Foxglove
06-15-2012, 08:53 AM
Hi, Guys and Girls!
I have two items which I would be hard-pressed to say how long I've owned them. I think I can safely say it's the better part of 30 years. They've given me good service. These are my belt and my wallet. The former (alas!) has always had more work to do than the latter, which is perhaps the reason why this morning it at last gave up the ghost and departed in spirit to enjoy its well-deserved reward in the hallowed halls of its revered ancestors. One of the loops that held the buckle in place gave way, rendering the whole thing useless, passé, kaput. As Catullus would have said, "Poor belt! My darling's eyes are red with weeping!"
This was a problem. I was getting ready to go out to do some grocery shopping--in drab (alas again!)--and without a belt the jeans I'd put on would be around my ankles by the time I got into town. I understand that that sort of thing is fashionable in certain sets these days, but not in mine. So what to do?
All of a sudden it occurred to me, "Wait a minute! I do have another belt." Then--an instant flutter of panic. "But, but, that's a woman's belt! What if people saw. . .?"
Then my mind got back in gear and I had to laugh. "What if people saw what? First of all, people aren't going to see it. Your jacket will cover it up. After all, this is June 15th and today's expected high is every bit of 13 degrees Celsius, call it 55 degrees Fahrenheit. Secondly, people would have to look pretty hard to determine that it is in fact a woman's belt. It's hardly distinguishable from the one that just gave out on you.
"And finally, why are you so worried about wearing such a belt with your jeans? What would people think if you actually wore it (as you'd love to do) with the skirt it came with? You really are getting het up about nothing aren't you?"
That's the way one human mind at least can work. And it's one reason I hate going into drab: it messes with my mind, and my poor mind doesn't need that at all. For a few seconds there I actually forgot I'm TG. And that's serious. A change of clothes, and I've got a whole change of outlook on the world. And I've never particularly liked that outlook.
(I did find another belt in town--in a shop I rarely go into because it's the most expensive, up-market clothing shop in town. But I do go in sometimes, because on occasion I find a bargain. I found a belt there for €15, which I thought was about as good as I was going to get.
Had a bit of a chat with the salesman, too. I don't know how we got onto the subject, but I explained that lately I'd been working hard (and successfully) to get my weight down, and he said, "But I don't like to see people losing too much", and I agreed with that.
Then we got off onto what sort of exercise I get, I do a lot of walking, and yes, there are lots of lovely places to walk around this town, and no, I'm not terribly into gardening, and yes, I've been up into such-and-such hills where there'll be some sort of event at the Summer Solstice.
And this isn't the first time I've had such a conversation with this guy, conversation that strays in some indefinable way from the usual definition of masculine. He's a reserved, soft-spoken fellow, and today wasn't the first time that, as I left the shop, I was wondering if he might be gay or TG himself. I suppose I could ask him. "I'm TG myself. What about you?" But perhaps that wouldn't be polite.)
Best wishes, Annabelle
I have two items which I would be hard-pressed to say how long I've owned them. I think I can safely say it's the better part of 30 years. They've given me good service. These are my belt and my wallet. The former (alas!) has always had more work to do than the latter, which is perhaps the reason why this morning it at last gave up the ghost and departed in spirit to enjoy its well-deserved reward in the hallowed halls of its revered ancestors. One of the loops that held the buckle in place gave way, rendering the whole thing useless, passé, kaput. As Catullus would have said, "Poor belt! My darling's eyes are red with weeping!"
This was a problem. I was getting ready to go out to do some grocery shopping--in drab (alas again!)--and without a belt the jeans I'd put on would be around my ankles by the time I got into town. I understand that that sort of thing is fashionable in certain sets these days, but not in mine. So what to do?
All of a sudden it occurred to me, "Wait a minute! I do have another belt." Then--an instant flutter of panic. "But, but, that's a woman's belt! What if people saw. . .?"
Then my mind got back in gear and I had to laugh. "What if people saw what? First of all, people aren't going to see it. Your jacket will cover it up. After all, this is June 15th and today's expected high is every bit of 13 degrees Celsius, call it 55 degrees Fahrenheit. Secondly, people would have to look pretty hard to determine that it is in fact a woman's belt. It's hardly distinguishable from the one that just gave out on you.
"And finally, why are you so worried about wearing such a belt with your jeans? What would people think if you actually wore it (as you'd love to do) with the skirt it came with? You really are getting het up about nothing aren't you?"
That's the way one human mind at least can work. And it's one reason I hate going into drab: it messes with my mind, and my poor mind doesn't need that at all. For a few seconds there I actually forgot I'm TG. And that's serious. A change of clothes, and I've got a whole change of outlook on the world. And I've never particularly liked that outlook.
(I did find another belt in town--in a shop I rarely go into because it's the most expensive, up-market clothing shop in town. But I do go in sometimes, because on occasion I find a bargain. I found a belt there for €15, which I thought was about as good as I was going to get.
Had a bit of a chat with the salesman, too. I don't know how we got onto the subject, but I explained that lately I'd been working hard (and successfully) to get my weight down, and he said, "But I don't like to see people losing too much", and I agreed with that.
Then we got off onto what sort of exercise I get, I do a lot of walking, and yes, there are lots of lovely places to walk around this town, and no, I'm not terribly into gardening, and yes, I've been up into such-and-such hills where there'll be some sort of event at the Summer Solstice.
And this isn't the first time I've had such a conversation with this guy, conversation that strays in some indefinable way from the usual definition of masculine. He's a reserved, soft-spoken fellow, and today wasn't the first time that, as I left the shop, I was wondering if he might be gay or TG himself. I suppose I could ask him. "I'm TG myself. What about you?" But perhaps that wouldn't be polite.)
Best wishes, Annabelle