Of Wigs And Balls

It appears that I've been neglecting this blog. Again.

I see that the last entry was the 6th May, and now I've been hunting around trying to work out what I've been doing since then. Obviously I've been ticking away happily as a bloke for most of it, but you're not interested in that I'm sure. What you want is frocks, and various tales of tranny life in the Colonies. Errrm, you may be disappointed.

I see that in my last post I mentioned that I was thinking of buying a new wig. And I did; a week or so after that post I went back into Wollongong and got this one:



It makes me look a little older and more sophisticated than the other one does, but I love it. And it seems to have met with a good response from other people, so I guess it was a good choice.

Mrs Rachel came with me to help make the choice; it's always good to have another person with you when buying something that so defines how you look. Unfortunately the lady in the salon thought that she was my mother, which was amusing up to a point, but, like The War, is something best not mentioned ...

For anyone wondering, my own hair is growing nicely, and I may use it again in a couple of months.

That picture was taken at the end of May when I went out with Lettie, Mrs Rachel and various girls and partners from the surrounding area to Wollongong's Japanese restaurant (again). It was a good night out, and I chose to wear trousers - leather trousers. Leather trousers from a charity shop. Bargain. I like to look ultra-sexy on a budget.

And that was it for two months. For six weeks or so the urge to dress left me, and then for a couple of weeks the opportunity didn't present itself. This partially explains why this blog hasn't been updated; there wasn't anything to write about really.

When Rachel re-emerged, at the end of July, it was still with the new wig and we were out in Wollongong once again. But I managed to completely fail to get any pictures of the outfit I wore. It was actually this one, but with different shoes:



Oh, and a different wig, of course. And a different bag. And a different jacket. And different tights.

It was the same dress. And me inside it.

And this weekend I was out again, when we all headed up to Sydney for the Seahorse Ball, run by (of course) The Seahorse Society.

I looked fab:



Mrs Rachel looked fab as well, but I didn't get any pictures of her. I'm rubbish like that.

The ball was good fun. Each bit of it seemed very average (and I really could have done without the Elvis impersonator), but the whole thing seemed to hang together well. Rather like one of my outfits really. We danced and drank and ate, and had good company. Brooke and Fiona from Melbourne were a beautiful couple, and I was privileged to share a table with a Uniting Church minister who was accompanying one of her trangender parishioners as part of the support the congregation was providing during the transition process. You read many terrible tales of what happens when people's religious beliefs meet the trangender world, and it was great to encounter a positive story of support and fellowship at first hand.

The day after the ball we had a brunch and shopping trip into Newtown, where I failed to buy anything at all, despite being sorely tempted by the vast array of goodies on display. Mrs Rachel was suitably impressed. With it being Winter here I was rather hoping to wear some of my cooler weather wardrobe, but the forecast was for temperatures in the high twenties (celcius) and it wasn't wrong. So it was light Summer wear for me:



I also skipped a layer of makeup (no beard concealer) and that seemed to work out OK. I have a new electric shaver that seems to do a wonderful close job, and just didn't need it. I do find that I tend to overdo the slap, so being able to leave a bit out helps give a more natural look.

Heading home from Newtown we stopped off to pick up my children, who had been stopping with their cousin (my niece) for the night. This was another milestone, as it was the first time that any member of Mrs Rachel's family had met Rachel in the flesh. It was a nervous moment for me, of course, but it all went off OK. Indeed I have been promised a trawl through her cast-off skirt collection at some point, as it turns out that we're roughly the same size; she's diplomatically smaller than I, of course.

When we got home I was spotted by both of our neighbours, who may or may not have already known, but probably do know now.

And that brings me up to date. I'm out again in a couple of weeks, and then we'll see where we go from there.

Mr And Mrs

I'm still alive, you know. Don't think you've got rid of me.

