Sweet Tea Dancing
By Petal Jeffrey
Transgender Features By Petal Jeffrey
There I was, alone on the dance floor, the eyes of the entire Tea Dance fixed upon me, falling backwards. In so far as I had time to think anything at that instant, it had to do with making a fool of myself rather than with possible injury.
Worse was to follow. As my wrists took my weight (painfully) my head jerked back throwing off my wig. The pain didn't bother me at that moment. What worried me was losing my wig in front of all those people - trannie vanity!
There was really only one thing to do. Immediately, I leapt back to my feet, pulling my wig back on as I did so. As soon as I was on my feet I was dancing. I continued to give plenty of oomph.
At the end, I received a tremendous round of applause. I wonder how they would have reacted if they'd known that I'd broken my wrist. Of course, there was no way that they could have known that, I didn't realise it myself.
Casualty
I knew that I was in pain, and I left early. Never having broke a bone in my life before, I was inclined to think that I had sprained it.
The following morning, it seemed sufficiently serious to take to the hospital. If there is an ideal time to pass through casualty, it isn't Bank Holiday Monday. Still it had to be done.
Next week, I was back at the Tea Dance with my arm in plaster and a sling. It caused quite a sensation. People told me that they thought I'd fallen deliberately. I must have recovered from the fall very well and extremely quickly.
A puzzling question was - why should I fall deliberately? At least one person supplied the answer 'to be camp'. I didn't ask what he meant by that, but I suppose that in making my hard landing I'd exposed my underwear as well as my real hair. That was an aspect I hadn't previously considered.
After a week off, I was back on the dance floor, performing in plaster. It was a handicap because I use my arms a lot when dancing. Nor was dancing the only thing with which I had trouble. fastening suspenders was tricky, for one thing. Some were more difficult than others - I think the worst was the right hand (or thigh?) rear suspender.
A bit of a struggle to overcome these difficulties was well worthwhile. When I put on my dancing shoes, I put on stockings and suspenders as well. The cool draught about the thighs, so shiversome at the night bus stop, is welcome when it hots up on the dance floor. And when it comes to flashing my undies, who wants to look at the crotch of a pair of tights?
It's a rare Sunday that doesn't see me putting on my dancing shoes, and twirling a skirt. It's a lot of fun. Sunday is the best night of most weeks.
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