On black ties and dinner jackets...

Just a really quick one today - need to get ready to go out.  But last night was the long dreaded night of the black tie dinner.  I have avoided it every year, but last year promised that I would go in 2012, so I thought I better.  The order of the evening is basically every possible shade of a nightmare.  It is 60% women wearing amazing dresses, looking very nice with amazing shoes to boot.  As you would expect with this type of thing, they all make maximum effort.  The make up is great, the heels high, dresses short, legs shaved and tanned.  Everything it should be really.

By contrast, I was boiling hot in a humid room in my black tie and DJ.  If you imagine being at the North Pole and thinking, I knew it was better at the South Pole.  It was poles apart.  Sorry - couldn’t resist.

I actually worked out and perfectly executed my strategy.  The room was huge, so I went right to the side and sat where I couldn’t see lots of people.  Fortunately it was fairly dark too, with low lighting.   I sat with people who I really like and feel very comfortable around.  Extreme?  Possibly, but I know other people feel the same as me that this kind of thing can be the source of days of difficult self-reflection and unhappiness.  Whether that’s right or wrong, in some ways isn’t the issue.

The result?  I enjoyed it really.  Clearly I would have preferred to be there in something more comfortable Mr Bond.  But it could have been worse.  The interesting thing for me, which is a more valid question than ‘is this extreme?', is 'when did I return to this being such an issue for me'?  I thought I was making progress in being normal, but the last few months are making me wonder whether that's true.

The girl in me is raising her head at the moment.  And for now, I really like it when she does.

Diversity and arrogance

This week got me thinking.  I went on a training course for my own interest which is very unusual for me.  I usually avoid them like the plague.  It was really good - it was a Diversity type course - but was getting attendees to think about their own biases instead of being the usual legislation fest.  Great course, brilliant tutor.  I’m not sure how you would have approached this, but I (without really realising it really) I decided not to out myself over the 2 days.  Part of me wonders whether it was a missed opportunity and part of me is pleased that a group of strangers don’t know my secret.

Over the course of the two days, we were encouraged to understand our biases - and I definitely have some.  Even though actually they were irrational in some cases, they were there, hidden away.  But the thing that struck me (and I don’t mean this to sound pompous) but I was surprised at how few I seemed to have.  On one level, this might be viewed as me being in denial and that I’m kidding myself.  That might be true too.  But it made me think about my personal history and why I might not be so biased.

One of the personal traits I hate the most is arrogance, I really can’t cope with it.  I used to recruit people for a job and if you displayed lots of it, I was definitely not impressed.  Ah, well there is one bias I guess.  But I strive to be known as possessing humility and being non-judgmental.  This week made me realise that a lot of that comes out of the fact that, wrongly probably, I have a deep sense of being a flawed human being.  Some would chastise me for even thinking that my bisexuality and transgendered nature (or nurture?) is in someway wrong.  But hopefully we could at least agree that it is certainly not mainstream.  But being these things have caused me to have a deep affinity for other people who are not mainstream and who would easily be rejected.

For all of my faults, it was nice to realise that one of my strengths is that I care about people who others will more readily dismiss.  The next challenge for me, that I struggle with, is how to show that empathy.  To the outside world I’m a white, middle class, fat, family focussed bloke.  I don’t wear a badge showing what I really am.   I worry that, for example, a tattoo’d, pierced person would look at me and see normalsville.  That might lead them think that I’m judging them because of my outward appearance, where as inside I feel so positively towards towards them and respect the choices they’ve made.

I’m probably talking out of my bottom.  I call this a rambling for a reason y’know.  But this week started to make me think about something I’ve not consciously considered before.  I’m at the start of that reflection process, hence my not fully formed and probably nonsense capture of my thoughts.  But I thought they might be of vague interest.  Caveat over.

Back on the horse

So as I recorded recently, I was having a problem.  I have been a bit down recently and had lost confidence and which mean that despite needing to shop, I couldn’t.  The need to shop was not least because I have got another photo shoot coming up and I want to wear some nice clothes for it.  I mentioned that I have a black tie dinner in a few weeks.  What I neglected to include is that several months ago when I knew I had the dinner coming up, I decided to book a photo shoot the day after.  I figured that if I was all sad and depressed, that being able to dress up pretty would be a help.  Still not sure it’ll work, but its worth a try isn’t it?

So anyway, I needed clothes and long story short, I did it.  I overcame the confidence problem.  Yay me!

I was passing through Birmingham this afternoon - about an hour or so ago and there is a mall that I particularly like on the outskirts, so I went there.  I walked into the shop I wanted.  And I walked back out straight away - it was full and I panicked!  For a terrible moment, I figured that I just couldn’t do this at all, I was never going to be able to do it.  Ever.  Overreact? Me?

