fun and made going in during the extended break up a pleasure. We had the same sense of humour, and always laughed. If she wasn’t at work, being there was just depressing and sitting next to her each day was fun. What was funny is that we both found each other attractive, except she was still in a relationship, and I think by this point neither of us would want something to happen between us, either if we were both single, and I liked that about us. There was no subject off limits, unless we were in the office and with others, but we literally talked about anything.

But back home, I was alone, and one Sunday I think you can guess what happened. I needed to finally start sorting out my wardrobe, or more accurately, my ex’s. I think I had been putting it off, trying to pretend that she might come back, but from my occasional looks at her social, there seemed to be another man in her life so it was finally time.

First I moved all her makeup and the jewellery she didn't want to take with her or send to her parents for storage, you know, the basic costume stuff, that went into the spare room and I just dumped it on the dresser in there. Then the clothes, starting with the whatever was in the drawers, taking the whole thing out and just dumping the contents onto the bed for sorting later. Then the wardrobe, grabbing things off the hangers and carrying them through, hanging them up.

On the second trip, when I opened the wardrobe door, I saw myself in the mirror, or I should say I saw my head and the dresses I was holding up in front of me. And everything from when I was younger came back. I froze, and all the social conditioning hit telling me it was wrong. But there were a few more trips and each time I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to pretend to myself that I wasn’t seeing what I would look like in them, trying not to give in to temptation. I looked at the clothes on the bed, the jeans, leggings, jumpers, some work out gear, and the lingerie. I don’t know how long I looked at everything, but I walked out closing the door behind me, resisting the thoughts in my head, trying to stop them from becoming clear, keeping it fuzzy so it’s not real.

I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea, keeping my mind elsewhere and watching something on TV for an hour or so. At some point I was back in my bedroom and looking at the half empty open wardrobe and started spreading my stuff out so it didn’t look so sad, and then my shoes on the floor and all of my ex’s shoes, boots and trainers at the bottom of the wardrobe; something else I need to move. I pulled them all out and onto the floor, and there were a pair of pink crocs she had brought and I was surprised she didn’t take them, but I moved my shoes in, then looked at the crocs, and slipped them on my feet as one less thing to carry, grabbed an armful and took them to the spare room, dumping them on the bed trying to ignore the nagging thought at the back of my head before getting the next lot.

On this trip I seemed to have mostly trainers and wondering why she had so many of them. Anyway, this time I stopped and looked at a couple of them as they were almost new, and I looked down at the crocs on my feet then back at the trainers in my hand. The nagging thought was still there, but trainers and crocs are unisex, right? So I stopped and tried one on, and it fit ok. I had a look at the size and even though it was just me there, I pretended to be surprised that I didn’t already know that women’s sizes in the UK are different to men’s, as I kept them on while I carried the second load of shoes to the spare bedroom. When I went back for the third load of shoes, I looked at a pair of her boots. I always liked these ones as they were flat and came up to just over her knees, and as she was already a bit taller than me and she always liked wearing heels. I was never insecure about it, but if we were out I liked being able to kiss her without tilting my head up.

Anyway, I was sitting there looking at them and the trainers I had on, but resisted the little voice, carrying the lot through and dumping them on the bed with the others, closing the door behind me and getting on the playstation to distract myself.

At some point I needed something to eat, and just got up to go out, not really sure what I wanted so just headed to the supermarket to browse, and yes, I was still wearing the trainers but they were plain and white so I didn't even think about it.

The next week with being at work, I didn’t go into the spare bedroom, but the trainers became part of my causal evening popping to the shop clothing, and on the Friday when I went shopping in the evening I wore them again, getting a minor thrill to be standing in the queue for the check out with a woman in front of me wearing the same pair.

Saturday though, I resolved myself to sorting out the spare bedroom and working out what to get rid of and should donate it to a charity shop or a clothing bin. I didn’t get far, you’re reading this so that’s kinda obvious, but not closing the door with the full length mirror was either a mistake or a blessing, but I kept holding things up to myself and looking. Finally, I just thought screw it, and I went to my bedroom, stripped off and walked back to the spare one naked. I looked at the clothes and caught sight of myself in the mirror, closing it for now and started looking through the piles of stuff on the bed. I needed some lingerie and there was a lot to choose from. A thong was tempting, but seemed a bit ambitious at this point, so some bikini cut briefs and a matching bra, stepping into one, and despite it being at least 12 years since I last wore one, I slipped it on like a pro, doing it up behind my back.

