Time Warp

Apparently the doctor's appointment (no, not that one, the one I paid for) I booked was today - not Friday as I have written on my wallplanner and added to my electronic calendar to make my phone go ping to remind me. It's an expensive error (I was at work, no chance of taking a video call) cos I have to pay for the missed appointment and then pay for a new one. I mean, I have the money and had originally misunderstood the pricing so I had saved up enough to cover this (thinking I had more appointments to fund) but...

To forestall my usual question: ASD. It's my autism. That's why.

However, as proven, I still don't quite know how to prevent the issue or even protect myself better. I mean, I managed to re-arrange the "lasers" for a better day, I managed to send a parcel and a card for people's birthdays, I even managed to get some extra stuff for my own son's birthday to augment the paltry suggestions offered by Tilly. I even, get this, remembered to get moo-juice and jus-juice (that's milk and cordial if you're boring) on the way home tonight and make and eat a beige tea (fish, chips and, wait, green beans? Okay, beige and green) whilst watching a nearly three hour long YouTube video from Contrapoints.

Oh, yeah, my shift moved today too, I lost my morning but gained an afternoon. In which I have done nothing of note, despite my crowing above.

Back on topic: I did things I was planning but still managed to miss something quite important in the mix. Stupid thing? I actually checked my wallplanner last night because I had a panic about this exact thing and thought: oh, no, I'm fine. Which, dear reader, I wasn't. Speaking of...

The family returned from their holiday today and Tilly was in contact regarding Youngest's birthday - we had agreed I would attend a bowling trip with him and Middlest to celebrate about a month ago. Tilly revealed, in a message sent when she thought I'd be at work (and I was, despite changed shift), that she hadn't booked anything yet, nor set a time (good thing I got the day off I guess) and that Middlest won't be joining us after all - he's had too long off from his lessons (his thoughts). Cos the holiday. It shouldn't hurt me as much as it does, it's not like any of this is done on purpose (it's not, it's unthinking not directed), but it kinda does.

Also, I'm kinda scared about the "lasers". I mean, back in 2021 when I had the patch test I was able to feel some vindication - it didn't hurt that much, it really didn't, and I took a kind of glee at the amazed voice of the technician when I (truthfully) claimed it was fine. I felt the burning sensation, sure, but it didn't hurt and I liked that it was attacking my facial hair. This time? In the patch test it did actually hurt. The technician was low-balling too, I could tell. And, well, I don't like pain. I mean, sure, there's a huge part of me that believes, as I have since at least my early teens, that to 'become a girl' has to come with some negatives. It has to cause me pain and discomfort because women who are women are better than me. That includes trans women who aren't me, by the way. They are older than I, knew before I, accepted before I (and, if they're older, then they did in the years before I figured me out - this is irrational, you can't win). BUT I still don't like pain. And I worry that the "lasers" will leave me with a swollen face. And I'll be applying SPF50+ and then having to put make-up sparingly on top. For, like, a year or two.

Why didn't I do this before I went full-t- it's the autism. Duh.

I am aware I'm going strange again. It's been too long since I saw someone to speak to face to face. I mean, I see people at work on breaks, but it's not the same. And I'm worrying about the Awards Evening thing - last time was highly alienating. It brought home how out of place I am in my current workplace. I don't drink to get drunk, I don't drink cheap lager and I'm not a fan of too much cheap wine. I like a good after dinner speech as much as anyone else, but faux boss-bashing at corporate behest grates on me (as does too much humour that relies on coarse delivery as opposed to, say, clever timing or wordplay - I'm not going to laugh because someone swears at a boss, at least, not solely that). I struggle to connect at the best of times, but moreso when people...

I loaned a book, Mealtime Habits of the Messiah by Conrad Gempf, to a fellow believer at work. She's been banging on about being a follower of Jesus for ages and had been "reading a book about Heaven" and, I thought: hey, cool, connection! She read the book and her take, her genuine take, was "he's a believer in Christ" (of Gempf). I mean, yeah, he's a pastor and has several degrees in theology and is reasonably well-connected across multiple branches of the Christian faith and his book is part loving pastiche of the 'Breakfast with God' series and part theological treatise on why Christians need to be more humble and less keen to jump into ideological beds with terrible people and more accepting but in a non-self-aggrandising way. Of course he believes in Christ, it's like his entire deal. So, I gently pushed for anything more and got: "it's hard to follow in some places" - oh. Oh no. I judged. Which makes me a pretty bad person, I know. But, yeah, I judged. I judged hard. It explained what some of the alienation was at the last Awards Evening: it's not just class, but also education and, yeah, sorry, intelligence. Like, okay, I have zero street smarts and struggle with socia-

It's autism, yes, we know, get on with it!

