It seems such a long time ago when the ball first started to roll, in fact around August/September of last year. In the main town close to me where I do most of my shopping there is a small side street with lots of lovely little shops there and on Saturday's loads of people! My route down to my coffee shop just happens to pass the offices of our little local paper. What caused the interest was that once I was dressed nicely, black skirt black top and dark pink tights, was it the the tights that caught the eye of the reporter in the office? apparently yes it was because very soon a visiting card was left at my regular coffee shop. We all know what the press are like, how they distort things and sometimes portray the wrong angle completely. Well I mulled over this for a very long time and eventually took the plunge and agreed to meet a repoerter in my coffee shop. I outlined at the very beginning that I was reticent about talking about my life because of the reputation reporters have and told Dominique (the reporter) that I hoped she would take down and subsequently put into print what for us (the LGBT community) holds dearly and that is truth , recognition and overall acceptance. Well my various threads over the past years have illustrated how lucky I am to have the level of acceptance that I have got including my expat friends and well as all of the French that I know around me.
Since the article was published I have been told how good it was by both some French friends of mine as well as a couple of expats.
The article revolves around my life and how I arrived at where I am now. This is what was said about me. I do not agree to a slight extent about the opening few words because it refers to "fluorescent pink tights"!! they were not more of a dark pink. Plus some of it is lost a bit in translation and one has to read between the lines a bit.
"Fantasy does not run in the Rue Lucien Dumas at all hours, but it is the case when Bobbi walks around it with his fluorescent pink tights. He himself says it,nothing is easier than to reveal his personality in this street where where ha has his favourite tea and coffee shop.It was with enthusiasm that he accepted a meeting, happy to let it be known that he is an utterly ordinary person. Before, during his working life Bobbi was a photographer with the Forensic Science team in Hampshire. A life made up of on-callduty and phone calls at any time of day or night because of tragedies that have no timetables.He did not have to take part in in investigations such as we see on on the screens and he describes the scenes on which he had to intervene as being very far from what we see on televisionor in the cinema, an unsanitized brutalreality to which he was permeable. AN accidentthat caused the deathof a little child the same age as his son opens a crack in his imperfect shielding. After the deathof his parents and later that of his brother he found himself having to quitte his profession. Subsequently discovering the tranquility of the Charente/Limousine region with his second wife.A first surprise for the neighbours when they saw "Bobbi" for the first time soon changed to total acceptance
Having settled in the village of St Christophe he set about renovating and enlarging a house despite at this time a marriage being devoid of affection. Divorce follwed in 2012 and Bobbi remains alone in France. Relieved of his professional constraints, he does not think his present lifestyle would not have been accepted 10 years ago. But maybe now, in 1996 he became what he had always wanted to do since childbirth, to be able to wear skirts. Acceptance in one way was gleane from his children, his son decide to stick to minimal ties whilst his daughter welcomed the news as the most natural thing in the world. Bobbi's grandson now calls him "Transdad" instead of Grandad.
Acceptance within the community has not changed their opinion of Bobbi at all, even the local grocery shop told him to go home and change into a skirt after seeing him in pants after a trip to the dump. In his concerns for openess to others and to show how much he has nothing to hide he cut down all of the hedges round his garden. The neighbours do not speak English and conversations are limited, the habits of meeting friends at the cafes crubmbled a bit during the pandemic, despite being a member of an expat singles group ther there are some who cannot accept his lifestyle. However he has never been turned away from any shop or restaurant.
It is on forums dedicated to gender issues that has been able to converse with some whos wives cant accept but the children do to wholeheatedly acceptance all round. During a Skype conversation with a femail friend Bobbi' painted nails were noticed! Bobbi was able to fully explain why why he was this way and his friend was totally accepting, saying that it is the personality of the person that matters and not what he wears.
It was thankfully a good outcome and from the feedback from friends and so forth all agree it was a good article, explaing how a life of crossdressing can be enab led without fear or hindrance. One of my clost neighbours was the first to tell me I was being spoken abot in the local paper and from there I got a copy and did my best with the help of Google to relate as accuratly as possible from the French text about my life here in France.
Right now I have complete freedom, total acceptance everywhere and loads of people accepting me as I am now and as I was before "Bobbi" started a new life 24/7 dressing. Am I happy? YES, because I am far more at ease with how I am now compared to the life of stress being in the wrong body. Bobbi is here now to stay, happy and contented
