Transwomen – Skirtingroundmylife

Belle Of The Ball

There is no escaping the fact that I’ve been inspired by LGBTQ History Month, so inspired in fact that I’ve written this poem on topic of dancing especially to commerorate the event. I’ve deliberatly written it from the point of view of two mature women one of whom may be a transwoman, becoming romantically involved after meeting at a dancing class. I’ve given it the title Belle Of The Ball I hope you enjoy the read.

Belle Of The Ball

my partner birls me round the floor
I’m feeling apprehensive
she told me relax
as she takes me in hand
and whispers something io
says she knew that I was just the right type
she would teach the steps and the twirls
from that moment on
I gave her my trust
I knew she liked dancing with girls

Of course she’d been married
for most of her life
the respectable types
always are
she knew she liked women
she had since her teens
though she thought it a step too far
as she taught me to waltz
as a women should do
and to tango the
Argentine way
we kissed under stars
and got in to the grove
our desires had come to play

she told me her daughters encouraged her
to take up dancing lessons
the youngest one said she should talk to the priest
and maybe start going to confession
it’s just in case you meet a man
who gets you all excited
or maybe do what Katie did
like kiss a girl and like it.

my dancing partner smiled at the thought
as her youngest daughter blushed
I’ll just see how it goes she said
and enjoy some fun filled lust
her daughters thought that we were friends
until they saw us kiss
in ways that only women know
we shared some midnight bliss

She told them all it’s my time now
it’s time to take a chance
your dad would be so proud of the fact
I taught this girl to dance
he knew I had my tendencies
and the passions I kept at bay
he said that I should dance with girls
if that was nature’s way

As its if he was giving his blessing
she told me as we danced
she’d waited all her life for this
we had to take the chance
a woman knows what a woman knows
and she knew what to say
I felt like the belle of The ball that night
and we danced to the break of the day

Skirting Round My Life 2021 My Year On The Blog

As I look back on the events of 2021 I have to say that it wasn’t the year I or anyone hoped or expected it would be. These past 12 months have been a difficult year for us all and this continues to be reflected in Skirting Round My Life as it has in every blog, journal , magazine or other news outlets.

On looking at the statistics, this year has seen Skirting Round My Life on a bit of downward trajectory which I think was to be expected given the circumstances. Hopefully this will change in the next 12 months. Though that will, to a certain extent at least, depend on things opening up a bit post Covid and providing me with more opportunities to enjoy myself and post about my exciting experiences.

The first thing to say that Skirtingroundmylife gained 2, 507 views in 2020. This represented an drop of 16% from it’s 2020 total of 3,018. Though disappointed with the drop I am not in the least bit surprised as continued uncertainty from Covid19 played havoc with our lives and restrictions on what we could and couldn’t do meant opportunities for growth were very severely limited.

This lack of opportunity resulted in a very dramatic drop in the number of posts in the last twelve months as they fell by almost half from 98 to 50. It can also be said that the number of both visitors to the site and comments on posts are both down with the later dropping from 28 to 16 and likes falling by more than 60% from 83 to 36

Topics covered in the last twelve months included Acceptance, Age, Bisexuality, Childhood, Christmas, Coming Out, Ceilidhs, Concerts, Covid19, Crossdressers, Dancing , Dating, Death, Discrimination, Equality, Faith, Fashion, Friendship, Grandparents, Holidays, Lockdown, Love, Memories, Mental Health, Poetry, Relationships, Secrets, Sensuality, Sex, Sexism, Sexuality, Stereotypes, Transition, Transphobia, Visibility, Women,

2021 again saw a slight dip in my global reach as visiting nations were slightly down from 31 in 2020 to 27 last year. The top five countries were UK , USA, Ireland, Germany and Finland, with Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Guernsey, and Sweden. making up the top ten. There were also readers from countries including France, Croatia The Philippines, Denmark, Colombia, Peru, Norway, India, and Poland amongst other nations who paid this a visit

