Your wanted on the ward.

n the early 70s when I was working in a hospital lab in London I had a girlfriend who was a sister in one of the large hospitals in the city. After work I wanted to pick her up from the hospital to go to a prom.

Now in those days patient visiting hours was very strict and restricted to a few hours a day. Any public found wandering about 'after or before hours' was confronted and escorted to the nearest exit. To get round this I took my white lab coat in a plastic bag entered the hospital slipped into the toilets put it on and could then go anywhere I pleased within reason, without the beady eyes of security seeing something amiss.
This worked quite well, I made my way to the nurse's quarters without hindrance, knocked on her door and entered. She was still in uniform which surprised me. It turned out she had to do a further two hours as a colleague was sick. I decided to stay and wait for her. We would still make the second half of the concert in time. A quick peck on the cheek and she was off.
So I waited, there was plenty to read lying about, mostly girl magazines which where nothing new to me, so I browsed. Finally I got bored and so started to look around. I noticed she had a spare uniform hanging in the wardrobe. I got very interested as I brought it out and held it against me and looked in the mirror.
The only dressing I had done was at home and that was some time ago as none of my mothers clothes fitted me anymore. (see If the dress fits..).

This was an opportunity I just couldn’t pass up! Fortunately she had the room to herself so I knew I would not be interrupted for a good hour. I locked the door and went looking for a pair of the standard black tights. Going through the draws I found plenty of other things that caught my attention but I had a mission! Eventually I found a pair. And why did I even contemplate trying the uniform on? Well there was a good chance it would fit as we were both roughly the same size, apart from her bust which I could not in any way compete with.

I took a glance at the clock and took the plunge. I removed my outer garments got carefully into the tights and donned the uniform. The uniform even had its own upside down watch pinned to it.

I had 70s hair which was down to my shoulders to the distain of my father (not that it bothered me), and so to get the right effect I pinned it up the best I could and then added the cap. I admired myself in the mirror and imagined going on duty to the wards, taking pulses using the pinned watch and sticking thermometers in openings of my choice. After a few walk-a-rounds looking at myself from different angles, I took another look at the clock and quickly turned back into civil, carefully storing everything away again.

I must say girls don’t have it easy getting ready in uniform especially with long hair. I was tempted to use some of her lipstick but I may have made a mess and couldn’t risk it. Not long afterwards she returned got changed and we were off.

I didn’t get any indication that she had cottoned on.
Unfortunately the opportunity didn’t arise again. 
That was a really wow experience and I still think of it 40 plus years on!


To the pictures:
The one on the left is a ward sister (in blue) and a student nurse in the 1970s. The other picture on the right is of nurses from the hospital in the 1980s with the appropriate tights.
Please note: None of the girls in the pictures are either my girlfriend or myself..
(sigh..)

Getting ready to go out

his observation was to be a part of another post in preparation, but I thought it would stand on its own. I tend to go off at tangents when writing or talking, this usually leads to a certain amount of confusion on the part of the reader or listener. And when I sporadically have to get up and teach, I observe the whole range from the audience, starting with entertaining through to total bewilderment. This is also reflected in when I’m finished talking. Some people come up to me and we chat further, but the majority just shake their heads and leave in silence. 
I think this behaviour (not the head shaking and leaving in silence) is due to also writing code in various computer languages and my going off at a tangent in the real world equivalent to writing subroutine code.

[Ed: To misquote one Miss Ann Elk “That’s her theory, it is hers, and belongs to her and she own it and what it is too”]

One difference is that with computer code you are automatically returned to the main thread, with my airing’s this is not always the case and even I get lost sometimes. 

[Ed: Hey!]

Oh yes, you see what I mean I was off again. 

I get to dress about 3% of my time and it is usually spontaneous or at very short notice. This is due to being hardy at home and when I’m at home it has to coincide with my wife being at her theatre group or at a film with friends. When the 3% time slot arrives, I start to panic instead of enjoying the chance to “doll myself” up. This is mainly due to getting frustrated trying to remember what I have and where I’ve stashed it! 
This remembering what and where, has to do with my online shopping routine. When the itch gets me, I pull up the bookmarks to the various online shopping stores that cater for my size (see footnote) and log in with my account (not Abigale’s). I browse and sometimes buy, when the article arrivals (everything to my work address), I try it on once (yes, when possible at work when everyone has gone), sigh, sneak it home, pack it lovingly away and in some cases totally forget where and what it was! 

Everything I have is in the cellar, which is big enough for my hobbies and my clothes and shoes (at the moment that is!). As the cellar is a total chaos, the wife tries her best to steer clear of the place apart from the rare occasion she brings me a cuppa (fortunately I get fair warning, so I have time to kick off my heels before she enters). Following delivery she doesn’t just turn around and leave, but backs up in case there’s something lurking around other than myself. I dread the day when I get the ultimatum to clear up and then have to explain the stack of A3 envelope boxes that are ideal for cheap heel storage. 

Where was I? 
Yes, even if I eventually have chosen what to wear and after digging around in the chaos I find it, my dressed phase is about the same amount of time a manikin has to change between cat walks! 

All very frustrating. 

This frustration is part of the reason for my change in attitude to getting dressed and going out with my wife.

[Ed: I was wondering when you would get round to it!] 

Yes I know, but the above has something to do with the below. 

In the pass when we were going out, I would be ready in no time. This was mainly due to an almost non-existent interest in choosing what to wear from a self-inflicted dull and drab boy wardrobe. Being ready way ahead of ETD (Estimated Time of Departure) the waiting game would begin. After a while I would start my recital of groaning and moaning with the classical “we will be late!” or “you had the whole afternoon to choose…” 
Then after what seemed and was ages, she would appear to commence the first round of many presentations with that “look” of helplessness in her eyes. 
Without paying any real attention to what she had on, I would look up and say “perfectly alright, let’s go”. With her built-in feminine voice decoder all she heard was a flat robotic “it will do”, she would then about turn and be off into the gloom. I would then refocus on the game I was playing on my IPad and decide if to take of my coat or sweat a little longer. 
Time would slowly pass, the following rounds all having the same outcome. Eventually I would start feeling somewhat sticky and decide to remove my coat and take a shower too fresh up. On reappearing, she would invariably be wearing again the first costume of the evening. I would get that other “look” with a “come on! What’s keeping you, haven’t you seen the time? Typical!”
I would then throw something on again in record time and we’d be off with yours truly in the dogs and the evening hardy started.. 

Now it’s different, yes different. I can know relate - being sensitised in my own small way to getting dressed as a woman - to what she was going through and I now realise that in the past I was of no help in anyway, just the opposite. These days I get ready as usual, the Ipad is open but instead of a game it’s usually my colour coded Pinterest pin boards of clothes, heels and makeup. I wait and browse thinking about what Abigale would like to have worn that evening given the chance and guts to do it. 
When my wife appears, I am critical but not destructive, ask her to turn around and display, interact using words with more than one syllable, go with her to the wardrobe and browse with her, discuss and take into consideration the weather for the evening, the ambient of the venue, etc. 
Because of this there are fewer “rounds” and we are still invariably late when we leave, but thats ok, the main thing is nobody is in the dog house. 

52/54 EU dresses and slips sometimes 54/56, 43 EU heels (wide fit if possible) and 115C-D bra. Concerning bra size, underwear in general and figure enhancing contraptions - all a science in itself - a separate post will follow.