But after a restorative drink in Costa Coffee and a short time buying essentials in Boots, I tried again.  It was much quieter this time, so I carried on.  I’d been on the website a few days ago by way of preparation, so I knew some of the things that I wanted.  I was able to get those as a starting point.

The thing that was amazing was that as I began to shop and to get armfuls of clothes, the world seemed right again.  I began to breathe more easily and relaxed into it - and it became fun.  Like it used to be.  I found that I was comfortable, smiling again and giving people eye contact.  Well, at least giving the shop workers eye contact.  Other women shopping still avoid looking straight into my eyes.  But I suspect that’s nothing to do with me and more to do with a cultural thing.  I was presenting as a chap today.

So in a planned way I got a maxi dress with a big flower print, a white bolero style cardigan, a blue top with elasticated neck and some new jeans.  I so love wearing girl jeans!  And in a whimsical unplanned move.  Just because it’s the way I roll.  I bought a black patterned knee length dress too - and a set of blue jewellery to go with the top.  I have some really cute ballerina shoes in a shade of blue that I think will go really well with the jeans and the blue top.  So I am dead excited about trying them on.  I’ll be able to do it when I get there tonight.  Hurry up destination, I want to try stuff on!

Finally and with apologies if it is cheesy, but I really do appreciate your kind words of support over the last couple of posts.  It has been a really hard time recently and I needed your kindness.  It made me so grateful yet again, that there are such amazing people in the world.   I hope one day I can return the favour.

Blog ends.

Taking Control

No, this is not a review of Christian Grey’s twitchy palm.  Although if you really want a review of that I’ll happily supply it.  I have only read the first two - I’m making progress on the third and have enjoyed them quite a lot! :o)  I’m really surprised not to have seen more chatter on the books in the t-forums of the world.  Maybe we prefer our chick lit more romantic and refined and less mummy porn?  Or perhaps I’m just looking in the wrong places?

As for the actual topic of conversation, I have been thinking a lot recently about why I seem to have no ability to take control of my life.  I consider myself to be relatively bright, I’m certainly driven and like getting good results from my activities.  But when it comes to me personally, I always lower the priority and absolutely NEVER push myself to do the things I should.

Take weight for example.  I’ve been trying to lose weight for several months now.  As a yo-yo dieter, I’ve lost stones and stones of the stuff in the past, but at the moment?  Just impossible.  More than that, how about exercise?  Oh, the gyms I have known.  And at times, I’ve even been fit.   But try to get off my unusually large, but tastefully formed bottom to join up has proved to be an act of goliathic (is that a word?) proportions.  Nearly as big a problem as my bottom come to think of it.  And consequently I’ve failed.  I even signed up to a sponsored thing to force me to do it.  Except now I’m staring down the barrel of a sponsored thing when I’m still fat and unfit.

I know that I have a weensy teensy tendency towards procrastination, but girls, this is ridiculous.  Don’t get me wrong, its not in every area of my life.  I hold down two busy jobs for goodness sakes.  I could do both of them better, don’t get me wrong, but I get a lot achieved in my life.  But when its me and its my personal stuff, I just don’t do it.  Even when I know I should and that I’m unhealthy.  I just can’t work out what is stopping me.  Even the thought of smaller dresses doesn't motivate me - after all, there are loads of camping shops around for me to buy new tents.  I can stay fat and just go to a camping shops instead of my usual FatgirlsRus shop.

So I guess what I’m asking for, nay, crying out for, is your insights into what you do to take control?  Telling me to woman up, get a grip and don’t be a fat lazy cow might be what you feel like say, but if you could be more constructive, please do so.  I wouldn’t want the fact that I’ve run to the toilet crying with a bottle of wine and a carrier bag of chocolate to rest on your conscience.  Plus that would mean your advice defeated its own purpose.  And that would be wrong.

Please help,

Fat of England x

Shopping - a bittersweet experience

Shopping has never ever really been my friend.  In boy mode, buying boy clothes, apart from one very memorable experience with my friend Sarah, I have never really enjoyed it.  Mainly this is because I feel I’m wasting money buying an ugly and frankly dull disguise.   Even buying girl clothes has only ever been done in boy mode or on the Internet.  I doth my millenary to Lynn Jones of YATGB fame for her posting this week on shopping en femme.  She looks amazing and her quick wit is just the coolest thing ever.

But back to the plot.  In the last week I have had two contrasting experiences of shopping.  Both unpleasant in their own special ways.  Both reinforcing why its such a tough thing.