As all the statistics have now properly evaluated it is time to bring this review to its conclusion but before I do so I just want thank all my readers. Whether you subscribe to the site or read the posts on social media sites like Facebook or Twitter it doesn’t really matter, the main thing is that you read them and find them entertaining, enjoyable , thought provoking and maybe in some cases challenging. I really hope you’ll continue to do so as that’s what makes blogging so enjoyable for those us who put our opinions out there on the blogosphere for you to read. So all that remains is for me to wish you A Happy, Successful, and Peaceful New Year and I hope you’ll keep skirting round my life throughout 2022 and beyond .

Till next time

Gayle X

Pioneer

In this poem I celebrate the life of April Ashley. April for those who don’t know, made history by becoming the first person to ever undergo gender reassignment surgery. I’ve given it the title Pioneer, I hope you enjoy the read

Pioneer

You paved the way
for girls like me
to be women
your name of choice
selected to illustrate
the transformative change
which takes place when winter winds retreat
to be replaced by the first days of spring.

you were a woman
who wasn’t allowed to be a girl
because of the times you grew up in
a child of the inter war years
people feared those like you
a pioneer who wanted just to be herself .

after your operation
you married well
mixed in influential circles
yet those who sought wealth and power
cut the root from your life
declaring you were never a wife
nor were you legally wed
because of what your birth certificate said
misgendering you as they did it
not understanding
you were a pioneer
who accepted no limits
that others would rigidly impose on your desires
they couldn’t extinguish your fire

you made liars of hypocrites
you knew
who walked the highest of society’s corridors
and lived in places where gold cards met golden gates
to create a fortress
for those who could afford it
try as you might
you couldn’t ignore the map that nature had planned

though it was Caroline who would bring me
to an understanding of myself
through her I would learn of you see
the pioneer who sought to change the world
who chose the name April
to illustrate
that you could be
the change you wanted to be in the world
and made it a safer place for girls like me to blossom into ourselves

Night Owl

In this my first poem of 2022, I look at the potential for romance for older transwomen or as I prefer to call us transwomen of a certain age. I was inspired to write it after a chat with Ailie Wallace after enjoying a recent flirtation with a friend that made me examine society’s attitudes to sex and older people. It’s titled Night Owl . I hope you enjoy the read.

Night Owl

She knows the magic of the night
the time when stars dance around the moon
like women do round our handbags
dressed in her finest gladrags
she applies her make up
the perfect finishing touch
for a woman who accepts the fact she is no spring chicken
nor is the partner she’ll be dating
but is claiming this time as her time
to do as she wishes
she may shock a few onlookers
as she goes to venues
where women of her generation
are too often afraid to venture
let alone be seen on the dancefloor
she is not content to leave such pleasures to the young
women of her age deserve to have fun
and she intends to do just that
the night owl in her mini skirt
defying the rules of age
she had been taught to be obedient
and saying yes to embracing the chance
denied her in her teenage years
as stars dance round the moon
in the arms of her lover she discoveres
why the young ones say they never feel the cold

The Boundary Line

In this poem which I’ve written for Lesbian Visibility Week I recall my first night at an LGBT venue and the kindness of the lesbian who took me there. I’ve given it the title Boundary Line I hope you enjoy the read.

The Boundary Line

We were students at Strathclyde
you had pride in the women you were
in the days when I was still trapped
behind pink closet doors
try as I might I couldn’t ignore desires that came from within

I called myself sinner
for wanting to go to that place
you told me you knew
It was you who offered to help me
find myself
taking me to club X on that first Friday
after the summer exams

dancing to the twelve inch remixed versions
of searching and I am what I am
helped me relax
I knew there was no turning back
I was scared wondering who had seen me
cross the threshold to a place beyond dreams
you claimed I worried too much
and blushed too easily
that nobody who knew me
would give me grief
but as for walking the easy road
forget it
transwomen are too visible
to be given that luxury you said
as a Asian lesbian you knew about that
and the prejudice I would very soon be shown

