I'm in Heaven

My phone was ringing. From the caller ID I could see that it was my dear Mother. It was just after seven in the morning on Christmas Eve and the last thing I wanted to do at that particular moment was speak to her. I was doing very well in my life without her trying to set me up with every available and not so available women she could find in her extensive social circles. There was a reason that I’d always fobbed them off and she’d find out why soon enough.

After the 3rd call reluctantly, I answered.

“Hello Mother Dear. What ails you so much that you keep on calling me?”

“You are? Again? So what’s his name and how much is he worth?”

“Cynical? Moi? Well yes I am. The last two suckers you conned were all about the money.”

“When and where?” I asked with a big sigh.

“That soon?”

I sighed again.

“Yes I’ll walk you down the aisle like I have done for the… what is it three marriages?”

“Yes Mother. Happy Christmas to you.”

I ended the call and sat still staring into space for almost a minute.

Then I let rip. Expletives flowed from my mouth like the world was about to end. My big surprise for her would have to happen rather sooner that I’d planned.

[Later that morning in Central London]

“Mr Dobson, I hope that you don’t mind me saying this but, are those marks of a bra strap I see on your shoulders?”

As you might have guessed my secret was out. Given where I was, there was actually little chance of anyone else getting to know it. Where am I you ask? Well, I’m in a fitting room of a Savile Row Tailors. I am, or rather was in the process of being measured for a suit to wear at my Mothers forthcoming nuptials. Today is Christmas Eve and … well, my transitioning was a secret until now. No one apart from my doctors knew what I was doing.

“Yes Jenkins, it is. I’m….”, I took a deep breath.

“I’m starting to transition into a woman.”

My tailor for the past twenty years, Bob Jenkins simply smiled and hung his tape measure around his neck.

“Perhaps Sir might like to visit our new department upstairs? I am sure that you will find exactly the items of clothing you require to wear at the wedding.”

“Upstairs?”

“Yes Sir. Got out of the shop, turn left and go through the first door on your left after. We have installed a lift to take you to our specials department.”

Five minutes later and dressed once again as a man, I left the shop where my suits had been made for the past twenty years and my father before me and his father before him.

The door was unmarked but that was not unusual for this part of London. As I approached it, I heard the lock click open. I ventured inside and saw a small lift door opening in front of me.

Nervously, I went inside and before I could look for a button to press, the door slid closed behind me.

A few seconds later and without feeling any upward motion the door opened again to reveal the new department.

“Ah, Ms Dobson, welcome to your new tailors,” said a vaguely familiar voice.

The owner stepped out from behind some shelves. The face was familiar.

“John?”

“It is Joanne now Ms Dobson. I transitioned two years ago and since opening this annex to downstairs we have acquired a very exclusive clientele all going through the same sort of changes you are.”

I looked around the store and as well as the usual selection of fine tailoring cloth there were swatches of cloth suitable for a more feminine clientele.

“I understand that you are going to a wedding in February. Well, there is no time to lose if we are to outfit you with the most wonderful drop dear gorgeous outfit you can imagine. I know from bitter experience that it is difficult for ladies such as our good selves to find the right clothes that not only look good but fit properly.”

I looked at Joanna and knew then that….

I was in heaven.

Heaven, I'm in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek



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