A very short post about nothing more exciting than a morning spent wandering round a town centre with my wife pursuing that most basic of modern comforts, retail therapy.
This morning I had a wig fitting with a very friendly hairdresser. It's important that my hair is right, if you're endowed with the level of presence I have people turn round to look at you in bloke form: so as a girl far more so. I only present as female in safe environments so it's not a forlorn hope of passing that's my concern, it's more a matter of pride, if something's worth doing it's worth doing properly. The outcome of this quest for perfection is that my new hair won't have arrived in time for my next TG support group meeting so to make up for this minor setback we hit the shops.
What followed was a fairly unremarkable morning of girl shopping, mostly for her but with a few things for me. Boots (Chemists) had us hooked with their five pound cosmetic vouchers, Mrs. J had amassed several of these and since they had to be used in separate transactions I was pressed into service as Customer Number Two. My prize for this expedition, a colour matched concealer pen to better deal with an insomniac's panda eyes. Beyond that we tramped the halls, dodged the chavs and the speeding grannies on mobility scooters, considered several outfits for either of us and bought nothing. We ended up in Debenhams(department store) where Mrs. J bought some stuff for herself and one item for me. As she searched for her purchases I was amused to see the cohort of slightly shifty and embarrassed-looking blokes hovering at the edge of the lingerie section waiting for their wives. Having pursued that role in the past I was having none of this and played the New Man to perfection, even holding some of her prospective purchases for her as she sought more. A couple out shopping: fantastic stealth t-girl camouflage!
Lost in space? With twenty minutes left until our train was due to depart, we decided it was time to leave Debenhams and head for the station. What a labyrinth that store turned out to be, I swear that exit was mobile! I was almost at the stage of leaving chalk marks on the mannequins to plot our route before we found the path to freedom.