I decided to take those words
and own them on that summer night
It would prepare me for the fights and battles I would face
in the days and years to come
especially those with myself
guilt and denial are dangerous enemies
and fear and faith their best recruiting sergeants
I would learn to embrace my new reality in time
but on that first Friday I crossed a boundary line
as I passed an exam I never sat in class

Girl Mode

In this poem I look at Eddie Izzard’s recent decision to come out as gender fluid and her desire to use female pronouns. Whilst being supportive of Ms Izzard’s right to identify as she wishes I am tired of having to explain to people that as a transwoman I’m nothing like her and never will be. To me there is no such thing as girl mode because that implies to me that if girl mode gets too challenging they can always change back to boy mode and retain their male privilege. I really am less than pleased that I have to explain that this is me 24/ 7 and I don’t swap between the two genders whenever I decide I need a chance of an easier life. To me I am who I am for better or worse and it’s for this reason I’ve titled it Girl Mode I think you’ll find it an interesting read.

Girl Mode

You can’t switch it off
and then turn it on
like a tap
there’s more to transitioning than that
though some may be content
to be a woman at weekends
it could never be me
my life is not a trend
or the latest fashion accessory
it’s who I am
who I always was
who I was meant to be
I’ve known this since before I reached my teens
my dreams were woman’s dreams
though I couldn’t risk coming out
in days when it wasn’t safe
to walk the streets
and there was always fear of attack
you were always looking back
for shadows stalking your path
laughter and taunts haunting your heart
in the silent darkness of night
or the clear cold light of morning
I endured name calling
and years of self doubt
before I was allowed to be proud of myself
this is about emotional health
It’s not boob envy
or playing gender swap
in a shop where you can purchase
new identies by the day
this is real
it’s not about the roles we play
there is no such thing as girl mode

Women Of Wisdom (A Poem For International Women’s Day ).

I wrote this poem on International Women’s Day to celebrate some of the best women I know or have ever known. These women come from all walks of life from family to football, from poetry to politics, but make no mistake they have earned there place in this poem which I have titled Women Of Wisdom and by the end of it I think you’ll know me a lot better than you already do even if you’ve known me for years. I hope you enjoy the read.

Women Of Wisdom (A Poem For International Women’s Day )

My maternal gran
left school at the age of nine
having learned all she was allowed
she was proud to be red Jess
a woman who fought for equality
in the years between the wars
with the banner of justice held high
for the Scotland of MacLean

my paternal gran made enough soup
to feed the close
and brought her children up
in the faith of our fathers and theirs
she taught them the value
of sharing what they had
and being glad for the grounding they received
in doing whatever they could do help others

my auntie Helen was my mum’s older sister
she moved to Manchester during the war
to work in munitions
eventually agoraphobia would keep her prisoner
in the home she seldom left
and hardly ever stopped cleaning

my mother worked in engineering
as an inspector Clouseau had nothing on her
never missing a trick
when it came to keeping me in line
even if it was a struggle to deal
with a bolshie trans daughter
who had very definite opinions on almost everything
and wasn’t afraid to tell you
exactly what they were and why
she held those beliefs

Mrs Dowling was the English teacher
who opened my eyes to the world
as she taught me the meaning of poetry
introducing me to Lochhead and a world beyond Burns
where women’s voices were
not only listened to but respected
for what they had to say and stories only they could ever tell

Margo was my earliest political heroine
a woman of independent mind
her fight for Scotland’s independence
inspired the teenaged me
to campaign for freedom and fairness
as I continue to do to this day
in honour of the legacy that inspired generations
to believe we could do better

Fiona was the artistic director
who helped me to express myself
during workshops in the Gallowgate
then eventually on stage
inducting me in the ways of theatre and especially voice projection
for maximum power and effect

