“Don’t step out of this house if that’s the clothes you’re gonna wear!”


Cross out another week on the life calendar, I’m almost done. Well, done for the working week, not done for life – that would be a bit of a downer…. I mean, I’ve got a holiday booked later in the year. 😉

The start of the week was quiet as I was working from home. Part of that was to catch up with things I couldn’t do in the office. Simply too many distractions there and being at home, well, sometimes it’s just easier. I suppose in days of yore, I’d have been all dressed up and tapping away at the keys quite merrily (oo, office chic!). This time though – and with Chams around the corner – it was more dressing – but not cross-dressing – for comfort. Then again, I did manage to sort out my wardrobe during one of the computer processes. I also made a slight alteration to one of my dresses. Ahh, sewing and IT, how did I end up with that skill set? 🙂

In other news, Little Miss had her first taste of school and after wangling some time off, I took her to school. Honestly, where has the time gone? I know that’s a time worn cliché, but that doesn’t make it any less true. There she was, togged out in her uniform and a big smile on her face. Luckily, the half play day went well and she plus Big Man headed home with me with no problems. Certainly things to be cheerful about.

So, Chameleons? Well, given the heat of the daytime I was in two minds over getting changed. Y’see, I don’t do hot weather. I think it’s part of my vague Scots ancestry 😛 Cold weather: scarf, gloves, hot chocolate, fancy boots and an open fire. Summer = hay fever, too warm, too much rain (!), insects and revealing fashions. Okay, not too revealing, but there’s much more skin on show during the summer months than autumn and I – simple trans-something-or-other – like being warm, but not being hot. Also, the amount of additional beauty work required for the summer months is tricky. 

Luckily, with the sudden monsoon, the temperature dropped a little and so off I went. I was into the usual leggings and ballet pumps. I had packed some heeled sandals, but I didn’t really want the faff of having to do my toes. As to top, when I’d taken two: the dress I’d altered and an orange number. Now the former didn’t quite hang right on my (fake) boobs, but the latter was just about spot on. Funny, in that I bought the orange top just after Christmas and while it’s been in the bag a number of times, I kept putting it away. Maybe it just needed the right weather!

Oh, that Boots primer I bought the other week? I’m not very impressed. It was really dry when it went on and I didn’t like the way it made my foundation feel either. I think that’ll have to go and it’s back to looking for a replacement for the brand I have now. I think that’ll be Smashbox. Ah well, something to keep my eye out for. Still, on the upside, I didn’t have to pay full price for the Number 7 item.

The evening itself was fairly quiet: I guess the combination of traffic trouble due to the Olympic Torch and the warm weather put people off. Now, I had thought about popping into Nottingham to see the torch arrive, but it would have been during work time (awkward) and having seen the crowds on the news later, (double awkward), I’m glad I didn’t.

We’d decided to have a Bring & Buy at Chameleons and while folk brought in a number of items, we had a lot left over. Still, our loss is a charity shop’s gain. Jenny had brought along a wig she’d hardly worn. I gave it a comb and popped upstairs to try it on. It was long, straight and a mix of browns. Darker than the one I have now and darker that my own hair colour. While it was very nice, it didn’t really work on me. I liked the fringe (Ed: is that ‘bangs’ for overseas readers?), but the razored parts at the side didn’t work with my jawline. Mind you, what does? 😀

After packing up, Maddy, Jenny and I popped out to the pub for more of a natter. Jenny was kind enough to get the first round in, while I grabbed the Karaoke book. That wasn’t so I could dodge the drinks. Honest 😉 Not that I was drinking, so just a water for me (Ed: Cheap date). Once sat down and chatting, a group of young ladies approached us and asked if they could have their photos taken with us. Maddy asked ‘why?’ which was my thought too. Apparently – and I quote – “we just love men who dress up as women.” Takes all sorts to make a world, so we made room while their friend got the camera out. After a bit of polite banter about fashion, off they went, leaving us a little confused as to why.

Maddy and I tried our hand at the karaoke and after some previous planning, were lucky to find that the DJ had the Beastie Boys’ classic, You Gotta Fight For Your Right To Party. Soooo, cue music, cool riffs and some tuneful shouting…. dare I say, I think it went rather well. We even got a round of applause. I’d like to think that we did a good job, but the rest of the punters may just have been glad that we finished.

Because of that, I was late getting home, but it was so worth it. Funny, I guess I’m coming back to something Bobby said – at least, I think that’s right – in that post-Chams, she feels quite up. I’m inclined to agree in that after some time out (Lynn mode), I do feel much more relaxed. Almost as if something inside my head has been topped up and I’m good to go for a few more days in the not quite so fancy male world. Still, look on the bright side: Chameleons is a regular and good night out…. oh, and with good people too. I feel quite lucky now.

Take care,

[ Today’s lyric: Fight For Your Right by The Beastie Boys. RIP Adam. x ]


  1. That orange really does suit you. Colour always changes the tone of your face as it reflects off. Orange gives you such a feminine glow – very nice.

    And surely there must be a job that would give you an opportunity to use your dual loves of IT geekery and sewing? Embroidered mousemats maybe?

  2. I've been approached and asked for a photo before, never sure how to react to it. I guess there's a innate suspicion of their motives.

    RIP Adam, indeed.

    1. People eh? They're a funny lot. On one hand you've folk who enjoy yelling 'tranny' when the see you, while others want a piccy. Go figure!

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