I confused a shop assistant today. I had some shopping to do in Wollongong, and decided that it was a chance to have a dressed outing. One of my trips was to our local electrical retailer, and when you buy something there they enter your personal details into their computer so that they can print out the warranty docket. She started out OK, putting in my surname. She then skipped over the 'Title' box, and put my initial in the next one (which is not 'R', in case you were wondering). Filled out my address and telephone number. All well and good.

When she hit 'Return' it flagged the 'Title' field in red - it was a compulsory field, and she had to put something in there. It was then that I started to realise that she'd skipped it because she didn't know what to put, and wasn't sure how to ask. She must have spotted my wedding ring (which I wear, even when dressed), and putting two and two together entered 'Mrs'. I'd like to report that I said something witty at this point, but all I did was smile sweetly and say "You can put 'Mr' if you like".

So she did.

So here I am - Not-Mrs Not-Rachel:



You'll notice that the wig is back. It returned a couple of weeks ago when we went out for a meal in Wollongong with our friend Lettie, and her daughter, who was meeting her dad's femme side for the first time. I thought that under the circumstances my experimental look was probably a bit much, so went for my 'normal' appearence. And I realised how much I actually missed it. My own hair is still growing nicely, and I will 'use' it again sometime. But, for various reasons, at the moment I need the comfort of the old Rachel.

I did, however, start shopping for a new wig today. Saw and tried one I like, and I may go back and get it in a couple of weeks. I have to say that the ladies in the shop/salon I visited were very friendly and helpful indeed.

So, stay tuned. There could be another new look coming in a few weeks.

Bargains Galore!

The wigless experiment continues. This time I tried a headscarf:



Now you might say "If you're going to wrap your head in a scarf, why not just wear the wig?" And that's what I thought. But, do you know what? It was more comfortable than a wig, and not half as warm to wear. And, given that my default look is 'hippy chick' not a million miles away from the style I've opted for anyway.

Come the Winter I'll try Hats :-)

Full outfit shot, because I'm a photo view whore:



I wore jeans. It is possible for a crossdresser not to wear a skirt.

The last few weeks have been on and off stressful in the Rachel household, and both Mrs Rachel and I have sought solace in retail therapy. Being cheapskates, of course, we've hot the sales racks and charity shops, and found some real bargains. I've got two pairs of 'cute shoes' (slippers/pumps/whatever you want to call them) for a few dollars each - both pairs are gorgeously comfortable, which is a real bonus for girly shoes I buy. And I have managed to get three personal wardrobe essentials. Numer one is that salwar kameez (Indian trouser suit) I always wanted. It wasn't dirt cheap, but was under A$50, which was good enough for me. Dove grey cotton, with lovely green embroidery. There are hours of entertainment to be had just working out how to wear the dupatta (shawl). The other finds were even better. A couple of weeks ago I found a perfect Little Black Dress in a charity shop, for a grand A$4. Fits like it was made for me, and is simple enough in style that I can dress it up or down as needed with accessories. And today? A pair of leather trousers. For A$3. Gorgeous. I've found a number of tops and shoes they go with, and am itching to inflict them on a jealously waiting world.

I nearly added a floaty chiffon evening dress to the haul today as well - A$10 of utter loveliness. But it didn't quite fit. Probably for the best; we need to keep some money for food ...

The Only Tranny In The Village

Wollongong has a gay nightclub. That's 'gay' in the LGBT sense, not the 'yoof-speak' sense, so it's a club for people who are gay, rather than one that's not very good. Anyway, said club has a small web-presence in which, on a Saturday night they promise 'Glamourous', a night for those of any gender to come and sparkle and be seen

A tranny night out in Wollongong? Sign me up! Ever since I've got here we've been looking for the local tranny community (as opposed to the one in Sydney) on the assumption that, since The Gong is a reasonably big place by Aussie standards, there must be one.

So, last night, Mrs Rachel and I decided to go and see what this night of local tranny activity was like. I got myself all glammed up, as, of course, did she, and away we went. It's only about a ten minute drive from us, and entry is free if you get there earlyish, so we reasoned that our time wouldn' be wasted.

