Living my best life – live

I don’t wanna tempt fate or anything, but everything’s really darned rosy in transition land. Hardly a week goes by without me clearing another hurdle. My baby steps are rapidly becoming giant strides.

I love, love, love live music. If I’m at a good gig, I often get that life-affirming feeling, where I can’t stop smiling. Everything just feels perfect – the loud music, the lights, the dark interior, the booze. I literally get shivers down my spine and goosebumps.

I’ve written on here before that I can’t stand arenas. I’ve been to a couple of gigs at them, but I’ll probably never bother again. They’re cold, soulless concrete bowls. And if I wanted to sit down to watch a show on a big screen, I’d just buy a DVD.

I wanna be down the front, jumping up and down and singing along, being able to see the whites of the lead singer’s eyes. And you can’t do that at an arena. You need a small, intimate venue.

I discovered The Avenue, in Chesterfield, a few months ago when I went to another gig. It’s the best venue in Derbyshire by a country mile, with loads of nods to the Hacienda, the Cavern and Factory Records. It’s indie heaven.

It’s big enough to get plenty of people in to create a great atmosphere – but not too big. The acoustics are amazing, there’s an awesome upstairs area, and they even serve real ale at the bars – reasonably priced, too.

So last night, my pal Tim and I went to see the Happy Mondays. I saw them playing at Nottingham’s Rock City a year ago – and they were brilliant. One of the best gigs I’ve ever seen.

They were to be supported by Tom Hingley and the Kar-Pets – basically the former Inspiral Carpets frontman with a new band belting out the Carpets’ old hits. I’ve seen these before, too, and loved them.

So I was really looking forward to this gig. It’s not often you get to see an indie heavyweight like the Mondays in such a tiny venue.

Anyway, I decided to go en femme. I’ve been to gigs en femme before, but not for a while. I was also conscious that Tim had never seen me presenting as female before – apart from at fancy dress parties.

I was a bit nervous about this for two reasons. 1) Tim’s never seen me en femme before, and he’s a teeny bit conservative. I was concerned he might be a bit “funny” – that he might worry people might think I was his other half or something.

And 2) this was Chesterfield. I always feel comfortable going about en femme in cities like Birmingham, Sheffield or Nottingham – even Derby these days. But Chesterfield’s only a town and its inhabitants, while being proper “salt of the earth” and friendly, aren’t perhaps as openminded as people in other places.

But, as I’m loads more confident these days, I decided to grasp the nettle, say “fuck it” and be brave. Tim was driving and I was wearing a black jumper, yellow floral miniskirt and opaque black tights when he picked me up.

I jokingly put on a Little-Britain-We’re-Ladies voice as I got into the car and said hello. He said: “You’re not changing your voice as well, are you?!”

I assured him that no, I wasn’t. Well, not to that extent anyway. And then off we drove to Chezvegas. We parked the car and headed for to the venue. Tim was fine – not at all uncomfortable.

I joined a queue of women at the entrance to be frisked and have my handbag checked. Good to see such measures being taken after what happened at Manchester Arena.

And then we headed inside and ordered beer. Any nerves soon melted away. I didn’t get any funny looks and I was loving the music. Tim and I separated as Mr Hingley and co took to the stage – I like to be at the front, whereas he prefers standing at the back.

The set was fab. Tom might not be as young as he used to be, but he can still belt out the hits, and he really knows how to work an audience.

After that, I headed upstairs and went to the ladies’. Guess what, TERFs, nobody died! Nobody batted an eyelid either. Women rule! I then ordered a drink and stood on the balcony, waiting for the Mondays to take to the stage.

Then I got chatting to a couple of fabulous girls called Emma and Sally. After chatting for a few minutes, Emma asked my name.

I replied: “Andie.”

She said: “Andy? But you’re a lady!”

I said: “With an ‘ie’!”

Ooooooooh!

I then told her that I am indeed trans – but I honestly don’t think they realised beforehand. Little things like this give me so much confidence.

I look in the mirror and, although I’ve nailed my makeup now, and I’ve got loads more style than I ever had as a bloke, I still don’t think I “pass” 100%.

So little things like this encounter give me loads of confidence. If people think I pass, I must be doing something right. And, once estrogen has reshaped my face and body, I am pretty confident I’ll pass 100% in the future. Maybe I’m 95% or so right now, which is still pretty cool.

Anyway, we chatted for a while and then I headed downstairs to watch the Mondays, who were in fine form. I headed to the left of the stage and managed to work my way half way to the front.

Then another lovely thing happened. There were a couple of relatively tall guys in front of me (I’m only 5ft 6ins) and they stepped aside and beckoned for me to stand in front of them.

What a lovely gesture! That would never, ever have happened if I was in bloke mode. But it did indeed happen – probably the first time I’ve ever experienced chivalry, and I felt ten feet tall!

The gig was wonderful, Bez bouncing about like Tigger, Shaun Ryder skulking out of the spotlights but vocally en pointe, and Rowetta just glorious.

At the end, I found Tim and we walked out into the night. Looks like I was wrong to doubt him and the good people of Chesterfield. It couldn’t have gone better.

I’m presenting as female more and more, and I’m nailing it. I’m enjoying my transition. As well as the shitty side of being trans – the gender dysphoria – there’s what’s called gender euphoria, where you feel so damned happy to be doing what you’re doing.

I thought long and hard for many years about whether or not to transition, but I’m so glad that I finally did. I’m all about the gender euphoria these days. Happy, happy, happy!

Andie xxx