I opened the wardrobe as I knew what I was looking for, I had tried to keep it out of my mind but it was almost calling to me, but first I saw myself in the full length mirror and laughed. It’s not that I looked stupid, I’m slim and, well, petite if I’m being honest, it was more that the hair under my arms and the thatched cottage in my briefs just looked silly. Never mind, I’m not worried about that today, and I reached for a hanger. The hanger with a dress on it, a pink one. It was a jumper dress, and I still have it, but for some reason when I put it in here I just knew I had to wear it. I pulled it over my head, and I love it as it’s so soft, and quite baggy so I felt like I was being hidden by it, and just looked at myself in the mirror.

Ok, I looked dumb, but I felt happy. I picked up two pairs of tights from the bed and balled them up, stuffing my bra and looking at my profile, pulling the jumper dress tight on my body and admiring the shape I had created. I found another pair of tights, rolled them up and slipped them up my legs, them looked at the boots. I had no idea if they would fit as well as the trainers, but had to try and they were actually a bit loose, but for now I didn’t care, this is how I want to stay dressed for the rest of the day so made myself some tea and sat down to watch a film.

But I wasn't really watching it, there was a big piles of clothes calling to me, asking me to try them on so that’s what I did. I tried everything, shoes, underwear, seeing what fitted and what didn’t, and the latter went into a separate pile to be donated. I only got changed once into something more manly, and even then it was a pair of skinny jeans and a hoody that used to belong to my ex. They were my clothes now, it was clear she was never coming back for it, she never even asked me to keep any of it, so it was all mine. Anyway, I was in my skinny jeans and my hoody, with my trainers on when I answered the door for my pizza. I did take the bra off, I wasn’t that brave, but still, I felt both brave and ‘right’ somehow.

Still, I had a great weekend trying on loads of clothes and doing some googling, so by then I knew that I was going to work in drab. On the way home I popped into the supermarket, picked up a few things, including some hair remover for sensitive skin. I don’t know if I really planned to use it, I could have shaved, but I think I wanted it to feel a bit more permanent and avoid any stubble. I’ve never been hairy, Japanese genes I guess. But each morning in the shower I would look at the bottle but resisted the desire to use it or dress till the weekend. Steph did notice one thing, she asked me if I was ready to start dating again as I kept looking at the women in the office, but I couldn't tell her I was checking out their fashion sense, how they were dressing and matching their clothes to make a stylish outfits, what accessories they used, so I told her I was just looking.

Over the next few months, I got better and better at dressing, using the make up and watching lots of tutorials, staying tucked longer and longer, enjoying the smoothness of my skin and letting my hair grow a bit longer and telling people I was sick of short hair. I did buy a wig online, and while I liked how it looked, I wasn’t happy with how it felt and my plan was to get my hair long enough to use extensions. I got a pair of breast forms, B cup, and got them matched to my skin tone and learnt how to blend them with some waterproof makeup and made sure I always had more solvent and make up remover than I needed, I didn’t want to get stuck when I didn’t want to. But overall, I didn’t really spend a lot of money of this new hobby. I didn’t know where this was going, but I was enjoying it and other than a late night step onto my balcony, I hadn’t been outside, and while I liked the photos I took of myself, I always deleted them out of fear of them being found on my phone, laptop or the cloud.

My experiments so far had been quite limited, but my research had become extensive. I was learning more and trying new things, and one day while lounging in a bubble bath with a glass of red wine, my mind drifted to some videos I had watched online. I was running my hands over my body, loving how smooth and feminine I felt, keeping my hands away from one part of my anatomy that was screaming for attention, teasing myself with my fingers and I touched a tip somewhere, I added some pressure and enjoying the feeling of a finger inside me.

That became part of my weekend routine, and like everything else it escalated and I bought myself a toy to play with as well, which later became two as I quite liked, well, I liked the feel of one in my mouth at the same time. Months went by, Christmas came and went, the new year I stood on my balcony in a little black dress and heels toasting the new year at midnight, but rushing in when a neighbour walked out to avoid being seen. Steph sent me a text at midnight saying she wished I was at her party, they were having a great time, and I agreed to meet up with her and her boyfriend for brunch, and I felt quite sad in the morning not dressing how I wanted to, but did wear my white trainers to see her.

It was great seeing her, even if we are back at work in two days, and I like her boyfriend Richard, but having not seen him for a while, it was like something changed. I won’t say I fancied him, but for the first time I could see him differently, maybe how Steph sees him, and while I won’t say it was lust on my part, it was definitely something new, well, almost new, there’s that guy I like watching online, I mean, the girls seem to have a great time with him, so maybe a bit like him, a minor crush maybe?

