Transvestism should always be this way
A Day in the Life of a T-Girl
T-Girl Kelayla James walks you through one of her typical days
Have you ever been to a shopping mall, a movie, maybe the theatre or a show? Popped round to friends for lunch or just down to the pub? Of course you have, all you have to do is open your front door and leave the house. The real question is: Have you ever done these basic human activities while being in woman mode or for that matter transgender? That’s where simple can get complicated, intimidating and sometimes scary. I’m going to tell you what it’s like to be me, a 39 year-old, pretty much full-time Transvestite, (not a transgender woman just full on T-Girl) but who lives with the same quest as every human being: Just trying to enjoy life and be happy.
I live by the belief “live and let live,” so I’ve never understood disagreement or hostility to anyone or anything that I didn’t immediately understand. One shouldn’t judge but should be driven more by the curiosity of it all. That all being said, my day-to-day life never ceases to amaze me with the reoccurring theme of shame and ignorance aimed at either me or trans people in general. Why would anybody audibly insult a human being they did not know or understand? Why would anyone bully or ostracize that same type of person? I can’t answer these questions because I don’t think in that way, but I would be interested to know. However what I have found is that some of these supposed 'macho' types are in fact more intrigued and curious than they let on. Usually all bravado and mouthy in front of their mates but deep down hiding a sexual curiosity. The stereotypical alpha male fighting and blocking their inner feelings, perhaps at the thought that they might be found out or even considered gay because they are turned on by the image of a glamorous T-Girl.
My Day Begins
I wake up in the morning, usually it’s kettle on first and a nice cuppa. I love that first cup of tea in the morning, make some toast and then into the shower and brush my teeth. Then pamper myself, apply my make-up and hairstyle ready for the day ahead. Usually by around 9am I start to scroll through my Website feed, flip through my emails and the status of my various internet and fan pages. I answer any outstanding emails or booking/appointment enquiries for my Dressing and Makeover Service. Respond to male admirers who I think are genuine especially those from men who have previously met me and of course the boys I love.
Depending on any D&M appointments for the day I do a bit of living room cardio before I head off for my walk to the gym, have another cup of tea, and I’m out the door. I walk down the streets of Westbourne and into Bournemouth centre past some expensive residences en-route ready to work it out to the sound of some Latin Jazz/Samba such as Paula Lima or Ed Motta on my iphone. On the rare occasions I have to first get past this crowd of guys I don’t know safely.
My eyes meet the ground, eye contact is an invitation for disaster. Most of the time it’s not a problem, some guy’s and even women are pretty cool and some I've got to know en-route and stop for a quick natter with, especially as this is sleepy Bournemouth. Very occasionally I hear a small group perhaps on their way to work talking amongst themselves. “Is that a guy!”, “Awww shit, it’s a trannie!”, “Hahaha! Oh SHIT!”, “What the FUCK!?”, is along the lines of what they might say, some quietly amongst themselves and some loud enough for all to hear. And that’s on an “OK” day where they don’t actually accost you and your personal space.
I get through unscathed, physically, and go for my work out. My boyfriend Kev calls, and I talk to him usually for a good 15 to 20 minutes about plans for the day and getting together later. Then my mum might ring and I'll chat briefly with her while I'm working through my exercises usually when I’m on the treadmill, never disclosing any previous unpleasant events as I don’t want her to worry. I am fine. I’m going to be fine and in any case she knows I have the confidence as well as the help and support of my lovely boyfriend.
After the gym, I sometimes pop into Boots the Chemist, usually it's either some more lashes although I have a seprate supplier for the really long ones. Today it's for a couple of new eye brow pencils and some more eyelash glue as I seem to have run low. Thge girl behind the make-up counter comments on my polished French nails and how nice they look. She seems to have forgotten she's said that before or she's just being polite to make me feel at ease but it's nice of her to notice all the same. I don't think I need anything else this morning so its straight back to my flat for a pre-booked Dressing and Makeover appointment. If it's an AM appointment I'll forgo going down to the gym as there just wouldn't be enough time and I hate being in a situation where everything becomes a mad rush. I will normally have prepared everything for the appointment the night before. Usually I request sizes in advance, such as blouse, skirt and dress sizes and especially shoe size. This enables me to be a bit organized.
