A Pregnant Pause

Sparkle in Manchester is one of those wonderful occasions when trannies from all over, gather for a gurly weekend.  (I was advised by one of the attendees, in a pink polka-dot dolly’s outfit that ‘What unites us, is that we are all bonkers”.  But that’s a story for another day).   It’s a year or two since my lunatic dragged me there, but it’s still seared on the old grey cells.

What did strike me was the lengths the attendees go to, false this, that, and the next thing, to try to emulate real girls.  This was driven home when I spied a real and very sexy example - she was Polish, I think – who had stopped to watch the parade. She had the (very real) hair, tits and nails – nothing fake. And a dress that fitted in way that made the heart soar in breathless admiration. (Does anyone else notice how trannies may sometimes look very convincing and even pleasing to the eye and groin, but a RLG is unmistakable?)  This one was pushing a pram, with a living baby.  As I reminded my constant companion, even a painful trip to Thailand to have the ‘outsides turned inside’ wouldn’t allow a gurl to clone one of those, unless DNA replacement becomes  possible (sigh).

Despite this truth, my loony one has sometimes lusted after one of those pregnancy kits.  Not the sort that you get from a chemist for testing urine, but one of those body-suits, complete with heavier-than-usual tits, and a pretend pregnant bulge, to let teenage girls see what they’re in for.  (Even e-bay doesn’t sell these – yet).  And in any case, since we’ve both acquired a real-life pot belly, it’s a question of whether to groan through the day in a corset, or let it all hang out.   (Dressing our age?  Purleeze!) 

However, Closetta has recently noticed that wearing a nice silk 60's smock, and standing sideways-on to the mirror, with belly and bum stuck out, and hips tilted just so, affords a glimpse the fantasy pregnancy that – like perfection - lies only just out of reach.