Janette is the flatmate and friend
who knows both my weaknesses and strengths
though sometimes I don’t think
she knows her own
especially her good points
of which she has more than a few
though supporting a team in light blue may not be one of them

Sam would disagree with that last comment
and get away with it
well she plays for that team
I am trying so hard not to mention
creative licence means it’s not always easy to avoid suggesting
who they might be
let’s just say they aren’t Glasgow City or Celtic or even Partick Thistle
and blow the whistle now
before some people see their name
through my carefully constructed disguise

Ailie is always there when required
a friend who encourages me
to aim higher in every possible way
shoot for the stars every day
and accept myself for who I am
embracing my identity without compromise
to please the opinions of those
who’ll never really matter

Stacey is the superstar stylist
who tries to find bargains
to flatter my figure on a budget
I don’t know how she does it
I only know that she does
she never gives up
till I’m looking my best
and I really am dressed to impress

Pamela was and still is the writing mentor
who initially nurtured my creativity
persuading me to test my ability
in ways beyond what I thought was possible
preparing me for leadership
and the day I would mentor others

Lesley discovered the power of a women’s collective
to put this in perspective
we were fierce in our words and in our friendships
self censorship was not allowed
we were women and as a transwoman I was proud to be included
with these women of wisdom

Leanne has a vision of a kinder world
where poverty no longer exists
her christian faith by which she lives the rock of principled beliefs
for a woman of the book

Patricia plays the flute
schooling future generations to do the same .
to be proud of their tunes and their heritage
and not let a beautiful instrument be tainted
by those who scar the summer
when puppets march in malice

Laura is a fiddler known in her field
as one of brightest stars
in the traditional music community
an ally to others who need support
in personal battles
she has always championed the rights
of those who need lights shone
to navigate safely to the shore

Rachel sings and writes songs
on environment , community , and belonging
with a warmth that makes you want
to listen
to both the lyrics and the melodies
as it establishes connections
between audience and performer
whilst stilling the souls
of those who see her concerts

Hayley is a gifted footballer
standing tall as any man
who has ever played the game
she works in the caring profession
as women players don’t get
the fame their talents deserve
not in this country at least not yet
a star both on and off the park
she’s a team player who always hits the net
when it comes to supporting friends

Jen is much more than a co-host for our event
a loyal friend she is blessed with kindness and compassion
and editing skills beyond my reach
a double act was born on discovering
we shared a passion for the craft
now we support each other to express ourselves without inhibitions
as Pamela’s prediction is fulfilled
and having come full circle
I am the one doing the mentoring
she will one day give as a gift
to those who will follow the path we are currently traveling

Fae A Lassie ( A Transwoman Spakes In The Guid Scots Tounge )

On Burns Day when Scotland and the world celebrate our national bard I pay tribute to Robert Burns by writing only my second poem in Scots. I’ve titled in which I as a transwoman give advice to the average male be they Scottish or otherwise on how women should be treated. The poem has been written in a tounge in cheek style and titled Fae A Lassie (A Transwoman Spakes In A Guid Scots Tounge ).I hope you enjoy the read.

Fae A Lassie

Fae a lassie wha wis wance a laddie
here’s advice a’ll gie it gladly
when a transwoman spakes
yir best tae listen
she kens the lives o men and women

the talk am giein is tae men
they mak thur mistakes then they mak them again
mind you listening isn’y thur wey
ye wonder what oor Jean wid say

like me a’ think she’d get them telt
aboot the wey she often felt
wae words o wisdom and truths maist sage
o times when Rabbie made her rage