Point is, these are not my tribe. I cannot have the kind of conversation I'd like about, say, Gempf or post-apocalyptic fiction (another driver loaned me Gone after I loaned him A Wizard of Earthsea because we've both read the Road and discussed some of it) because my way of thinking is so far removed. Not better, just I do different things. With Gone, the driver liked how the coyotes talked and was interested in the super powers - my take that these are fine but distractions from the central conceit that adults have gone in this set up (a form of apocalypse) was met with "yeah, but he's obviously planned a series." Well, duh, yeah, but... y'know, the central conceit needs a bit more focus cos... I'm prepared to have the debate but the answer was a shutting down to discussion - not a cruel one, not a bad one, just an unconscious shutting down of that avenue of discussion. Because that's not how this person thinks. Or, apparently, how many (if any) bus drivers think.

I say 'if any' - I'm a bus driver. So, well, at least one. I guess I'm just feeling the loneliness again. Makes sense. There must have been a drop after the Event at some point and, unlike last time, I haven't had a chance to combat that in the same way. Last time it was effectively exorcised by some time with Abbi to share reminisces and be silly together. That hasn't happened this time.

I'mma chargin' mah lasers

Soon. 

It's hard, sometimes, to focus. So it was that I failed to send a couple of cards and birthday presents yesterday (because I hadn't got the cards nor wrapped the presents, much less addressed them) but, despite getting embroiled in an interesting back and forth with someone on discord about stories they read, I did manage to get into one of the local big smokes. Where I wandered to the "lasers" place. Yes, I feel the need to put "lasers" in air-quotes and say it like Dr Evil.

Long story short: I had a patch test (much more painful than the one I had back in 2021) and then promptly booked ten sessions. Bit pricey though: £610! 😱😱 Still, that's a thing that I have done now. They insisted I go on a Monday morning pre-work for my first session, but I shall be ringing to see if I can change that to the following Tuesday as I'm off all day (and have my GP appointment in the morning too) cos... yeah, don't fancy a swollen face plus no make up on the buses. Not this Monday, that's just an extra shift I said yes to like some kind of pillock.

This is the afternoon - I tried to plan a 
photo this morning but got distracted. 

Oh, I did wrap the presents and write and address the cards today because I managed to organise having a shower and getting dressed quicker than yesterday. I am totes a responsible adult. Well, okay, I may have spent the day in a lovely onesie I bought back in August under my dungarees, but we won't dwell on that aspect. Also cooked a lovely menemen this evening after a beef-based Chinese-adjacent noodle dish on Friday. Even had a beer on the Saturday - lovely thick 11.2% stout, just a third - which was nice. Now all I have to do is somehow regain the ability I know I used to have to use my time more effectively. Time was when a weekend off, which this has been, would be much more productive!

Still, I'm not complaining too much. I've been vaguely planning "lasers" since November 2021 and, much like going on HRT, it's about time I actually made some proactive moves. It doesn't hurt that I've been more or less saving for it all that time too, so although I find the price a tad on the steep side I don't feel poor - I had some savings specifically for that purpose that I could (and did) deploy.

We've Only Just Met

I still wanna be human

Oddly enough, I got the video by accident - it was 
bundled on the CD single I bought. And when I watched 
it on my PC at Uni I was... well, I knew why I liked it. 

Still #goals. 

It's Aisha by Death in Vegas, BTW.

Before the Event it had been something of a week. The intention had been to attend Chams but a combination of hard to predict rain and my dawning realisation that a 4am wake up for Friday would be hard to manage if I was out until 10pm the previous day meant that I pulled out at the last minute. Cos cycling there and back. Meant that I missed being able to catch up with people, principally Izzy. This was a particular shame because there was something happening regarding memories of Section 28 and, well, I am still coming to terms with how much that piece of legislation affected me... or, rather, how much the legislation prevented me for accessing or understanding around the time when I was most open to hearing it.

