BigCloset TopShelf
TopShelf TG Fiction in the BigCloset!
The Hatbox
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Comments
Lucky are they ...
that fulfill their dreams be they ever so fanciful, be it ever so late.
Such as Jill may be one who fulfills her dreams and that is a good thing. A good thing to be counted against the bad things.
Beautiful chapter Steph.
XZXX
Bev.
Thank you
It should be clear there is a LOT of back story to this. I need to know where my characters are coming from before I can take them somewhere else. I never was a little girl, even though that was exactly what I was. I learned stealth and lies, and that is not a good habit to get into. I do remember seeing my friend's eyes almost cross the first time I said to him "When I was a little girl"...
I don't care if I wore blue* for so many years. A girl I am, a girl I was.
*I actually like blue...today's skirt is blue.
retconned memories
I think we retcon our memories without necessarily trying to. I remember, a few years ago, being shocked to realize I had no experiential memory of being male. I was watching on TV as some guy who'd been in the wilderness for weeks was scratching at his beard, and thinking "Wouldn't that thing itch all the time?" I know I had a beard for years—it was part of my denial, since I couldn't be a woman if I had a beard, right? But I had no memory of what it felt like or of being in that situation. When I recall pre-transition events, I'm me as a woman or girl in them. This isn't something I set out to do, it just sort of backfilled on its own. So, "when I was a little girl" isn't so much a deliberate rewrite of the past, as an accurate reflection of how I relate to those memories now. I had wondered if this was something peculiar to transsexual histories, or me, and then I ran across this account on one of the bike blogs I read that suggests it applies to biking and languages, too. Brains are way funnier than we credit them, sometime.
I envy you your 'singularity'.
Hi Steph.
Despite all the hurts and tribulations you have encountered and faced, like all transgendered people, I still envy you your singularity of purpose. It endows you with consistancy.
Intergenderism afflicted me with a childhood ' flip-flop' duality that promoted inconsistancy and from that mental inconsistancy come uncertainty, defensiveness, real fear and consequently, (especially in my childhood,) downright lies. Oh yes, I certainly remember the lies! This because as my feelings changed, I felt forced to retract statements to the doctors (tormentors) and alter my own private feelings about myself when I felt things were going too far and to fast. It left me with a feeling of total helplessness insofar as I seemed to be constantly tossed about on a stormy sea with no certain direction and absolutely no datum point. No rock or anchor to hold on to.
To this day I live in a sort of world of laminations of constantly changing security or perhaps more correctly, insecurity, that leaves me frequently dissatisfied with my material lot. Strangely, that same gender insecurity has seemingly enabled me to adapt and survive a whole host of life situations ranging from threat and danger to sheer ecstacy and bliss. Emotionally, I see myself as a giant, (and hopefully), indestructable elastic band.
Bev.
Ian and Siobhan seem to have
Ian and Siobhan seem to have fallen into long term couple mode very quickly. I know he's a bit impulsive, but they're making plans months out on what is essentially a first date? Good luck to them!
Valley Commando...
I could simply fall back on that one, but, as usual, I will simply say "read on"
I suspect Valley Commando is
I suspect Valley Commando is a term that loses meaning as it crosses the Atlantic. All I conjure up is images of special forces working their way up valley floors, possibly while wearing nothing under their kilts.
As for the "read on" bit, no worries. I'm likely to read anything you post.
Thank you
I explained the term in a couple of stories, but it is a simple idea. Valley Commando is a girl who sets out to trap a soldier into marriage, on the basis that he will not only have a regular job but also a guaranteed house (married quarters). Classically, they hang about in clubs and pubs that are frequented by the army, they screw on a first 'date' and they try to get pregnant as quickly as possible. Think 'Officer and a Gentleman' but without either.
That all sounds brutally sexist, but times have been hard in the Valleys for a long time, It is survival, that's all. Similarly, young girls in another not so well off area see pregnancy, solo, as a way to get accommodation from the council. Prams are referred to as 'Thanet flat keys'. Life can be really shitty sometimes.
'“Dreams were all I had, pet.
'“Dreams were all I had, pet. Dreams and prayers, like. I think everyone like me must have that sort of thing in your life, hoping…you wake up one morning and it was all a bad dream. I had the same desires, wants, as every other little girl had…â€
I tailed off, looking round me at the racks of clothes, the shoe displays.
“Love, just doing this, today, this is so far beyond what I actually expected I could ever doâ€
I drew a slow breath. “No, I bloody well knew that I would never be able to do this. That was what was killing me. Never to be free, never to be allowed… I was just like any other girl, aye, watched the wedding, wanted to wear the dress, but all the other little ones got to be bridesmaids at least and me, I got nowt. They went in matching dresses and I got shorts, jacket and tieâ€
Another breath, and I realised I was angry. Bloody hormones; I felt like a comedy teenager, but in my case the shout of ‘it’s not FAIR’ would have been absolutely true. Another thought fought free from behind my rage.
“One thing, love, I should stress, aye? Wearing the dress, being the centre, oh aye, but never a man in the dream, never a oneâ€'
I dreamt those dreams too. Wont ever come true in my case baring some miracle, but I can live them through this story ...
Thanks, Steff.
Some days I have hope...
...and some days dreams are all I have. Thank you, Steph, for giving your characters life.
Love, Andrea Lena
White Horse, off Carnaby Street
Now that brings back memories. In the 90's a group of friends off the distinctly kinky end of the internet met in the upstairs room once a month and discussed forms of debauchery, hedonism, perversion and rugby scores, that make this whole lot look like vanilla Ice Cream!
Ell and Vons dad would have had an aneurism....
__
Estarriol
I used to be normal, but I found the cure....