You know what really turns me on? The opposite of sexism.
There are a number of different UKs, and one of them is in the ascendancy. For me, it's the wrong one. Things don't stay the same, and nor should they, but a return to the past isn't a way forwards. If you ask me if I think things are better after years of Labour, I'll say yes until my last breath. You don't make a worker stronger by cutting off her hands.
"I'd like to drop my trousers to the Queen, every sensible child knows what that means. The poor and the needy are selfish and greedy on her terms."
It strikes me that there are two types of people who dress up; there are people who dress to get out of themselves and people who dress up to get closer to themselves.
I'm taking my first faltering steps into becoming something that reflects how I feel on the inside.
I was baffled, confused, excited and just plain 'oooooooooooo'ed to find myself in the Top Babes list within the first few weeks of being a dressy-upper, with a picture from the first time I ever properly dressed. It's like one of those films where the nerdiest girl suddenly undergoes a transformation and becomes the May Queen. It makes me a little frightened too, because it makes me yearn ever harder for things that I maybe shouldn't have. It's gone from a complete fantasy to being something that I can now taste and touch, and that might actually make changes in my life. That said, I'm not sure what I'm afraid of, or what I even enjoy.
I've recently become single after a long relationship and can't shake the feeling that I am having the opportunity to reconnect with something which has been a submerged part of me for a long time, that was like an undertow pulling at my legs.
It's like I'm waking up, or maybe being born again.
I'm starting to explore dress and make-up again after a lay-off of about 10 years, but I feel like an awkward teenager who can't get her make-up right and chooses all of the wrong clothes!
I'd just turned 31 when I took myself on a shopping trip on the night before my birthday, the first for about a decade. My heart was in my mouth as I nipped in and out of shops up and down Oxford Street. People were remarkably indulgent. Once I made the first jump, I grew increasingly giddy in the cold air and sharp lights.
I woke up up on the morning of my 31st birthday caked in make up and wearing my underwear.
I'd dearly love to explore this bit of me more. When I look at women, I can never work out whether I want to be with them or be them.
I think I want to cross over more, and become on the outside how I feel on the inside.
It's the start for me and I've got butterflies in my stomach.
I'm looking for people to help me and support me and not laugh at me when I get things wrong. I still can't imagine where I fit in. I have lots of ideas and feelings but nowhere for them them to go.
I like cups of tea and talking. I really love cups of tea and talking. I do loads more with my life than dress up, but it's something that is always there, like someone whistling a half recognised tune in the background.
Finding what was always there but was hidden is like finding a treasure thought to be a myth. Suddenly, I have to deal with the possibility of dreams not being dreams but being possible and real.
I'm tall and I've got big eyes and full lips. I'm not too hairy either, though more than I'd like. These are good starting points. I'm still pretty slim, though I'll never be as slim and slight as I'd love to be.
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