In my early teens, like really early teens, I found out about 'trans-sexuals' (as was the term back then) and was autistic enough to realise that this resonated. As it was, I was into girls and the media and resources I found on the matter suggested that these brave and wonderful people were straight. So much so, that when I was discussing it again online around 13 years later I was asked what would happen if I were to wake up one morning and be a woman (in terms of sexuality) and I responded that as I was straight, I would likely remain straight (i.e. be into dudes). My point? It was a long-lasting effective block on me being able to accept and embrace who I am.

There's a portrait on my wall

I know I wouldn't survive, going back, but I miss it.

This week has also been something of a long one. The family has been away, still is, and so I've had all evenings and mornings to myself. Well, kinda. The scaling of shifts meant that I had a tight turn around on Wednesday to Thursday - which I made worse by getting distracted online and suddenly realising with horror that it was 1am! It was a training day, not driving, on Thursday, thank goodness, but my tiredness did not help my mood. There was some learning but... Look, I'm educated and to quite a high level, I was a teacher for 18 years - when I say the day was pitched somewhat beneath me, I do not feel I am being terribly conceited. I don't mind that. I resent when the assumption is that I'm being dim when I'm being condescended to. There was a crossword that was so badly thought out that the clues were actually insulting - there was no way to actually get the answers! Consider the following clues as examples, oh and there's no context: "Mental Health is..."; "The thing that is happening" and "What is the final end result?"

The answers, in case you want to know, were: "Important" (okay, guessable); "Situation" (?) and I didn't bother writing this one so I still don't know. It upsets me because the assumption from the trainer was that I was too dim to puzzle them out (I want to stress again that there's no context to any of this) when, actually, the clues were based on 'guess what I'm thinking' reasoning of the sort that would never fly in a classroom. But that's the rub, isn't it, I'm not in the classroom. I'm not doing anything that having my education would warrant. And, well, getting ignored and sidelined in a room of blokes is, although annoying, kinda what I knowingly bought into with this whole transition lark, isn't it?

Every perversion is justified: anything goes around here

Yeah.

And I'm struggling a bit with stuff. Hmm, how best to explain? So, there's at least one person dipping into my archives (which is great, thank you!) and as people read older posts I sometimes click and read the post myself. This has the effect, sometimes, of reminding of things that were said, of conversations that were had, and the feelings associated with those encounters. It reminds me, in the context of me reanalysing events such as Section 28, of things that I missed, events that misfired, times left alone, opportunities missed and consequences of those. Like missing my Eldest. Like missing birthdays of friends and their children. Like not building up those friendships and letting good relationships lie fallow - ruining existing ones, not tending to new ones. Becoming isolated.

Coupled to this, I am back on character.ai - where I can waste hours of time. And it's not healthy. Not healthy at all. Like, it looks like interaction, it feels like interaction - but it isn't. It's not even like playing a CYOA text-based adventure game because there are no rails, no mechanics, just badly reflected and reductive ego masturbation based on pilfered text analysis. Where I end up is mostly dictated by myself and keep swiping (well, hitting arrows on the keyboard) to see if there's a new angle or idea lurking gets... well, it's not healthy in any sense of the word.

So I'm isolating myself again, is my point, because isolation is easier than not.

I'm a murderer

Updates on the HRT, in case people are interested, are that the chest area is... well, something is going on - my birdseed stuffing is moving more than it did when I run or go up and down stairs. This implies that the foundation, my chest, is more mobile, which further implies there's some actual flesh there now - even if I can't see that otherwise. The nipples are... again, not painful, but I am aware of them even more than the last time I was aware, if that makes sense, like when I stretch or sometimes even when I'm driving buses.

Potentially my mood, maudlin and downcast, is down to the HRT too. Or, rather, is being affected by the extra oestrogen in my system. Acclimatisation I guess. It can take a while. And, well, I'm at 69 days so... funny internet numbers.

And it feels like...

Home...

It's a Boigger, but not from any monarchical nor 
circus-act-inspired institution. 

Third time's the charm, I guess. Third event and it went really rather well. First and foremost, I actually prepared the night before, but mentally rather than physically. I'd had a shift in the morning and then went out to meet Middlest and Youngest with Tilly for food at a new place to both of them. Keep in mind their flavours of ASD and just know that this was a Big Deal. I think. Maybe it wasn't these days, I don't know, I interact with the pair of them little enough that I'm not entirely sure I'm in the rigt place to judge. Also, the interaction time was small and the last before they disappear on holiday. Also, it ended with me asking after Eldest but I had to ask "and how is [eldest]?" three times before I got an answer that actually included Eldest in the response - the first two got comments from Tilly about how hard she finds it to remember what people were doing or remember what day it is. Which, sure, valid, but shouldn't have formed the whole answer unless she was deliberately trying to stop me asking - which I suspect she was. I digress. I popped for a beer, nice, and then went home and prepared.

