The one thing missing – and preventing the perfect look – was a wig. This presented a huge problem. How on earth could I get hold of a wig. I couldn’t do mail order as I couldn’t have it delivered to my home for fear of discovery. I didn’t think I could walk into a shop because then I would know that they knew I was a transvestite. (In the case of the shoe shop I didn’t know they knew so it didn’t matter! And if this doesn’t prove that the problem was all in our head then what does. Unfortunately we are so limited by our fear of what other people think, in all walks of life. It is only as we get older, at least for most of us, that we lose these inhibitions and become free – as I am, relatively, now).
So, back to the wig, I did an internet search for a suitable shop and found one within about 15 mins drive from my work. It was appointments only so I rang them and booked an appointment. They were billed as ‘TV friendly’ so I didn’t mind that I had to tell them that I was (M was!) a man looking for a lady’s wig. Of course inside my dungeon I was ecstatic. Finally I could really be me and have an outer appearance that somehow represented me. It would also allow me to go out and strut my stuff in public. After being locked away for so long you can imagine how I was looking forward to this. Up until this point I had only been allowed out in the privacy of a hotel room, M’s perennial fear was that there would be a fire alarm when I was dressed – or worse still partially dressed!
I arrived at the wig shop, after a couple of cans of strong lager for Dutch courage, and went in. The wig salon was next to the hair salon were there were several middle aged ladies going through their purple rinses and sitting under driers. Why I bothered what they thought God only knows. I was pleased when the assistant shut the door and I sat down feeling like a freak in a show. She was very nice but I had to tell her that my wife didn’t know – which I don’t think impressed her too much – and I felt bad having to be so deceitful. However it was a wonderful release being able to tell someone – after 35 years, about my little secret.
The choice of looks was stunning – should I go tarty or mature? I opted for a middle of the road shoulder length blond wig – smart and sexy but not over the top. It also looked pretty good – although in the mirror without make-up and a light stubble was hardly convincing.
I paid cash, of course, and took the final piece of my jigsaw away with me – already beginning to plan my first full experience.
I don’t recall when or where it was – but the difference it made was profound. I actually looked like a girl and inside I was beginning to feel the energy take a notch up in intensity. I was starting to come alive – beginning to get a bit closer to the surface. When I came out I got more and more confident each time and practices with different looks – always looking for perfect but sexy.
Although I say it myself and am pretty good with the old war-paint. I bought a couple of make-up books and so I knew what I was doing. That’s not to say that all my experimental attempts ended in model looks – sometimes it was a cross between a lesbian and a clown – but one learns from one’s mistakes.
At around this time I got a digital camera and so began recording my outings. This precious anthology tells the story of my life over the last ten years. I was only allowed into M’s life on these occasions. He wasn’t interested in all my other qualities of intuition and harmony and healing – but this would come in time.