Corinne goes to Paris - 2002.

As I continued to prepare my transition well in advance, I had to go to Paris for an appointment with the plastic surgeon.

Arrival at the Gare de Lyon, Paris and a meeting with Cathy and Ester

December 20, 2002. This was to be my first visit to Paris for several years so I was rather looking forward to it. I had an appointment with Dr. Bui, the plastic surgeon whom I hoped would be able to feminise my face. I awoke at 06.00, brimming with energy. I dressed in my brown pullover, stringy belt, knee-length suede look skirt, tights and suede high heel boots. I caught the bus from my village to Annecy station, 10 kms away, and went to have a coffee and croissant in the café. There were 3 men at a table and one said "Hello, beautiful, how are you ?" He chatted me up a bit, then I took the high speed TGV train to Paris which wasn't at all high speed until it got as far as Macon.

Hmmm... and I had always thought the Eiffel Tower had 3 floors, not 2 !

After several hours of train ride, during which my feet were half frozen by the cold draught which always permeates the lower level of the TGV carriages, I finally arrived in Paris Gare de Lyon. My two transvestite friends Ester and Cathy were waiting for me. It was great to see them. They guided this alpine village girl through the labrynth of the Parisian métro to Dr. Bui's office near the Eiffel Tower.

He prescribed a scan and said I had the sort of face he could do a lot with (Oooh.. that sounds encouraging doesn't it ? Will he transform my ugly mug into that of a fairy princess ?). It would require 3 operations spaced at least 2 months apart: first of all a brow, jaw and chin reduction, the results of which, apparently, wouldn't look very different at first but over a few months would eventually become evident once the swelling subsided... the advantage of that being that presumably no-one would notice at work.

Then a rhinoplasty, tracheal shave and cheek bone augmentation which would be more noticeable, and finally a face lift and blepharoplasty. He said that, at least facially, I would look totally feminine and no-one would be able to suspect my origins. Total cost € 22,000. Gasp !!! 3 months notice was required, with full payment on the day. And not reimbursed by either the Social Security or my private health insurance. Well, I'd better start saving hadn't I ?

Corinne and Ester

Next on the agenda was a visit to Tom, a female to male transsexual who was also a psychologist. My psychiatrist, Dr. Blachère in Aix les Bains, had suggested I go and speak to Tom as, hitherto, I didn't actually know any transsexuals. He also wanted Tom to advise him whether he thought that I myself was a real transsexual and not a transvestite. So off we went to see Tom. We had to go to a rather rough area of northern Paris and, as soon as we emerged from the métro I noticed the streets were full of rubbish, something I'm quite unused to seeing. A group of yobs from a group of southern countries which had better remain nameless in the interests of racial harmony, hurled a rubbish bin at us and, luckily for us, missed. A very cosmopolitan place Paris, but I must say I prefer the Alps. Tom, who used to be a girl, looked 100% male and was very nice, answering a lot of my questions. Afterwards I said goodbye to my two friends and went to spend the night at my cousin's flat in the centre of Paris.

Corinne and Cathy

Next day I awoke at 09.00 - it was very dark and raining. I joined my cousin and her charming daughter for breakfast. The latter painstakingly, and very successfully, made sure that she referred to me in the correct gender and asked how I managed to get such amazing legs so I replied that it was compensation for not having other things !

The catacombs

After breakfast I walked to the Place d'Enfer Rochereau and did the shops while waiting interminably for Ester who finally arrived very late around 12.30. I bought lunch for us in a chinese restaurant. Then we went to visit the catacombs, a very large maze of underground tunnels in which are buried millions of Parisians over the centuries. A sign at the ticket office said "No dogs" so I said to the black ticket lady that it was a shame because my dog liked bones ! She almost fell on the floor with laughter then disappeared... I thought maybe she'd actually wet herself but she'd gone to fetch the manager and she asked me to repeat what I'd said with a grin. I did so but the man, an asiatic who looked as if he'd never smiled in his miserable life, just said "No dogs !" I grinned at the lady and said conspiratorially "No sense of humour, has he ? !"

Bones, bones and more bones (and not a dog to be seen)

We went down some steep steps and walked a kilometer through millions of bones and skulls. We played silly girls and did some photos with bones in our hands despite flash photography being forbidden. I should imagine that touching the bones was also forbidden but we did replace them correctly afterwards. I didn't fancy beeing haunted by angry skeletons with mismatched body parts. Then we went to the gare St. Lazare and did some shopping. Ester said she was surprised at the attention I was getting... including quite a lot of compliments.

Bovver on the metro

We eventually split up and I went to buy a big bouquet of flowers for my cousin. On the metro I was standing there with my flowers, minding my own business, when a group of 6 black yobs started making a lot of noisy insults, all of which were aimed at me. This rather surprised me as it was the first time I'd ever had a problem with blacks, but perhaps this is customary behaviour in Paris. Meanwhile all the other passengers looked fixedly at the floor. I glanced quickly down at the floor too, in case I was missing something interesting but it looked quite boring to me... just a floor littered with metro tickets and cigarette ends.

The situation worsened and one of the thugs swaggered up to me and enquired very aggressively "I wanna know if you're a man or a woman under your skirt !" Despite the very real possibility of physical aggression I felt totally calm (it's very odd this phenomenon which occurs whenever I'm in female mode), and I looked him defiantly in the eyes and said in English "I'm sorry but I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about" which had the effect of denying them any pleasure they might have derived from insulting me in French !. The neanderthal in front of me said "Wot ?" and a woman said "She doesn't speak French", in a tone which implied that he should leave me alone. He replied "Well, you can translate cantcha !" and she shook her head. I looked very coldly at him and said "Go away". He realised he was looking a fool and retreated to his friends. I must have looked very cool and self confident to the other passengers, although I don't think they noticed as they were still interested in the flooring of the railway carriage.

Cuddles at home

Next day I left my cousin's flat at 09.00 and took the metro to the Gare de Lyon. I was delighted as I was called "madame" twice and "madamoiselle" twice. The Sncf (French railways) guard told me "You are so cute !". I arrived at Annecy in fairly heavy rain and had to change back into male mode before going home. My little 5 year old daughter was over the moon at my return. Both my wife and mother-in-law were both very cross with me while my daughter remained glued to me all evening. I drew some pictures with her, gave her a bath, blow dried her hair then lay on the settee with her in my arms watching Barbapapa. Then I put her to bed at 22.00, sending her downstairs to kiss her grandmother. She came up looking quizzical and said she had something to tell me, but first we had to go into her bedroom. It seems her grandma had refused to give her a goodnight kiss because apparently she hadn't given her or her mother a single cuddle all day ! I told her not to worry and slept on her floor while the tooth fairy exchanged her first lost tooth for € 5. I am so in love with my baby.

The dog which would have liked to accompany me to the catacombs

And I didn't even bring her home a bone...