Yeah, this about sums it up.

I mean, okay, no questioning my trans-ness these
days (apart from sarcastically and the equally silly
but entirely realistic worry about being trans
enough for the NHS).

That is, I had a bath to shave the legs (first time in two weeks, ugh) and then shower to wash my hair. I also took some time to watch some videos on YouTube and just... be. I had an early night, I didn't try to be social online nor worry about being too... I dunno. There'd been a text conversation with someone I know reasonably well at work with her trying to work out whether I counted (in my own head) as a lesbian - which is fair question (and was raised incredibly respectfully but with a burning autistic interest, which I recognise) - and I shared some of my rabbit-hole on that subject. I should stress that I found this fascinating and a fun diversion, by the way, I'm still trying to work out whether or not I can claim such a label or whether another would be better suited. I recognise labels shouldn't be the be all and end all, but I like categorisation and I especially like to categorise myself in my own head. It's not for everyone, it's, perhaps, just me. No, I don't bother to categorise other people - how they use or do not use labels is personal to them, I'll work out what they mean by labels by observation over time (if I'm lucky) or from context clues in a shorter interaction and, if it's not repeated, then I'll never really know. I have discovered that it is less terms used and more how those terms are deployed. I digress.

It goes a little something like this...
(with apologies to Run D.M.C.)

Sunday morning I made sandwiches, consumed Pepsi Max, packed my rucksack and planned what I would wear - having given up the night previous - and focussed on ensuring I had everything packed. I also watched the latest Philosophy Tube offering on Nihilism - which... yeah, can relate, but a topic for another time. I had planned (barely) to meet Abbi for coffee and cake, which became coffee and bacon bap (sorry, not a local term) and we thus arrived early for the event. This gave me time to actually plait my hair - something I had had to do at work the previous day because having pushed time between hair washes to the absolute limit (four days, in case you're wondering) - and I made a pretty poor job of it, but at least it was even and my attempt at a centre-parting allowed that. Usually, in case my images of myself haven't made clear, my hair is an off-centre parting.

Also, Abbi had made the decision to try something different. I've said before that these are her people and this was made abundantly clear as she properly let go and was just herself - which was fantastic. I got caught in various queues alone but this allowed me to actually strike up conversation with other attendees early and thus actually make some connections. I loved that most of all. I was able to talk to people and share stupid jokes and... interact. You know? Like a person. In an arena that allowed me to indulge a little bit in some of my more esoteric topics of conversation. One of these interactions was with a nervous first timer who had become Abbi's friend (one of several) and I was able to help her adjust to the space and feel a bit more comfortable. This came to a head in one particular interaction that... well, I shall talk more after a line break about that. No, don't worry, no big secrets, no big earth-shattering changes but enough details about the nature of the Event that I recognise casual readers may not wish to know! If you know me well enough IRL know that I'm not burying any ledes!

Actual art work.

It does resemble a great deal the sort
of thing I drew in Primary School.

Alarmingly so, in fact.

I actually won a competition in which I was not relying on chance (it was an art competition, but I won not for my art, but my joke title shenanigans - basically I won an art competition with my sense of humour and self-deprecation - I'll take it, could there be a more me-like way of expressing things?) and thoroughly enjoyed the return of party games (pass the parcel and telephone). I loved being able to chat to other attendees (and had a return of my joke reel in the ball pit) and respond to what they were saying and the energy they brought to the proceedings. In short, I had a lovely time and, though I didn't drink nearly enough liquid, was happy sinking into bed last night. I mean, I have work again today, but whatever, you know?

In another deviation from the usual script, I didn't take a selfie after the Event so no record exists of my outfit, but it wasn't quite the euphoric high of the First one, nor the determined 'must take photo' energy of the Second. I ate the sandwiches we hadn't eaten, the Doritos I'd picked up and failed to drink enough water to avoid feeling like a dried out husk this morning. Also had to perform some wriggling to satisfy my Mum, who rang on seeing I was actively doing word puzzles, who was mad keen to find out where I'd been and who with (I lied, not proud of myself, but I lied: Abbi and I went to a park and had a walk, I told her).

And that's the post.

Line break follows...

