I suppose it’s possibly relevant to address the moment I realised I was transgender…
Pre-school, I interacted with my mother primarily, and then with other children in the nursery, leaning towards the girls. I already knew there was something out of sorts, but it was definitely primary school that put me in one box and slammed that box firmly shut.
I got an excellent education at primary school, and it held me in good stead as I progressed further up the educational ladder. However, it was definitely a throwback to a previous era. I realised that there were absolutely two sexes, and even though I didn’t know the word transgender/transexual (BTW… I hate the TS word. It’s a throwback to a time when gender dysphoria was regarded as a psychological condition, one step from mental illness. My situation actually has nothing to do with sex, hence transgender, or TG) I knew I didn’t associate emotionally with the boys, and was bullied for being softer and to a certain extent kinder than they were. That marked me out. I knew I was transgender immediately I had contact with boys 🤣.
I’ve mentioned the past life regressions, and I’ve done two. I’d love to go back to reexamine, but I’ve lost touch with the hypnotherapist, a lovely lady named Jennifer, who through those two regressions solidified some of my perceptions. I promise I’ll examine both of those eventually, in separate blogs!
For the moment, I knew very, very early!
My parents were borderline religious (with a small “r”, c of s, rather than C OF S!!), possibly more spiritual. It was an era when children were routinely bombarded with religiosity. You HAD to subscribe to Jesus and all the trappings. I was aware of heaven and hell, and had a big hardback book of 365 biblical stories, yay! Everything pointed to me being bad, and risking the burny place. I can remember chastising myself continually that these were bad feelings, harsh self criticism for someone four to six’ish. Interestingly, before I was aware of the concept of reincarnation, I was berating myself, “why had I chosen to be a boy?” Obviously I was a girl, and had always been a girl, and this was a failed selection by me, whilst upstairs prior to birth, wanting to give boyhood a shot 🙄. Wow, was THAT a bad decision!!
By that logic, I concludedI was in reality a girl, certainly by P3, and this was entrenched by the time my vocabulary stretched to include transgender. I’ll discuss my perception of the world from this viewpoint soon!!
Primary three changed a lot for me, thankfully we progressed to a new teacher, the utterly glorious Mrs Davies. She was basically everything I wanted to be, elegant, pretty, compassionate, and a wonderful educator. She had black permed hair which I coveted! Round eyes, never narrowed in disapproval, and always in lovely midi skirts. I thrived in her class, being reasonable with English, and very good with maths. I found it hard communicating around this time, I was always terrified of letting something slip, so was always guarded, but she coaxed the best out of an awful lot of us. She would read us tales she’d written of two pixies, and we listened with rapt attention! The two years I was in her class were HAPPY!! I had a couple of friends, but ironically, every time I got close to someone, their situation changed, always emigrating! John back to Australasia, Robert to Africa and Derek to Canada. They were lovely friends, not being like the majority of the boys. It did mean that I, yet again, ended up somewhat solitary.
It is best I had those two years with Mrs Davies, as the next three were… interesting! Primary five… Miss Allen, then six and seven, Miss MacLeod. Similar teaching styles (pre-war!🙄) and therefore similar ages, definitely nearing retiral!
Miss Allen was a martinet, for the first time dictating our seats, in columns and rows. One column of boys, one column of girls. My abiding memory of her was a pinched expression, with a slightly prominent beaked nose. Her steel grey hair in a Marcel wave, and always lippy, deep pinks or red, although why she bothered I really don’t know. She had the thinnest, meanest lips you could imagine! She appeared to have a love of music, but trying to get us to sing like a choir, she played the piano like she had a couple of uncontrollable fingers, and a singing voice that was powerful and stunningly random! We were never much use! But it was in P5 that I almost ended up as a backing singer for ABBA 🤣… ok, the school choir did, but we all auditioned, and apparently I was in the top 50… of 50! 🤣🤣
it was round about here I realised I was keeping well up with my schoolwork, and brutally, didn’t really have to be there for a lot of it. I was never happier than reading, and I found maths easy enough. I suddenly became a “sickly” child, squeezing days off here and there, and occasionally the odd week. I think I missed almost all the class photos as a result! My classmates probably think I’m a figment of their imagination! Poor mum had to look after me, and I’m afraid I took advantage. “Was there anything I’d like?” Strangely I’d always manage to ask for something, never big or expensive, that we didn’t have in the house. It was a different time, and mum’s across the country were nipping out to the shops continually. We had a Co-op within a hundred yards, and daily, mum would nip across for something, leaving me to my own devices. Of course, the moment she was out the door, I had her lippy in my hand, quickly applying it, eventually quite expertly. I could wear it until she turned into the gate, and every time she arrived at the door, my lips were freshly scrubbed, and pinked toilet paper flushed.
My mother was an avid reader of Woman’s Weekly, and there were always a few copies on top of what had been, the “log box” next to the fireplace. A wooden box with the thinnest brass stamped covering… ours was Burns themed, w a man (him?) ploughing on the front, and Burns Cottage on top ( I only know that cos it said it under the image!)
Early 70’s, Rimmel was a normal make up brand, before it became utterly naff, then reinvented itself. At this point, Rimmel were taking out two page adverts in the WW. Not glitzy pictures, but just a two page inventory of what was sold. I was entranced!! So much makeup!! So many items I initially was flummoxed by. An eyeshadow that was like a lipstick, but iridescent dark green, eye liner, mascara. I learnt so much from those adverts!! What a wishlist!
P6 and P7 to follow… ❤️
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