I wouldn’t say I was the most organized person in the world but many ‘girls’ have commented on how organized I am. ‘’You’re so organized Kelayla, so friendly and yet so professional’ That makes me feel good about myself and the service I provide.
On days when I don’t have any pre-booked appointments I have to make sure I find time to re-stock on groceries, bread, fresh fruit and vegetables, coffee even toilet paper etc. Boring stuff I know but still needs to be done.
The following is certainly an 'extremely rare' occurance as it's only happened once but gives you an idea of 'what could happen'. Fortunately it's an encounter that hasn't happened since.
I arrive safely to the local grocery shop and everything seems fine. Maybe I’ll cook a lasagna for lunch today? Yeah, that sounds good! But why is that stock boy looking at me funny? Shouldn’t he be putting the rest of those Corn Flake packets on the shelf? What is he coming over here for? “Hello there,” he says. “Hi,” I say, slightly confused. “I’ve seen you here before,” he continues. “Yeah, I live around the corner and just need some food and bits and pieces for my flat,” I reply.
“You suck dick?” he asks/suggests shamelessly. “You're kidding me arn't you?”, I retort a little outraged. “I’ve been with girls like you before, you’re good at it, I get off work at 10.” “Umm, yeah, NO you have the wrong idea, I love my boyfriend, I’m not the kind of person you’re looking for. I don’t do that, especially not with strangers who approach me in that manner” I said with all of the calm and patience I could muster. I hadn’t even got to the main isle yet, for Christ’s sake. “No it’s OK, I won’t tell anybody, your boyfriend won't know, what is your number?” he finished. “Please go away, you’re making me sick to my stomach, and I don’t want to have to tell your manager what you’re saying.” He rolled his eyes and went back to doing his job. I didn’t leave the aisle out of principle because I wasn’t fucking done shopping! Yes I like guys but certainly not those who accost me in such a rude and disrespectful manner.
After groceries, I made it back home unharmed. “This was a good day,” I thought to myself as I unpacked my groceries and loaded up my fridge-freezer. I defended myself at the store and knew when to be quiet on the streets. I wish my boyfriend or friends had been there to protect me, but that’s just the way it is. I have to be able to hold myself in the world.
I've got a 1pm Dressing and Makeover appointment for Cindy today, so need to get my skates on. Change out of my classy casual outfit and into something a little more alluring, usually a bodycon dress and high heels. Most 'girls' like me to be dressed glam and sexy, or wearing something as in my photos, which is fine although I do like to feel comfortable, especially whilst doing the actual makeover. Today I've decided to wear a gold lycra bodycon dress and my short 'Millie' wig, touched up my make-up and lip gloss with a touch of glitter and applied some darker eye shadow. I text my boyfriend and ask him how his day is going and just let him know how my day is progressing. Hopefully we'll get together later depending on what time Cindy leaves, I never rush or clock watch my appointments and Kev is always understanding so it's never a problem, especially as we see a lot of one another anyway. My friend Zara rings, I'm still in the middle of adding one or two different selections to the rail I'd prepared last night in readiness for Cindy's arrival. ''You ok for tomorrow honey?'' Zara asks and I'd completely forgot the multiple happy hour invitations from the day before. I’m expected to meet my friends for drinks at 6:30 p.m., and apparently they've said to “dress sexy.” They’re clearly trying to pull an all-nighter. I release a sigh of grief in annoyance. Dressing sexy is great and I love it but just warrants more unwanted attention to me, especially in the vanilla establishments Zara and her girlfriend seem to like to frequent. They enjoy drawing a lot of attention to themselves in the local bars and clubs, Summertime is even worse as Bournemouth attracts the 'lads away day' types.