Experience #1 
I don’t know about you, but buying girl clothes dressed as a boy can sometimes be slightly traumatic.  Over the last few years, I’ve done it lots and have grown accustomed to the stares and weird looks.  I know that I should have graduated to shopping in girl mode, but I haven’t yet.  Plus, I’m not convinced that the stares would be less if I did.  But needs must. I’ve got a photo shoot coming up in a few weeks.  I have only have one outfit sorted.  2-3 more are needed, I had some free time so I thought I’d make a start.  

In a strange twist, Cheltenham was the convenient location for this trip.  I live in a very weird travelling world.  Battle had commenced and I was in my second shop of the day.  Suddenly, from nowhere a big confidence zapping (and indeed sapping) machine came from the sky, cartoon style, hovered above my head and sucked every ounce from me.  I instantly went from confident would-be girl to rabbit snared by headlights.  I just had to escape as quickly as possible.  I got immediately into the lift to my car and I was glad that I was alone because I’m not embarrassed to tell you, I cried.

Does this strike you as odd behaviour?  Even now, when I reflect on it, I don’t really know what happened.  Despite promising myself that I would lose weight, I haven’t yet.  Its rubbish I know, but that’s life.  I wonder if it was just one too many shopping trips as a fat man that got on top of me.  Either way, the horse is there, I need to get back on it asap.

Experience #2
In a few weeks time, I have the transgendered person’s possibly worst nightmare evening coming up.  The black tie dinner.  Even as I’m typing, I have a sinking feeling at the thought.  It is an event where the men will have to look dashing and the women (most of whom are under 30 and impossibly slim) will look fabulous in their lovely dresses, heels, make up etc.  I’m sure you are starting to see the problem.

Yesterday I went to purchase my outfit for the night.  Given that it is a thing attended by lots of my work clients, the girl clothes possibility is at less than zero.  So instead, went to arrange for the hire of my tux.  Now that’s trauma.  Suit hire places, as I found yesterday, really do play to the law of averages.  My body refuses to abide by such boring social conventions.  I tried on the trousers - to get ones that fit my waist, they swamp my legs.  I tried on the jacket - to fit my chest size, the jacket has to be huge in shoulders - unlike me!  And I get to pay a load of money for the privilege of looking disproportionate.

Don’t get me wrong, every time I’ve gone to one of those events, I eventually enjoy it - I think that it may be the oncoming, stupefying effect of alcohol.  But its getting harder to watch half the crowd getting to look amazing while I am in a very boring, ill-fitting uniform.  And to watch the other half of them carry off dashing remarkably well.

I really don’t fit with either camp.  And the sad thing is that I'm not sure I ever will.

Doing it doggy (oo-er Mrs) :o)

Finally, it got bought.  The bag.  Front and centre.  And its a Radley.  

Despite the schedule from hell, quite frankly, and having had no time at all to shop, I finally managed to get to a bag store and now I'm happy.  I needed it to go with pink top, red cardigan and nude heels.  This, I think, will be ok.  The cute beads won me over.

Still have my eye out for another, but am waiting for the capable shopping assistance of the lovely Sarah for that one.  There are only a certain number of times a girl can fly solo on these things.

So probably doesn't suit me and cost way too much, but surely there is room for some frivolity in life?  Just occasionally?

Some days its Shrek, others its Fiona

Why is it that some mornings I wake up thinking I look like Princess Fiona and other days its Shrek looking back at me?

When its Fiona, its not the slim, long red haired princess version of Fiona.  Clearly.  Its an ogre either way, but sometimes I look at my body and think that although the build and shape all feels wrong, its wrong in a Fiona ogre kind of way.  I don’t about you, but I think the animators did a great job with her.  They really made someone, putting it kindly, who has the shape that is a cross between an apple and a rugby player look gloriously feminine and beautiful.  So what if I have odd taste.

When you look at a picture of her, you realise that they have used all the right tricks: proportion to other characters, hair, eyebrows, boobs are all well drawn.  But beyond that, she has the complete ogre look.  In the world of us having women we aspire to look like - and seriously, I’m not going for the sympathy vote, if I could achieve that I’d be really pleased.   A woman who looks great and feminine with a similar body shape to me has to be a little bit of a heroine!

Clearly I’d much rather look like the original slim Princess Fiona, but surely there has to be some realism into the mix?  Especially when there are some days when I look in mirror and all I can see is Shrek staring back to me.  Today is one of those days.  

I’d been building myself up to start going out a little bit and to testing out whether I would just be a stare-fest or whether I might at least get ignored by most people.  I have such high goals don’t I?  But I’ve decided that staying under the duvet is probably a better thing to do.  Let’s not inflict another Shrek wearing Fiona’s clothes into the world eh?

Oh and Diet?  Schmiet.  This month, I’m not going there.  But Monday sees the start of a serious and aggressive diet that I expect to shift large amounts of weight and quickly.  *fingers crossed*