Anyway, she showed me some pictures from the party, and a couple of people were in fancy dress as well as her and Richard, making me think of the costume in my other wardrobe I was yet to try on. Anyway, we just chatted and I lied about my new year, and the weeks passed and I decided to take some time off work, talking it over with Steph so she knew when I wouldn’t be there, and in early April, I had a special week to look forward to.

I had rationalised my cross dressing to weekends only as a way to keep my work life as normal as possible, but I wanted to have a whole week as a girl. On my way home on the Friday I did one of the biggest food shops I had ever done, making sure I had everything I needed for a week so I wouldn’t need to go out. Once all that was put away, I jumped in the shower and made sure I was smooth all over, washing the unwanted hair away. I looked at my face in the mirror and very carefully, I used the facial hair removal as tomorrow I didn’t want to have to shave my light beard.

Once that was done, it was into the bubble bath to fully relax and moisturise, listen to some music and drink some wine.

My plan for this evening was to just ease into it, I had plenty of time, but I found it hard not to put my face on, clip on some earrings and pull on my red jumper dress. I looked at my wig, but decided to go without it tonight, my hair was getting longer, and while some might say it was long for a man and I was having to spend a stupid amount of time trying to make it look manly, I was also slowly leaning into androgyny so I just pulled it all back and tied it up for work. But now I had swept it over my head and I thought it looked quite nice I went with it, curled up on the sofa and relaxed until I went to bed.

I woke up late the next day, and sat there looking in the mirror wondering if I should get some nicer sleepwear, but also admiring my bed head, I mean, it looks ok like this and it’s a lot more comfortable than a wig and I kinda like the fringe (or bangs if that is your cultural explanation for them).

Having no plans for the day, and no desire to go outside, I took a slow morning and breakfast, slow lunch, watched some rom coms, looked online for some other nightwear, but did very little with no plans. It was great!

Sunday I played around with my hair, watching tutorials to find out how I could style it and looking at the styling stuff my ex had left behind. Once I worked out the basics, or what each thing is called, I learnt more about how to give my naturally straight hair a bit more shape and body without tying it up tightly like I do for work. I mean, I liked those little waves, but now I can do more, or at least, I hope to be better at doing more by the end of the week.

Feeling a bit more confident, I did step out on to the balcony in daylight, not for long and if I heard the slightest whisper of noise from my neighbours I stepped back in, but being outside was nice. I mean, I was wearing leggings and a tee shirt, so from behind I could pretend everything was normal, but if they saw my face and make up it was a bit obvious. I was still worried about looking like a guy in a girls clothes, and I wondered if I would ever be brave enough to go out.

At 11pm that night, I got my answer. It might have been the two glasses of wine I had, the two full days as a girl with no worries about getting up for work tomorrow, I don’t know. The photos I took on a timer had looked good, and I felt good, but something made me get up and get changed. I was looking through my clothes, seeing what I liked and didn’t like and started putting an outfit together. Maybe this was always going to happen this week I thought to myself, if so there’s no time like the present.

Although by the time I was ready it was almost 1am, I mean, a girls first outing requires exactly the right outfit, work out the right make up to go with it, the right necklace, the right shoes and bag. I stood at the door to my flat, looking out the peephole and making sure it was empty. I cracked the door open then quickly closed it, turning out the lights, then opened it again and listened.

Silence.

Well, not complete silence, I could hear my heart beating, it seemed to be so loud and would wake everyone up.

I pulled the door wider and stepped out, holding the door open so I could jump back in. Still nothing, so I closed my front door as gently as I could, walked the short few paces to the lift and called it. I was thinking of walking down the stairs, but it’s a long way in heels, and I’m sure it would be noisy. The lift arrives and thankfully it’s empty, and as I walk in I checked myself out in the mirror on the wall, almost forgetting to press the button for the ground.

In the bright light of the lift my heart seemed even louder and the ping seemed like a siren telling everyone to look at the freak. I pulled my handbag closer to me as I crossed my arms and walked to the main door, my heels clicking on the tiles in the foyer and I stepped outside.

The first thing I felt was the cool air on my legs and up my skirt, then on my stomach and wondering if I should go back and change to a jumper that covered a bit more flesh, but something seemed to make me carry on and I started walking along the empty street. I realised I had no plan and wished I hadn’t been drinking or I could have gone to the garage and got in my car instead, but I was here now, so I may as well walk around the block.

