It was a bit of a struggle getting up at 8am after only 2½ hours sleep, but placing my alarm clock at the far side of the room before going to bed had the desired effect. Remembering how unpleasant it can be applying make-up early in the morning to a tired, taut face, I decided to have breakfast first, and femme-up afterwards. Now, I hadn't packed any male clothes for this weekend, but after a year in which I'd become comfortable being seen in public as a guy in a skirt, the prospect of appearing in the hotel restaurant in female garb without a wig or make-up didn't worry me at all. So I washed and shaved, then put on a long-sleeved tee-shirt, a 15-inch blue miniskirt, clear tights, and high-heeled shoes, and went down to breakfast.
I left myself an hour after breakfast to apply my make-up and brush up my blond curly wig, which was more than enough time. I then collected Carole, and went to reception to arrange a taxi to the Meadowhall shopping mall, where I'd booked an 11am appointment with the Debenhams Personal Shopper, Jayne Carr. It was to be Carole's first time out in public, and I'd agreed to provide some moral support. Like mine, Carole's outfit was totally unsuited to Saturday-morning shopping - but we wanted to make sure that the tranny-watchers saw us!
After a ten-minute taxi ride, we arrived at Meadowhall, and strode confidently through the entrance. As luck would have it, Debenhams was about as far away as it was possible to get, so we window-shopped our way through the mall, arriving at our destination with about five minutes to spare. While I waited for Jayne to arrive, Carole had some help from the Assistant Shopper, Sarah Reaney, to buy a cardigan. Jayne turned up a little after 11am, and after we'd exchanged pleasantries, she took me on a tour of the ladies fashion department. I'd initially been looking for a red dress, ideally short and asymmetric, although the trend in this millennium year seems to be formal, long, and black or dark blue. I guess I'll just have to come back again next year ...... But we did manage to find a red and black dress, a silver dress, and a blue sequinned dress for starters, and took them back to the dressing room.
Well, they were gorgeous, and I could've bought all three, but it wasn't until a while later when Jayne found a black flamenco skirt with a crotch-high slit up the front of the left leg that I really began to get interested! As I modelled it, we agreed that it would look fabulous with lace-top stockings and a garter, although I wasn't sure whether I'd ever have the nerve to go out in public showing that amount of underwear! But Jayne decided that I had to have it, and of course, she was right. She then found a tailored, beaded black top to go with it, although her alternative idea of a silver-sequinned boob-tube was nothing short of inspired! "Or you can have it in red", she'd said, and promptly disappeared, shortly to return with an identical boob-tube covered in red sequins. The red one didn't go quite as well with the flamenco skirt as the silver one had done, I thought, so I suggested that perhaps it would make a good skirt in its own right; I pretended this was a spur-of-the-moment idea, although it was actually something I'd secretly always wanted to try! With a poorly-disguised grin, Jayne put her hand to her forehead and shook her head in mock despair, muttered something about sophisticated clothes being wasted on me, then suggested that I go ahead - if I really wanted to! In the event, the red boob-tube looked better worn as intended, with the silver one making a seriously tight 12½ inch micro-microskirt! I thought it looked fabulous, and Jayne cautiously agreed - but only because I had the legs and the personality to carry it off!
After spending some time talking to the Yves Saint Laurent make-up adviser, Carole and I left Debenhams at around 2pm, and went to have some well-earned lunch. The mall was busier and more rowdy now, mainly due to the large influx of teenagers. We were continually wolf-whistled, heckled, and laughed at, but neither of us lost our cool. At one point, we passed a young teenage girl standing in a shop entrance - she eyed us up carefully as we approached, then asked me "Are you a man?" "Of course, love", I replied, smiling. "What do you think I am?" "Why are you wearing a skirt then?", she continued. "Because I like to. Why are you wearing trousers?", I answered. Of course, I knew that, had I offered this justification for my appearance to a more-informed audience, I'd have been immediately (and correctly) shot down - however, in this situation, it was unlikely that such a heavy intellectual debate would be on the agenda. The young girl ignored my question anyway, turned to Carole and asked "Are you a man too?" Carole affirmed that she was indeed also a man in reality, at which point the girl had had enough, and ran into the shop.
The only other incident worthy of mention - strictly for its entertainment value, I should add - occurred when I was waiting for Carole to pay for lunch. Across the mall, I saw a man's head appear above the now-considerable throng of people, then slowly pan round until its eyes were looking straight at me. I don't know who the head belonged to, but one of his mates had obviously said something about Carole and me, and he wanted to get a better look. Having stared at each other for a several seconds, I winked at him, suggestively. He was clearly embarrassed by this, because the head disappeared rapidly, and he and his mates proceeded to follow us for 100 metres through the mall, making remarks at our backs, and generally trying to draw attention to us. We took absolutely no notice of them, so they were the ones looking stupid. After a time, I think they realised this, and went in search of easier prey.
Apart from knocking over a glass of orange juice at lunch and soaking everything I'd just bought, the day was fairly uneventful, as these things go. Back at the hotel, I managed to dry my clothes out in time for dinner, when I wore the beaded top and the flamenco skirt - with a pair of lace-top stockings and a black garter, of course! Then for the disco later in the evening, I changed into my two boob-tubes, which I wore with some minimal underwear (i.e. a red thong), heavy black eye make-up, and an electric-blue spiky wig. I looked very intimidating, and apparently frightened the life out of some of the other guests, who wouldn't come near me!
From personal notes.