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Girls who are boys

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Class went ok last night. I admit I got a bit teary-eyed reading my letter out loud, but it was either that or snort derisively at myself. My allergy problems also produced a lot of sniffing and back of the hand nose-wiping which added to the overall effect. I can’t go into more detail about the class, it being a bit like Vegas in that sense, but I think God must have been quite chuffed with the general level of recognition he received.

I had a girly moment over the weekend. These are increasingly rare and therefore important to record. I bought another Betsey Johnson dress. It’s only been a couple of months since my last Betsey jaunt but I was tempted by the promise of the biggest sale ever. I was hoping to get a bargain on a coat I’d seen on my last trip but had turned down because Austin never gets that cold and it’d be a bit frivolous. It’s been freezing cold for weeks. If I believed in God I’d think he was trying to teach me some kind of lesson, though if God was that much into fashion and spending money you don’t really have then I might be more inclined to believe in him. Something for the Church of England to consider.

I tried on a dress that had been marked down to $170. It’s another black dress, a summery black dress, not dissimilar to all the others I’ve bought. The ever helpful sales assistants were adamant that this could be worn year round. Apparently I just need to pair it with long velvet gloves and cowboy boots. Or wait till it hits 80 degrees.

I decided to buy it because Erik owes me about $80, so it would only be $90 more than I could afford. But my not-God was clearly on my side because it rang up as $65. A fantastic bargain, and a thrill second only to shoplifting a pair of jeans from Top Shop.

Of course every girly moment must be counter-balanced by a boyish one. Over the weekend my Frog Bra arrived. This is a sports bra that offers ‘maximum compression’, as in it squashes everything flat so you don’t bounce around. Not that mine seem to bounce very much, they’re more like the yo-yo that you waited too late to flick back up and has lost any semblance of elasticity.

The Frog Bra is very popular among FTM’s – transgender girls who want to be boys. I know this because I’ve been doing an unhealthy amount of research into transgenderism on the web. It started out as research for a character in my FronteraFest show but now seems to have gone beyond that. I put on the Frog Bra and despite my difficulties breathing, I loved it and started admiring my flat-chested self, doing that sideways look into the mirror and running my hands over my non-boobs. Erik is trying not to be too horrified by the whole thing but said hugging me was like hugging a man. But I think that will only be true once I start stuffing tissues down the front of my pants. Exciting times ahead.