My heart seemed to slow down, and walking in heels on the pavement was very different to walking in them inside, my feet felt less secure and I wish I had worn flats for this first outing in case I needed to run. Strangely I picked the skirt for that reason, but not the shoes, but I did love these little ankle boots.

Anyway, I didn’t walk far I was wearing heels and it was my first outing, but I did walk around the block twice as I wanted to stay out for a bit longer. Being out and dressed how I was just felt right, I felt feminine, I felt comfortable and I felt happy.

As I walked I looked at my reflection in windows, and just enjoyed how I felt, but when I heard a car, I would hunch up and try to hide, which was a bit pointless, and just made me look suspicious I guess.

Which explains what happened when I heard a car that slowed down. My heart started to get loud again, fear was ripping through me, and I was wondering what was in my bag I could use as a weapon, but then a voice said, “Are you ok miss?”

I just nodded, not wanting to look, but in the reflection of a window I could see it was a police car. Oh well, now I’m going to get arrested and I felt myself blush in embarrassment and fear, and just nodded.

I looked up at them, hoping they could see I was embarrassed, but they spoke again, “Are you sure you’re ok miss?”

And the car stopped and one got out.

Oh Jesus! I’m going to have to talk to them. I stopped, resigned to my fate, and turned to them. I’d been practicing my voice, but was so nervous right now it came out a bit squeaky. “Yes, I’m just going home.” And I pointed to my block about 100 metres away.

The policeman walked towards me, saying he was worried I might have been attacked and some of my fear disappeared, they were worried about me. I said, “No, I’m fine and it’s only a short way and not late.”

My confidence seemed to be returning, I could see he was worried, but more than that his partner still in the car was checking me out. They really did think I was a girl, and I wasn’t acting suspiciously, I was acting like someone in distress. I thanked them and carried on walking, and they sat in the car watching me walk to the door and open it with the fob. I looked back and gave them a wave and smile, but now I got nervous again. I mean, I don’t really know my neighbours, no one does these days in blocks like this, but I am on nodding terms with them. The ping of the lift on my floor seemed loud again, and my normally quiet door seemed to scream as I opened it, but I was home and the adrenaline hit me again. I walked into my bedroom and fell back on my bed as all the wine, and nerves slowly washed out of me as I fell asleep.

At 7am my alarmed screamed me awake, and I sat up, still in my clothes from last night. I looked at my face and my makeup was a mess, and I looked at my feet in my cute boots, surprised I slept in them. I kicked them off, and decided to get up, having a shower and cleansing my face. I still looked good and still no beard coming through, and wondered what to do today.

As I was putting on some matching pink lingerie, I thought that last night had been unexpected, but really good, and talking to the police up close seemed to go well. I have no idea if I passed, but if not they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they couldn't tell in the dark. I couldn’t work out what to do with my hair today, so I just gave it some simple waves, mainly because it was the one I could do without looking it up, then my makeup and looked at what clothes options I felt like for today. There was a blue green skirt I liked that came to below the knee, and a jumper that I thought went well with it, or at least, I’ve seen women wear similar colour schemes and I thought it looked good and matched well. I now know it’s a teal skirt, but like I said, I’m learning. Anyway, I went bare legged, it wasn’t a warm day, but I felt it might be a bit too much, and put on some ankle boots. As I was drinking my coffee and eating a slice of toast, I glanced at the clock and saw it was almost 9am and I had nothing to do today and was dressed and ready to go.

But I had no plans to go anywhere, and ignoring what I did last night, I wasn’t planning to go out at all this week. And I could see my car keys, and my heels weren’t that high, only about an inch.

I mean, I know I seemed to pass last night, but it’s daylight now, should I?

I think I had made my mind up before I even got dressed this morning, but I found myself looking for a handbag that would go with this outfit, putting my car keys in the bag and walking to the door. At the last minute I stopped, looked down at myself and went back to the spare bedroom and picked up a pair of white trainers with pink trimming, and walked out the door. I didn’t stop to look this time figuring that if someone is out there it would make no difference anyway, but it was empty and I waited by myself.

I got in the lift, hit the button for the garage, and turned to face the mirror and played with my hair. Two floors down the lift stopped and my eyes went wide. The door opened and I tried to stay calm, taking deep breaths. A man and a woman got in, said hello and then like everyone else in a lift said nothing. The woman looked at the trainers in my hand and smiled at me, but when the doors opened she said to me, “That’s why I’m making him drive today.”