And it wasn't. The club was fairly nice. Edgier than Mrs Rachel normally likes, but not too crowded, and with both a loud dance area and quieter seating/chatting area. We spoke to a few interesting people and had a pleasant time.

Only one problem.

I was the only tranny at Wollongong's premier tranny venue night.

This did tend to defeat part of the point of actually going, of course.

So, am I the only tranny in The Gong, or are the rest all hiding somewhere else?*

I also went wigless again. I looked good; the club had lots of mirros and I could check frequently. But when I came to take some pictures later (you didn't think I wouldn't, did you?) I was disappointed. I looked terrible in virtually all of them; my hair just doesn't work. Now it could be that the style wasn't quite right this time, but I think it's mostly that it doesn't really have enough length to work properly yet. It does just seem to be in photos, but it's now shaken my confidence in how it looks in real life. And confidence is everything.

I'm still going to continue my move towards wiglessness, I think, because I love the freedome it gives me. But unless I can find some ways of diguisling my very male hairline a little more (hats, headbands or similar) I'm going to wait until it has a bit more length and body to it. At the moment it's too short to really work properly.

*We do have one local friend, but she lives in Albion Park, and that's not Wollongong. As any fule kno.

New Look

It was my wife's idea really.

Last night we went up to Sydney with our friend Letty for one of the regular tranny meals held there. So the late afternoon found all three of us getting ready at our place. I had just done my makeup and put on the outfit I was planning to wear and was getting my wig ready, when Mrs Rachel said, "You know, you might get away with your hair as it is". Now my hair is short and blokey, but still mostly all there. It's a far cry from Rachel's faux-silky reddish locks, but it does the job.

The truth is, her comment reinforced something I'd thought earlier; maybe I could just go out with my hair as it was. I asked how she thought I might get away with it. "Gel it up and comb it into some kind of shape. If it doesn't work you can always stick your wig on."

So I did. After ten minutes with gel, a comb and a hair-dryer I had something that wasn't quite my normal bloke look, but wasn't the Rachel that I, and you, know and love.

And do you know what? I liked it:



I looked like ... me.

I went for it. With my new look we went to Sydney, and did a little cruise around some shops before going to the restaurant where we were due to meet the others. And I felt as confident as ever. Different, but confident. I thought I looked good, and I felt good. If I ever passed before, I didn't now, but what does that matter? I am a crossdresser, and proud of it, and as long as people accept that I'm fine.

It's strange. I've always felt that the wig is what 'makes' the person I call Rachel. I never felt fully dressed without it. It's usually the last thing I put on; a ritual of 'becoming Rachel'. Last night I just made that leap without the wig ritual.

I guess the wig has been a kind of mask; something I could hide behind and which gave me the confidence to go out and face the world as Rachel. Last night I took off the mask and let the world see something more real, perhaps. The wig made me look more feminine, but perhaps that's less of a worry now I'm more comfortable with the idea that people see me as a bloke in a frock. I can just redefine 'passing' to suit myself. Although perhaps a bad experience will change my mind on that score; so far I have been lucky and not had any encounters with people in the real world that have shaken my confidence.

So will I do it again? I'd like to. I may let my hair grow a little more, and then get it styled in some adaptable or gender-neutral way. I'm not sure I want long hair again, but I think it needs just a bit more length. It may mean a change in how I do my makeup as well, as I've always done it on the assumption that my face will be 'framed'. And if it doesn't work, I always have the wig to fall back on. It's been a good friend up until now, and will still be there for me when I need it.

Actually my biggest concern is that my wardrobe has been designed around 'Redhead Rachel'. I'm hoping that he stuff will work for 'Short-hair Rachel' as well, otherwise this project could get very expensive indeed :-)

The Perils Of A Vanity Google

I googled my user ID:

"One day I was just plain Rachel and the next I was a Page 3 girl"

May be NSFW? Depends on where you work, I guess :-)

Separated At Birth

I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not: