'Coming Out' In True Chaos

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    I love world cups me.  Not just for the football, but they always make you think what was I doing last world cup and maybe the one before.

     

    The one before last I was happily sat watching Ronaldo getting Rooney sent off on the sofa with my long term girlfriend. 

     

    Last world cup, after 5 and half years i had just split from said ex and was sat,  at Candygirls tranny club, watching England turn out a miserable 0-0 draw against Algeria.  I remember that game.  Prior to the game to fuck any whispers off I'd turned up at the local pub tarted up off my tits on meow meow and a bottle of white.  Drugs arent always bad. That was me 'coming out'

     

    Fuckin dark period of my life that was.  Yeh I was out, couldnt give a fuck what people thought.  Escorted (badly) as and when to get enough money to get drunk.  When i sobered up and the money was gone? Escort some more.

     

    Falling asleep 2 or 3 times a day, drinking tramps piss cider from the second i woke up until the second i passed out.  My living environment was vile.  Yes it was my house, I owned more of it than the bank did, but i couldnt care less about it. 

     

    Another bad thing.  Being that smashed all the time, when I looked in the mirror, goddam I looked gorgeous.  Cheap crap makeup smeared all over my chubby face.  Cheap crap tatty lingerie from ebay, ill fitting in most cases.  I was fuckin gorgeous.  Tell me any fuckin different you'd get a mouthful, your parenthood would no doubt have been brought into question at some point and i would no doubt finish by calling you a cunt.

     

     

    But I'd 'come out'.  Check me out.  I'd done it.  I'd made it.  I was being real. 

     

    I rarely went out, but if I did it would generally involve at least one altercation and generally me being barred from somewhere else.  I couldnt give a fuck.

     

     

    So that all started during the last world cup.  4 years ago that was.  It didnt end there.  To be perfectly honest I'm not sure it will ever completely end.  The following 2 years were vile. I wont go into any detail, but given what you have read, let your mind wander and i've probably done worse.  The next year I started getting some sort of a grip on normality or reality or whatever its called. A helpful GP, 3 shrinks and a few trip to the gender clinic sorted that

     

    Then last year I thought I'd sort my back garden out during the spring.  Hell of a job it was.  Hadnt been touched in maybe 4 years (obviously when i was that fucked up gardening wasnt top of my to do list).  Gave me a bit of confidence, a sense of achievement if you like.  I was buying better makeup and actually spending time learning about face shapes, colour matching etc.  I started drinking in a new pub, a posh one like.  The clothes I was buying were a bit more tasteful.  They couldnt have gotten any worse mind.  My peer group changed.  Got the fuckheads out of my life.  Only hung out with those with the same level of disposable income as myself.

     

    Things were going well at the gender clinic finally.  Anyway I was bored.  Bored of being drunk.  Bored of a pointless existance.  At the gender clinic they said they wanted my to join a club or summat where I could present myself as 'me'  A club?  Nothing really interests me.  Musics gay.  Photographys boring.  Stamp collecting was an interesting idea but fuck that.

     

    So after doing my garden I signed up for a college course where I could present as me.  An NVQ in Beauty Therapy worked. A bit nerve racking mind.  Shitting myself my website (which is common knowledge in my local area) would be brought up.  Shitting myself because I'm old.  The oldest person on the course. Shitting myself at learning, failure - all that shit.  Starting HRT in the november didnt help much as i had days of constantly bursting into tears for no reason.  My tutor was cool though. 

     

    Drink was still a distraction.  Not remotely as it was before. But 1 maybe 2 days a week i would go out and get pissed, but thats considered 'normal' but most nowadays.  I wasnt getting in trouble though, which meant it wasnt a problem.  Well yes I occasionally still have a sharp tongue and can be downright cruel to people who dont deserve it.  But not to anyone I know.  It doesnt make it any better but it meant it didnt impact on my immediate life out of the house.

     

    So now its the 2014 world cup.  I've finished college.  Got an NVQ2 in Beauty Therapy.  Trained in makeup, waxing, manicures, pedicures, eyelashes, eyebrows etc.  I'm doing advanced beauty next year.  I also passed my practical entry exam to do an NVQ in hairdressing part time next year.  My house is lush.  One bedrooms bubble gum pink, the other ones candy floss.  Nice new funiture.  The gardens gorgeous.  The front of the house and front door and now painted for the first time in 11 years and look lush.

     

    I've got a lovely circle of friends.  A family that I love. Not kids or wife or owt like that thank god.  I'd of hated to have inflicted any of this shit on anyone else.  My drinkings under control.  Oh and i've got tits now from hormones - i've got tits ive got tits lol.  I've been offered a fulltime job in a beauty salon, which I rejected but have agreed to go in part time and have been offered part time work in a hairdressers, just shampooing and that, brushing up hair and shit - but hey its nice to be asked.

     

    So all in all lifes good right now.  But we all know things can change at the drop of hat.  But I am finally taking charge and taking responsibilty for my life.

     

    If someone told me four years ago this would be my life I'd have laughed at them as in all honesty I expected I would be dead by now.

     

     

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