kind of thing. Now it's her turn, fair enough!
Oh no, hubbie's home already. Doesn't time fly when you're having fun! Now he'll want to get involved and they'll have to pretend to be pleased. They should get him to take up a hobby like Don has. Get him out of the house on a regular basis, otherwise they'll always be having these interruptions.
Oh well, here we go, back to the old heave-ho.
I think I'll make some tea while this bit's on. Nothing there I haven't seen before.
= CHAPTER 4 =
Saturday, February 26. AM .
Oh, my hair feels lovely off my face! I feel more free, more like me, somehow, which is strange because I've had it long since I was a kid.
That Greek girl didn't want to cut it so short, said her husband loves long hair. I'm sure he does, but I don't really care about that, do I?
I think in the end she remembered it's my hair not hers, and the customer is always right, because she took the trouble to borrow some clippers from the barber's next door (I think they're family) and did a good job shearing off my curls. She seemed quite proud of herself, and so she should have been, rising to the challenge like a true professional, which of course she is. She even managed to persuade herself she quite liked the finished result, which for her was probably the hardest part of all.
Right, now let's see what another sort of woman thinks of me. Perhaps they will be more accepting, maybe even enthusiastic. I hope so.
I'll worry about Don's reaction when I see him and not before. That won't be until tomorrow night of course. He went off last night on his fortnightly jaunt (yet again). Well, this time, just for once, I'm off on a jaunt as well. The kind of jaunt my husband would not, in a million years, imagine me going on; the kind of jaunt I wouldn't have imagined going on either a few weeks ago. The kind of jaunt I'll be very unlikely to tell him about when he does condescend to come home.
I'll leave the house at seven or just after. That should give me loads of time to get there. I probably ought to eat before I go, but I don't think I can, I'm far too nervous. We'll see, maybe later.
~ ~ ~
Number twelve. Oh how scary. Haven't felt like this in years. Butterflies. Don't be silly now – a grown woman. Oh, what will they think of me? Will I fit in? Can hardly fit in these jeans, never mind anything else. Not really size twelve anymore. Still, if I hold my tummy in ... Too scared to eat before I left. Probably just as well ... bursting out as it is. Still I've got quite a nice bum and the rest of me's not bad. "Everything in the right place" as Don would say, "Something to get hold of." Not too much I hope. Still women aren't like blokes are they? They'd be more understanding. Not worrying too much about physical shapes and sizes...
Do I have to knock on this door? Give a password? If I do, I don't know it. Oh, it's alright. It's open already. Just needed a push. It wasn't in the basement after all. Hope it's the right place! Get done for breaking and entering otherwise. Be in the papers: would-be dyke, old enough to know better, invades family home, just in time for Birds Of A Feather!
"Oh, sorry! I didn't see you. Nearly fell on you it's so dark in here! Are you selling tickets? Oh yes, I see you are. How much is it then?"
"Three pounds. Or two, if you're UB40..."
"No, not quite ... Three it is then. What time's it on till?"
"Three."
"Three again. It's all threes isn't it? Where do I go? It's not on the third floor is it?"
"Up the stairs. Just there!"
"Oh yes, thanks."
What a large woman and what a small table! (Heavens, it is dark in here!) She looked a bit grim. It must be very boring just sitting there. I'm sure I wouldn't like it. It's still early though.
Oh no, hubbie's home already. Doesn't time fly when you're having fun! Now he'll want to get involved and they'll have to pretend to be pleased. They should get him to take up a hobby like Don has. Get him out of the house on a regular basis, otherwise they'll always be having these interruptions.
Oh well, here we go, back to the old heave-ho.
I think I'll make some tea while this bit's on. Nothing there I haven't seen before.
= CHAPTER 4 =
Saturday, February 26. AM .
Oh, my hair feels lovely off my face! I feel more free, more like me, somehow, which is strange because I've had it long since I was a kid.
That Greek girl didn't want to cut it so short, said her husband loves long hair. I'm sure he does, but I don't really care about that, do I?
I think in the end she remembered it's my hair not hers, and the customer is always right, because she took the trouble to borrow some clippers from the barber's next door (I think they're family) and did a good job shearing off my curls. She seemed quite proud of herself, and so she should have been, rising to the challenge like a true professional, which of course she is. She even managed to persuade herself she quite liked the finished result, which for her was probably the hardest part of all.
Right, now let's see what another sort of woman thinks of me. Perhaps they will be more accepting, maybe even enthusiastic. I hope so.
I'll worry about Don's reaction when I see him and not before. That won't be until tomorrow night of course. He went off last night on his fortnightly jaunt (yet again). Well, this time, just for once, I'm off on a jaunt as well. The kind of jaunt my husband would not, in a million years, imagine me going on; the kind of jaunt I wouldn't have imagined going on either a few weeks ago. The kind of jaunt I'll be very unlikely to tell him about when he does condescend to come home.
I'll leave the house at seven or just after. That should give me loads of time to get there. I probably ought to eat before I go, but I don't think I can, I'm far too nervous. We'll see, maybe later.
~ ~ ~
Number twelve. Oh how scary. Haven't felt like this in years. Butterflies. Don't be silly now – a grown woman. Oh, what will they think of me? Will I fit in? Can hardly fit in these jeans, never mind anything else. Not really size twelve anymore. Still, if I hold my tummy in ... Too scared to eat before I left. Probably just as well ... bursting out as it is. Still I've got quite a nice bum and the rest of me's not bad. "Everything in the right place" as Don would say, "Something to get hold of." Not too much I hope. Still women aren't like blokes are they? They'd be more understanding. Not worrying too much about physical shapes and sizes...
Do I have to knock on this door? Give a password? If I do, I don't know it. Oh, it's alright. It's open already. Just needed a push. It wasn't in the basement after all. Hope it's the right place! Get done for breaking and entering otherwise. Be in the papers: would-be dyke, old enough to know better, invades family home, just in time for Birds Of A Feather!
"Oh, sorry! I didn't see you. Nearly fell on you it's so dark in here! Are you selling tickets? Oh yes, I see you are. How much is it then?"
"Three pounds. Or two, if you're UB40..."
"No, not quite ... Three it is then. What time's it on till?"
"Three."
"Three again. It's all threes isn't it? Where do I go? It's not on the third floor is it?"
"Up the stairs. Just there!"
"Oh yes, thanks."
What a large woman and what a small table! (Heavens, it is dark in here!) She looked a bit grim. It must be very boring just sitting there. I'm sure I wouldn't like it. It's still early though.
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