Natural-born girls most likely feel the same pressure when asked to “dress up.” To much attention in the wrong places is asking for trouble, harassment and girls “asking for it,” all the while men are almost never really held responsible for their aggression or hostility towards us. “Boys will be boys” seems be the norm and acceptable in the UK, and it's what I’ve come to realise. '' I'll check with Kev later to see if he's free but yes I'm ok for tomorrow darling'' I know i'll probably dress down a bit, maybe put on a black dress that's cute at best but definitely not OTT. I had been bothered enough today to know that I was very much over the outside world’s opinion of me. So to hell with it, I'll still wear a pair of my fully fashioned nylons, exotic lingerie (well you never know) glitzy high heels, slightly heavier make-up than I wear in the daytime, with a sprinkling of glitter dust on my eye shadow, Crimson lipstick with a shiny lip gloss, heavy perfume plus a little glitter on my lip gloss which really makes them sparkle.
I’m only truly happy and far more comfortable when I’m with my LGBT friends at a TG, gay or Trans friendly establishment. Or in the flat, which is pretty much the same thing. Glass or two of wine, good music and with the people you love can compare with nothing else in the world, I think. We dance, we drink, we kiss and schmooze, all without judgement on how we live our lives. We make new friends, talk to boys, we get happy, forget our worries. I’m approached by a cute gay guy I don’t know who has a twinkle in his eyes, “You’re such a hot trannie!,” he yells to me over the music. Pretending not to be insulted by such a rude statement I simply say, “Thank you” all the while dancing away from his uncouth ass. Who says these things to people? Are we that desensitized as a society that there is literally no filter in human decency and communication? I feel like I was born and raised in the 1920s sometimes. A time where people minded their own business and only spoke such trash in the privacy of their own homes. I don’t know, maybe I’m the crazy one for wanting to be treated as an equal. But I digress.
I'll catch the bus to meet Zara and friends if Kev is unable to make it tomorrow night. I know she won't pick me up as she likes a drink and I won't drive because of the same reason. Yes I know what you're thinking 'Public transport' but funnily enough it's no big deal and actually I've never had any issues with unwanted attention, well not yet anyway. I can either walk back home fron the centre of Bournemouth or bus back if not to late.
I could get a taxi but decide to walk it, I’m alone and back on the streets to walk the mile or so it’ll take to enter the safety of my own home. Instinctively again, my eyes meet the ground. I always check behind me, and I do not make a sound. Yes, that rhymed. Another group of men appear, almost out of nowhere. They catcall and say the terrible anti-trans slurs I’ve come to expect after all of these years. The strong person in me wants to fight back, to say something, to defend myself and call out their ignorance. But the stronger part of me knows that I am loved. I would be a martyr for my pride and actually hurt the friends and family that need me here. A group of big scary guys vs. me. It doesn’t take a genius to know how that’s going to end for a transgender woman out on these late night streets in the town. I’d have better luck jumping in front of a bus at full speed. So I walk on and pretend to get on the phone, talking to no one, but feeling as if someone is there. This almost always deflects unwanted attention — feel free to steal this tactic if you find yourself in the same scenario.
I’m home now. I made it inside the door, and I’m locked into my safety nest. A sigh of relief , slip off my high heels and strip down naked as I think a nice warm shower is in order. It’s only just past midnight, and fresh from my shower i'll slip into a satin robe and ring Kev just to let him know I'm safe and sound and how my evening went. It's not to late so I think I'll turn on my TV and have a look on one of my favourite You Tube channels. Yes I think I'll check out Sugar Love and see if she's put anything new up. That's always entertaining to end off the night and the videos aren't to long. I make myself a coffee, put my feet up on my sofa and just chill out and relax. Maybe watch a girlie movie, I love tear jerkers and I'm a hopeless romantic at heart and this was a good day. Yeah, definitely a good day.
Until next time.