Her eyes flicked down to my heels and her own, and I smiled, scared to say anything back as I walked towards my car, suddenly feeling pleased it’s a small little hatchback rather than something ‘manly’. I waited in the car for them to leave first as I wanted to see if I could drive in these boots, and within five metres I stopped and changed into the trainers.

I had no plan of where to go today, but knew I wanted to be somewhere I could be seen, see if I could blend in and hopefully avoid talking to anyone. So I picked an outlet shopping village nearby, figuring at this time of day it would be empty and I wouldn’t see anyone I know.

The drive there had a bit of commuter traffic to sit in, but after that ok, but I did feel really self conscious changing my boots before I got out the car after parking. Walking around the shops, while it wasn’t weekend busy, I was surprised how busy it was, but more than that my plan to not speak went out the window very quickly. I was enjoying looking at the clothes in person rather than online, and while I had a pretty decent wardrobe it was nice to look and see what else I might like to have.

But in each shop I went in it felt like someone who worked there asked me if I needed help, and at first it was a bit annoying but I quickly picked up on it being normal for women. They were looking for something to do, and unlike in men’s shops, women do talk to each other. Each time I chatted to a woman, I was trying to see if they were reading me, but if they did they didn’t show it. After about an hour of looking at lots of clothes, I needed a coffee so went to Starbucks and just ordered it, and then they asked for my name. Without thinking, I replied, ‘Beck’ and they wrote it on the cup.

I had never thought about having a fem name, I had read on a lot of the cross dressing sites that people have one, and even though I am clearly a cross dresser, it had just never occurred to me as until yesterday I never intended to go outside. So while I waited I tried to think of one that I liked. But I didn’t need to, as they called out ‘Caramel Macchiato for Becca’, and I went to pick up my coffee. As I sat down at a table and took out my phone, I thought to myself, ‘Beck. Becca, Rebecca, Becs. I like it.’

After I finished my coffee, I went for another look around the shops, and finally plucked up the courage to try something on, this really cute blue jumper dress and decided to buy it, the first item of women's clothing I had brought just for myself, and I loved it. The whole trip had been really good and I enjoyed myself more than I thought I would. On the drive back home I felt like it would take a jackhammer to wipe the smile off my face, and once inside I put my new dress on, but after half an hour I took it off. I knew I would be going out again and I didn’t want to ruin it before then.

The next day, it was kinda a rinse and repeat, but this time I went a bit further away, getting there later in the day, and while sitting there having a coffee I created a new insta account for Rebecca, and getting back some of the photos in my deleted folder. Maybe I kept them for this very reason, who knows, but I just said it was a new account in the bio. While I was sitting there doing this, I hadn’t noticed the lunchtime people arriving and it had got quite busy, only noticing when a man asked if he could sit at my table. I gave him a smile and a nod, but kept my head down to look at my phone. He was very polite, never bothered me, and I wondered how I looked to him, did I pass, was he just a chaser (yes, I had learnt all about them and why I was being careful with hashtags), or just saw me as a woman. My heart was going a bit faster, but I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes with no one pointing and shouting at me, so I forced myself to calm down and finish my coffee.

When I stood up, he looked at me and said thank you, and I walked away. I saw him check me out, he looked me up and down and being a man under these clothes, I could see what he was thinking as he looked at me. It made me feel a lot more confident as I strutted my way down the street, wondering why I quite enjoyed the look in his eyes.

On Wednesday I had to go food shopping, even if I did do a lot of shopping on Friday, and I looked through my now extended wardrobe trying to decide what to wear, or even how far away I should go, but I spotted the jeans and thought I would try them for the first time. Once they were on, I took them off as I didn't like how they looked in the mirror, and went to the lingerie draw and picked out a thong. I’d never tried one of these before, not sure if I would be able to tuck in it, but I guess lucky for me I could, I mean, I’ve never been big down there but they seemed to be good enough to hold me in place, and the tight jeans helped give me a bit more confidence. I put on a tee shirt, a hoody and a hat, but my breast forms stayed on as I couldn’t be bothered to unstick them.

The supermarket was about a mile away, so no point driving and I just walked out, smiling to the concierge as I passed them. I’d never really spoken to them before, they only worried if you didn’t have a key or fob, or maybe a big delivery, but they didn’t react to me. Walking to the shop I felt nervous, already I felt bare without any makeup on, so just had to use a little, besides, I had boobs so it would look out of place if I didn’t.

In the store, I picked up some cleaning stuff as I suddenly decided that would be the theme for the day, and as I walked out, I bumped into the neighbour from Monday in the lift. She was chatty and we talked about nothing in particular, I was still nervous about being discovered, but she just seemed to accept me as a woman, making me hope I don’t meet her when I have to be in drab.