She tell them laddies if ye think yir a winner
then tak yir lassies oot tae dinner
and then seduce her wae yir words
but dinnae use patter like whurs the birds

compliment her oan her style
say yir dazzled by her smile
whatever ye dae let her ken
ye ne’er wull see her likes again

that be she young or a’ an age
try tae mak her centre stage
be she fair or be she fine
ye’ll taste her youth or vintage wine

ne’er abandon nor neglect her
nor tae ithers disrespect her
woo your lass wae flowers and kisses
gie her a’ a woman wishes

nichts in barns and silken sheets
could baith end up wae passions treats
though if by chance temptations patter
should tell your ego she’ll be flattered

by your advances and techniques
beware when thon imposter speaks
remember the bard wis a man o his time
and noo we walk an equal line

so in these days in which we bide
It’ll be the lassie that decides
whit we dae and when we dae it
and if we’ve something tae say we”‘ll say it

see women noo hae equal richts
fur younger quines the future’s bricht
we ken fine weel wur braw and sassy
and sometimes we might kiss a lassie

noo if we’d sooner hae quines tae loons
and like tae dance tae different tunes
just mind that choice wis made by nature
and it’ll no be changed by yir behaviour

thur no confused they ken richt weel
they’ll sup wi angels and the deil
in a’ disguises cupid kens
the ways o stags and the ways o hens

sae tak the warnings that a’ve gied
a’ spake tae ye in the guid Scots leid
tae keep it clean and keep it classy
fae the lassie wha kens the ways a’ the laddies

Trophy Girl

In this poem I tackle the issue of LGBT footballers and why it’s so hard for them to come out even after they’ve stopped playing. It’s based on a true story that actually happened to me. I’ve given it the title Trophy Girl I hope you enjoy the read

Trophy Girl

I met him on a Sunday night
late summer maybe early autumn
Scotland was a different place
in those early millennium years
and I hadn’t come fully out
my road to transition was only just beginning
he never saw me at my best
in a little black dress
I was still too scared to be me
yet he flirted with me
when we met in the city centre
inviting me for a drink
I blushed reluctantly before declining
there was no silver lining in this
I never did get that kiss
we knew we both wanted to share
me and the football player
I never got the chance to dance
at the secret rendezvous
or lose myself in the arms
of the man I wanted to claim me
the star with no name
except to those who used to cheer him
from the terracing and stands
at the club he used to play for each Saturday
at a time when attitudes to sexuality
were even more hidden than now
our chance meeting happened
long after his playing days were over
and though hormones danced
at the thoughts that raced through my mind
I knew that fate had decided it wasn’t for me
and can only wonder what might have been
had we met the night before
when I was dolled up on the dance floor
ready to take my chances in the hope of being the trophy girl

The Oldest Profession

In this poem which I’ve titled The Oldest Profession I recall an incident I never believed would ever happen but is one of those things which was so unbelievable you couldn’t make it up. As I walked from my work to the city centre I was approach by a working woman who asked if I had ever thought about joining her on her shift. Naturally I said that I hadn’t but wished her well for her work and hoped that she wouldn’t pay too high a price for her endeavours. I hope you enjoy what I think will be a thought provoking read.

The Oldest Profession

She sat on a bench ten minutes from my work
and five from the city centre
she knew I was transgender
and asked if I’d ever thought
of entering the oldest profession
I blushed and said I couldn’t see many takers
for a woman like me
you’d be surprised she said
lots of guys like a girl they’ve no chance of knocking up
your ass would be sore
as fuck for the first few shifts
but you’d get used to it
and your regulars ways
after the first few days
then you would graduate to night shifts
that’s where the real money is made
I’d take you to a place
just five minutes from my patch
and you wouldn’t snatch my customers
we’d be after different types
after listening to the job description
I politely declined to join the ranks of the self employed
in the oldest profession
and walking on I wished her luck for the coming shift
thanks she said and you know where I am
if you decide to change your mind
I never did I continued
on my way to wherever I was going
and have no way of knowing
how much she made that night
in tax free cash
and what price she had to pay to earn it
hopefully it wasn’t too high
there were no threats of violence
or visits to hospitals or encounters with panda cars or police cells
which are the occupational hazards
for girls who work the streets
in the oldest profession of all.