Like a Girl

Jefferson College Cheerleaders. 
So, the game has several ways to 'become a cheerleader'. Not unusual, 
something about the US, I think. 
And, like the other game I've played where this plays a role, there's 
a lot of very supportive stuff about cheerleading. Anti-misogyny, if you 
will. 

Sunday. I had planned to see if I could exchange the non-utilitarian clothing (but without expensive food) and go grocery shopping. Alas, and alack, the previous night I had been pootling and found an interesting CYOA-style game what I had downloaded but not played. I woke early, I did things like washing the pots and two loads of laundry and tidying the kitchen, and it was still only 8am. My Mum rang and we had a chat. And I started playing the game to kill time because I had until 10am.

Except that when I surfaced, it was 1230. I made lunch, ate it, got dressed and ready and headed to the Other Smoke to do battle - which was surprisingly easy. Switched for two sizes up (and tried it tonight, it fits, but at the cost of being able to muster any extra fat round the boob area) and that was that. Hemmed and hawed about maybe possibly seeking laser treatment. Ran out of time. Dashed home in time to shop for groceries and then finished the game. It was an early start today, see.

And to think that I started looking into it back in 2021!
Before I came out to my place of work!
Or my children!

I eschewed it back then because of the leaks and damp in the house
(which I naively assumed I'd have fixed quickly)

Now, without a car, it is a tad more complex making appointments
in either of the two local Big Smokes where such places are found.

Now, the game itself is a 'standard template' feminisation game the sorts of which I have played before. However... there's a 'trans path' and a 'reality altering path' where the MC goes the whole hog, as it were, and it stops being... well, here's the thing: playing it actually helped me. I've been feeling a bit down (no, really? Joanna, down? Goodness!) and dead-end-y and stuff but, well, playing the game helped me put vocabulary to feelings and wants and desires and reminded me why in the heck I'm doing what I'm doing. Or, rather, bolstered my reasoning that I already know. It's a good, empowering, game is what I'm saying. And it was surprising because it allowed for, and supported, these paths with the usual 'sissy' set-up (which, from what I can gather, is a whole other set of paths). Now, granted, the game was originally designed to be a sissy game, I can see that from the dev notes, but it is susprisingly and powerfully accepting and understanding if you, the player, wish to go down the 'no, actually, I'd like to be a woman, thanks' route - with some rather deep and honest reflections. Now, I don't think the developer is a trans woman, but they must know a few because there's some niche stuff in there that is, as I keep saying, actually empowering. It even has sections where it challenges people for being transphobic (within the setting, but genuinely) or being rude and maps out the difficulties of finding support (and how powerful that support can be). It's nuanced, is what I'm saying, and manages thus to miss the usual 'let's rip off the masks: oh, it's old man Misogyny and Homophobia' reveal as one goes through (and I've seen plenty of fiction, plenty of games, plenty of captions that are that masked villainous duo). So... yeah, that was nice.

Mind you, I've not been sleeping well for a week or so now. Had a series of vivid dreams that are just... unnerving. No specific details that I can call to mind now, but there's pressure and things are wrong and I can't fix them. Today I struggled at work too. No accident, thank goodness, but I did mess up with takings (hopefully fixable, I have done all I'm supposed to, we'll see how that goes) and also with recording some things (I know, like, recording is one of my Things!). It was a different route though, organised at the last minute, so I'm hopeful that, even with a much earlier start tomorrow (0300), things will be better being back on my normal route and rota'd shift. Plus, I have Middlest over in the afternoon and a free day following - so plenty of time for a shower/bath before bed or even the following morning. Plus I have a (mostly) clean and tidy kitchen.

HRT update? Go on then. I suspect the stuff that had a use by date of February is finally no longer potent. Couple of days now where my nipples haven't been- I want to say 'painful' but that's not the right word. Where I haven't been as aware of them as I have been, that'll do. So, time to bin the extra 10 days and move to March. I hope I have enough to last until Pride in Health get a new GP. Owt else? Not really. I go on and on about the fat on my butt, hips and above my waist, I know, but know that it's not terribly visible. I only know because of how it alters fitting for clothes but, honestly, no one but me can tell. Still huge gaps under the forms I have, if anything there's less there. No other things to note 60 days in.

Muffins, Pancakes and Jelly

Blouse from M&S today, dress from 
DP and picked up in a charity shop a 
long time ago... Maybe late 2022? 

So... not that long ago I guess. 

