Friday night social 

So I met up with a whole group of transgender girls tonight. I’ve known about this group for most of my life, but only joined the group last year. This was my first chance to actually meet them though. It actually felt like quite a strange thing for me to do, because I’m a day girl. So getting ready to go out at night took a fair bit of planning 

I was lucky enough to find out about them many years ago before my teens. I stumbled across an article about them in an old edition of cleo that my sisters used to read. It was a very lucky finding at the right time in my life. 

By that stage I had been exploring my girl side for about 5 years. Having 3 elder sisters meant that there was a treasure trove of cast-offs for me to explore with. And I loved it, but I knew I was different to all of the other boys back then. Boys were boys and girls were girls. So what exactly did that make me? 

Anyway the article went on to talk about the group and how there were lots of boys who enjoyed wearing girls clothes. And that they were just normal people. From then on I didn’t feel so alone. And I was comforted by knowing that there were many people in the world like me and that it wasn’t a bad thing to be a boy who liked girls clothes. 

I’m sure that article saved me from a lot of pain and anguish in my life so I am very thankful that it was published. And I thank my lucky stars that I found it.

I often looked up the group online. But it was only in the past year, when Loretta was screaming that she wanted to go out and live, that I finally joined up because I knew I was going to need their support. 

So after many decades, I finally got to meet my sistren. It took a fair bit of planning. And quite a while for me to get dressed and ready to go. But I got there, and not surprisingly I wore my favourite skirt to give me confidence. And in case you’re wondering, yes I do have other skirts and, no I haven’t worn it since that day I had my wigs styled 🙂 

My sistren were warm and welcoming. And it was so good to be able to exchange stories with each other. And to be able to understand the issues that they were going through, because they were so similar to my own. I didn’t get around to meeting them all, but there’s a meeting every month so I’m sure I’ll meet them all eventually. 

My sistren came from all over the place. Lake Macquarie, Tamworth even Brisbane…. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only local girl. I wasn’t, but I don’t think there was anyone more local than me. In a strange twist of fate, the meeting was pretty much in ‘my backyard’. 

My sistren came in all different shapes and sizes. Lots of them tall, some petite, some chubby. Some with wigs and some with their own hair. And I think everyone had their own sense of style. Skirt suits, jeans and tops, dresses cut down to there, saris, lacey tops, pleated skirts, bodycon dresses and skirts, and even someone doing fit and flare… Oh wait, that was me 🙂

We were at all different levels of makeup proficiency too. No makeup, full makeup and everything in between. I went for foundation,  green eye liner, massy, and my favourite coy lip balm. Oh and I had my eyebrows shaped and tinted, dark brown with a tiny bit of black. (Do it! Do it! Do it! It makes such a difference!) So that would make me a ‘tween. 

It didn’t matter what we were wearing, or how good our makeup skills were. It was just great to see and talk with people that get you. 

One thing that was incongruous though was that, while we dressed like girls we certainly didn’t sound like girls. In fact if I closed my eyes and ignored the content of the conversations, it was fairly obvious that we were boys. The conversations weren’t too blokey, but nevertheless, the undertone of the conversations going on around me were definitely boy. 

The other incongruous thing was that a lot of us walk like…ahem….boys. In fact some walked like John Wayne. I wasn’t on best walking form either. I went with my sparkly black JD twilight heels, mainly because I didn’t want to bring a pair of work shoes home. They have ankle straps thank goodness, because they’re a half size too big. So with an off fit my walking form was poor. 

I know that we had a wide range of girls here. Full-time, part-time, very occasionally. But I wonder now how the others see themselves. I guess the full-time girls consider themselves girls. But what about the rest of us? Are we girls, boys or a mix? I’m sure it’s different for everyone but it would be good to know. 

For the record I think I’m a mix. When I go girl, I really go girl. Hair, makeup, clothes that give a feminine shape, heels, perfume, jewellery (oh I took my piercing earrings off and replaced them with silver hoops for the first time…heavenly!). I walk like a girl and I talk like a girl, and I try to think like a girl. I really try to go the whole nine yards. So am I a girl? I think so…well part girl anyway because I’m sure that I’m still part boy. 

It was a great evening. And meeting my sistren certainly gave me the support I needed. I look forward to catching up with them next month. 

Photo by Mitchell Orr

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