But that all went out the window when as she stepped out the lift on her floor that ‘You look much better like this.’

I stood there with my jaw on the floor and the lift doors started to close. I quickly put my hand out and asked what she meant, and she said, “You know the whole tomboy androgynous look, it’s nice you’re embracing your femininity.”

And she headed for her door as the lift shut and carried on it’s way up. It gave me a lot to think about, and half an hour later I went back on knocked on her door. She was home alone, I think I would have died of embarrassment if her husband had been there, but I opened up and told her everything, well, almost everything. It was nice to get it off my chest, and have someone to talk to about it.

I stayed for about an hour, and she told me that she instantly recognised me in the lift, but her husband didn’t, and she had no problem with it, and in fact she first thought I was a woman anyway. She listened to me, but being about 15 years older than me we didn’t have a lot of crossover in experience, but she told me if it ever got too much for me, she would be happy to chat and talk things over. Back home as I was doing the cleaning, I thought I was quite lucky she didn’t judge me, it’s not like all parts of the world right now are so friendly, but she was great and offered me some fashion tips, which was mainly look on instagram for fashion ideas and copy any outfits I liked to help learn what works best for me.

Over the next few months we would pass each other and stop to chat for a bit, sometimes I would be Becs, sometimes I would be Beck, but she always had a nice word for me.

Anyway, on Thursday I didn’t go anywhere, I just wanted to relax and think about things, do some searches online to see what else I could learn about what I was going through, was it just trying to relive my youth or was I looking at making this a bigger part of myself? I had a lot to think about that day, but ultimately, I like doing this and see no reason why I should stop doing it. But like Sharon my neighbour said, I clearly don’t want to be a wallflower if I’m going out shopping.

So for Friday, I decided to take a somewhat stupid risk. I needed to pick what to wear carefully, I wanted to look good, but also be able to blend into the background and a lot of the clothes I had available were a bit more dressy. In the end I went with a black roll neck jumper and a short denim skirt with black ankle boots, copying something I saw on insta as an outfit of the day.

I had to be brave today, but I needed to know something, so I made my way dow to the my car, checking the time on my phone and I had plenty to spare. I got to a smaller shopping area, kinda boutique and not many chains here, and kept an eye on the time as I walked around window shopping. Well, mostly window shopping, I picked up a pair of earrings for whenever I decide to pierce my ears.

About quarter to twelve I headed to a coffee shop, ordered a coffee and a sandwich, and sat to one side well away from someone who was here earlier than I expected them to be. I knew they wouldn't recognise me today, I might have hung out with them but not enough for them to see me under these clothes. But his girlfriend Steph might recognise me, so I wanted to be out of her line of sight. I knew they always meet here on Fridays for lunch together when he’s not away for work, but seeing him here early did make my heart jump a bit. I could see him in the window reflection looking out, and I was focusing on him so intently I didn’t notice Steph walk past looking it. She of course walked over to him, hugging him and kissing him, but she didn’t notice it was me sitting here.

I watched them in the window, even having a second coffee to stay a bit longer, I just wanted to see how she interacted with people, wondering if or what I should tell her and when. About ten to one, they both got up to leave, and I put my cup down to pay more attention as they walked to the door. I still hoped she wouldn't recognise me, but I was so happy to see her and feeling bad about not replying to her texts this week. Steph headed back to work, while he went the opposite way, and I decided to follow him, wondering if this made me a stalker, but the truth is I wanted to interact with someone who knew me in passing, find out how they react, and Steph had told me enough about his dating past for me to know he should at least be accepting of me.

He went into a newsagents, and I followed him in, standing in the queue next to him holding a magazine I picked up randomly. He ordered some cigarettes which surprised me, but he looked at me, looked me right in the eye twice and never once knew who I was. I even caught him as he looked me up and down, so now I knew for sure, yes I do pass, and it’s not a big deal. It wasn’t the only thing I now knew, and maybe this might be the way to tell Steph, as without a doubt I fancied him a bit.

That evening at home I think I went to town with my two toys, one at each end as I watched my favourite guy online doing the things to women that I was doing to myself, wishing he was here instead. I was a very satisfied girl that evening, with a plan for how I can introduce Steph to Becs. I mean, I was still worried that she might be one of those TERFs, I had never heard her say anything or do anything that suggested she might be, but I was nervous about sharing this secret with her.

But I think I knew how I could walk her into it gently.