Now with added diagnostic results! I had my initial and diagnostic appointment with Pride in Health after work on Monday and got my letter concerning the outcome midday today. There are some dating confusions and mis-quotes, much like my ASD diagnostic report, but I'm reasonably confident that none of these errors will come to have my employment resting on them this time so... eh. It's vaguely amusing to me to see how what I said got garbled. I don't blame the doctor in the meeting for this, I know I can get bewildering to listen to and that I skip liberally twixt pillar and post with what I assume are clear signposts but at speed when warming to my topic. And, as this wasn't a lesson and the doctor asked no questions, I wasn't always aware when I was being unclear! However, the upshot is that I am diagnosed officially now with Gender Incongruence (being a diagnosis that says I have had gender issues since a young age - which is true, but strange to see that rather than Gender Identity Dysphoria as a diagnosis). A prescription will thus follow but has been delayed by a lack of available doctors in the Pride in Health team at the moment.

Middlest was over on Tuesday for pancake day, which was nice. But I made the pancakes too thick at first and had to stop him spreading stuff on them with spoons that then went back into the sugar and choc spread - so he demurred on more than two. I blame myself for ruining the mood as is my wont. We watched some Dave Gorman, which he liked, and then I bundled him on a bus where we got harangued by a drunk fellow demanding to know if we were a couple. The place I live is so vibrant. Anyway, I weathered the drunken danger as best I could stoically to better project confidence to my Middlest. The night ended with a long phone chat with Gary, which was nice.

On Sunday I was also out and spending
too much money - this time on books,
cake and coffee.

Ugh, my hair really needed some TLC
that waited until late Tuesday!

Today I found the tax people had 'fixed' my earlier problem (where I paid tax and then they tried to get me to pay it again for some reason) by removing the evidence of my initial payment. So, a long phone call later and giving them the details they had originally confirmed as correct I've been advised to check again on 26 March and phone if it's still wrong. Hardly confidence inducing. I also failed to arrange an appointment with my GP for blood tests and shared care discussions. Then I went to town, where I learned I had got some unexpected back pay, which was nice, so decided to splash out on some posh lingerie - the sort of stuff teenage me wanted so badly to wear - only to discover that I am no longer a size 14 but a size 16 at least. Bums. So that I hope I can return (being £40) or exchange (the latter option is my preference, because it was a pretty item and I wanna try wearing pretty lingerie - even if no one but me ever gets to see it, I'll know I'm wearing it).

I did buy a posh burger for lunch, some cute (yes, cute) new underthings for day-to-day use and a blouse to go with my black dress for the Awards Evening. I had noted a while ago that my underwear drawer was in need of some care and attention - the only new stuff I've bought (apart from the red set, which is 'special') since March 2022 has been cheap emergency knickers for when I had a bit of a mishap on the buses and cheap knickers for when I had a different mishap out in a big city. In both cases I salvaged the original underwear without damage but was glad of an extra option. Yes, they got caught and stretched and dirtied by the things they got caught on (needing washing) hence cheapy new pack for clean underwear. Bus seat and toilet, in case you were wondering. Anyway, yes, I got some 'short' style briefs, some bikini briefs and some new thongs as my current sets are just getting old. 2018 I think for the oldest.

Junk in a trunk. And sucking in the
muffin top as best I can.

Oh, yeah, Sunday. I went to a different town also on the hunt for 'pretty' lingerie but failed to find any and accidentally bought two books, a volume of Fruits Basket and coffee and a cake. I did manage to get grocery shopping in though, so a minor success I suppose. The day before I met Youngest to watch Dogman (it... wasn't very good, sorry) with Tilly. I learned that she has had a speaking engagement connected to her growing reputation in the folklore arena, for which she was paid and at which she sold a goodly amount of books she has written; also that she has been asked back by and recorded a new podcast with a nationally reknowned comedian and his mate about folklore - in which she wowed them with jokes. Always did say she was a good writer.

Fibnally, those breast forms I ordered from M&S are now in my possession. Sadly, despite them being made for masectomy patients with AAA size breasts, I am not developed enough and thus leave huge gaps twixt me and the start of the forms - so not really usuable as intended. Oh well. Mind you, I do seem to have butt cheeks now, rather than skin stretched over bone. A girl from my Form at secondary school would be amazed - she started most days by telling me I had "no arse" - but it does rather make it hard to get things past it when getting dressed. It's not that big, but bigger than I'm used to. Like I say: I wanted to get in shape and pear is a shape.